Becoming a Better Godparent--Give Periodicals

So, you say you'd like to send your godchild something on a monthly basis, but you just don't have time. Give your godchild a subscription to a periodical, and let someone else do the work for you.

My mom bought my nephew (who is my godchild) a subscription to The Little Lutheran, which is also published as The Little Christian, and it's a periodical that would appeal to most mainline Christians (go here for more details). I suspect that most denominations have a similar publication.

My sister reports that my nephew LOVES this magazine. They read it obsessively each month as it comes in. It makes me happy that my nephew is both learning to love to read and to love God with this gift. And of course, since he loves the magazine, he returns to it again and again.

Some of these magazine subscriptions might seem pricey, especially compared to adult subscriptions. The Little Lutheran costs $24.95 for 10 issues. Yet that's less that $3 an issue, which is a pretty good price for a monthly gift.

So, give your godchild a year-long subscription to a periodical and let the periodical and the U.S. Mail service do the rest.

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, April 26, 2009:

First Reading: Acts 3:12-19

Psalm: Psalm 4

Second Reading: 1 John 3:1-7

Gospel: Luke 24:36b-48

In this week's Gospel, we have another post-Resurrection appearance story, and what an odd story it is. In the post-Resurrection stories, Jesus has taken on supernatural capacities that he didn't really demonstrate before his crucifixion. Here, he suddenly appears (a few verses earlier, he has vanished after eating).

The disciples quite logically assume that they're seeing a ghost. Their senses, rooted in the rational world, can't make sense of what they're seeing and hearing. Those of us who spend our secular lives surrounded by people who are disdainful of the mystical might find ourselves more sympathetic to their plight.

Perhaps we've felt the same way. It's not hard to accept the pre-Resurrection stories of Jesus, at least most of them. We're not unaccustomed to hearing about humans who can do almost superhuman things: human rights crusaders, charismatic politicians, the fabulous doctor that we'd hate to lose. Just think of Martin Luther King, Mother Theresa, Desmond Tutu, and Aung San Suu Kyi, and all those other people who might make us feel inadequate for just living normal lives. Some times, we lump Jesus in with those kinds of people, and we forget about the spiritual side of the Gospel. Even when Jesus performs spectacular miracles, they don't seem outside the range of possibility in our current day and age.

But these post-Resurrection stories don't let us dance away from Jesus' identity. We might know of someone who has been declared dead, maybe for a few minutes, and returned with stories of white lights and floating above one's body. But to die and lie in a tomb for 3 days and then come back to life? So far, no human has ever done that.

I like how these post-Resurrection stories, shrouded as they may be in mystery, are also still rooted in the earthy body-ness of Jesus. Jesus appears to people, and then he asks for food, which he eats. This evidence shows that he's not a ghost or a spiritual presence; doubters can't explain the post-Resurrection sightings with this claim. Jesus is still God Incarnate. His body still needs all the things our bodies need: food, liquid, sleep, a bath.

In this week's Gospel, Jesus again shows us a useful way of inhabiting our human bodies. He shows his scars, which might lead to some exchanging of stories, if the disciples didn't already know the story of how he got them. He shares food with them. He reminds them of their higher destiny and calls them to greater things.

Jesus is still here, reminding us of his scars and of the capacity to overcome those things that scar us. Jesus is still here, waiting to share a meal with us. Jesus is still here, reminding us that we are witnesses, that we are called to a far greater destiny than our tiny imaginations can envision.

Walking the Labyrinth Alone

Last night, I walked the Labyrinth alone. I was running early for a 7:30 poetry reading at Broward College, which is just across the street from my church, so I decided to walk the Labyrinth. In the past year, I've either walked it as part of a group, or walked it while a group was near by. Last night, I was totally alone.

At first it felt weird. I've been reading more news stories lately about violence against women, so I've been more skittish these days. Plus, there were rain clouds rumbling across the sky.

But soon, the Labyrinth worked its magic, and I began to feel calm and centered. Then I started to notice some things. Two more tiles were broken, for one thing. I could have replaced them, but I was in my dress up clothes (coming to a poetry reading from work), so I decided not to. I came across a child's notebook in one of the spirals, a small thing the size of a playing card, with a Peter Rabbit on the cover. I picked it up, but it was waterlogged from recent rain. I put it back down. I also noticed what looked like some palms from Palm Sunday, although down here in South Florida, they could have blown in from some palm tree. But there they were, in the shape of a cross.

Once again, the Labyrinth reminds me of the value of slowing down. I've spent the last several days swamped at work; we discovered that we're losing a classroom, which has meant that I've had to rework the whole Summer schedule of classes, a job I thought I was done with months ago. Grr. But the Labyrinth reminds me of the circular nature of life; we're never really done, are we? We're just at a different place in the path.

And the Labyrinth reminds me of all the ways God winks at me during the course of a day. Often, I'm too busy or too irritable or too exhausted to notice. Happily God will keep trying to get our attention. And if we can find spiritual practices that help us to pay attention, so much the better.

Becoming a Better Godparent--Communicate Regularly

Last time, I talked about sending your godchild a card on the anniversary of his/her baptism. But as I was writing, it occurred to me how much better it would be to communicate regularly. I like the idea of something more permanent than a phone call, something the child and parents could refer to again and again. I tend to think in terms of writing, but you could use any of the prompts to create a collage, take inspired photographs, make a recording/podcast of your voice responding to the prompt--you're only limited by your imagination and your art supplies/access to technology.

Prompts:

--What's your favorite Bible verse? Why?

--What are some other Bible verses you love? Why?

--Once a month, you could send a card with a short verse, and a few sentences about why the verse is meaningful to you.

--What's your favorite Bible story?

--Tell your godchild about a time when you've seen God at work in your life.

--If you know the family of the godchild, you could tell stories about when the godchild's family members have known that God is at work in their lives.

--Talk about something you've seen in nature that reminded you of the wonder of God's creation.

--Create prayers for your godchild. Illustrate them.

--Are there works of art (don't limit yourself to painting--think about music, sculpture, poetry, and such) that help you move closer to God? Tell your godchild about them.

--As you sing your favorite hymns throughout the year, write to your godchild about the hymn and the memories the hymn inspires.

--You might also write/communicate about the other aspects of the church service which are meaningful to you.

--If you hear a good sermon on a Sunday, write to your godchild and talk about it. If you're blessed to be part of a church that gives a good children's sermon, tell your godchild about it.

--If you're part of a liturgical church, send your godchild a card as the liturgical seasons change. You could create a meditation on the colors of the season. You could write about your memories (for example, do you remember Summer as "the long green season"?).

--As you attend other spiritual events (weddings, confirmations, first communions, other baptisms, funerals), use these events as a springboard to spiritual discussions, memories, and other communications with your godchild.

--You might also communicate your periods of doubt and despair, especially if you've moved through them. It's helpful for us to remember that living a faith-based life doesn't mean we'll be excused from the hard part of being a human (in fact, it might open us to more pain, as we try to be compassionate to God's creation).

--Tell your godchild about the things for which you're grateful. Think of ways to cultivate a spirit of gratitude in your godchild.

--As you work on social justice projects, tell your godchild about them and why they're important. You might even take your godchild with you to social justice projects that aren't dangerous: bagging food at a food pantry, serving food to the homeless, collecting clothes for the less fortunate, sending books to colleges in Africa, prayer services for oppressed groups, rallies to demand fair housing, and similar experiences.

It would be great to start and continue a dialogue with your godchild, instead of just sending missives. So you could send something, and then follow up with a phone call or an e-mail. Let your godchild know that you're open to questions and that you'll answer honestly. Engage your godchild in wrestling with the basic spiritual questions, and try not to freak out as your godchild does so.

The parents of your godchild chose you to be a godparent for a reason. Out of all the people in the world, they chose you and entrusted you with this responsibility. Just think of what a better world we'd have if we all took this job seriously. Within a generation, perhaps the problems that some churches face in terms of decline would be reversed. Maybe we'd see a spiritually mature generation full of compassion and a thirst for justice.

Becoming a Better Godparent--Send Baptismal Anniversary Cards

One of the things I meant to do, and I am resolved to do from now on, was to send my nephew, for whom I am the Christian Monitor (or Godmother), a card each year on the anniversary of his baptism.

I plan to make these cards myself. I haven't planned these out, but I like the idea of drawing something myself, or collaging images, or something that isn't mass-marketed (besides, my local Target doesn't have much). Plus, I want to write something each year.

What to write? Here are some ideas:

--If you were at the baptism, write your memories of your godchild's baptism.

--If you've been at baptisms for others in the godchild's family, write those memories.

--What did your family tell you about your baptism?

--If you know some of the spiritual stories of the family, write those down.

--Write about your own family's responses to baptism. Did your family celebrate your baptismal anniversary with you? Did you light the baptismal candle?

--You could also write about the family practices of your friends as you were growing up. Did they celebrate their baptisms.

--Write about what baptism means to you. You might talk about the water one year, the words the next.

--As your godchild gets older, write about what baptism has meant to famous theologians. For example, I love the story of Martin Luther, who is said to have said "Baptismo Sum" (Latin for "I am baptized") each morning as he washed. Not a bad daily habit.

--As your godchild gets older, you might introduce your godchild to the idea that different denominations within Christianity treat baptism differently. You might explain some of those differences (and you should try to avoid being judgmental if you can; you might not approve of adult baptism, but your godchild might grow up and fall in love with someone who does).

--If you have some photos, send a different one each year. Use those as a writing prompt.

I think that what often keeps me from writing is that I fear I don't have enough to say. But most people enjoy receiving something in the mail, even if the message is brief. Even if you only have a sentence or two, send it.

And if you enjoy these activities, why limit yourself to just once a year? Send something once a quarter or once a month. Your task, as Godparent, is to help to shape that child's spiritual life. There are many different things you could write about, and tomorrow, I'll provide some more writing prompts. And as your godchild receives your cards/writings/photos/gifts, your godchild will receive a gentle reminder of who that child is and of all the people (and God!) who love that child.

My final thought will seem grim, but it must be said. We tend to assume that we'll live long lives and shepherd our godchildren safely into and through adulthood. But we can't assume that. And even if we do live long lives, our memories tend to fade. Your godchild needs you to provide some spiritual narratives, and this task is especially important if you have memories of your godchild's family members. Get as much written down as you can.

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, April 19, 2009:

First Reading: Acts 4:32-35

Psalm: Psalm 133

Second Reading: 1 John 1:1--2:2

Gospel: John 20:19-31

This week's Gospel returns us to the familiar story of Thomas, who will always be known as Doubting Thomas, no matter what else he did or accomplished. One of the bloggers at RevGalBlogPals posts, "You have to love him (while being glad that we're not all branded for centuries on account of one aspect of our characters; you can so imagine it...'She's a bit of a panicking Kathryn, you know...')"; I would forever be Fretful Kristin, I'm afraid.

And yet, what I love about the Gospels most is that we get to see humans interacting with the Divine, in all of our human weaknesses. Particularly in the last few weeks, we've seen humans betray and deny and doubt--but God can work with us.

If you were choosing a group of people most unlikely to start and spread a lasting worldwide movement, it might be these disciples. They have very little in the way of prestige, connections, wealth, networking skills, marketing smarts, or anything else you might look for if you were calling modern disciples. And yet, Jesus transformed them.

Perhaps it should not surprise us. The Old Testament, too, is full of stories of lackluster humans unlikely to succeed: mumblers and cheats, bumblers and the unwise. God can use anyone, even murderers.

How does this happen? The story of Thomas gives us a vivid metaphor. When we thrust our hands into the wounds of Jesus, we're transformed. Perhaps that metaphor is too gory for your tastes, and yet, it speaks to the truth of our God. We have a God who wants to know us in all our gooey messiness. We have a God who knows all our strengths and all our weaknesses, and still, this God desires closeness with us. And what's more, this God invites us to a similar intimacy. Jesus doesn't say, "Here I am, look at me and believe." No, Jesus offers his wounds and invites Thomas to touch him.

Jesus will spend the next several weeks eating with the disciples, breathing on them, and being with them physically one last time. Then he sends them out to transform the wounded world.

We, too, are called to lay our holy hands on the wounds of the world and to heal those wounds. It's not enough to just declare the Good News of Easter. We are called to participate in the ongoing redemption of creation. We know creation intimately, and we know which wounds we are most capable of healing. Some of us will work on environmental issues, some of us will make sure that the poor are fed and clothed, some of us will work with criminals and the unjustly accused, and more of us will help children.

In the coming weeks, be alert to the recurring theme of the breath of Jesus and the breath of God. You have the breath of the Divine on you too.

Becoming a Better Godparent--Take the Challenge!

The baptism that we had at church on Sunday reminded me of my little nephew and my participation in his baptism. I'm his Christian Monitor; in other traditions, I'd be called a godmother, but because I'm not Catholic, and my sister and brother-in-law are, I must be called the Christian Monitor. I kind of like that title.

But lately, I've been doing more monitoring than guiding or leading. I've been feeling guilty about that. I had such good intentions.

Luckily, I've come to my senses in time. After all, when my nephew was a baby, one could argue that sending him gifts and cards made no sense, in that he wouldn't remember. But now he's getting to the age where he'll remember.

I called my sister on Good Friday, partly to chat, and partly because it was Good Friday, and I had my own childhood on the brain. She, too, is godmother to several children, and is feeling guilty about her inactivity.

So, in the spirit of sibling competition/cooperation, we've decided to inspire each other to be better godmothers. And since we can't be the only ones in need of ideas to transform us into better godparents, I've decided to start a series on this blog. Eventually, we'll all have a series of ideas.

If something has worked well for you (either as the one who did the spiritual mentoring or one who was affected by a spiritual elder), I'd love to hear about it. You could send me an e-mail, and I'd write it up for you. You could guest blog here (contact me via e-mail, and we'll set something up). Or leave comments in the comment section.