Music Week Day 1: The Contrasts and the Contradictions

 The last 24 hours have been full of contrasts.  On the one hand, it was the first full day of  Music Week at Lutheridge:

--Monday began with a long walk with the S. Florida church friend who is staying with us for the week.  Up and down hills, but I didn't really notice them because the conversation was deep and meaningful.

--Morning worship was also deep and meaningful.  I LOVED this prayer of the day:  "On the night he was betrayed, Jesus took bread, not revenge.  He offered bread to feed and to forgive.  On the night he was betrayed, Jesus took a basin of water to sooth [sic], liberate, and heal.  Help us, so washed and fed, to do the same."

--My inner English major was intrigued by the above spelling error, which made me think of soothsaying, which I continued to think about all day.

--My inner English major also was there for Bible study, which will take us to some villains in the Bible.  We began with one of the biggest, the serpent in the Garden of Eden.  One participant talked about the devil possessing the serpent, which sent me to the text, which reminded me that it's not in the text.  Ah, Milton, how your version has taken over everything we think we know about the story--which is what I said, in more non-English-major accessible form.

--One of our last questions for Bible study was "What does the serpent get out of this?"  I keep misspelling serpent, and this morning, I thought about serpent and repent, and now I want to write a poem, "The serpent repents."

--I was there for general choir rehearsal.  From the very beginning, this group can sing.  They sounded amazing, like they had been practicing for weeks, instead of just beginning together.

--The director has interesting ways of describing what he wants:  "You just sang the color dusty rose.  But it was the dusty rose of a piece of tuille or a curtain so faded you can see through it.  Now try it as a deeper rose color."  I immediately thought of a creative writing class idea, having students write a description and me bringing in different fabrics and colors and saying, "Now write it this way." 

--We had good meals together at our house.  The prep work was easy because I did most of it in advance.  It's becoming clear that I have prepared too much food--happily, much of it is freezable.

All of yesterday happened against a back drop of World Cup drama, both the games themselves, and the rumors of a phone call pressuring the officials to change a decision about red cards.  And then, this morning, the U.S. team lost anyway.

I got up this morning to news not only of that sports/political development/scandal, but also of the one in Maine.  If I left that sentence standing by itself, would future me remember which scandal I'm referring to?  In the interest of history, let me note that there are new rape charges against the Democratic candidate for Senate.  The charges that were already known (inappropriate sexting, inappropriate use of force against girlfriends) by the time of the primary would have been more than enough to disqualify him in the not-so-distant past.  Sigh.

I don't have a pithy way to end this post.  After all, if we're lucky, every given day is full of these contrasts if we just know to look:  deep friendship and deep spirituality and the farcical elements of modern life particularly the political bits and pieces, along with song and sustenance of all sorts.

All the Battles Worth Watching, One after Another

We spent a long chunk of time yesterday watching One Battle After Another.  It's a movie that's been out for awhile, but only recently free to stream on Amazon Prime.  I had forgotten how long it was, but happily, we started it in the late afternoon, not at 7:30 at night.

It wasn't until the later part of the movie, during one of the long (LONG) car chases that I became aware of how long it was taking to finish the movie.  It was compelling from the beginning until close to the end, compelling in ways that surprised me.

I was impressed with all the chunks of narrative that did manage to come together.  Paul Thomas Anderson deserved those Oscars for best director and best adapted screenplay.  There were moments when I did some math to try to figure out the revolutionary aspect of it all--if the daughter is 16 or 17, then the revolutionaries were active in 2008 or 2009?  The planting of bombs in government buildings and calling in bomb threats from a pay phone seemed so 1972 to me, but clearly, that timeline wouldn't work.  It was a nebulous revolutionary movement in the movie, so I was willing to suspend my initial disbelief.

There's another revolutionary movement in the movie, and it's the "Latino Harriet Tubman situation."  This movie has a lot to say about a great many issues, and one of the disadvantages of a vast movie is that some issues get short shrift.  I'd have liked more about all the Latino issues, especially the nods to the sanctuary movement that are hiding there in plain sight for those of us with eyes to see.  It's in the storylines about migration where we see revolutionaries who are working for social justice and working against a government that's against the flourishing of all people--unlike the other revolutionaries, the main characters who seem to be just blowing things up for the thrill of it all.

I try very hard not to fault movies or books or TV shows for not being the story that I wish they could have been.  In the end, I was happy to have a well-made movie to watch, a movie with much to mull over, a movie worth re-watching, as so few things are deserving of a second look these days.

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.  This prayer, while not written by him (it was written by late Bishop Ken Untener of Saginaw, drafted for a homily by Cardinal John Dearden, and misattributed to Romero), is often called the Romero prayer:  "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."

In a Week of Unraveling, the Sun Still Rises

It's been a week of hard news, a week of war and death and the world as we knew it unravelling.  I do realize my privilege in saying this.  For many parts of the world, that's just a regular week:  war and death and unravelling.

I've taken solace in the sunrise.  Part of it is the happy confluence of being able to get out for a walk in the last week before Daylight Savings Time starts.  Next week, it's back to walking in the dark if I want to get my walk done before my work day.

So this week, let me record these pictures from the high point of Lutheridge, the chapel and Dedication Altar.  Let me remember that God can transform every manner of gruesome death into new life.

The Seminarian Wins a Senate Primary

I am not the seminarian who won the primary--that would be James Talarico, who came to seminary with a wealth of education and experience: an M.Ed from Harvard, a stint with Teach for America, and time in state level politics.  News reports call him a seminarian, but he's earned the MDiv.  Maybe he's like me, an MDiv but still tasks to do before ordination.

I've done a bit of internet searching, and I can't tell what kind of Presbyterian church he's from, the more conservative branch or the more liberal one.  From his comments, it sounds like the more liberal one, but I did hear one commenter say that it wasn't the PCUSA branch, which I think is the most liberal.

I think of his candidacy committee.  Is the U.S. Senate a mission field?  Can he be ordained to serve the Senate?

If he wins the election, does his desire to be a minister change?  Is this something he'll do later?  The U.S. Senate doesn't seem like a bivocational fit.

Most of all, I am happy that someone with a gentler religious view can be a viable candidate.  We need more people with gentler views, but those of us with gentler views don't have the political scaffolding and resources that we would need.

Trying to Have No Fear

Last night I had dinner with some retreat friends who are in town for the Crafts for Christmas retreat which begins later today--two retreats in two weeks!  I am the luckiest woman, and this situation would not be possible if I still lived in South Florida.

Lest you think we talk about nothing but God and spirituality, our talk was primarily of politics and all the ways that people in charge of various governments are going off the rails and our fear of being dragged off the rails with them.  I'm not just talking about our US government; one of our group keeps track of events in Gaza in ways that I can't follow.

Of course, I'm beginning to feel the same way about most geopolitical trends--I can't possibly keep up or follow the course of events.  And in part, it's because all of it makes me feel any number of negative ways:  anxious, sad, depressed, worried.  

So this morning is a good time to remind myself of a verse from a  Gospel reading from several weeks ago, Luke 12, verse 32:  "Have no fear, little flock."

I made this sketch, which continues to delight me:

It's a good reminder.  We've had hard times before and will again.  God is with us through it all.

Fourth of July Morning in the Mountains

 Fourth of July morning, birds in full-throated song, a cool morning compared to morning temperatures elsewhere in the northern hemisphere.  A huge budget bill passed yesterday, and yes, it sounds apocalyptic, but I've seen apocalyptic budget bills, and other types of legislation, come and go, and sometimes it is every bit as bad as predicted, sometimes less, sometimes the world goes sidewise in another direction that has nothing to do with the bill.

Fourth of July morning, a Friday, which means a three day week-end.  Music Week starts on Sunday, which means I have some shopping and cleaning to do.  I need to think about what's in the study that I use on a daily basis--the study is about to become a guest room.  I will still be reporting for work at 8 a.m., Music Week or no Music Week.  I will need some of the clothes and shoes that are in the closet in the study.

Fourth of July morning, with a sermon still to write.  I think it will be a sermon that looks at dangerous ideas, Jesus' dangerous ideas and Jefferson's.  Too brave?  This will be the 3rd early July sermon with this congregation--let me do a quick look to see what I've done before.  Cool--I haven't done it before.  Part of my sermon writing problem this week is that I have too many ideas, which is not always the case.

Fourth of July morning, a baking morning.  I made cookies because I'm going to a neighbor's backyard party later today.  Today is going to be an eat with abandon day.  Or maybe it won't.  My counting of calories and writing them down is working--I've lost the weight I gained in May when I had a few weeks of abandon.  Being alcohol free is working--today will not be a drinking day.  Freedom!

Fourth of July morning, a day that may or may not celebrate freedom, a day that may or may not tell us what independence means.  I'm thinking of those founders of the U.S. who signed their names to a document that was treason, in the eyes of their government. They pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor. Each July 4, and most other days too, I think about my own life, my own beliefs. To what would I pledge my life, my fortune, and my sacred honor?

Fourth of July morning, and I can't resist posting again these favorite pictures, me dressed as a Colonist fighter, my Dad with a British soldier coat, both of us standing in front of a painting of British soldiers:

I have always been amazed that the rowdy colonists could pull off this defeat of the greatest empire in the world at the time. I don't think it's only that they were fighting on their home territory that helped them win. Plenty of people fight to defend their homes and don't win.

Fourth of July morning, a good day to say prayers of thanks for those who have done the hard work of fighting for liberties of all sorts and to pray for those who are still oppressed. Let us pledge allegiance to our God who yearns to set us free.

Whirlwind Week

What a whirlwind of a week!  On Tuesday, I felt a bit draggy, with that, "It's only Tuesday" despair.  It's been exhausting and wonderful and overwhelming with some relief thrown in.  Let me capture a few overarching themes and capture some items I want to remember.

CPE Training

Of course, the big news of the week has been the beginning of CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education), the process that trains chaplains to work in a variety of settings.  My setting for this summer is the Asheville VA Hospital, and so far, it's a great place to work.  I've written several blog posts already, so I won't write much more. 

Yesterday we shadowed various people from the chaplain department.  We went on rounds, we visited individuals, and some of us went to groups.  It was great to leave the conference room and to have a day where we did a variety of activities.  By the end of the day, I had gotten all my keys and gotten my Chaplain badge that tells people more about who I am.

Poem Ideas

My work this week gave me inspiration for possible poems.  Let me record them here so that I remember.  The most promising idea is Noah's Wife working as a chaplain in the VA hospital.  Hospital, ark, are they really so different?  I also see some potential in putting Cassandra in CPE training--Cassandra who has spent so much of her life with people not listening to her.  And now, she is training herself to keep silent, which she discovers is not a gift she has.

Wildlife Sightings

Yesterday on my way to work, a commuting route that takes me down the Blue Ridge Parkway, I saw two big turkeys crossing the road, along with at least 12 baby chicks.  Are baby turkeys called chicks?  Anyhow, I was able to come to a stop to let them get safely across.  On Thursday, I had a less dramatic turkey sighting, just one turkey standing by the side of the Blue Ridge Parkway.

My spouse had a much more dramatic wildlife sighting.  In broad daylight, a smallish bear came up on the deck, raised up on two legs, and licked all of the birdseed out of the feeder affixed to the sliding glass door.  The bear then ambled around the deck and then left.  My spouse was inside.

Success in Advocating for a Student

One of my online students from several semesters ago wrote to me asking me for help:  a letter to his current school to help him get the class that I taught to be counted as a writing class.  I was happy to do it.  I had to go back to review the class, since it's not one I taught often.  I wrote a solid letter showing how the class met the writing intensive goals of the student's current school.  Yesterday I heard from the student who wrote to thank me and to let me know that the class had been counted as a writing class--my letter convinced them!  I am always happy for this kind of good news. 

What I'm Not Writing About    

In future years, will I wonder why I didn't write more about the protests in L.A. or the military parade and protests happening today?  Will I wonder why I didn't write more about the Israel-Iraq escalation?  In future years will I see CPE as a life changing experience?  What am I not seeing?

A Great Teaching Day: Nuclear Apocalypses and Civil Rights Primers

Yesterday was a great teaching day, although I didn't fully savor it.  I had several seminary projects due last night, one of which was a presentation, so that stress was simmering in the background.  My commuting has gotten a bit nightmarish, with slow downs and stops that add an hour to my trip home.  By the time my seminary class started, I was more stressed than normal.

So let me savor the teaching day here.  In my Nonfiction Writing class on Tuesday, we sketched out the remaining class days--there are only 6 of them, or there were on Tuesday.  My students wanted to think about propaganda yesterday, so we began with the Daisy ad from LBJ's 1964 presidential campaign, the ad which combines a cute toddler pulling apart a daisy with a nuclear explosion.

I knew that we were going to discuss the ad, so I spent yesterday morning watching this video that compares The Day After to Threads.  It talks about The Day After as a form of propaganda/teaching.  We only watched the first part, because I didn't want to expose them to Threads, which is quite graphic and gruesome.  We had a good discussion.  The students had never seen either film, but the commentary was understandable (as we watched it, I wasn't sure that it would be).

Then I went to teach my American Lit survey class.  It was the day to discuss Martin Luther King's "Letter from a Birmingham Jail."  I wanted to use some music to set the mood as they came in, so I cued up this album (by the magic of YouTube):

I had the CD cover on the screen, and one of my students walked in and said, "That looks like they're having fun."  Hmmm.  So I used it as a later teaching moment.

I've actually seen the real photograph--there was a display of Civil Rights photo at the Ft. Lauderdale Museum of Art.  As I recall, it's part of a three part set.  I said to the class, "What you can't see on this side is the firehose of water being aimed at peaceful protestors."

We talked about protest, about the rights guaranteed by the Constitution, about the unjust situation that King described in his letter.  We talked about modern issues of injustice that need our attention and how we might affect change (write letters, protest, run for office, write a poem or a song).  I talked about how the Civil Rights protestors of the 50's and 60's came from a church background and what that meant.  And then to conclude class, I had them write about the best way to do that, while we listened to two songs from the album, "This Little Light of Mine" and "(Ain't Gonna Let Nobody) Turn Me Round."

It was a good mix of history, modern politics/issues of social injustice, civics reminders (your legislators will take notice if you write or call, and they may change their minds), literature, and song.  It was less a focus on literature than most class meetings, but it felt important.  And it will lead nicely to Claudia Rankine's Citizen:  A Lyric on Tuesday. 

Week of Smoke, Week of Encouragement

 It has been a strange week, a wonderful week, a tiring week, a good week overall for me personally but not so much for larger communities.  Let me record a few snippets.

--It's been the week when we've learned that some of the highest federal government folks have been talking on unsecured networks; this week's scandal has been dubbed "Signalgate."  I've been shaking my head, as many people have.  Many of us have had to go through yearly trainings to remind/teach/train us of the importance of keeping secure information secure.  And one doesn't need these trainings--it's common sense.  Grrr.

--It's been a week of other kinds of smoke.  We've had lots of fire in the Carolina mountains.  So far my house is safe, but the smoke is visible, and the air quality is poor.  As I drive back and forth to Spartanburg, I can see huge plumes of smoke in the distance.  We need rain, a few days of soaking (but not torrential!) rain.  More than that, we need the downed trees cleared away, but I'm not sure how that will happen.

--We've had family members in town as one of the next generations scouts wedding venues.  It's been great to be with them.  It was too brief, but brief visits are better than no visits.

--My seminary schedule is a bit strange, with lots of due dates next week.  The good news is that by getting this work done now, I'll have less to do later.  But I am feeling loaded down.

--The two classes that I'm taking have been particularly good this week, so that's a blessing.  And I've gotten good feedback--much needed encouragement, encouragement needed because I'm tired, not because I'm doubting myself.

--It's also been a good teaching week, with encouragement and praise.  It's nice to feel appreciated.  And it's a marvel to be praised for all the things I do, like the quilting bee on Monday.  I've worked at many a place where people would have questioned what any of that had to do with writing an essay, with the insinuation that I should just do my job.  And it's nice to be in a place that has space to do a quilting bee.

--I had students who came to the quilting bee who wanted me to do it again, and one student who wishes I would teach a sewing class.  I wish I had those kind of sewing skills.  I can't take a pattern and cloth and end up with a shirt.

Even though it will be an intense week-end getting next week's seminary tasks done, it will be good to have a day when I'm not driving.  It will be good to have some time to get the work done.

International Women's Day, 2025

March is the month designated to celebrate women's history; March 8 is International Women's Day. We might ask ourselves why we still need to set time apart to pay attention to women. Haven't we enacted laws so that women are equal and now we can just go on with our lives?

Our current administration seems to think so--no need for equity or diversity or equality anymore.  With some in power, the picture is much more bleak, with an apparent desire to strip away some hard-won rights and liberties for women, for minorities, for everyone who is not white and male.

Until recently, I'd have assumed that rights that had been awarded by the Supreme Court were ours forever.  That belief is gone.  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, even the ones who live in states that have greatly restricted health care for women and other protections that women need that men don't.

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.  Women have been doing the work that needs to be done.  And in some years, surviving to fight/live another day is accomplishment enough.

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.

In my various seminary classes, 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.

New World Order

When I'm on the road by myself, I usually have NPR on, and when I travel on Friday, as I did yesterday, many of the NPR shows are doing news of the week retrospectives.  In the morning, all the commentators expected the afternoon meeting between Trump and Zelensky to end in a minerals deal and perhaps a vision for a path to a peace treaty.

By afternoon, it was not to be.  I first heard about the contentious meeting on a BBC show carried by an NPR station.  It was oddly comforting to hear the discussion in clipped, British accents, even as the subject of the discussion was so catastrophic.

As I listened to Trump and Vance shouting and Zelensky try to get a word in edgewise, I felt that careening disbelief that I've felt so often in the last few weeks.  Really?  Grown ups talk like this?  And then I wondered how we came to have audio.  I imagined some brave White House employee sneaking a recording to a British reporter.

Nope--it was all televised, and later, when I watched the footage, it seemed like a pre-planned spectacle.

It's an astonishing moment that I would never have imagined.  A Republican president embracing . . . Russia???  I came of age during the reign of Ronald Reagan, who must be spinning in his grave.  It's hard for me to imagine how any of this ends well.  I already miss the peace and prosperity slipping through our fingers.  I know, I know, it was peace and prosperity for Europe and the U.S., with proxy wars fought around the globe.

I can imagine any number of scenarios about where the world lurches from here, and none of them are good.  As I was driving, my apocalyptic brain kicked into overdrive yesterday, and I sang "Dona Nobis Pacem" to quiet it.  I'm amazed by how well that works.  This video offers a beautiful rendition, with footage from a cathedral.

I switched over from NPR to a classic rock station just as one song ended and the next started:  "Cult of Personality."  I smirked, but as the afternoon wore on, I did wonder if the d.j. was being deliberate.  I heard "Highway to Hell" and "Sunday Bloody Sunday" in short order.  Hmmm.  I realize that my English major brain makes all kinds of connections that might not have been intentional.

Last night we went outside to see if we could view the planetary alliance.  I think that we saw it, but as with the playlist that might be making a statement about political struggles, I wasn't sure.  Still, it was good to look up at the sky and to remember how brief our geopolitical struggles are in the long term--still not a comfort when I think of what those geopolitical struggles likely mean for the rest of my life and those who come after, but a cold, planetary comfort nonetheless.

Politics: Writing Letters, Making Phone Calls

In the past, I haven't spent much time contacting my U.S. senators or my representative in the U.S. House.  I've written the occasional letter about a bill coming up for a vote, and during the first Trump administration, I felt compelled to make phone calls here or there.  This past week has been different.

I began with making phone calls on Monday; I called my two senators to give my opinion on the cabinet nominees that might come up for a vote sooner rather than later.  That was Monday when I thought the votes might happen momentarily.

As the week continued, we heard about DOGE getting control of various databases that include sensitive information--so I made calls about that because it felt urgent.  In both instances, no one answered the phone, but I expected that.  I left a message, as I have been trained to do:  focused message, my name, address, and phone number.  This morning, The Washington Post is reporting that I am not the only one concerned; the story has this headline:  "Lawmakers flooded with calls about Elon Musk: ‘It is a deluge on DOGE.’"

I've also written letters.  I am odd in that writing letters feels easier, and I do believe that a handwritten letter gets similar attention to a phone call.  I am certain that online polls and online generated letters/communication don't get much attention at all, especially in times when offices are getting lots of communication.

I like writing letters, which I keep brief, because I can do them in my spare time, which is not abundant.  Phone calls mean that I have to do a bit of talking myself into the process; I am not a talk on the phone person.  

I wrote letters in support of the federal workers who are being treated shabbily.  I wrote letters in support of USAID.  I do realize that there is waste and abuse across various government agencies, and I know that's true of most institutions.  But there are good ways to do reform, and there are bad ways.  Taking a sledgehammer to programs is one of the bad ways, particularly when it involves ordinary people's lives and livelihoods. 

One of the reasons I haven't communicated with my legislators is that reform has usually been more moderate and measured.  I haven't always agreed with the directions taken, but I have felt that various points were considered as people with more information than I have had made decisions.  I have not felt that way in the past two weeks.

In this time, when so much is under attack without much communication or consideration, sending messages to the people who are supposed to be representing voters feels very important.

Genocidal Despots and Poems

I am taking 2 wonderful seminary classes, and I'm so happy that I get to end my MDiv on this note, with two wonderful classes in my last term, no drudgery work.  Last night's class is a New Testament class called "Birth, Death, and Back Again:  Christmas and Easter."  It looks at Christmas and Easter texts without the in between, and I am loving it.  In my first year, it was offered, but it was onground, so I couldn't take it.  This semester, it's virtual.  It's not offered every semester, so I'm glad that I had a chance to take it--an advantage to taking a slightly slower route to graduation.

Last night we discussed Matthew 2:  1-23, the visit of the magi, the flight to Egypt, the massacre of Bethlehem boys, and the return.  It was the kind of class meeting where I took extensive notes and thought, I need to remember these details for next year's Christmas season sermons.

Of course, the most powerful part of last night's class is one that I'll probably use more in funeral sermons than in Christmas sermons.  We talked about Herod's slaughter of the Bethlehem boys under the age of 2 and asked the question of why Joseph gets a dream that saves Jesus, but the other parents in Bethlehem don't.  Does God allow genocide?

My professor, Dr. Laura Holmes, finished our discussion of the death of the innocents by reminding us that salvation/redemption/liberation comes with a high price, and not just for Jesus; there's lots and lots of damage to those around him. 

In other words, Jesus came into our world that is ruled by empires, by genocidal despots, by the people in charge who are scared and thus make terrible decisions.  I realize that that on some level, my professor's response doesn't answer the question.  My own answer, as people who read every blog entry of mine will know, is that God isn't all powerful and that evil forces do have a lot of power, and that those two facts often lead to bloodshed, which is not what God wants, but God can't always prevent it.

I admire my professor's ability to give us insight and encourage class discussion.  I hate the classes that are too focused on student presentations.  I am paying for the professor's expertise--if I wanted to be taught by peers, who may or may not have extensive experience, I can do that much more cheaply than a seminary class.  Last night we had both expertise and really insightful class discussion.

When class started, I thought about one of my all-time favorite poems I've ever written, a poem that imagines what might have happened had the magi showed up at the Southern border.   The final poem had multiple strands: Epiphany, the perpetual crisis on the border, the crisis between east and west that ultimately led to the taking down of the wall between East and West Germany, a bit of the underground railroad.  As the class went on, lines of new poetry kept bubbling up in my brain.  Happily, I had a blank legal pad nearby, so I wrote them down.  It was wonderful to feel inspired.

I am not sure I can transform those lines into anything that I like as much as the poem that I'll post below, the poem that was published in Sojourners in 2020.  

 

Border Lands

I am the border agent who looks
the other way. I am the one
who leaves bottled water in caches
in the harsh border lands I patrol.

I am the one who doesn’t shoot.
I let the people assemble,
with their flickering candles a shimmering
river in the dark. “Let them pray,”
I tell my comrades. “What harm
can come of that?” We holster
our guns, and open a bottle to share.

I am the superior
officer who loses the paperwork
or makes up the statistics.
I am the one who ignores
your e-mails, who cannot be reached
by text or phone, the one
with a full inbox.

When the wise ones
come, as they do, full of dreams,
babbling about the stars
that lead them or messages
from gods or angels,
I open the gates. I don’t alert
the authorities up the road.
Let the kings and emperors
pay for their own intelligence.

I should scan the horizons,
but I tend the garden
I have planted by the shed
where we keep the extra
barbed wires. I grow a variety
of holy trinities: tomatoes, onions,
peppers, beans, squashes of all sorts.
I plant a hedge of sunflowers,
each bright head a north star.

Lutheran Social Services Under Fire

On Sunday, I got home from preaching about the Feast Day of the Presentation to find people across social media in a state of disbelief and outrage about remarks made about Lutheran Social Services, with Mike Flynn accusing the group of laundering money. Good grief. It would be laughable if I didn't know so many people would take this seriously.

I've worked for LSS in my youth, and I have continued to be part of groups that partner with them. I have seen the good work that they do. I am also old enough to remember that many of these social service agencies grew bigger as past presidents like Reagan cut government services saying that religious groups should be taking care of the needs of impoverished citizens. And now, after decades of doing that, there's criticism and blow back/up.

It's flabbergasting to watch the situation in Washington, D.C.--as I'm sure the ones doing the breaking up of government want it to be.  I am interested in what happens to the Department of Education.  I am irked by what is happening at USAID.  I am convinced it's not about saving money, no matter what these DOGE folks say.  These are the most underfunded parts of government.  If you want to save money consequences be damned, set your sights on the Department of Defense.

This is the strangest time in U.S. history that I have ever seen, and I am not thinking I will see normal times again in my lifetime.

But let me remind myself of past times of poor prospects that suddenly brightened.  Let me remember the fall of the wall that separated East and West Germany.  Let me remember Nelson Mandela being released from prison.

Let me continue to do what I can:  taking the longer view, making phone calls, making art.  This morning's reading from Psalm 37:  34-40 gave me hope (posterity for the peaceable!):

Wait for the Lord and keep to the Lord's way,
and the Lord will exalt you to inherit the land;
you will look on the destruction of the wicked.


35 I have seen the wicked oppressing
and towering like a cedar of Lebanon.
36 Again I passed by, and they were no more;
though I sought them, they could not be found.


37 Mark the blameless and behold the upright,
for there is posterity for the peaceable.
38 But transgressors shall be altogether destroyed;
the posterity of the wicked shall be cut off.


39 The salvation of the righteous is from the Lord;
the Lord is their refuge in the time of trouble.
40 The Lord helps them and rescues them;
the Lord rescues them from the wicked and saves them
because they take refuge in the Lord.

Prophets and Martyrs, Past and Present (Sermon Notes)

I think that yesterday's sermon went well.  You can read it in this blog post, and you can see it (which will have some additions to the text) through this video on my YouTube channel.

As I did my pre-writing, I thought about how postponing the Baptism of Our Lord Sunday gave me an interesting opportunity to make connections between John the Baptist, Jesus, Martin Luther King, and the inauguration (which gave me an opportunity to talk about modern politicians, who will never say the words of John the Baptist, "I am not the Messiah").

I didn't talk much about modern politics; I wanted a sermon that was more hopeful than that.  As we looked at the recording of my sermon, my spouse said to me, "I don't think I've ever heard a sermon that connected John the Baptist, Jesus, and Martin Luther King Jr."

We will now get back on track with the Revised Common Lectionary.  I am somewhat sad to miss the opportunity to preach on the Wedding in Cana and water turned into wine, but I think it's better to get back on track sooner rather than later.

We came back across the mountain in blowing snow, but at least it wasn't sticking, unlike two weeks ago.  This winter is so different from last winter, in terms of weather that makes me question if our decision to travel was wise.  But I'm glad that we had the opportunity to gather.  I am glad that I had the opportunity to declare a message of hope.  As I looked at the congregation, I was struck by how many families are dealing with heavy stuff:  health stuff, death stuff, work stuff.  Darker days may be coming, and I'm glad I didn't scrap the ending to my sermon.

Epiphany 2025

I am one of those people who always checks the weather.  In part, it's because I want to make sure I'm dressed for whatever is coming, and in part, because I want to be prepared in other ways.  On Saturday, the church council president texted me to ask if I was concerned about the weather.  On Saturday, the weather service for Bristol, TN was forecasting the wintery mix to begin falling in the middle of the afternoon.  I thought we had plenty of time to clear out of town before that happened, and I wasn't too worried about travel across the mountains.  Plus I knew that the forecast for our side of the mountains didn't call for any moisture at all.

I had a great Sunday planned, and the energy in the church was wonderful.  The church was still decorated for Christmas, and during the children's sermon, I gave them each a fabric angel.  

We talked about how God speaks to us, through angel choirs and stars, and that the most important thing to remember is that if you hear a voice telling you that you're worthless, it's not God talking, but someone else.  If they remember nothing else from our time together, I hope they remember that one message that I bring up periodically.

Then I had the youth help pass out the Epiphany stars:

My sermon talked about our Christmas to Epiphany journey, how God spoke to people then and how God still speaks to people now.  I thought it went well.  You can view it for yourself and decide; it's posted here on my YouTube channel; you can also read a version in this post on this blog.

As we processed out to "Hark the Herald Angels Sing," I looked out the plate glass door to the church and realized it was snowing.  I wasn't really concerned, since it had just started.  

We had planned to take communion to a parishioner in the hospital on our way back, but I became more and more concerned about how rapidly the weather conditions were deteriorating.  So we decided to just keep pressing ahead.  We got onto I 81, and then I got really concerned about how the conditions were deteriorating, how much slush there was on the interstate, which had been treated with a de-icing agent, but was still slick in places, with icy rain/sleet/snow falling from the sky.

Happily, we were headed south, so even though we climbed in elevation to get across the mountain range, the wintry mix changed to rain.  We stopped at the welcome center on the NC/TN border to chip away at the ice that had formed on the windshield and wipers.  The whole front of the car was cased in ice, something neither one of us had ever seen before (and my spouse grew up in Indiana in the snowy 70's).

It took much longer than our usual commute home, but we made it home safely.  We made a stir fry and settled in to watch Street Gang:  How We Got to Sesame Street.  The documentary of the early days of Sesame Street was just what we needed for Epiphany Eve.  It was wonderful to be reminded of the magic that can happen when people are set free to experiment, to try something new, to see what happens.

And here we are, another Epiphany.  It makes me sad that for many people, this date will be associated with violent domestic attack on the U.S. Capitol, instead of a day of thinking about insights and new information.  Of course, the Epiphany story has always had a shadow side, a jealous ruler (Herod) and insecurity that leads to a bloodbath.

Today and every day, we would be wise to think of our own power, our own feelings of inadequacy, how we attempt to control the elements of our lives or how we don't.  We would be wise to think about all the strangers who show up to tell us of a different way, a different paradigm.  We would be wise to keep our eyes trained to larger vistas.

A Look Back at 2024

I don't always do an end of year retrospective; some years I'm on vacation, while other years, I just don't feel like it.  But today, reading the retrospectives of other people, I've decided to put one together.  It's good to remember that there were good times and bad, goal met and not yet met and abandoned, books read, that kind of thing.

Teaching

Let me begin with teaching.  I've continued to teach online and in person.  I've had days when I thought, this is what I was put on earth to do!  There were plenty of days when I wondered if I'm too old to do this anymore, but mainly because there are so many cultural references I'm not going to get.  But my overarching feeling is that I am ready to step into my wise elder shoes--I'm much more assertive about forbidding cell phone use in class, much more willing to assert that some experiences are important (we will create a communal poem, we will describe a tree that we've spent 20 minutes observing, we will continue to assert the primacy of literature).

Seminary

I continued to take a wide variety of seminary classes in a wide variety of modalities.  I am still really enjoying this work.  In the past year, I took 9 classes, no small accomplishment, particularly in a year of a devastating storm that made life very difficult (no electricity for 2 weeks, no internet connectivity for 4 weeks) for an online student.

Writing

Much of my writing focus has been seminary work and writing a weekly sermon.  It's been delightful, but there are times when I feel odd about how much poetry writing I haven't been doing, along with other writing.  But I did write 30 poems of varying degrees of completeness, along with at least that many fragments.  I have continued to blog daily throughout much of the year.  I have kept an offline journal and sent e-mails to friends, along with letters.  Writing is still one of the ways I figure out myself and the world.

Sketching

I have done some sketching on a daily basis.  As I looked at my sketchbook, I'm struck by how I'm trying to capture the mountains in sketching, with varying degrees of success.  I've written more about my year in sketching in this blog post.  

Fabric Arts

I have continued to stitch, although there have been too many weeks in the Fall when I did not touch fabric.  At the end of the year, I have a new quilt top almost completed, a quilt top I didn't even have in my head at the beginning of the year.  I have loved being part of a group at the local Lutheran church that makes quilts for Lutheran World Relief.

Reading

I have done a lot of reading for seminary class, which means I haven't done as much other reading as I would like.  I read at least 70 books, including some rigorous academic books outside of theology.  I would like to read more poetry in 2025.

Theatre and Museums

We saw great theatre, but it was in our home, which may be one of the better ways to see it (it's cheaper, and we can see more).  I went to one special exhibit at the Columbia Museum of Art, which I wrote about in this blog post.  I also went to the Smithsonian, back when I was in DC for the seminary onground intensive, which I wrote about in this blog post.

Music

We had great musical experiences at camp during Music Week.  We had plans to go to a concert or two, like the Violent Femmes, but Hurricane Helene disrupted those plans.

Health

I continue to work on solid practices that will situate me for an easier old age:  more walking, more vegetables, more strength training, more gratitude, more creative time, more friends, less alcohol, less sweets, less screen time.  Most months, I'm partially successful in most areas, and most of the time, I think that's about all I need to worry about.

Hurricane Helene

One of the things I will remember most about this year is Hurricane Helene, the fact that we moved 900 miles away from our South Florida house in a flood zone, only to be impacted so severely by hurricane remnants, from a hurricane that came ashore hours earlier and hundreds of miles to the south.  We are 2000 feet above sea level, and the damage to the geography was much worse than any hurricane damage I've ever seen with my own eyes.  Happily, our home was not damaged, and we did not lose a single tree.

Home Renovation

We made progress on home renovations.  A year ago, we still didn't have much in the way of internal walls; now we do.  A year ago, we didn't have any bathroom restoration done; now, we have two bathrooms that have been modernized.  There is still work to be done, but there will always be work that needs to be done.

Politics and Other Major Events

The presidential election had lots of surprises, which shouldn't be a surprise.  But I am guessing that in some future year when we look back, across a space of decades, we'll be surprised at what we all missed, what huge historical event we didn't see coming.  If the more deadly form of bird flu mutates to become transmissible from human to human, that might be the story.  If it's a war with China or that Putin detonates a nuclear bomb, that might be the story.  Or maybe it will be an unexpected human rights advancement.  I think about January of 1989 when no one would predict that this would be the year that the Berlin Wall came down and dictators across Eastern Europe would be deposed. 

Remembering Jimmy Carter

Jimmy Carter died yesterday, and far greater minds than mine will weigh in.  I was 11 years old when Carter was sworn in as president; I was roughly the same age as Amy Carter.  I was a kid who was interested in politics, so I paid attention to all sorts of news stories.  But of course, I was a kid, so I didn't understand everything I read or heard.  Throughout Carter's presidency, I head a lot of adults who were upset with Carter, the man, the president, and all the policies.

I am old enough to remember when people hated Carter, especially as he was leaving the White House and for a decade or two afterward.  By now, many of us know the good work that he did post presidency.  If you want an article that explains why Jimmy Carter was not a failure of a president, as you may have been taught, this one in The Washington Post by Stuart Eizenstat does a good job.  You should be able to read for free:  https://wapo.st/4gwS2JW

And again, I realize that many people, especially younger folks, are aware of the good work he did after his presidency--and so much good work, in human rights, in global health, in helping to protect natural resources, in building houses for those who had none, in continuing to be part of the community, on and on the list could go.  I was always astounded at reports of how he continued to teach a Sunday School class, for example.  I am grateful for how he showed us such variety in ways to live a life faithful to one's core values.

My favorite article of the morning reading, the most comprehensive assessment, an article in The Atlantic by James Fallows, has this quote, and I'll leave the spacing intact:  "Whatever his role, whatever the outside assessment of him, whether luck was running with him or against, Carter was the same. He was self-controlled and disciplined. He liked mordant, edgy humor. He was enormously intelligent—and aware of it—politically crafty, and deeply spiritual. And he was intelligent, crafty, and spiritual enough to recognize inevitable trade-offs between his ambitions and his ideals. People who knew him at one stage of his life would recognize him at another.

Jimmy Carter didn’t change. Luck and circumstances did."

Here's a great closing quote that I found in Heather Cox Richardson's post:  "President Carter said, 'When I was in the White House, I thought of human rights primarily in terms of political rights, such as rights to free speech and freedom from torture or unjust imprisonment. As I traveled around the world since I was president, I learned there was no way to separate the crucial rights to live in peace, to have adequate food and health care, and to have a voice in choosing one’s political leaders. These human needs and rights are inextricably linked.'"

As so many others have said, we were lucky to have a man like Jimmy Carter.  May we all find inspiration as we try to figure out way to live according to our values.

A Quilt Retreat in the Days after a Presidential Election

I thought about writing a longer blog post about the election.  But I'm not really sure I have that much more to say.  I could see the next 4 years going any number of ways, from nuclear mishaps/catastrophes, to more general chaos, to an administration that manages to do some good and some bad.  I expect to be somewhat insulated:  I'm not an outspoken opponent, I'm an older woman which buys me some protection from misogyny, I have economic resources, I live in the mountains, I'm a English teacher which at this point is still a job that people want a human to do.  I will do what I can to help those who are not so lucky.

Do I think that I have voted in my last election?  No.  I think we'll have other elections, but they may not mean much--that has often been the case in my lifetime, so I won't assume that democracy is dead.  Even though I thought about sending an e-mail with a reference to A Handmaid's Tale ("See you in the Colonies!"), I don't think we're headed to that scenario--Trump  doesn't have the kind of focus and self-control that would make that possible. 

While lots of people have been saying lots of things about the election, I've been at the twice-a-year quilt retreat at Lutheridge.  When I plunked down my deposit back in the spring, I didn't realize it would be right after the election, and that wouldn't have made a difference anyway.  I've been grateful to have a place to sit and sew, but then again, I'm always grateful for a place to sit and sew, whether it's a chair in my living room or a work station at a retreat center.

It's been a strange quilting retreat in other ways.  I have a full-time teaching job, which is different from when I left my full-time administrator job to come to quilt camp.  If we hadn't had a hurricane, I might have taken yesterday, the first full day of quilt camp, off, but I decided that I didn't feel good about that.  Happily, I can both teach and come back to quilt camp.

On Wednesday afternoon (the retreat started Wed. at 3 for those of us who could arrive then), I sat at my table for a bit, just feeling discombobulated, discombobulated because I came directly from work, discombobulated because I didn't feel like sewing yet, discombobulated because I was still digesting election results.  Yesterday when I returned from Spartanburg, I expected to need a bit of decompression time.  Because I was expecting it, it didn't last as long.

Two years ago, I first started assembling these log cabin patches:

In these few days at quilt camp, I hope to get them all sewed together into a quilt top.  I am putting squares into 4 square lengths, because they're all slightly different in terms of measurements.  I am paying some attention to colors and patterns, but more attention to measurements at this point.  I'm trying not to worry about what happens when I try to put these 4 square lengths into one quilt top--or to be more accurate, since I am not worried, I am trying not to try to figure out how to assemble them yet.  It will all come together.

I am also hoping that this quilting is a metaphor for what can happen on the national political scene.  It feels like we're in a time of ripping.  It's the ripping sound that gets a lot of coverage.  But far away from the national commentators, small scraps can be assembled into sturdy quilts that will keep us all warm and protected.