Ethics Questions and Halloween

This post will offer no condemnation of witches or wizards. I’ve had fun at costume parties, and I have more than one happy childhood memory of trick-or-treating around my neighborhood. Still, I know that this holiday poses some interesting questions for Christians.

It’s worth pointing out that when I was a child, in the 1970’s, this holiday was different. I don't remember being able to buy costumes at a store; we assembled them out of what was on hand, usually our parents' clothes and make up and whatever we could construct (or what our mothers might sew). Now Halloween is the second largest holiday in terms of what we spend on it, second only to Christmas. Candy, costumes, decorations, pumpkins: when you total what you spend on this holiday, you might be shocked.

Those of us with a social justice conscience must ask ourselves if this is the best use of our money. Even if you celebrate simply, you’ll likely spend a bundle on candy to give out to trick-or-treaters. Every year brings its share of refugees fleeing war and other kinds of woe; we must ask if it’s ethical to spend our money this way. And the planet cannot afford too many more years of excess, whether it be candy wrappers or plastic/polyester (petroleum based, after all) costumes from stores.

There are ways to soothe that social justice concern. We could keep track of our spending and in November, we could send a donation that matches or exceeds our Halloween costs to an agency that tries to alleviate suffering, like Lutheran World Relief or ELCA World Hunger. We could make our decorations: instead of buying strings of orange lights that come from China, we could buy pumpkins from the local church that uses the pumpkin patch to fund education programs, and we could support local farmers when we buy mums which last until the poinsettias make an appearance. For that matter, we could decide to make our costumes instead of paying top dollar for flimsy costumes from the store.

We could spend some time thinking about those costumes and the human desire to transform ourselves into someone else. If we want to inject some deeper thought into our holiday, we could ask ourselves about the deeper meaning behind our costumes, if there is one. If we want to take a theological turn, we could spend some time considering the way we’d like to be transformed, and the promises of transformation that our triune God has made to humanity and all of creation.

We could also think of Halloween themes and the yearnings of our human hearts. Why are we so in love with vampires right now? Do we long for eternal life? What differences in the eternal life scenario are offered by vampires and by Christ? Or what do zombies tell us about our culture? (for more on vampires and zombies and the Church, see this post by David Williams) If we choose a superhero costume, what do we long for: flight, strength, invisibility, cool gadgets? Do we want transformation for ourselves or are we hoping for a savior? Again, we might think about the salvation narratives offered by superhero tales and that of our own Christian tradition.

Halloween also offers an interesting opportunity to think about the issues of good and evil. So many Halloween narratives essentially boil down to a good versus evil theme. How do these themes mesh with Christian narratives?

And it’s important to remember that Halloween emerged from its pagan roots as a natural bridge to All Saints Day (November 1) and All Souls Day (Nov. 2). More on those holidays tomorrow.

So, as a Christian with a conscience, I'd wish us all a happy Halloween. May we discover what haunts us and be blessed with a waking dream of how to banish the ghouls that prevent us from the life that God would want us to have.

Reformation Recap

After church yesterday, I made this Facebook post:

To begin today's children's sermon, I asked how much we have to pay to get into Heaven. The children gave me that look, like I'm a bit of a dullard, and they said, "You don't have to pay anything." I asked, "Well then, what do you have to do to get into Heaven?"--I was thinking we would talk about grace vs. good deeds. The youngest one answered, "Die."

 
I shifted gears. Although I wasn't anticipating that answer, I'm certainly not going to pass up the opportunity to remind anyone of any age that we can create Heaven right here and now, that we don't have to wait until we die. The Kingdom of Heaven is among you, Jesus preached again and again. So do I.

Happy Reformation Sunday!

------

The other significant item I want to remember from yesterday:  during the adult sermon, near the end, I said, "This may not be the church our grandparents would recognize."  Then I caught my breath, looking out, realizing how many of us were connected to the grandparents' generation that had built the actual church building we were in, Faith Lutheran.  

My grandfather wouldn't recognize that specific building, but he was the pastor to an earlier group of five churches that consolidated down to two churches, one of them Faith Lutheran in Bristol.  I realized that I've never celebrated Reformation Sunday in a church that had been there for multiple generations and/or in a location where I had family connections.  

Momentarily, I wondered about the validity of the sermon I had just delivered, the sermon that reminded us that the church is always in some phase of reformation.  But as I looked out at the small congregation, I realized that this church, indeed, is one that my grandparents might not recognize:  it's small, it's composed primarily of retirees, and it's got a woman for a minister.

Reformation Ponderings

On this Reformation Sunday, I'm preaching at Faith Lutheran in Bristol, Tennessee.  My mom pointed out the challenge of preaching a Reformation sermon without knowing what they've heard before.  In some ways, it's easier because my Reformation meditation/pondering doesn't change much from year to year, but at least I know this congregation hasn't heard me preach it before.

One thing that I didn't know before this Reformation Sunday is that Martin Luther's 95 theses in 1517 weren't his first venture into this arena.  Shortly before, he had a document with 97 theses, which no one paid any attention to at all.  Imagine his surprise at the response to his 1517 version.

I am thinking of how many of us, particularly Lutherans think of Luther as the only one fomenting for reform.  But Europe at that time was full of reformers—not people who wanted to create something new, exactly, but people who had ideas about how to revitalize the church. The late 1400s can be classified as a time of huge corruption, both in the church and in politics. It was a time of huge geopolitical shifts with the fall of Constantinople that would cut off one half of Christendom from the other half, and leave the way open for new religions, like Islam, to flourish. In the late 1400’s, the economic conditions of the peasant class had worsened. There were calls for a new world order, and deep fears about what that new world order would look like.

It all sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

I am thinking of my seminary which has just as many (more?) students from South Korea and various African nations as from the U.S.  I am thinking of several seminaries which have vacant dorms and apartments, and how, just a few decades ago, there wasn't enough housing to meet the demand.

I am thinking of all the ways that so many of us are trying to be church in different ways.  I learned this week that there are churches in the Virginia synod of the ELCA that are online only.  I am thinking of the Bible study that I led last Saturday with members of my Florida church. Most of them were in Florida, but I was in North Carolina and one of us was in Missouri. How did we do this? By way of Zoom. I’ve been leading Bible studies for years with this church, and we have more consistent attendance with Zoom than we ever did when meeting in person.

Throughout all of Church history—indeed, all of human history—the Holy Spirit moves in interesting ways. God, the restless Creator, always seems to be up to something new. Jesus comes to show us that even at our most broken, there is beauty to be found.  

In this time, when so many seem so intent on breaking the world, the idea that the Holy Spirit is afoot, doing transformative work, that idea offers strength and comfort.

Poems and Classrooms of Hope

Yesterday I arrived at my new school to find the final set up for the chili cook-off--crock pots in the conference room, along with corn bread and a d.j.  The mood was festive and smiley, and I felt happy to be there.  I got my chili, 9 possible winners, small cups, but enough for multiple spoonfuls to taste, unlike some chili cook-offs.  I chatted a bit with the other folks who got there early, the librarian I'd already met, the other three that I hadn't.

As the day progressed, I started to feel a bit sad, a bit left out, and a bit stupid for feeling that way.  After all, I could have gone back and socialized.  But what I really wanted was to already know everyone, so that the socializing would have been easy, not the effort that it feels like with new people.  I also felt a bit sad, thinking about the times that I had helped organize such events for schools that are no longer with us.

Then off I went to teach class.  It was the kind of day where we spent some time remembering all the due dates that are no longer far away.  And in each class, I finished with two poems.    Last week, I brought in poems that I thought might help us process awful news, two by Wislawa Szymborska ("Could Have" and "The End and the Beginning") and one by Adam Zagajewski ("Try to Praise the Mutilated World").  At one point, a student looked at me and said, "These are supposed to give us hope?"  Hmm.

As last week went on and turned into this week, I thought about the poems I wished I had brought in.  I realized it wasn't too late, so I brought them Maggie Smith's "Good Bones" and Naomi Shahib Nye's "Gate A-4."  These poems worked much better, as poems themselves and as agents of hope.  My students weren't any more chatty than usual.  My Intro to Lit class seldom is, and my Composition class seemed tired yesterday.  But in each class, there was a moment when I was talking/teaching/preaching on the possibility of hope and how a poem can do that when I looked out and realized that a substantial chunk of the class had tuned back in, back from their cell phones, back from zoning out, back from a head on the desk.  I felt they had a keen sense of holding onto what I was saying, although I might have been projecting/wishing.

What we talked about yesterday--how to hold onto hope in difficult times--seems much more important than how to write a research paper, although I will teach that too.  I want to record the moment yesterday, the moment when so many of them were paying attention in a slightly more focused way, because I often drive home wondering if I'm making any difference at all.  It's that horrible sinking feeling when I think that they'll leave my classes not knowing how to write and not remembering a thing about what we read.  But that's not true.

One of my favorite teaching moments was way back in 1996 or so.  I was teaching an Intro to Lit class, and I realized that a young woman I didn't know was waiting outside the classroom door.  I asked her if she needed to speak to me or if she needed me.  She said, "I just like listening to you talk."  I invited her to join us, but she declined.

I have often wondered what I was teaching that day.  I'm glad that it spoke to her in some way.  I often wonder what has happened to her, but the same is true for all of my students.  I am grateful to have these moments of teaching, these moments when I feel like we're doing something vital together.

Boundaries Training Then and Now

Tuesday I went to Boundaries Training.  It was by way of a Zoom session; approximately 273 people attended, most of us serving as clergy people in some capacity across the southeast U.S.  I have to assume that a lot of this information isn't new to most of us.  For example, surely by now we all realize the reasons why we should not date a parishioner, and if we decide to go ahead with that decision, how to safeguard ourselves, the parishioner, and the church, both the local church and the larger Church.

Happily, we didn't spend much time on that issue, although we did mention it.  We spent far more time on the issue of receiving gifts from parishioners and the issue of parishioners who want to invite us over for meals.  I find it hard to believe that there are parishioners who want their pastor to come for dinner, but then again, my experience has been with very small churches, and in my current, and only, position as a minister, I live 2 hours away so people haven't been inviting me to meals.

All in all, Tuesday's Boundaries Training was an interesting experience.  My small group was good, and the discussions in the Chat were fascinating.  I didn't have to leave my house, which was a plus.  I much prefer sitting at my desk, in my comfortable chair, to going to a place large enough for hundreds of participants; I don't want the drive, and I don't want the germs.

After Tuesday's event, I was thinking of past trainings I've had, the HR ones at past jobs, the ones put together by big firms elsewhere for the Art Institute of Ft. Lauderdale.  For the sexual harassment one, we learned that we should not use the photocopy machine on our body parts, and we REALLY should not ask others to copy their body parts.  That part of the training was accompanied by a picture of a busty woman from the neck to the upper thigh coming down a hallway, while two young guys hovered together with lewd looks on their beefy faces.  Ugh.

So, yes, Tuesday's training was FAR better than that one.  We talked about real issues that we might face, and even if we won't face them, it was still interesting to talk about the other ramifications that situations offered.  For example, a married pastor will get different sorts of invitations than single pastors, but they all require some caution.  There are only so many hours in the week for meals, for example, and if everyone wants the pastor to come over for dinner, how do we make sure that no one is left out?  What do we do about the parishioners who don't want to socialize that way?  Will they feel excluded?  Or maybe relieved?

The larger question, of course, is one of building community while keeping all members safe.  At the schools where I've worked, the emphasis has been on avoiding lawsuits.  That's a huge difference in the various Boundaries Trainings that I've received.

Tuesday afternoon, I felt like going out in the beautiful autumn weather after being inside all day.  We went to a local park and walked beside the creek.  Instead of going to a brewery, on our way back, we bought some goodies for a light supper on our deck.  

It was a lovely way to end a productive but tiring day.  

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, October 29, 2023:

First Reading: Jeremiah 31:31-34

Psalm: Psalm 46

Second Reading: Romans 3:19-28

Gospel: John 8:31-36


In past years, before the pandemic, I might have written a meditation about reform and how we shouldn't be afraid of times of reformation. It's easy to write those kinds of words in gentle times, when we think we can control the pace of reform.  Now we have not one, but two, wars in two different parts of the planet (Ukraine and Gaza), and one must wonder how this will all turn out. In times like these, it's easy to want to cling to a place where nothing changes, and it's understandable that so many of us would like that place to be church.

It's easy to be pro-Reformation when we're thinking about times of reformation in the past. It's also easy to remember the positive elements of those times of reformation while forgetting the upheaval that times of reformation can bring. Those of us who love elements of Celtic Christianity may have forgotten that we have those elements because of a time of Roman invasion and immigration. Those of us who have memorized all the words to "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God" may have forgotten how that Martin Luther's ideas triggered centuries of destruction in the name of God.

We can take comfort from the knowledge that the Church has always been in the process of Reformation. There are great Reformations, like the one we'll celebrate this Sunday, or the Pentecostal revolution that's only 100 years old, but has transformed the developing world (third worlds and those slightly more advanced) in ways that Capitalism never could. There are smaller ones throughout the ages as well. Movements which seemed earth-shattering at the time--monastic movements of all kinds, liberation theology, ordination of women, lay leadership, same sex marriage--may in time come to be seen as something that enriches the larger church. Even gross theological missteps, like the Inquisition, can be survived. The Church learns from past mistakes as it moves forward.

Times of Reformation can nourish us all. Even those of us who reject reform can find our spiritual lives enriched as we take stock and measure what's important to us, what compromises we can make and what we can't. It's good to have these times where we return to the Scriptures as we try to hear what God calls us to do.

Once the dust settles, each of the previous time periods of Reformation has left the Church enriched, but enriched in ways that no one could have predicted--that's what makes it scary, after all. As we approach Reformation Sunday, I'd encourage each of us to tap our own inner Martin Luther. What is the Church doing well? What could be changed for the better? What part can we play?

Boundaries Training and the Chance to See Amy-Jill Levine

Two weeks ago, I was part-way through the Southeastern Synod's Convocation.  Yesterday, I went to a different one, the one hosted by the South Carolina Synod.  I won't be able to make a fair comparison--today I can't attend because I need to attend a different synodical event:  boundaries training for all of region 9 of the ELCA (this region of the Lutheran church extends as far north as Virginia, as far west as Tennessee and Mississippi, and as far south as Florida).  It's required for all rostered clergy, so I'm attending because of my SAM position preaching at Faith Lutheran in Bristol, Tennessee and as part of my internship hours.

I think it will consist mainly of sitting at my desk and watching the Zoom session that has been prepared.  I really hope that we're not divided into small groups.  The event lasts from 9-4 with an hour for lunch.  I am happy when I look at my life and realize how little of it now involves sitting at a desk for hours.  Once upon a time, if I only had to sit at a desk from 9 to 4, I'd feel that I had a light day of desk sitting.  At times in my last administrator job, it wasn't uncommon to be at my desk for 9 hours.  I could have left for lunch, but it wasn't a going out to lunch culture.  I tried to get up to walk around a bit throughout the day, to do more than just going to the bathroom, but the setting wasn't conducive--no outdoors walking, and a rather small building.

I have been at the SC Synod Convocation because their featured speaker is Amy-Jill Levine  (gasp!).  After going to yesterday's presentation, I will just say that she is more wonderful in person than she is on the page.  I may say more on that after I see tomorrow's presentation.

I am sad to miss today's presentation by her, but I don't want to risk my attendance at the boundaries training.  I did have a chance to ask Dr. Levine if one of the display books would cover what she would talk about today, and she said it would.  So, I've got a friend taking good notes, and I've ordered the book:   The Bible With and Without Jesus: How Jews and Christians Read the Same Stories Differently.  I'm looking forward to reading it.  Her book, Short Stories by Jesus: The Enigmatic Parables of a Controversial Rabbi, has been revelatory.

It has occurred to me that I might have saved money by just buying a book or two.  I did have to pay a fee to attend the Convocation, and I'd have gotten more for my money if I was free to attend more events.  I couldn't go to the worship service last night because I was in class, and I can't go to the daytime events today because of the training.  But I am happy to have had a chance to see Dr. Levine live.  She has a remarkable presence, both fiercely smart and fiercely funny.

Much of what she presented wasn't brand new to me.  I'm happy that my seminary has done a good job of reminding us that Jesus was Jewish.  I try to be alert for any way that my sermons might be anti-Jewish.  I stay away from the worst stereotypes of Pharisees and the religious leaders of Jesus' day.  But of course, for many of my parishioners, the damage is already done; they may have had decades of sermons that faulted the Jews for the crucifixion of Jesus.

At some point, I may look back on this week as a week about boundaries of all kinds.  But it's too early to know that now.  Let me get ready for the day ahead, this day at my desk.

My Sermon for October 22, 2023

My spouse said that yesterday's sermon was the best he'd ever heard on that Gospel.  Wow.  So let me reprint it here:

October 22, 2023

By Kristin Berkey-Abbott

 

 

Matthew 22:  15-22

 

 

If I had to pick a saying of Jesus’ that was most famous, this might be the one:  “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s”—or perhaps this more familiar version:  ““Render[e] therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”  People who didn’t grow up in church might think a famous politician said it—they might therefore be surprised to find out that it comes from a religious leader.  They might be surprised because so many of us have heard it in a pro-tax context; it wouldn’t surprise me to see it in a political campaign.

 

It probably won’t surprise you to find out that Jesus is making a much more nuanced argument—as well as skillfully avoiding a trap set for him.  Consider for a moment who is asking this question:  Pharisees and Herodians, not two populations who usually work together or even speak to each other.  Pharisees, religiously devout, resented the claims of divinity by the Roman emperor.  Herodians supported Herod, the Jewish ruler put in place by Rome, dependent on the Roman empire, and thus we assume would support the tax.  These two groups with differing views of Roman rule ask Jesus if it is lawful to pay taxes to the emperor. 

 

Consider the Roman poll tax. 

 

Theologian David J. Lose says, “First, some background. It is not simply taxes in general that are up for debate here. Jews in first-century Palestine paid numerous taxes: temple taxes, land taxes, and customs taxes, just to name three. The tax in question was a particular—and particularly onerous—one. It was the imperial tax paid as tribute to Rome to support the Roman occupation of Israel. That is right: first-century Jews were required to pay their oppressors a denarius a year to support their own oppression.”

If Jesus says to pay taxes, the Pharisees can use his answer to show that he’s collaborating with the oppressor, Rome, that he doesn’t feel with the pain of the Jewish people.  If he tells everyone not to pay taxes, he’s a traitor to Rome.  Will he be a seditionist or a collaborator?  It seems that the questioners have set the perfect trap.

 

But Jesus is not so easily fooled.  He asks to see a coin.  There is clear evidence of all kinds of idolatry:  a graven image on the coin, an emperor claiming to be god, currency demanding loyalty.  Jesus is not just avoiding the question.  He’s asking a much more important question.  Who deserves our loyalty?  He says the famous line.  “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”

 

Don’t be fooled.  Jesus has not suddenly transformed into a pro-government prophet.  He knows, and everyone around him knows, the terrible power wielded by earthly empires.  They are surrounded by the results of ruinous policies:  farmers evicted from their land, people in other occupations barely able to eke out a living, everyone in danger of losing the little bit that Rome allows them to have.  Even the ones at the top of the power structure, the Herods, the Pontius Pilates, know that they serve at the pleasure of the emperor, and the emperor’s loyalty is far from sure.

 

          Jesus isn’t advocating for a two state system.  He’s not telling us to be loyal to both government and God.  This is not a pro-tax text.  This is not a tithing text.  This is Jesus, reminding us of which kingdom came first.  As we heard in the Isaiah text, God was here before any earthly power, and God will outlast them all.

         

Jesus’ questioners have missed the point.  It reminds me of Christians who would come a few centuries later, theologians who would spend a lot of time and energy arguing over whether or not God came first or Jesus, arguing over whether or not Jesus is  more human or more divine.  However, I spent time this week thinking about these 4^th century controversies because I was writing an essay for my midterm in my Systematic Theology class.

 

As I thought about Jesus looking at the face on that coin, I thought of the questioners who had God right there with them.  They could ask Jesus anything, and they ask him about taxes.  They gazed upon the face of the Divine, and they asked about loyalty.

 

One of the Gospel commentaries I read reminded us that every life is marked with God’s visage—we look at each other and make the same mistake those Pharisees and Herodians did.  We see each other as the world sees us—marked and measured by what we wear, what we drive, the jobs we do, the houses we live in, the degrees we’ve earned, and the money we make.

 

But Jesus is different.  Throughout his ministry, he sees worth and potential where the rest of the world sees sinners and outcasts.  Jesus reminds us again and again that God chose us, that God loves us, just as surely as God declared the worth of Jesus at the baptism of Jesus.  We can put our trust in God, in a way that we will never be able to trust an earthly ruler.  Earthly rulers must worry about consolidating power and doing away with threats.  God does not.

 

If we really want to change the world, we can practice seeing others through the same lens of love that God sees each and every one of us.  It’s easy when we’re seeing people behaving well.  It’s harder when we feel threatened.

 

Let us remember what the words of Jesus imply.  We are not the emperor’s.  An earthly empire does not imprint us with our true identity.  Baptism does.  Communion does.  We are God’s.  But even without the sacraments, God claims us and declares how important we are.  In turn, we can act with the love that lets us see the essence of God in every human face.

Blessings of the Quilts

When I thought about the advantages of moving back to our Lutheridge house and doing seminary classes from a distance, the chance to be part of the Lutheran Church of the Nativity's quilt group was one of them.  This group meets every Wednesday to make quilts for Lutheran World Relief.  This year, we made 128 quilts, and today they will be blessed during worship.

All of the fabric is donated.  Often it's donated when a quilter dies and the family doesn't know what to do with all the accumulated fabric.  As a result, we've got amazing fabric to work with.  We've even inherited some partially finished projects that we incorporate.  On days when there hasn't been a free sewing machine for me to use or a quilt to knot, I've enjoyed going through the boxes and pulling out fabrics that go together.

One woman has transformed her basement into a quilting studio, and she does a lot of the work of assembling the tops throughout the week.  Others of us have other commitments, like work and family and other charity groups.  Two of our members also create quilts for the Project Linus group that gives quilts to children in hospitals.  That group has much stricter requirements, like all the fabric has to be new, so much of the work of the Wednesday quilters wouldn't be able to be donated there.

We meet most Wednesdays, but there have been stretches when so many of us were out of town and/or with other commitments, so we decided not to meet.  But usually, we sit and sew for an hour or two or three every Wednesday.  Some weeks, only two of us meet.  Some weeks, we have eight or ten.  

It's amazing what we can accomplish if we just sit down and do it.  And it's not just the quilts we make.  We've shared highs and lows, and gotten to know each other better.  We've helped the family of Afghan refugees living in the parsonage feel welcome and learn a bit of English.  We've created quilts that will go around the world to provide comfort.  All this, for just an hour or two a week.  It's a larger life lesson, I know.

Summoning the Sunrise

Before we get too far away from it, I want to remember the October 11 morning prayer session at the Southeastern Synod Convocation.  We had morning prayer with a view of the sunrise:

It was so awe-inspiring to sing "Morning Has Broken" as the rays of the sun stretched above the horizon.  The picture above does not do the moment justice.

I thought of past times that communal morning prayer coincided with the precise moment of sunrise, and I could only think of a few others, all at Mepkin Abbey, when we started in darkness, and through the high windows, we could see the light change outside.  Even though I knew better, it really did feel like our prayers and singing summoned the sunrise. 

Teaching Observations and Theology School

It has been years, perhaps decades, since I had a department chair observe me teach.  I remember when I was first hired at the Art Institute of Ft. Lauderdale, my chair came to watch me teach Flannery O'Connor's "A Good Man Is Hard to Find."  It was a great class, even though that story didn't teach as well to a class in South Florida as in South Carolina.

After my chair told me she felt lucky to have hired me, I said, "I'm yours until I run away to theology school."  She quirked an eyebrow at me, and I said, "I don't know why I said that.  I have no desire to run away to theology school."

At the time, February of 2002, I didn't have a yearning to run away to seminary.  I was still very happy in South Florida, and I thought that once I had the full time job I'd just gotten, we'd be able to afford living there.  And for a time, we could.

I didn't feel too nervous in the time leading up to yesterday's observation.  I have been teaching a long time, and I planned a class with Poe stories, which meant I could teach it if students wanted to talk, and I could teach it as a straight ahead lecture.  My chair told me which class she could come observe and let me pick the day.  If it had been up to me, I'd have had her come to the other class, where the students are more engaged, but at least the class isn't hostile.

Yesterday the students most likely to talk were absent.  In fact, half the class, in both classes, was absent.  So my department chair got to watch me lecture about Poe and do a close reading of three stories.  I was animated, and I tried to keep students engaged, so on that front, it went well.  I think it's good to model close reading, but if she doesn't, she won't have liked yesterday.

My students didn't take out their phones too often.  They seemed like they were paying attention, and indeed, maybe they were.  They probably hadn't read the stories in advance--another reason for doing the close reading together.  But she may have wished the students would talk more.  So do I.

She and I will meet next week to discuss.  I'm open to suggestions.  I don't feel threatened.  At this point, I know what I can do and what I can't, and I'm unwilling to twist myself into pretzel shapes anymore to do what someone else thinks I should do.  As an administrator, I felt caught between various groups who wanted me to be someone I only partially could be.  As a teacher, I'm relieved that I'm unlikely to face that situation.  And I'm an adjunct, so I have less at stake.  If I'm not a good fit, I'll move along.

But she's unlikely to tell me I'm not a good fit, so I'm not going to worry too much about next week's meeting.  I'd like her to respond the way my chair did in 2002.  And now, here I am, a seminary student, so no speculation about running away.

Now I want to reread that poem.  Let me find it and post it here.  Thanks to TAB: The Journal of Poetry & Poetics for publishing it in 2018.

When I Run Away to Theology School


When I run away to theology school,
I shall think no more of mortgages and insurance rates.
Sea level rise will recede to the backwaters
of my consciousness. I will eat
whatever is served to me, and I will fall
asleep at a regular hour.

When I run away to theology school,
I will turn off the news. I will submerge
myself in books from an earlier age.
I will abandon the controversies
of our current time to lose myself
in arcane arguments of past heresies.

When I run away to theology school,
I will pray more regularly. I will spend
more time in the chapel. I will write liturgies
and construct worship spaces to match.

When I run away to theology school,
I will finally structure my life in a way
that makes sense. I will strip
my life to its barest essentials.
All will be revealed
when I run away to theology school.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for October 15, 2023:

First Reading: Isaiah 45:1-7

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Exodus 33:12-23

Psalm: Psalm 96:1-9 [10-13]

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 99

Second Reading: 1 Thessalonians 1:1-10

Gospel: Matthew 22:15-22

This week's Gospel contains a saying of Jesus that is probably familiar: "Render therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar's and to God the things that are God's" (Matthew 22, verse 21). Even people who have never set foot inside a church are probably familiar with this saying, although they may attribute it to somebody else, like Shakespeare or Ronald Reagan.

I love how Jesus realizes that the Pharisees have set a trap for him, and he manages to avoid entanglement. This passage also shows Jesus reacting to the legalistic outlook of the spiritual leaders. He seems to tell us not to be so rigid in our formulas of our finances. We know what we must do. We have bills and obligations (among them, caring for the less fortunate); we cannot escape those worldly cares. But in figuring out our tithes and taxes, we should not lose sight of the larger spiritual picture.

God calls us to more than a rigid formula of living. Instead of dividing up our budget into rigid categories, we should always be on the lookout for ways to love each other. Some days/months/years, that love might be manifest in monetary ways. But in a way, just writing a check is much too easy. God calls us to be involved with each other's lives. That doesn't mean we need to hop on a plane to personally respond to every huge disaster. Look around--you'll see plenty of opportunities just outside your door.

What if you gave 10% of your time? There's 168 hours in a week. If you gave 17.8 hours to God, how would you need to change your life?

The reality is, that God wants and needs more from us than a mere 18 hours a week. God wants an ongoing relationship with each and every one of us. And that relationship should transform us to do the tough work of transforming creation, of creating the Kingdom of Heaven right here and now.  That transformation, too, will come from relationships.

In these days of all sorts of insecurity, the message of Jesus seems more prescient than ever. If we save up our treasures on earth, moth or rust or inflation or deflation or bad policies or war or climate disruption or any other kind of ruin you want to name will leave us bankrupt.

The way we live our lives moves us closer to God or further away. If we devote our lives to God, our whole lives, not just an hour on Sunday, then we'll find a relationship that we can count on. And that relationship can help us transform not only ourselves, but our families, our communities, everyone we touch.

The Feast Day of Saint Luke

 On October 18, we celebrate the life of St. Luke, an evangelist and a doctor, or perhaps a healer would be a more accurate way of thinking about the ancient approach to medical care.

But St. Luke was so much more: he’s also the patron saint of artists, students, and butchers. He’s given credit as one of the founders of iconography. And of course, he was a writer--both of one of the Gospels and the book of Acts. As we think about the life of St. Luke, let us use his life as a guide for how we can bring ourselves back to health and wholeness.

The feast day of St. Luke offers us a reason to evaluate our own health—why wait until the more traditional time of the new year like the start of a new year? Using St. Luke as our inspiration, let’s think about the ways we can promote health of all kinds.

Do we need to schedule some check-ups? October is perhaps most famous for breast cancer awareness month, but there are other doctors that many of us should see on a regular basis. For example, if you get a lot of sun exposure, or if you live in southern states, you should get a baseline check up from your dermatologist. If we've put off medical care because the nation is in the grip of a pandemic, this feast day is a good opportunity to think about how to get that health care safely. The pandemic will be here for awhile, so let's not delay any longer, if we need professional care for our physical selves.

Many of us don’t need to visit a doctor to find out what we can do to promote better health for ourselves. We can eat more fruits and vegetables. We can drink less alcohol. We can get more sleep. We can exercise and stretch more.

Maybe we need to look to our mental or spiritual health. If so, Luke can show us the way again.

Luke is famous as the writer of the Gospel of Luke and Acts, but it’s important to realize that he likely didn’t see himself as writing straight history. He was maintaining a record of amazing events that showed evidence of God’s salvation.

It’s far too easy to ignore evidence of God’s presence in the world. We get bogged down in our own disappointments and our deeper depressions. But we could follow the example of Luke and write down events that we see in our own lives and the life of our churches that remind us of God’s grace. Even if it’s a practice as simple as a gratitude journal where each day we write down several things for which we’re grateful, we can write our way back to right thinking.

As we think about St. Luke, we can look for ways to deepen our spiritual health. In popular imagination, Luke gets credit for creating the first icon of the Virgin Mary. Maybe it’s time for us to try something new.

We could experiment with the visual arts to see how they could enrich our spiritual health. We might choose something historical and traditional, like iconography. Or we might decide that we want to experiment with something that requires less concentration and training. Maybe we want to create a collage of images that remind us of God’s abundance. Maybe we want to meditate on images, like icons, like photographs, that call us to healthy living.

St. Luke knew that there are many paths to health of all sorts. Now, on his feast day, let us resolve to spend the coming year following his example and restoring our lives to a place of better health.

Icons and the Natural World

On Thursday, at our last morning prayer service, we had stations.  We could stare at an icon.  We had a board and post it notes where we could leave prayers.  We could stop at an anointing station to be anointed with oil.  It was a quieter, more contemplative service, and I found it very moving.

I found myself drawn to part of the altar that wasn't intended to be a station.  I loved this pumpkin.  

It was interesting to stare at it after staring at a more traditional icon:

It made me wonder about a contemplative exercise that has participants stare at a traditional icon and then an evocative item from the natural world.  They could write or sketch what comes to them, and then we could have interesting conversations about it.

Let me tuck this away for future reference (and perhaps I will try it in one of my writing classes next week or the next).

More about the Homicidal King and the One Cast into Darkness

One of our Sunday afternoon practices which may seem strange is to listen to and/or watch parts of other services from churches that still feel like part of our wider spiritual community, most often the ones where we've been members.  It seems strange to me, because we've already spent a huge chunk of Sunday in church--and now we want more church?

Yesterday we watched the sermon that was delivered at the Lutheran Church of the Nativity in Arden, NC.  Pastor Doug Kearney preached a great sermon.  I had just preached on the same text, Matthew 22:  1-14, so I was interested to see if we drew the same conclusions.  I was relieved to hear him preach on the need to remember that we have spiritual obligations to work for change in the world, even as he admitted that he's the kind of Lutheran that believes in "grace, grace, and more grace."

He was more pointed in the kinds of changes he thought we should work towards:  racial justice, an end to poverty (he's done important work to establish a garden that provides fresh produce to the local food bank), the kinds of issues that you would think wouldn't be controversial in a Christian church.

My approach was more understated, although I, too, preached about the need to remember that we aren't given grace so that we can lounge on the sofa in our non-wedding clothes.  But my call to action was much more muted:  "Jesus showed us how to live as the community of God. We share what we have, knowing that it will be multiplied to be enough. We invite everyone, even though some won’t accept. We heal our societies in the ways that we know how to do, and we remember that even when it seems there is no way, we pray to the one who shows us again and again, that there is a way out of no way, a way that is different from the ways of earthly empire. God invites us to a wedding feast—not an ordinary banquet. I hope that we say yes."

I had thought about making more specific recommendations for how we say yes to God's invitation, but my sermon was already a bit long, so I decided against it.  And I had also thought about bringing the current events happening as Israel prepares to obliterate Gaza, but there, too, I decided against it.  I spoke about earthly empires who destroy whole cities, but I didn't name names.  After all, there's plenty of that behavior to go around--no need to single out just one nation.

And part of me doesn't want to get too political on a Sunday morning, even though I believe that Christians need to be involved politically.  I am still relatively new to this congregation, and my focus will be on good news.

This morning, I read an interesting approach to the parable that neither Doug Kearney nor I used.  Nadia Bolz-Weber sees the figure cast into outer darkness and gnashing of teeth at the end of the parable as Jesus:  So, beloveds, what if the kingdom of heaven isn’t like a bullying-king what if the kingdom of heaven is like the guy who refuses to play along? What if the kingdom of heaven is like someone who shows up and says no to empire. What if the Kingdom of heaven is like the one who stands speechless before his accusers refusing to dignify taunts with a reply, … What if the kingdom of heaven is like someone who is hog tied for not participating in victimizing the weak (or for not self-protectively piling onto someone when we sniff out a mistake they made years ago). What if the kingdom of heaven is like someone who is thrown by the empire into the outer-darkness . . . and what if the name of that outer darkness is Calvary?"

I wish I had seen her sermon before yesterday, so I could have mentioned this interpretation.  But this Sunday's lectionary reading, Matthew 22:  15-22, might give me another chance.  Hmm.  Stay tuned!

Tips for Bible Interpretation from a Former Bishop

During the Southeastern Synod Convocation, I went to a workshop given by the former bishop of the Synod, Julian Gordy.  He offered an approach to Bible study/interpretation/sermon prep that seemed very helpful, so I want to preserve it here.

He began by telling us that if we hear something in a text that sounds weird, we should be assured that everyone else will too.  So when we preach on the text, we might as well address it head on.  Much of our workshop was spent exploring the text for the coming Sunday, Matthew 22:  1-14.  It's the text where the king who invites people to a wedding feast, and reacts harshly to the indifference of the intended guests.

Bishop Gordy told us his approach to a Bible text:

--Read the text and ask what it meant what it was written.

--Try to answer this question:  what does it mean?

--Read the text and ask, "What is the text calling us to do today?"

My preaching professor gave a similar approach, and I was happy to be reminded of it.  I particularly like that last question, and perhaps I spend too much time with it.  It's good to be reminded of the other steps.

Synod Convocation: A Retrospective Overview

It is a foggy morning in these mountains of North Carolina.  It's been quite a week, mostly good stuff, very tiring.  We are close to having the flooring done in the lower part of the house, which is the part that matters most to me.  After that, bathroom remodels!  But in the meantime, the new dryer has stopped working, and hopefully, it's an easy fix, the electric connections jiggled loose during flooring install.  

I have been out of the house most of the week while the flooring has been happening.  The Southeastern Synod has been having its annual Convocation at Lutheridge.  Although they are called different things in different synods, Convocation is a combination of retreat and continuing ed and professional development time for rostered leaders in a Synod.  I've participated in most of it.  There was food and fellowship after the evening worship, and each night, I skipped that time.  By evening, I was exhausted.  I even skipped the last evening worship because I was just so tired.

Convocation for the larger group started with an opening worship service at 1:30 on Tuesday.  But I needed to be there a day earlier; all first call pastors, interim pastors, and conference deans had meetings and trainings. 

Our days started at 7:30, with morning worship, and my day started earlier, as I tried to stay minimally caught up with all the classes that I teach.  We had a keynote address each morning, and each day we had a selection of workshops.  One afternoon we had free time, and I helped with the crafting opportunities.  We had evening worship, followed by fellowship time.  We had leisurely meals which led to further opportunities to get to know each other.

I am part of the Synod both because I am a SAM at Faith Bristol and because I have an internship with the Synod during the 2023-24 school year.  It was great to get to know my fellow Synod members in a closer way and to be part of the team that pulled it together.

Spiritual Lessons for Columbus Day

Writing time is short this morning, so let me run a Columbus Day post that I wrote some years ago. It's one of my favorite meditations on Columbus.

Today we celebrate Columbus Day: October 12 was the actual day of the first sighting of land after almost 2 months at sea. I’m always amazed at what those early explorers accomplished. At Charlestowne Landing (near Charleston, SC), I saw a boat that was a replica of the boat that some of the first English settlers used to get here. It was teeny-tiny. I can't imagine sailing up the coast to the next harbor in it, much less across the Atlantic. Maybe it would have been easier, back before everyone knew how big the Atlantic was.

In our spiritual lives, we may be feeling a bit like Columbus. Let’s ask some questions prompted by Columbus Day, questions that may lead us to some meaningful meditations.

Below, when I talk about our spiritual lives, I’m talking about our individual lives and expressions of spirituality, as well as our corporate spiritual lives, the lives we live in the company of fellow believers.

--In our spiritual lives, are we the explorer or are we the native populations of new continents? Or are we members of the Old World? In other words, are we always striking out for new lands? Or are we waiting to be discovered? Are we so tied to our traditions that we can’t even imagine how our lives could be different?

--As spiritual people, how long are we willing to be at sea? I’m part of a church tradition, mainstream Protestantism, that looks back longingly to the 1950’s, when it seemed that everybody made time for church. Many of us hope that we will soon return to a time when church returns to its central location. But we may have only started our time at sea, on a voyage of discovery. Can we trust God? Can we continue to hold onto our faith when we're in the middle of a vast ocean, with nothing but our instruments and the stars to guide us, with no sense of how far away the land for which we're searching might be?

--We may be certain we’re on a quest to find one kind of wealth. In the process, we may discover something completely different, something far more valuable? Will we recognize the value of what we find?

--The explorations in North and South America changed our cooking forever. Imagine a culinary life without corn, sweet peppers, tomatoes. Imagine life without chocolate. What ways can our spirituality enrich our cultures?

--Of course, if I was looking through the Native American lens, I might say, "Imagine life without smallpox." What are the possible negative impacts implicit in the collision between secular culture and sacred culture? Can we mitigate those? Should we mitigate those?

--These explorations wouldn’t have been possible without the patronage of the wealthiest of society members. In our current world, many of us are some of the wealthiest people on the planet. North Americans may not feel like it, but we’re the Isabella and Ferdinand of our time. What projects should we be funding? What spiritual projects will make the kind of lasting legacy of funding the voyage of Columbus?

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, October 15, 2023:



First Reading: Isaiah 25:1-9

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Exodus 32:1-14

Psalm: Psalm 23

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 106:1-6, 19-23

Second Reading: Philippians 4:1-9

Gospel: Matthew 22:1-14

Today's Gospel sounds impossibly harsh. The kingdom of heaven is compared to this story of a king who can't get people to come to the wedding feast? Is God really like the King who murders people who won't come to the party and burns their city? Is God really like the king who punishes a guest who comes in the wrong clothes? And such a punishment!

But perhaps our brains are too quick to see God as judge. Maybe we're losing the point of the parable.

So, let's look at this parable from a different angle: what's keeping us from accepting the invitation to the wedding feast? If the wedding feast is the kingdom of God, what keeps us away?

What activities keep us from accepting or even hearing the invitation? Is it the work we do to earn the money to pay our bills? Have we let that work take over our every waking hour? Does our work wake us up at night?

Or maybe we don't have enough work, and we worry about how we will pay for our obligations. We can't accept God's invitation now, because we need to work our multiple part-time jobs or fill out applications or research our new career field.

Jesus is quite clear on this issue, and he instructs us again and again. What good will it do us to work ourselves this way, to devote ourselves to earthly things, like work and earning money?

Or maybe we reject God's invitation because we feel inadequate. We'll accept at a later time, when we've improved ourselves. But that's the good news of God's grace that we find throughout the Gospels. We don't have to wait. God loves us in all of our imperfections. In fact, we may find that what we see as an imperfection is what God will need and use to work for God's purposes.

Perhaps we should see ourselves in the wedding guest that didn't have the right garment. What clothes do we need to invest in to make ourselves better wedding guests? Maybe we need to clothe ourselves in the garments of love and acceptance. Think of what attitudes you need to wrap around yourself, and work to shed the ones that do not serve you.

Life is short, and Christ returns to this message again and again. We think we will have time to get to the things that will be important. We'll do it later, when the kids are older, or when we don't have to work so long and hard. We'll do it when we retire. We'll wait until we have more money. Once we lose that 20-100 pounds, we'll buy the right clothes and go to feasts to celebrate sacred occasions.

But God calls us to focus on the important things now. The apocalyptic tone of the recent readings may seem overly dramatic, but apocalypse dramas remind us that everything that is precious can be gone in an instant--and so the time to focus on what we hold dear is now.

It's a luxury that so many do not have, to appreciate what we have while we still have it, to be able to tell our loved ones that we love them while they're still with us.

History Hinge in Gaza?

 Once again, I find myself wondering if we are at a hinge point in history.  And once again, I wonder if I left that sentence with no context, and if I came across that sentence years from now, if I would wonder what I had been referencing.

This morning, I'm thinking about the events in Israel over the week-end.  Most of the experts I've read say that these events are the most significant military events in Israel since the 1973 Yom Kippur war.  The death tolls and the human rights abuses in the past few days seem significantly worse than any that have happened in this century in Israel and Gaza.

I also realize that my understanding (of this subject, these politics, this geography) is based on reading.  I haven't met or talked to any residents of either Israel or Gaza.  I haven't visited the Holy Land.  I am a Christian, but I don't have the same religious feelings about the Holy Land that many people of many religions do.  I do tend to think in larger geopolitical terms, but I also know that we often don't see the larger geopolitical picture when we're in the middle of events that are happening.

The more I read the more I can't figure out what world leaders should do.  If ever a situation deserves a word like "intractable," it's the situation in Gaza.  

But I'm old enough to remember other situations that seemed impossible to solve--until a solution happened.  So I will continue to pray and to hope:  for peace in our time, for a world that's less oppressive, for all that are victims of violence and situations where they have had no power.  It makes me sad that these types of prayers are never far from my lips.

Week-End Creativity Report

 It's been a week-end of creativity, which was great fun, and a week-end of home repairs, which led to both progress and irritation.  At long last, we have a washer and a dryer again:

I should clarify:  we have a working washer and dryer again.  These appliances were delivered July 21, where they have sat in the middle of the kitchen floor since, making working in the kitchen more of a challenge than it should be going forward.

To have a working washer and dryer, my spouse needed to transform the space which had once been a hallway.  We needed new plumbing and new electric.  Then, we needed to correct the new plumbing so that there could be a wall.  Then we needed walls and paint for the walls.

Finally, on Saturday, it was time.  We moved the washer into place and did a load of laundry, to be sure that the plumbing wasn't leaking.  Sunday it was time to heave the dryer into place.  My spouse did that work while I drove across the mountains to preach at Faith Lutheran.  I came back and served as cheerleader while my spouse tried to connect the dryer hose; ultimately he was successful, but it did make me wonder why this has to be so hard.  Why is the diameter of the hose and the diameter of the vent pipe exactly the same?

When I look back on this week-end, I hope I remember that we also had fun times.  On Friday, when we were getting supplies for the laundry room remodel, we also picked up a rope and a hook for the suspension of the bird house that my spouse envisioned.  

So far, it's stayed suspended.  The birds have found it, but the bears and the squirrels have not.  

On Friday, I took some muslin that I had after an anniversary quilt project and some scraps of batting, and I created ghosts to go with the pumpkins at the fence.  

At first I had a vision of each ghost having different colored eyes, but the first ghost with blue eyes was more KKK hood than ghost:

So I grabbed a marker and made the more traditional ghost eyes.  

It's not permanent ink, so it's already running a bit, but I don't care:

On Saturday, I wrote this about them:  "Now some of the ghosts look extra sad or extra goth or extra hungover, like their mas-scare-a (say it with a spooky voice the way that spouse Carl did) has started to run down their faces."

Will I keep buying pumpkins?  Will the ghosts last to Halloween?  Stay tuned.

Today the flooring project resumes, which is a project that doesn't involve me this time.  I will be up the hill at Lutheridge attending and assisting with the Southeastern Synod's Convocation time (a continuing ed/spiritual renewal event for rostered ministers and others).  May all be well this week!

Buoyant Joy as Spring Schedules Mesh

It feels like a long time since I've had a relatively free week-end.  I still go to preach on Sunday, which involves a 2 hour drive on either side, so Sunday isn't free.  And I still have grading, but once the semester gets underway, I always have grading.  Similarly, I have seminary work, but once the semester is underway, I will always have long term projects and short term readings.

Part of what makes this week-end feel different is that next week is Reading Week at seminary, so I don't have classes.  It's a great week not to have classes, as I'm attending and helping with the Southeastern Synod Convocation, which is like a continuing ed/spiritual renewal event for ministers and pastors.

I am also entering into this week-end with a sense of peace that I haven't had before.  Yesterday, my seminary released the course list for Spring.  I had been worried that some of my required classes would be offered at the same time I was teaching my face to face classes.  Happily, that's not the case.  And the class that I hope to take, the one that explores teaching and digital media, that's offered this semester in a virtual modality--hurrah!  

I let my department chair at Spartanburg Methodist College know that my spring seminary courses wouldn't conflict with my teaching, and I asked if the final Spring schedule had been approved by the dean.  The last e-mail I got made me think we were still waiting on approval.  But happily, we've all been approved.  My chair said, "As far as I'm concerned, you'll be in front of those classes when we get to January."

I went through the rest of the afternoon with a sense of joy:  I get to keep teaching AND take seminary classes.  My afternoon face-to-face classes went well, which kept my sense of joy intact. The mountains are so beautiful this time of year, so the drive kept my joy buoyant.  

That buoyant joy is also influencing my sense of expansiveness as the week-end begins.  Now let me go for a walk and enjoy the autumnal weather and views.

Sin and Seventh Graders

During the Confirmation Camp week-end, I didn't lead the group discussions, not small groups and not the large groups.  When we were in the large group, I kept saying to myself, "This week-end is not about me.  Do not answer the questions.  Do not chime in to the discussion."  For the most part, that wasn't a problem.

However, when we talked about sin, I really wanted to participate.  I was shocked and saddened by how the middle schoolers who answered the questions were so quick to talk about how humans are born sinful and full of evil.  They didn't seem to have much of a sense of God's love, and without that sense of God's love, it's not surprising that they didn't mention grace.

Oh, Augustine, you have so much to answer for!

I don't think they got their concept of original sin from their Confirmation classes, although having met many Lutherans with non-Lutheran theologies, it wouldn't surprise me.  I took a walk with a pastor friend on Monday, and we talked about Confirmation and living in the southeast part of the U.S.  Much of their theology is likely formed by their friends who are Southern Baptist or more to the right of Southern Baptists.

I realize that they are years and decades away from thinking for themselves and that they may or may not undo the harmful theologies they've picked up along the way.  I hope we've planted seeds that will sprout in the future.  We did end the week-end in the lakeside worship space, with the pastor who led the large group discussions reminding us all of God's deep love of us.

I hope they remember that God loves us, and I hope they reject the idea that God is so angry/disappointed with us that Jesus must intervene.

The Feast Day of Saint Francis

Today we celebrate the life of St. Francis. Many congregations do this by having a pet blessing service. Here again, we see a powerful life story reduced to something significantly more mundane. I would argue that the church almost always does this reduction act--and why? Why give up the power of these stories that way? We see that in our approach to Jesus Christ, and in our approach to every other believer who has a dramatic story. Are we afraid of the implications?

Perhaps we tame these figures because we realize that if we follow the teachings of Saint Francis, or Christ before him, too closely, we'll be required to give up our comfortable lives. But we live in a time of plague and planetary collapse where many of us will be required to move to something different. Saint Francis shows us that giving up our privilege and comfort can bring us a new type of joy.

We often remember St. Francis because of his work, "The Canticle for the Creatures." Many people see him as one of the early environmentalists. I have no problem with animal rights crusaders and the environmental movement, but it's important to remember that St. Francis spent many years of his early ministry living with lepers and caring for them. He gave up everything he owned--and he was rich--in a quest for a more authentic life. He inspired others to follow the same path, and he founded two religious orders that still thrive (and one that has vanished). In his later years, he worked to end the Crusades. He also created the first Nativity scene, and he used live animals, so that visitors to the scene could more fully use all their senses.

In churches that celebrate the life of St. Francis, will we hear these parts of the story? I doubt it. Those are the parts of the story that are threatening to the social order. We can't have young people behaving in the way that St. Francis did. What on earth would happen then?

Our society would be transformed. And one of the ways that Christians have let down their faith, this is one of the most damning: we dampen the transformative message of the Gospel or we dumb it down into some sort of self-help drivel. The Gospel can transform us as individuals, sure, but then we are called to go out and transform our societies. God has called us to do redemptive work.

Here's a prayer that I wrote for today:

Creator God, we don't always take good care of your creations. Please give us the generosity of St. Francis as we wrestle with the best way to use our resources. Please open our hearts the way you opened the heart of St. Francis so that we can take care of the members of our society who are at the lowest levels. Please give us the courage to create communities which will allow the light of Christ to shine more brightly.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

 The readings for Sunday, October 8, 2023:

First Reading: Isaiah 5:1-7

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Exodus 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20

Psalm: Psalm 80:7-14 (Psalm 80:7-15 NRSV)

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 19

Second Reading: Philippians 3:4b-14

Gospel: Matthew 21:33-46

Today's Gospel contains a parable that seems to tell the story of Christ, in the vineyard owner's son, who is killed by the tenants. I suspect that when modern readers, many of whom own property and/or manage people at work, read this lesson, they identify with the vineyard owner far more than they do with the tenants. But what would happen if we thought about ourselves as the tenants?

Notice how the tenants are so stuck in their self-destructive ways that they can't change. Now, as we settle into the season of autumn, as we race towards the end of the liturgical year, it might be useful to do some self-evaluation. What are our habits that get in the way of us living as the people of God? By now, you might despair to realize that these are the same patterns you've wrestled with before. But take heart. As you continue to attempt to make changes and go astray, each time you try to get back to a more wholesome way of living, it should take less time to make the necessary adjustments.

The Gospels that we've been reading give us reassurance that we can go astray, and God will still welcome us back. Now all this talk of going astray may not be the most useful image for us. Many of us have grown up in churches that berated us with talk of sin and tried to make us change by making us feel ashamed. We live in a toxic culture that tells us that we're not doing enough, not earning enough, not buying the right stuff. Many of us spend our days with voices in our head telling us those same messages. Who wants to come to church to hear the same thing? We've tried, we've failed, we know, we get it.

The danger is that we might quit trying to live the life that God envisions for us. God doesn't want us to live the way we've been living. Many of us might agree--we don't want to be living these lives.

So take a different approach. What would a healthier life look like? What would a God-centered life look like? How would it feel?

Now think of one step that you can take in this direction towards a life that God envisions for you.

Remember that God promises that no matter how far away we are from that vision, God will meet us more than half-way. If we're feeling like a rejected stone, remember that God has great plans for rocks of every shape.

Bread Baking Process for Large Groups

 Last night I had a classic anxiety dream--I was in a class, and something was due, but I thought it was due the following week.  I woke up and made a list in my head to make sure I'm not missing something.  I'm still feeling anxious this morning, even though I haven't missed anything.

I am in that time of the term where I'm thinking of all the balls I'm juggling and trying not to think about it.  If I just keep going, I'm less likely to drop a ball.  If I look down, I may drop all the balls.  So, in an effort to calm my jittery self, let me reflect a bit on bread baking with a huge group of easily distracted middle school confirmands.  I accidentally created a successful approach that I want to remember.

I wanted to talk about yeast and bread in general, but I also wanted to make quick breads for our Communion bread.  So I decided to do both.  The first thing we did as a group was to look at yeast.  I walked in front of each child and held out a spoonful, commenting on the small grains.  

Then I sprinkled 5 spoonfuls in a bowl of water and showed the bowl to each person.  I commented on how it looked like lake water with algae in it.  I set it aside.

I had the bread making supplies on two tables, and my vision was that one group would make quick bread with regular flour and one would make it with gluten free flour.  

That part of the process went fairly well.  Each table had 8-10 children, and we dumped the ingredients in the big bowl, stirred and stirred, and then made the dough into rounds.  

At a certain point, restlessness happened, so I had everyone line up against the back wall to look at the bowl of yeast and water.  It was bubbly, and we talked about what yeast does, and why Jesus had the parable about the yeast.  What does it mean to be leaven in the loaf?  Why does Jesus call himself bread?  We talked about how lots of people have sustained themselves with not much else but bread.  We talked about the other types of food we know that ancient people ate, olives and lamb and small birds.  Bread is much more affordable and sustainable.

We came back to the table to finish up the quick bread and to add ingredients to the yeast bread bowl.  We added oil and honey, along with milk and more flour.   The confirmands had a chance to mix and knead with their hands (not required, since I know not everyone likes to get their hands messy).  The first group even got a ball of dough to shape.

 

The first group, a smaller group, did a good job of sharing the tasks, but the larger group was not skilled that way.  So I changed course.   I had everyone line up to take a turn at the bowl.  I said, "Mix, mix, move aside."  So everyone stirred 3-6 times and stepped aside.  Every so often, I dumped some flour or milk in the bowl.  I did the same thing with kneading.  The quick pace kept people focused.  They seemed to have fun, but more important, everyone got a chance to participate.

I didn't give the second group a chance to shape their own ball of dough.  They needed to get cleaned up and back to the main group.  But I also didn't want to risk what might happen if they had much more than a quick encounter with the dough:  dough in hair, dough flung across the room, not enough dough for bread to bake.  Once the confirmands went back to the main group, I washed my hands and took the trays in to the large group.

I said, "Look how much your bread dough has risen in the last half hour.  This is what it means to be leaven in the loaf.  This is your task, to be leaven in the loaf of your community."  I said it in my loud booming voice, and it got everyone's attention.

Then I went back and finished shaping the loaves and watching over the baking of them.  The kitchen staff and some of the grown ups helped me clean up.  

Once the bread cooled, I decided it was wise to slice the loaves in advance.  We were giving people a chance to taste the breads with their dinner, and I didn't want everyone waiting while I sliced bread.

I was pleased that everyone had a chance to try whichever kinds of bread they wanted and even to come back for seconds.  

It was very neat to worship the next day with the bread that we had created as part of communion.  I didn't have a chance to see if the confirmands found it as moving as I did.  

What I'd really like to be able to do is to check with them in 20 years to see if they remember, or who remembers what.  But most of us don't get to do that.  We do the work and we hope that some of it takes.