Prayers for Those in the Path of the Storm

I have had trouble sleeping for a variety of reasons. But the major reason is Hurricane Dorian, which is likely to come too close to my house for comfort.

At this point, there's not much that can be done. But we can pray. 

I have always felt weird about praying about the path of hurricanes. For one thing, I'm not sure that God gets involved in the laws of physics that way.

But for another, I'm aware that if I'm saved by the hurricane going elsewhere, it means doom for someone else.

But if we can't pray in the face of a force of destruction, when can we pray?  Here are some prayers that others have written.  I found this posted on Facebook, originally posted on the ELCA Worship page as Hurricane Harvey approached:


"We pray for those in the path of Hurricane Harvey:

Merciful God, when the storms rage and threaten to overtake us, awaken our faith to know the power of your peace. Deliver us from our fear and ease our anxiety. Help us to endure the time of uncertainty and give us strength to face the challenges ahead. Give us the assurance of your presence even in this time so that we can cling to your promise of hope and life shown to us through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord. Amen."

And here's a shorter prayer from Holden Evening Prayer:

"Grant weather that nourishes all of creation."

Haunted Wayfaring Strangers

Yesterday, I ordered a CD.  I had heard an episode of On Point with Rhiannon Giddens as a guest.  I loved every clip that they played, so I decided to go ahead and purchase the collection before I left for work.  Usually I add CDs to my cart, and months later, I can't remember why I was interested. 

I love Giddens' voice--and I love her approach to music.  As I listened yesterday, I realized that I've been singing "Walk that Lonesome Valley" to the tune of "Wayfaring Stranger"--for years, I've sung that song to the wrong tune.

And where have I sung that song you may ask. Not in church, not in my imaginary mandolin punk band. No, just walking around, music swirling in my head, as one does.

That said, I think that singing "Walk that Lonesome Valley" works beautifully sung to the tune of "Wayfaring Stranger," although now I'm doubting my ability to remember songs at all. And I'm wondering if "normal" people have snippets of folk music and the music from various 60's movements and old hymns and rock and roll winding through their brains all day.

There are worse things to have in one's brain.

Last night, after having "Wayfaring Stranger" in my brain all day, I fell down a bit of a rabbit hole looking for versions of it.  And then my spouse and I had fun seeing if other lyrics would work with the song.

As with so much folk music, I am struck by the lonesomeness of the lyrics, the stark reminder of how much more common the death of loved ones used to be.

This morning, I went back online to see if anyone has posted ukulele chords.  Of course they have!  And oddly, there was the grown son of my undergrad school mentor, singing this haunting song.

I expect I will feel haunted all day.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The Readings for Sunday, September 1, 2019:

First Reading: Proverbs 25:6-7

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Jeremiah 2:4-13
First Reading (Alt.): Sirach 10:12-18

Psalm: Psalm 112

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 81:1, 10-16

Second Reading: Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16

Gospel: Luke 14:1, 7-14


Here is another Gospel lesson which reminds us how different a world is the one that Jesus ushers in. It also shows us that ancient times weren't much different than ours.

We spend much of our day vying for power and position. Even in settings where there's not much to be gained by winning favor, one still sees a ridiculous amount of energy and time spent on power games. Think of the last meeting you had. Think of how short that meeting would have been if you could have gotten rid of people who spoke up to say, essentially, "I agree with what the last person said." Think of all the time wasted in currying favor with the people in charge or with each other.

Alternately, maybe you're more familiar with colleagues who try to cut each other down. Even when the stakes are small, even when the outcomes don't particularly matter, people will wage nasty battles to prove that they're right and everyone else is wrong.

Outside of the workplace, we can also sees this dynamic. In volunteer situations, people often want to prove that they're indispensable. We even see this in our relationships with friends, the one place where you would think we would approach each other as equals. Likewise in marriages--many spouses spend absurd amounts of time trying to prove that one way of doing things is the right way, and all other ways are bad.  Maybe you've had arguments about the right way to wash the dishes or fold the towels?

Psychologists would tell us that we play these power games because we're trying to satisfy our needy egos. We want to feel important because we spend much of our lives feeling insignificant. But instead of addressing that pain by making others feel better, we try to make others feel worse. We put people down so that we feel better. We connive and work to wound others.

Christ comes to usher in a new age. Again and again, he reminds us (in the words of today's Gospel), "For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted" (Luke 14: 11). We don't win favor with God in the way we might win favor with the boss. God is well aware of God's importance. We don't need to make God feel like the big man so that we might win a promotion.

God calls us to a higher purpose. We're to look out for the poor and downtrodden. And we're not to do it because we'll be repaid by the poor and downtrodden. We do it because Christ came to show us how to crack open the world and let the Kingdom light shine into the dark cracks. And the way to do that is not to show how wonderful we are. The way to let God's light shine is to look out for the marginalized of the world.

Remember Your Anointing

Yesterday I created a post for our Facebook groups that reach out to the Create in Me participants and other interesting people.  It's worth posting here too:

Four months ago, we'd be making our way to the mountain for the Create in Me retreat. This is your friendly reminder that you have been anointed. You have holy hands and holy work--don't forget.

Fourteen Church Friends Go to a Restaurant

Last night I was part of the kind of diverse group that rarely happens outside of church groups.  There were 14 of us, and we weren't all born in the U.S.  We were mostly white (both the kind of white that's descended from Northern Europeans and the Latino kind), but from a wide variety of incomes.  Some of us have children, some of us have grandchildren, some of us do not.  We've traveled more widely than most U.S. folks.  We're mostly centrist or left of center when it comes to our political views, but some of us might track a bit more conservatively if there was a non-Trumpian politician out there.  We all go to the same Lutheran church, but we're not uniform in our theology either.

We came together for one last meal before two of our group move to be closer to their granddaughter.  Several times I wondered why we don't do this more often--but the honest answer is that we all cleared out our calendars because it was the last chance for this kind of dinner.  I don't know that we'd have had the commitment without an impending move.

With the exception of saying grace before eating, I don't think anyone would have realized that we know each other from church.  We didn't sit around and discuss theology, although I'd have liked that--or maybe I wouldn't have, depending on how that conversation might have unspooled.

We talked a bit of church business, but mostly, we caught up on the comings and goings of our group.  It was wonderful.

It also made me realize how seldom I have these kinds of conversations or the even deeper kinds of conversations that I crave--either with groups of church friends or others.  Our church has moved away from the interactive service that used to foster these interactions.  Part of me understands, but part of me is still grieving the move.

Let me spend some time both with the good feelings from last night and the sadness that I don't have more of these times.  I don't have lots of spare hours--how can I enrich what I'm already doing?

Advice for Those Encased in Flesh

When drowning, remember that you know how to float:

Remind yourself that you are flesh, not stone.

Decide which quality you need to channel, the dragonfly or the wrought iron.

Don't forget to glow.

Protect the upper room, where illumination lives.

The Whale and the Ticket

I am part of an online journaling group organized by Mepkin Abbey.  We are working/listening/journaling our way through Don Bisson's series of CDs from a presention,  Individuation:  Beyond Happy and Normal.  Our last chunk explored the book of Jonah.

It's interesting to think about the book of Jonah and what it has to say to us about psychological health.  We're used to reading the book as a picture of a reluctant prophet, and therefore many of us might assume it doesn't apply to us.  We're not prophets, after all.

Because Don Bisson is a Marist brother, he does approach the material through a Christian lens.  But he's also a Jungian, which makes for interesting juxtapositions.  His approach of the main lesson of Jonah is that we need to get the right ticket to the right destination.

When I first heard him say that, I heard ticket as a type of parking ticket, not a plane ticket or a train ticket. 

For those of us who say no to what God asks of us, he says we need to think about the moral dimension to saying no. 

He also says we should notice what whales show up to remind us that we're going in the wrong direction.  I found that an interesting way of thinking about the whale.

I am now thinking of the end of Jonah, where Jonah goes off in a snit about how everyone reacts positively to his message.  Once again, we see someone trying to micromanage the miracles.

And now I'm thinking of my manuscript of essays.  Should I try to do a major overhaul?  I have decided that the title should be Micromanaging the Miracles.  Maybe I should revise with that in mind.

Or maybe I should create a different manuscript, something designed to be a daily devotions.  Could I develop enough new stuff to say about each of God's people who tried to micromanage the miracles? 

I have so many potential projects--not to mention the manuscripts that I've already created and can't find a place to publish them.  It's enough to make a girl feel discouraged. 

But I also know that life works in mysterious ways.  I blogged for years and many of those blog posts have found new life in various publications, which was not my plan when I started blogging. 

If I suddenly become a popular writer whose audience has a voracious appetite for my work, at least I have plenty of work to release.

I have spent the last 10 minutes trying to think of a way to conclude this blog post--how can I tie Jonah to my writing life?  Is my writing life the whale or the ticket?

In the depths of despair, it's tempting to think of all the writing rejections as the whale that tells us that we've taken the wrong direction.  But the life of the prophet reminds us that failure is part of the process--and the life of Jonah reminds us that even when we get with the program, when people accept us, we might still pout.

Jungian psychologists would not be surprised by this process.  One of the ideas that I found most comforting from our recent journaling time is that our culture tells us that as we get older, life should get easier because we've got it all figured out--but that's not the way it is at all.  Failure is part of the process.

To be called to be oneself in one's historical moment is never easy--even though we look at the life of the great humans and think they always knew exactly where they were going.  But it's the essential task of every human.

Locker Room Theology

I couldn't resist the title, although it does give me pause to think about the kind of searches that might turn up this particular blog post. 

Lately, I've been thinking about the kinds of theology that people consume outside of church and books.  There's a woman at my gym who showers at the same time I do.  She always has something playing on her phone, and since she's not using earbuds, I get to hear it too.

At first, I was irritated.  I am weary of all the noise that comes my way each day, both the invited kind and the uninvited kind.  But then I became curious about what she's listening to.

It's all inspirational stuff, some of it tinged with theology, some not.  It's the "if you can believe it, you can achieve it," "change your attitude, change your altitude" kind of message.  Part of me enjoys hearing it.  Part of me pokes holes in the logic.  Part of me wants to argue back about the ways that society is structured to keep most of us from achieving, no matter how committed we are.

I'm most intrigued by the same message delivered in the thunderous style of old-timey preachers.  Now the language is cloaked with some religious ideas about praying and offering up to God and such, but still no mention of God's vision of justice and working for those who don't have our same opportunities.

Part of me wants to believe it's fairly harmless--in fact, better than some things we could be listening to first thing in the morning.  Part of me wants more comfort, some relief from this message of relentless striving.  Part of me wants to be encouraged to dream a different vision.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, August 25, 2019:


First Reading: Isaiah 58:9b-14

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Jeremiah 1:4-10

Psalm: Psalm 103:1-8

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 71:1-6

Second Reading: Hebrews 12:18-29

Gospel: Luke 13:10-17


This week's Gospel, and others like it, is often used to show the rigidity of the religious officials of Christ's time. And indeed, the Pharisees and other temple officials were extreme in their adherence to the law. But they have a point--couldn't Jesus wait one more day to heal the woman?

I feel immense sympathy for the woman who is so afflicted that she cannot straighten her back. For eighteen years, she has suffered. It's the rare person who doesn't at least have a glimpse of what that must feel like. Our burdens can weigh us down so much that we can't look up from the floor.

Yet in our busy times, I also find myself feeling an odd sympathy with the leader of the synagogue, who says, "There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days to be healed and not on the sabbath day." The leader of that synagogue two thousand years ago couldn't have imagined the times we live in, our own age when it seems impossible to get away from work, where we're expected to be on call twenty-four hours a day.

Of course, it's important to remember that the religious leaders are not acutely concerned about the "on-call" nature of life. They are not scolding Jesus because they've tried to create a retreat from hectic life that he's now disrupting. They scold Jesus because there are rules that he refuses to follow.

To be fair, the religious leaders thought that strict observance of the rules of the purity codes would lead to the salvation of the Jews. Viewed in that light, their horror at the miracles of Jesus makes a certain amount of sense. The future of the chosen people is at stake.

Over and over again, Jesus reminds us that following the rules will not save us--and in fact, they might interfere with our salvation. Jesus makes it clear that any day is a good day to unloose people from the issues that bind them. Again and again, he tells us that we are to stay alert for opportunities to minister to each other.

Feast Day of Saint Bernard of Clairvaux

Today we celebrate the life of the 12th century monk, St. Bernard of Clairvaux. What an amazing man!

Those of us interested in monasticism owe a debt to St. Bernard, who was responsible not only for founding his own monastery, but for sending monks out to establish monasteries or to rescue already-formed monasteries from heretical directions. We give him credit for the founding of hundreds of monastic communities.

Bernard was also responsible for helping the church avoid schism at several key points. He also defended the church against various nobility who wanted church holdings.

We could give Bernard credit for moving the church towards a more personal faith, although I imagine he would be horrified at the manifestations of those ideas of a personal relationship with Jesus that many of us have. He's also responsible for elevating the status of Mary within the church.

I confess, as a Lutheran, the veneration of Mary always mystified me. Then I visited Mepkin Abbey, a Trappist order of monks. I found the references to Mary soothing, and the Compline service which included prayers to Mary as we faced a stone statue (very abstract in style) surrounded by candles helped me sink into a deep sleep.

As I research these monastics of older centuries, it's intriguing to me to see how ideas that we associate with later centuries were present even in medieval times. We see medieval thinkers wrestling with an emotional/mystical approach to faith (like Bernard of Clairvaux) and with an intellectual/rational approach to faith (like Peter Abelard). Throughout Christianity, we still struggle with the best way to integrate these two approaches.

Most people I know still wrestle with the  the issue of how to live an authentic life, one where all our values are in sync. In an earlier age, we might have found sanctuary in an abbey. Monastic communities are some of the most successful incarnations of intentional communities--how could we follow their models if we want to live an integrated life?

Prayer for the First Week of School

In my county, students started school last Wednesday; this week will be their first full week of school.  By the end of this week, all students in the tri county area will be back in school.

I know that there are still some schools up north who start after Labor Day.  They probably have Columbus Day off too.

Yesterday in church, our pastor said it was the last Sunday in Summer.  He caught himself mid-declaration and said, "Yes, it's the last Sunday in the Summer.  Because I declare it to be so."  And then he explained that once the public schools start again, summer is effectively over.

I agree.  We have another month until the equinox which will launch us into a new season, and for some of us, we might switch wardrobes at Labor Day--although to be honest, I don't know of anyone who doesn't wear white after the first Monday in September.  Many of us still have a month or more of summer heat and humidity.  But essentially, summer is over.

Here's a prayer for back to school week:

"God of every wisdom, be with us as we head back to school, and stay with us on our journey towards graduation. Grant us open minds, ready to be filled with new knowledge.  Open the hearts of all of our teachers.  Be a comfort to all who support the students and teachers.  Spread your protective wings over us all to keep us safe as we learn."

August Traditions: Blessing Backpacks and Church Picnics

Based on what I'm reading in various Facebook updates, the Blessing of the Backpacks as part of August church services is becoming fairly common across the nation, or at least in the Southeast. I'm all in favor.

One of my Facebook friends who is a minister seems to be having today's worship service at a park, where there will be the annual picnic along with the blessing of the backpacks.  I like that approach too.

My church has a huge space in the back of the church, so we've had a cookout there once or twice, often in conjunction with the close of Vacation Bible School.

And now I'm remembering late August days at my grandmother's church long ago.  There was one Sunday where they'd have church and then everyone would get in cars to spend Sunday afternoon at Lutheridge.  That church camp was over an hour away, so modern me is astonished that people would come to church and then make the drive to Lutheridge.  Of course, there was a wonderful potluck picnic at the end of the drive and time in the mountains and fellowship.  Still, it tells me what a different time it was.

And now I'm suddenly craving deviled eggs and a variety of pasta salads.  I'll never crave those odd mixes of gelatin and add-ins--blhh.  But the dessert table--ah, yes, I'd love a good dessert table today after church.

Instead, I'll count the money after church.  It won't be nearly as much fun/fulfilling as a trip to the mountains with a picnic, but it's an essential task that few can'will do in my congregation.

Christ and the Inverted Yield Curve

This week, perhaps we've all gotten a mini Economics lesson.  I confess that I didn't really think about the yield curve before this week, and I'm still not sure I understand it enough to explain it.

One fact stands out in this week of reports of our now inverted yield curve:  an inverted yield curve has predicted 6 of the last 6 recessions.

You may or may not remember that we haven't had a recession since the big one in 2008.  Here's an interesting fact from an article in yesterday's The Washington Post: "About 40 million U.S. adults haven’t seen a single recession during their working lives. Almost as many, including most millennials, have seen only one since they turned 18. That recession, the devastating Great Recession from December 2007 to June 2009, was (hopefully) not representative."

My earliest memory of economic downturns is the one in the early 70's, around 1973 or so.  I remember asking my dad why so many people didn't have Christmas lights strung on their houses the way they used to do.  He told me that they might not be able to afford it.

Ah, the good ole days of the Arab oil embargo!  I remember the 70's as a time when beef was a luxury.  Now I've had a few shopping days when potatoes cost more than the beef when I made pot roast.  I'm paying far less for chicken these days then my mom did when she bought chicken in the 70's as a budget meat for a middle-class family.

I remember recessions in the 80's; I started undergraduate school in a college town that had had much of its industry decimated during a recent recession where two of the three poultry plants had closed.  I did my first job search during the recession of 92, and I was grateful to get my community college job, even though I went to grad school with a different kind of teaching job in mind.  In the recession of 2002, when my meager portfolio lost almost all its value, I had a moment when I wished I had just given all that money to the poor.  I remember the early days of the Great Recession of 2008, hearing about the stock market stumbling then falling precipitously and feeling a cold stone of fear in my body.

In short, the economy has never felt secure to me.  The words of Jesus have always made sense, the ones where he cautions about storing our treasures where moths can eat it and thieves can steal it.  The economy shows us over and over again the wisdom of Christ's teaching.

What would happen if we truly trusted in God to provide for our needs both now and in the future?  What if we didn't stash our money away in retirement accounts where thieves of an economic sort can steal it?  That would be countercultural.

More Milestones to Mark the Aging Process

I have read books about aging that talk about all the various personal milestones most of us go through when we age:  physical changes of all sorts, mental changes, and perhaps societal changes.  There's less talk about the milestones in the lives of our friends and acquaintances and how they affect us.

I got a Facebook message today from one of my college friends:  "My mom died today."  I have a variety of memories about her mom, although I never spent lots of time with her.

I spent some time scrolling through Facebook.  My high school friend who is moving his parents into an assisted living facility has lots of posts describing both that process and his process of cleaning out the house.  Last week I wrote a post about how strange it is to read about this process.

Here's a post from a friend and a picture of her daughter and a friend who just made the JV volleyball team.  Wait--didn't we just have a baby shower for that child?  How is it possible that she started high school this week?

In some ways it makes me feel old, but it's more complex than that.  I sometimes feel that time is wrinkling.  Some part of me doesn't feel much older than my high school self--and I know that I'm very lucky.  And yet, clearly, I am old enough to have children in high school or college myself.  A new generation emerges.

The various 50 year anniversaries this year are also a reminder of how much time has zipped on.  It seems like just yesterday I found the Woodstock LP in the collection of my college radio station.  I made a cassette tape and listened to it over and over again.  I was listening to music that was already 17 years old.  Now it's much older.  If you want to listen to that concert in real time, as the concert unfolded hour by hour, over the next few days, go here.

Of course I'm not ready to limp off into the sunset yet.  Let me use these reminders of mortality to get moving on projects I want to complete sooner rather than later.

Prayer for Those Facing Surgery

Today two different church members have surgery.  I knew about one of the surgeries in advance, and this morning, another member made a Facebook post about today's surgery to repair a broken hip.

In times like these, I am grateful that I am able to send a Facebook message and grateful that so many people have their phones with them and on at all hours of the day.  I can send a message which is less intrusive than a phone call.  I can send a message by way of social media, which means that people will know I'm thinking about them in real time, instead of the time it takes a card to make its way to the recipient.

What are the odds that two church members would be having surgery in the same day?  We're a very small church; we only have an average of 50 members worshiping on an average Sunday.  And these are not minor surgeries.

Let me compose a prayer:

Healer God, please be with all who face surgery today.  Guide the hands of the surgeons who will perform the procedures.  Protect the patients from all the pathogens who await their chance to invade.  Open the hearts of those who do the hard work of care after the surgery.  Comfort the loved ones in every waiting room.  Help all of our bodies and souls work their way back to maximum health.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, August 18, 2019:

First Reading: Jeremiah 23:23-29

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Isaiah 5:1-7

Psalm: Psalm 82

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 80:1-2, 8-18

Second Reading: Hebrews 11:29--12:2

Gospel: Luke 12:49-56


In churches that use the Common Lectionary, we only get an apocalyptic whiff every now and then. This week’s Gospel is one of those days. Jesus tells us that he's come to separate family members, to sow division. We certainly don't see Family Values Jesus here. In fact, if we read the Gospels from beginning to end, we see that Family Values Jesus just doesn't exist. Again and again, Jesus tells us that if we follow him on the path he shows us, we're likely to lose a lot that the world tells us we should hold dear--that might include some family members. Elsewhere in the Gospels, Jesus also assures us, that if we lose our lives, the lives that society sets out for us, we might actually find those lives.

But all too often, we don't see the signs we need to see, the signs that would let us know what kind of lives we're living, what kind of lives would satisfy our souls. We're good at forecasting the immediate weather when we notice obvious patterns: the direction of the wind and the appearance of clouds. But we're not good at noticing the bigger picture, like noticing God, when God becomes incarnate. We don't pay attention to doing what we know is right and good. Again and again, Jesus tells us that we need to pay attention.

It's interesting that these Gospel lessons come to us in the month of August, a time when the historian's mind might turn to apocalypse. We've just passed the anniversaries of the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Barbara Tuchman wrote a book, The Guns of August, that explores the events in August of 1914 that led to World War I. Many regional conflicts burst into conflagration in August.

Jesus reminds us that the end is always near. We tend to think of the end in apocalyptic terms: mushroom clouds or poisoned water or melting glaciers. But Jesus comes with a different vision: he promises the end of oppression, the end of inequality. He holds out a dream of a world where everyone has enough and no one has to endure a boot on the neck. 

For those of us with eyes to see, we can notice the beginnings of God's plan for the world, even while worldly powers think they're in charge.

A Quick Time Away

We have been away--just a 4 day vacation, an extended week-end really.  Today I'll do the bread run a day late, so I don't have much time to write here this morning.

Let me just capture a few items:

--We had fairly easy flights, which is saying something for summer.  Jam packed, but that's usual these days.  The Friday trip was easiest--we snagged the exit row seats.  Yesterday the guy behind us had a non-stop talk with his seatmate about the importance of discussion and dialogue--the seatmate could hardly get a word in edgewise.

--Because we were gone for such a short period of time, we left our laptops at home, and we weren't surrounded by screens we could watch either.  What a treat to be away from constant news.

--I got a lot of reading done; it's always worth remembering how much more reading I do when I don't have the lure of the laptop.  I'll say more about the books I read in a later post.

--I love the change of scenery.  We had decent weather for summer:  warm/hot but not humid, glowering clouds but no fierce storms.

--It was good to hear the stories about how others are living their lives.  I heard about the Air Force guy who took his housing allowance and bought a live-aboard sailboat.  I heard about retired people who sold their northern Virginia townhouse and moved to a one story house in Maryland.  I saw all sorts of people in planes and airports who had some interesting stories that they didn't tell me.

--I didn't do any writing or even reach for my travel journal where I take notes on anything interesting.  But I did think about my apocalyptic novel.

--It is good to get away and so good to get completely offline.  And the benefit of a shorter vacation is that I don't dread going back to work as much.

--We played Monopoly for 3 hours one morning.  It was great fun, and a reminder of how quickly the game can turn, both the Monopoly game and the real life housing game.

Lessons from the Butterfly Garden #2

In early July, the caterpillars ate the milkweed plants, leaving nothing but devoured stubs.

But we knew that these plants only looked like they were dead. Now they have not only sprouted new leaves, but flowers—and we have some monarch butterfly visitors!

Let us remember that even when we feel used up, new growth is waiting, along with new discoveries.

Lessons from the Butterfly Garden #1

When I transplanted this dutchman's pipe plant to a larger pot, I wasn't sure it would make it.

. 



At one point, it was the scraggliest plants in the garden:

The August rains have helped it flourish. Let us all remember that even when we might be in danger of wilting in the heat of our studies/lives/challenges, if we just dig in, we, too, can flourish.

Summer Publications

Before summer vanishes, let me record some publishing that made me happy:

In June, my piece about ways to celebrate June appeared in Gather, the magazine of the Women of the ELCA.  In July, I was the person who wrote the Lectionary reflection for The Christian Century.  And in August, I got my contributor copy of The Women Artists Datebook that had one of my poems in it (Feb. 3). 

I couldn't get a great photo so let me just copy the text of the poem below:


Fiber of Existence



You will study the maps,
make a plan, pack
the right clothes, only to find
yourself in a different country,
the one you didn’t know
you needed to explore.

It is here you find the answers
to the unspoken questions.
Here is the journal written
in a language you can’t understand.
Here the box of letters
written between two souls
you do not know.

Here you pledge to drink from a dirty
glass, to ignore all your dusty duties.
Here you will ride the beast that scares
you most, the elephant or the motorcycle,
the couple married multiple decades
or mornings of solitary coffee.

Listen for the wind to whisper
your name. Go where the wind commands.
The rains will wash
away all evidence of your longing.

Eat the mush of memory.
Remember every dreary breakfast.
Resolve to find the fiber of your existence.

When Church Friends Move

On Sunday, we found out that one of our church friend couples is moving.  We knew they'd been downsizing, and at the start of the downsizing process, I thought they just wanted to get rid of the house, now that the market is back up and their children have all graduated from college and gotten rooted in different places.

At first, that was the process.  Somewhere along the way, they decided to relocate to be closer to the grandchild, if all the pieces fell into place.  And all the pieces have fallen into place:  a buyer for the house and a new job elsewhere.

I have dreams of relocating myself.  I always have.  It's my go-to solution for when life disappoints me:  let's sell most of what we own, pack up the rest, and head for a new place!  It's a variation of an old narrative arc of much of the literature I read in my youth, the lighting out for the territories.

As we drove home from church on Sunday, I said to my spouse, "We will likely never see them again after they move."  There's not much that would bring them back here.  I'm guessing that they'll use all their vacation time to see their family members, not to come back to South Florida to see old church friends.  And we're not likely to call them, should we be passing through their new town.

It's strange to think about this.  We've seen these church friends regularly after all, each week in church and during special events and counting the money after church together.  We've worked on special projects and exchanged lots of e-mails.  We've read the same books and talked about them.  We've solved the problems of our individual church together, the mundane stuff like arranging for AC repairs and the more dramatic stuff like following up with police after break ins.  We even went to Synod Assembly together in the same car, which is a special kind of bonding experience.

And now, off they go.

I'm sure we'll keep up with each other, at least at first.  And if we ever ended up in the same church again, I predict we would pick up right where we left off.

I'm sad for me, but happy for them, to be able to be closer to family and to have new experiences.

When Your Denomination Becomes the First Sanctuary Church Body in the U.S.

Yesterday the Churchwide Assembly voted to declare the ELCA a sanctuary church body.  The news reports I've read say that it's the first church denomination to do this--so it's hard to know exactly what this will mean.

From what I've read, yesterday was a day of declaring support for immigrants.  There was the declaration along with a march to the ICE building in Milwaukee where the marchers had a prayer vigil.

Last night, hundreds of miles away in Mississippi, ICE raided chicken processing plants in 6 cities, arresting approximately 680 people.  Apparently these raids had been planned for awhile--I'm not suggesting that the raids had anything to do with the events in Milwaukee. 

Cynical people might ask what difference it makes, to be a sanctuary church body, when these kinds of arrests still happen.  Some people might want the church to do more.  Many of us might be wondering exactly what we can do.

This week, I'm also thinking of the center in Homestead that had been a holding place for unaccompanied minors.  It was closed suddenly this week, with the children taken to airports in the middle of the night.  Do we consider that closure a success?

For months, I felt frustrated at the inability of any of us to "do something."  There were legislators who traveled to the site in Homestead; some of them were allowed inside, and some weren't.  There were groups of people who never left the site.  They kept watch and also held up signs of support so that the children could see them during the day.  There were prayer vigils and letters.

Did that work matter?

There were news stories and increasing worry about the lack of an emergency plan once hurricane season started.  There were local government agencies that began to ask for more information.

There are many ways to do social justice work.  It's hard to say what might have led to the shut down of the institution.

It's also hard to know if we should call this a win.  We're told that the children have gone to a variety of places:  reunification with families and other institutions where they will be safer in the event of a storm.  What should a sanctuary church body do now?  Celebrate?  Keep on keeping track of these children? 

I know that there were many foster families who had volunteered to take these children in.  But that option was not allowed.  To me, that seemed like a great option, so I feel that there's some larger picture we're not seeing.  I want to believe that the larger vision is one of bureaucratic mismanagement or difference of vision, not some larger evil.

I am deeply worried that we are seeing some larger evil, and that it's so large that I can't really believe that I'm seeing it.  I am strengthened knowing that I am part of a larger structure, many larger structures actually, that are committed to resisting this evil.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The Readings for Sunday, August 11, 2019:

Isaiah 1:1, 10-20
Psalm 50:1-8, 22-23 (23)
Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16
Luke 12:32-40

I've heard many a minister preach on this text, and others like it. Almost all of them rush to assure us listeners that Jesus doesn't really mean that we should sell all of our possessions and trust fully in God to provide for us. Yet as I read the Gospels, I see that Jesus gives us these instructions again and again. Why are we so quick to dismiss these instructions? What if Jesus really meant what he said? What if it's not some kind of code, but something we're meant to take literally?

Again and again Jesus warns us not to trust in earthly treasure. He's clear: earthly treasure will always, ALWAYS, fail us. That's not the message the world wants us to hear. The world wants us to rush and hurry, to buy more stuff, to build more barns for our stuff, to accumulate and hoard and lie awake at night worrying that we won't have enough. The world wants us to pay attention to our bank accounts. Jesus wants us to be on the lookout for God.

One of the often repeated messages in the teaching of Jesus is that God will provide for us everything we need. Why is it so hard for us to believe?

I spend plenty of time trying to help God in this mission of providing. Although I give money away, I still have a variety of savings and investment accounts. What would happen if I decided that I would trust that God will provide for me in retirement? How could I change lives if I gave that money away to people who have nothing?
 

Jesus is very clear that money and the pursuit of money can seduce us away from God's mission for us.  Once, when I was stuck in an airport in Kentucky, I saw a book in the bookstore with this title: God Wants You to Be Rich. Really? In what Gospel would that be? I scanned the book, hoping that the author would cleverly remind us that God wants us to be rich in love, not rich in money and stuff. Alas, no. The author assured the reader that God's deepest desire for us is for us to accumulate money.

I don't know what Bible that writer was using.  Read the Gospels again. Read the New Testament again. So much of the New Testament can be summed up thus: Stay awake and alert, focused on what's important; what's important is to love each other, the way God loves us; don't get too attached to things that don't matter--they keep you from loving your fellow sheep.

Again and again, Jesus tells us that we can't serve two masters. We must choose. Take a hard look at your life and the way you spend your time. What have you chosen? Do you spend more time in prayer or more time sorting through your financial investments? Do you read your Bible more than you read the business section of the paper? Do you look for ways to welcome the poor and the outcast? The Bible tells us that we'll find God there.

Where is your heart these days? What do you spend your waking hours thinking about, your sleeping hours dreaming about? How is God trying to get your attention?

Transformations: Atomic and Spiritual

On this day in 1945, the world was about to change in dramatic ways that we likely still don't fully comprehend. On this day in 1945, the first nuclear bomb was used in war.

The effects of that bomb obliterated much of Hiroshima--and vaporized some of it. There were reports of people fused into pavement and glass--or just vanished, with a trace remaining at the pavement. The reports of the survivors who walked miles in search of help or water are grim. And many of those survivors would die of the effects of radiation in the coming years.

In a strange twist, today is also the Feast Day of the Transfiguration in Orthodox churches, the day when Jesus went up the mountain with several disciples and becomes transfigured into a radiant being. Those of you who worship in Protestant churches may have celebrated this event just before Lent began, so you may not think of it as a summer kind of celebration. Pre-Reformation traditions often celebrated this day in conjunction with blessing the first harvest.

I find these intersections interesting.

Today is a good day to think about what distractions, atomic, cosmic, or otherwise, take our attention away from the true work. Today is a good day to think about mountaintop experiences and how we navigate our lives when we're not on the mountaintop. Today is also a good day to meditate on power and how we seek to harness it and how we use power once we have it.

Today is a good time to spend with the texts for the day, to carve out some time for quiet contemplation. Go here for readings, complete with links, so that you can read online, if that's easier.

Today is also a great day to celebrate the transfiguring possibility of power. After all, not all uses of power lead to destructive explosions. Some times, we find redemption.

Fierce Joy: A Nonviolent Form of Resistance

Like many of us who went to bed with the shooting of El Paso, Texas on our brains only to wake up to find that there was ANOTHER mass shooting in Dayton, Ohio--I, too, have been left gobsmacked by 2 mass shootings in one day--less than a day. Madness. I wonder if people felt this way in the late 60's/early 70's when there was so much violence: assassinations, bombings, etc.

I don't have any ideas of what one might do. I'm not sure I think that stricter gun control will help. We have fairly tough gun laws now.

Of course I think it all speaks to a deep not-wellness part of our society.  I think that technology leaves us isolated--and now, even worse, leaves us ANGRY and some of us don't have good ways to handle that. I don't really know how to deal with that as a society, just as much smaller communities. And fixing things in smaller communities, like our households or our schools, can't protect us from the ones who aren't interested in the fix. I can still be gunned down by an isolated crazy person who decides to shoot up a school or a church or a grocery store.

I think of various writers and theologians who have said that despair is the deadliest of the deadly sins--of course, many of them use different language, but it boils down to this idea. And a fierce commitment to joy is a way of beating back despair.

So, on to happier subjects.  Let me think of things that I can control, things that bring me joy.  The butterfly garden isn't as active as it once was. We haven't been able to see any more butterflies being born since that first week when the 36 caterpillars went into their chrysalises and then emerged. But that's O.K. For one thing, it's given the milkweed plants (the only food the caterpillars that become monarchs eat) a chance to recover. I go out to the plants several times a day, and so if nothing else, it's solace for me. And I do think it makes the concrete wasteland of a parking lot just a bit more beautiful--and there's a tiny green space, where before there wasn't.

It's the teeniest, tiniest way to save the planet, but it's one of the ways I can do it right now.

And it's a larger project even than taking care of the planet. It's a kind of self-care that seems increasingly important in these days. I've been taking joy in some cooking and of course, writing. I think it's important to find joy where we can--a different kind of resistance to the evil in the world.

So today, let's commit to whatever brings us fierce joy.  Let's use our fierce joy to combat the forces of hate and violence in the world.  Let's create a world that's so much more appealing than the one offered by those forces of hate and violence.

Seminaries with a Theology and the Creative Arts Focus

My spouse has been playing the lottery--instead of going for the big jackpot, he's buying a chance (a very, very slim chance) at having $250,000 a year for life.  Last night he said that if he won, he'd keep teaching Philosophy, but I'd quit my job and go to seminary full time.

That vision is so appealing to me.

This morning, I've been thinking that maybe a slower approach to a seminary start date would be that I would have more time to research seminaries that have an arts and spirituality/ministry program.  At this point, I haven't found many.

Sadly, no Lutheran seminary offers this kind of track. 

My plan is to start keeping a list of other possibilities here, for easy reference. 

This morning, I found a new-to-me seminary, a Methodist seminary,  Wesley in D.C.  Their certificate program in Theology and the Arts sounds so perfect--except for the fact that it's only open to students in the MDiv program at Wesley.  So it's 14 additional credits.  It seems tacked on to me, as opposed to fully integrated.  If I had plenty of time, that might not be a deal breaker. 

I like that the certificate requires the student to take introductory classes in 3 different artistic disciplines:  Dance; Dramatic and literary arts; Music; Visual art.  I don't want to have to choose just one.  But then, the student does take more classes in just one of the art forms.

It sounds like a cool program--it's a shame I don't live in the D.C. area, where this school would be more feasible.

The only other seminary that I've found so far that does a mix of theology and the arts is United, a UCC seminary in Minnesota.  They have a Theology and the Arts track which sounds interesting.

Both of those programs seem to have more theology than the arts.  I wonder if there's a program out there that has a more equal emphasis?

I also discovered that Fuller has a program in Worship, Theology, and the Arts--but I'm pretty sure I'd have some very serious issues with their approach to theology, a much more evangelical/fundamentalist approach than will work for me.

That's the list as I have it so far.  If I find more, I'll keep updating this list.  I'm looking for seminaries with established histories--I worry that there are many fly-by-night seminaries with online programs, and I'm not interested in those.

A More Expansive View of Discernment

I have always thought of discernment as a process we use for our big decisions--usually life altering decisions, like whether or not to change jobs or form a family.  I have recently been joking that saying I'm in a time of discernment sounds better than saying that I'm just flailing/failing at figuring out my future.

But lately, I've been thinking that I'm selling the idea of discernment a bit short.

After a conversation I had with the pastor who is in charge of the spiritual direction certificate program that interests me most, I've been trying to think of discernment differently.  At the end of our phone call, the pastor said that people who get skilled at the process of discernment use it on a daily basis to hear what God is saying about every element of their lives.

It's an interesting idea to me.  I tend to sell not only discernment short, but God, too.  I have spent my whole life not wanting to be a bother.  I'll tell you that there's a problem, but only if it's a big one.  I often don't share my daily joys with people who love me. 

I take this same view of God.  Why would God be interested in my puny life?  I tend to only bring my big problems to God, even though I'm part of a religious tradition that proclaims that God wants to be more involved in our daily lives.

Let me start to think of discernment differently.  Let me take a more active approach to listening for God.

Paul in Prison and the Demons that Conspire to Separate Us

This morning, I'm thinking about Acts 16:16-34. You may or may not remember this passage where Paul is irritated by the fortune telling, demon-possessed slave girl who follows them around, hollering for people to pay attention to them, and then after he heals her, he's thrown in jail, there's an earthquake, and he saves the jailer's whole family. It's an interesting juxtaposition of stories; why does the jailer merit Paul's attention, but the slave girl doesn't?

I continue to ponder the poor slave girl, who now won't be very valuable since she can't tell fortunes anymore. That’s why the men throw Paul and Silas in jail—Paul and Silas have ruined a valuable economic asset.

Most of us, if we consider this story at all, come to this story at the end. Paul and Silas could escape from prison, but they don’t. This decision leads the jail keeper to salvation—that’s the way it was taught to me when I was a girl.

Now that I’m older, I see this story through an economic lens. The jailer might lose his job or even his life from his failure to contain the prisoners. But he’s saved—in more ways than one.

I wish I could feel that the slave girl might be saved too. I wish I could believe that she would make a new life, free from her demons.

But I know what’s likely to happen to her. I know that she lived in the Roman empire, where women didn’t have those kinds of opportunities, especially not women who had once been enslaved.

I think of this story in terms of slavery and prison. I think of all the demons that torture us and make us easy to dominate, easy to control. I think of all the demons that make us irritate the people around us.

I think of that slave girl who doesn't warrant Paul's time. I think of all the ways I'm rushing through my life, too busy for those who irritate me, too busy for true intimacy that comes when we live in community. My own demon: that irritating feeling of always having too much to do in too little time, that feeling of being stretched too thin, and thus, I'm not of much use to anyone.

I return to this story and think about how Paul’s time in prison gives him the space to slow down, to make a connection with the jailer. I grieve for the slave girl, and all the ones sacrificed to the demons that conspire to separate us.