Resources for the First Days of Climate Talks

 How interesting that these first day of climate talks take place across the triduum of Halloween, All Saints Day, and All Souls Day.  While I don't have a poem that makes use of that conjunction (but I will!), I do have plenty of poems that ponder climate change.  Here's one that seems to fit best for this first day of climate talks in Glasgow; it's from my chapbook of the same name, and it first appeared here, with haunting art work to accompany it, at Escape Into Life. :

Life in the Holocene Extinction


I complete the day’s tasks
of e-mails and reports and other paperwork.
I think about which species
have gone extinct
in the amount of time it takes
to troll the Internet.
I squash a mosquito.

He drives to the grocery store
to pick up the few items he needs
for dinner: shark from a distant
sea, wine redolent of minerals from a foreign
soil. He avoids the berries
from a tropical country with lax
control of chemicals.

As she packs up her office,
she thinks about habitat loss,
those orphaned animals stranded
in a world of heat and pavement.
She wishes she had saved
more money while she had a job.
She knows she will lose the house.
She wonders what possessions
will fit into her car.

Maybe you were hoping for less poetic resources.  The website for the meeting is here.  For something less dry (pun intended), I loved this article that has the author going to new condo buildings in Miami Beach where she posed as a wealthy buyer and reports on sea level rise and its impact--or puzzling lack of impact--on the high end real estate market.

I first heard about that article in this episode of Hidden Brain that explores the idea of what happens if we approach the issue of climate catastrophe either like Dunkirk or Normandy, those WWII situations.  You may have to scroll down to look for the episode "We Broke the Planet:  Now What?"  I also liked this episode of It's Been a Minute, which didn't seem like the same old, same old about the topic.

It is hard to believe that these climate talks will make a difference.  It is hard to understate how time is running out--or may have already run out, for some of us in some locations.  Sigh.

Should Churches Get Stimulus Money?

Last week, some of my friends had a friendly conversation about churches getting stimulus money.  One of my friends said that he would be fine with churches getting stimulus money if they paid taxes.  While I agree that he has a point, overall, I disagree. 

Here's how I really feel:  in the time of the largest worldwide crisis since World War II and/or the Great Depression, we shouldn't limit who gets stimulus money.  We need to help a variety of institutions survive.

I am one of the people who was not outraged to discover that some large restaurant chains got stimulus money, so I'm coming from a different viewpoint than most people.  Those chains have payroll too, and they don't have business right now.  I don't assume that they have pots of money stashed away for a time of pandemic.

My church applied for a PPE loan and got it.  Most of it will go to pay the small number of our employees:  the pastor, the organist, and the woman who cleans the church.  I realize that many people who contribute to a church don't want their offerings to go to payroll.  When I was younger, I felt this way too.  Now that I'm older, I realize that parts of the church like the food pantry won't exist without payroll.

I know that many people who hear about churches getting money are thinking about megachurches, the Shake Shacks of the church world.  My church is about as far away from that vision as it's possible to be.  The non-festival Sundays when we have more than 75 people in the pews are few and far between.  Most of our members are elderly and poor.  Frankly, I'm amazed we make payroll at all.

But we do have a building, and we've tried to steward that resource.  We have others using the space as much as we can, and they contribute towards expenses.  So far, some of those groups are still contributing, even though we're all sheltering in place with gatherings larger than 10 people banned.

As we think about the trillions of dollars that are being disbursed, I realize we can have voracious disagreements about who should get that money.  I realize that not every recipient will be deserving.

But I believe that churches offer lots of community support in a variety of ways, ways that are often unseen by the larger majority of the community.  I'm happy to have stimulus money go that way.

Stewardship Campaigns in a Time of Climate Change

It's been a tough week or two in terms of reports of the future:  declining song bird populations and seas rising faster than we thought and hot blobs of water travelling through the oceans.  And yet down here in South Florida, it's a beautiful morning where it's finally temperate.  I heard more birds this morning than I've heard in a long time.

I thought, it's mornings like this one that lead to climate science deniers.  How can there be fewer birds?  I hear so many of them singing?

And yet, for those of us with eyes to see and ears to hear, the signs are here.  Even on this morning with the songs of many birds, the water burbles up through the storm drains and seems up from the ground itself, a reminder of how close we are to sea level.

In a hundred years, my house will probably be underwater--literally.  In fifty years, it's quite possible that the house will be gone.  My floorboards are 2 feet above sea level.  I keep an eye on sea level rise, but can't quite figure out what to do.

This week people have been in New York for a UN Summit on Climate Change--of course, just assembling everyone made a big carbon footprint.  I don't have much hope that those folks will be able to come up with a good plan. 

And yet, I remain stubbornly optimistic about the future, although I do think the next 100 years will be one of the more difficult centuries in human history.

Fall is often the time that churches launch stewardship campaigns.  I suspect that most of them will not focus on the larger stewardship issue:  how will we care for the earth in this time of increasing challenges?

Are We Ecumenical or Enabling?

Earlier this week, we had a conversation amongst church members about the 7 other church groups who use our space.  Some of those church groups have very different theologies, although they are all ostensibly Christian groups.

Some of us chafe about how filled our church space has become.  Scheduling a wedding for a church member takes a herculean effort, for example.

Some of us see the sharing of space as an essential part of our mission.  Over fifty years ago, our ancestors gifted us with a church building.  Now we have a resource to shepherd and to share.

I will be blunt and honest, since only about 7 people are likely to read this blog post.  I am not sure I want to share resources with people who won't allow a woman to preach.  I am not sure I want to share resources with people who believe that homosexuals are headed to hell.

I am also not sure how many of our groups have more repressive beliefs.  One group is Seventh Day Adventist, so I'm pretty sure at least one group is more repressive.

We could argue about ecumenism.  I would say that we have not had that many years of openness in the Lutheran church; it's easy to lecture about ecumenism when you've been allowed to control the pulpit for the last two millenniums.

I wonder when ecumenism becomes enabling.

I know that I might be more comfortable sharing our worship space with Hindus or someone radically different in another direction than with sharing our resources with those whose Christian fundamentalism will restrict the personal possibilities of so many.

I realize that I'm risking being judgmental and closed off.  I am trying to have an open heart and an open mind. 

But I also know that I don't want to be part of oppressive structures when I can avoid it.  I don't want to support those oppressive structures.

I am ready for the new society, the beloved community, even as I feel our society slipping back to a shadowy past.

Hurricane Relief

Hurricane Harvey, while no longer a true hurricane, is still not done with Texas, and likely won't be for days.  The pictures of what the wind ripped apart are dramatic, but because of them, we might not know that water kills more people during storms than wind.  And this storm brings a lot of water with it.

So let us pray for those who are still in the path or swirling in the waters of this storm. Let us pray as the waters rise.  Let us cling to the hope of helicopters and life preservers.  Let us hope that all may float and not be submerged or swept away.

By now we all know that there will only be so much that government agencies can do.  We will all have to pitch in, and some people's lives will be forever altered, as will the earth that they lived on. 

Some of us will feel compelled to send money, and money is a resource that gives the flexibility that communities will need in these difficult days, and the difficult rebuilding time yet to come.  There are many fine organizations, and some of them are faith based.

I recommend Lutheran Disaster Response--most of your donation will go to disaster relief.  Go here to donate:

https://community.elca.org/ushurricanerelief?erid=28798270&trid=79371936-ea58-4752-8cad-e854ac8c3c5d

Stewardship for the Birds

This morning as I took my small walk to the marina, I kept reminding myself of what many smart folks advise:  even a half hour walk can help in all sorts of ways.  It doesn't have to be an extra pounds burning up walk.  Just getting the body moving is a good thing.

It's also good in other sorts of ways.  I've been delighting in the bird sounds that I only hear in the morning.  Do I only hear them because they only sing in the morning?  Or is early morning the only time the traffic/construction noises are silent enough to let other sounds slip through?

The other day I walked under a piercing bird sound.  I looked up and said, "Is that big noise coming out of you?"  Such a tiny bird with such a robust song!

I had a similar moment last week when I heard bird noises--but I was in my office, which I think of as hermetically sealed.  I'm lucky, in that I have windows and palm trees that wave to me outside them.  But I rarely hear much of the noise from outside of those windows.

But sure enough, there were some tiny birds perched on the tiny bit of window sill, and they chirped loudly enough for me to hear. 

I often hear the screech of parrots, but they rarely come close enough to be seen.  The other day I had to come back home in the morning to have my spouse notarize a document.  As I left the house, I noticed a parrot in one of the gumbo limbo trees out front.  I managed to get my husband's attention without scaring the parrot away.  And then, another parrot joined the first!

On our first night in Ft. Lauderdale, before we decided to move down here, when we were here for my spouse's job interview, we saw parrots on the electric lines overhead on Las Olas.  Seeing parrots seemed magical then, and it still seems magical, 20 years later.

When I saw the parrots in our gumbo limbo tree on Friday, I had been feeling exhausted and depleted.  But that moment was a turning point in my day.  My day might have improved in some other way, had I not seen them, however, I was surprised by how much they elevated my mood, and how long that elevation lasted.

Over the past decades, I've read many articles that worry about the fate of the birds, and I've read works that envision a life without birdsong.  Happily, that world is not our world yet.  I'll continue to cultivate my patch of the world to support the birds and other animal life and to stave off a birdless apocalypse for as long as possible.

It's an aspect of stewardship that we don't always talk about as spiritual folks.  But imagine the world that we might help create if we did more in this area of stewardship.

The Morality of the Zoo and a Brief Discourse on Cruelty and Captivity

I've been watching the outrage that came in the aftermath of the child leaping/falling into the gorilla pen, which led to the gorilla's death.  I've seen all sorts of calls for punishment for the mother, as well as an interesting discussion, in many places, about the morality of zoos.

Should we have zoos?  Should we abolish zoos in favor of wildlife preserves?  Is a preserve just another type of zoo?

If a species will die out without human intervention, should humans allow extinction?  I do realize that with many species, we do just that.  And many species go extinct before we even realize they're in danger.  We are in the time of the Holocene Extinction, the 6th great die out (that we know of) on this planet.

It's an interesting discussion, one which leads me back to God.  Just as humans wrestle with the question of whether or not to intervene in extinction, and if so, what should the action be--does God have the same wrestling?  If we believe in a God of free will, is it even conceivable that God would intervene?

If we didn't have zoos, if we couldn't see these creatures live and up close, would we care at all?  The answer probably differs according to the human.

Yesterday, a colleague showed me a picture of a small dog that had a tiara on its head and some sort of clothing.  She asked, "Is this animal cruelty?"

I said no, but then I clarified, "Of course, I'm not going to see animal cruelty in a picture unless there's some part of the animal that's bleeding."

Do we see the same dynamic in the zoo?  I don't see it as cruel to keep animals in modern zoos, where efforts have been made to create a habitat close to the one they would inhabit in the wild, where they get food, where there are places for animal privacy, should the animal want it.

And the whole idea that animals are better in the wild is a false one too.  Many of these zoo animals would be in great danger from predators--and worse, from hunters and poachers.  So it's hard for me to see the zoo as a form of animal cruelty.

Still, I am uncomfortable with this kind of animal captivity for our viewing entertainment.  I think of that case in Yellowstone National Park, where the tourists took a bison calf to a ranger because they thought it was cold.  They put a wild animal in their car--what on earth made them think that would be O.K.?

I'm not sure I'd blame zoos, so much as I might blame Disney movies.  Or maybe as a species, we tend to anthropomorphize every creature--even God.  We assume that all creatures are just like us.

You might argue that God has called us to care for creation, and I would agree with you.  The nature of that care is where we might all differ--and I have no easy answers.

I am glad to see so many people wrestling with the ethical questions of what it means to be good stewards--even as I shudder at the vitriol aimed at that poor mother at the zoo.

Powerball Ponderings: Earthly Power, God's Power

So, there are 3 Powerball winners, and one of the tickets was sold in Florida.  My spouse bought tickets here in Florida, but I do understand the chances of winning are not in our favor.

I thought of all of us buying our Powerball tickets as I considered the text that my church will be using this Sunday, 1 Samuel 8:  1-20.  In this passage that we'll explore on Sunday, we see the ancient Israelites demanding a king.  God's prophet Samuel tells them what it will be like to have a king.  At first it sounds great, a veritable jobs program.  But having a king comes with a price--and a cost.  The cost might be a version of taxes:  a certain proportion of crops.  But it will also cost them their children, both literally and figuratively.  It will cost them freedom and their future.

The people ignore Samuel, and here we have yet another example--not the first and certainly not the last--of God's people choosing earthly power despite the cost.

We may think that we're immune to the lure of earthly power, but I would submit that we are not.  I write this on the day after the drawing of the largest Powerball give away ever--clearly earthly power, in the form of money, is quite seductive.  We may dream of the great good we'd do with all that money, and perhaps we would.  But frankly, it doesn't take much money to do good in the world right now.  There's nothing stopping us from living like we've already won that money--nothing but our minds.

That's the problem with earthly power--it usually comes at great cost, and before we know it, our minds are enslaved.  We can't dream the kinds of expansive dreams that God needs us to envision.

Let us take time to think about all the ways in which we are like those ancient Israelites.  How do we desire a king that's not God?  Let us think of all the visions that distract us.  How have we let ourselves be shaped by what the world tells us we should want?  What does God want for us?

What would happen if we turned away and remembered God's vision of what it means to be the people of God?

Market Tumbles and Where We Store Our Treasures

All day yesterday, as I watched the world's stock markets tumble, I thought about various Bible passages that talk about wealth and where we place our trust. 

Money--and the power and status that it brings--is a powerfully seductive thing. Once, when facing reduced circumstances as my husband left his job, my Charismatic Catholic AA friend acted as if I'd had a death in the family.

I shrugged and said, "I think having too much money is spiritually dangerous."

You wouldn't think I'd have to explain that to her, but I did.

If we have too much money, we tend to think of ourselves as capable and smart and able to go about our lives on our own. We think we don't need God. And soon, we begin to worry that we don't have enough money, and we lash ourselves to our jobs, jobs that require ever more of us, so that we can ensure we have enough money. But we'll never have enough money.

We will never have enough money. We will never be safe and protected by having enough money.

The only way to win that game (to paraphrase books and movies about other subjects, like female beauty and nuclear war) is not to play.
When markets tumble, I'm reminded of how much faith I've put in my money, of how I've stored up for myself treasures on earth, where moths and rust and thieves and worldwide economic downturns can take it.

Most spiritual traditions warn us not to rely on our monetary wealth.  Yesterday's market tumble was a good reminder.

Training Cheerful Givers

Our church is off-lectionary.  For the next 2 weeks, we'll be focusing on the spiritual discipline of giving with these readings:


2 Corinthians 9:6-15 & Luke 6:27-36

In my much younger years, I remember having heated arguments with my parents about money--but not the kind of arguments you might expect.  My parents tried to train us to have good money sense, which included talking about how we would spend our money.  In my rebellious years, I didn't think I should give money to charity.  I had an attitude which might be very typical:  "I earned it; why should I give it to charity?  What did they do to deserve any of my money?"

We may have been the only family talking about the idea of tithing as we ate our family meals. 

My parents had very good answers, and they must have sunk in, because I give money to charity now.  My charities include the church and church camps, a variety of social justice organizations (all of them Christian, not all of them Lutheran), and other good causes.  Along the way, I've returned to my parents to have discussions of what it means to give our money away.

If I give money to a friend or family member who is having money problems, is that the same as giving money to an organization that helps the poor?  If I give away household goods, does that count as cheerful giving?  Does it only count if I give away items I still like?  Or can I be even more cheerful a giver if I'm getting rid of clutter while also giving away items?  How does doing volunteer work count?

You may notice a spreadsheet mentality in those questions, and you would be right.  What counts?  What doesn't?  It's not a very grace-filled approach.

My family talked a lot about the idea of tithing.  My Lutheran pastor grandfather and grandmother had a simple approach to giving:  for every amount that came into the household, they gave 10% to the church, 10% to savings, the rest to spend on expenses.

In my adolescent years, I asked my parents, "Why 10%?  Why not 15 or 20?"

My dad once replied that 10% is enough so that you notice it; it's not an extreme hardship to give up 10%, but it requires you to be more intentional.  But it's also a goal that can be met by most of us.  My parents understood the importance of not setting up children to fail, and they saw the same thinking behind the idea of tithing.

My parents didn't mention the additional benefit of regular giving:  most of us who give away part of our money notice that money loosens its grip on us.  Most of us who don't give say that we can't afford it--I've been that kind of non-cheerful, non-giver during parts of my life, so I do understand.

But I've noticed that when I give on a regular basis, I'm not as clenched about the idea of money and having enough money.  My spreadsheet mentality loosens its grip on me.  I begin to give out of a sense of gratitude, not because I think that God is making notes on that spreadsheet in the sky.

I give because I have and others don't.  I give because I've had opportunities, and many of them came my way out of sheer luck, not because I'm more deserving.  I give because I like the way it feels when I share.  I give because when we pool our resources, we can accomplish so much more than when we try to hang on to what we see as ours with our clenched fists.

And in this way, I can transform myself into the cheerful giver that God wants me to be--not because of a spreadsheet, but because God has a vision of a world where everyone has enough.

What a wonderful, grace-soaked vision!  And we can help bring it about by sharing what we have.

Promoting Camp

At the end of the day yesterday, a group of us from Lutheran churches across the county met at our church, a central location for us all.  We were there to hear about promoting the campaign for Luther Springs, our Lutheran camp in Florida.  The man there to train us to go out to talk to church councils was once my college Theology professor and campus pastor.

We talked about what outdoor ministry had meant to each of us.  It was interesting to note how many of us talked about the deep importance of camp to our grown-up lives, not our camp experiences as children.

Our Florida camp, Luther Springs, has gone from being on the brink of bankruptcy to being more successful than the space developed can handle.  Luckily, there's room for development.

How did this happen?  Ten years ago, most Lutherans in Florida had never heard of Luther Springs.

Part of it was their partnership with the group that manages the North Carolina camps, Lutheridge and Lutherock.

And when that group started helping, the camp started offering more programs for adults.  Once better housing was built for larger groups, the popularity took off.

I thought of the one day retreat that my mom and I have created for her church women's group.  Could one day retreats held at churches help support camp?  We've said it at my mom's group's retreat:  "If you liked one day of this, just imagine a whole week-end or week."  Last night I thought of offering 1 day versions of the more popular retreats:  a 1 day women's retreat, a 1 day creativity retreat, and so on.

Of course, the kind of support that Luther Springs needs right now is money to build more lodging, to build a better kitchen (I've had home kitchens bigger than the Luther Springs kitchen), and to build a bigger meeting space/chapel.  The materials we looked at last night made it clear how little it would take from each Lutheran church member to get the camp to where it needs to be:  just under $34 a person a year for the next 3 years.

History is full of examples of what can happen when a large group of people works together.  Hopefully this campaign for Luther Springs will be another example.

Budgeting for Black Friday and Beyond

The weeks before Christmas pose challenges to most of us, no matter what beliefs we hold. Even the most balanced of us can lose our way during this time of frantic busyness and hectic schedules and our culture beaming messages at us that we must spend more. How can we as Christians best use our gift giving dollars?

Our first impulse might be to give our gift giving dollars to various charitable organizations. I’m fortunate enough to be able to buy all the material stuff I need. I am haunted by all the charities that are underfunded. I am haunted by the gaping needs in the world. I would prefer that people give money to the needy than to buy more stuff for me. Chances are good that lots of people on your gift list feel the same way. Then the hard part comes in choosing the charity.

Philosophers like Peter Singer would encourage us to send our charitable dollars to charities who serve the developing world, where our dollars go further. Organizations like Lutheran World Relief have long histories of delivering our donations efficiently to areas of the globe with great need. But we know that there’s plenty of need here in our home countries.

Some people who give money to charities in lieu of gifts have fun matching the charity to the personality of the gift recipient. Some families choose one charity and give all their gift budgets to the one charity. Some families support local churches.

But what about the people on our list who aren’t as charitably minded?

Maybe instead of a gift, we could give an experience. Why not give your loved ones a retreat at a church camp? Many church camps have shorter week-end retreats that are affordably priced. Why not give theatre tickets?

We could give the gift of time together. You could take your gift recipients out for dinner. Make a date for a museum or a movie.—in February, when life calms down, and we need a treat to make it through the rest of winter.

We could give magazine subscriptions, the gift that gives throughout the year. A book of devotions could do the same thing, while nourishing our gift recipients on a daily basis.

This year, we might want to give gifts that help support local businesses so that they survive. We could give any number of gift cards to local businesses: car mechanics, gym memberships, hair stylists, boutiques, bookstores, restaurants, move theatres. We could broaden our approach and choose gift cards that support our Christian vision. Instead of an Amazon gift card, we could support Augsburg Fortress. We could buy fair trade products from organizations that support people in developing nations.

But what about the people on our list who don’t want a gift card? What about the people who want an object specially chosen for them?

One year, my family had a lot of fun by giving handmade gifts. But most of us don’t have time between now and Christmas to give handmade gifts.

Luckily, other people have been preparing. Why not support a church craft fair? There we’ll find beautiful objects to suit all sorts of budgets—and we’ll support church ministries. We could support local artists. Even if you think you can’t afford art, you will likely find something in your budget, like a set of note cards or a beautiful pottery mug. We could buy our gifts from SERVV or other groups who support artisans in the developing world. We could buy books from local authors.

However we choose to approach our gift giving, we should create a budget before we begin shopping. It’s easy to get caught up in the good feelings that spending money can produce for many of us. It’s easy to whip out our credit cards and worry about how we’ll pay for it later. Unfortunately, when we do that, many of us will still be paying for those Christmas presents next summer. And when we do that, we don’t have that money available for other worthy causes.

And there are so many other worthy causes.

Updating a Parable for a Stewardship Sunday

Stewardship Text: 

Luke 12:13–31

In this text, we get the story of the man who built bigger structures to hold his grain and goods.  If we rewrote this Gospel to use modern images, what might we use?

Let me try:  Once there was a worker who got to teach extra classes when the local community college had a surge in enrollment.  The worker also got a bonus at work along with a raise, while the cost for health insurance went down.  Thus, at the end of the year, the worker had extra money in the bank, and because of historic stock market gains, the worker's retirement account was higher than ever.  The worker had lived in the same house for twenty years, so the worker had managed to retain some equity in the house.

The worker decided to consolidate all of the extra money into the retirement account with the best return.  The worker went to bed saying, "At this rate, I can retire 7 years early.  Maybe I'll really luck out, and if I'm careful, I could retire in 14 years and get a few more years of retirement in addition to that 7.  I'm very fortunate."

But that very night, the worker died and because the worker had no will, the money was tied up in the courts for 14 years, and eventually, all the profits went to court costs and other mysterious fees.

Here's another way of looking at that parable.  What does our family budget say about who we trust to take care of us?

Another way of asking the same question:  if we really trusted that God would provide everything we needed, how would our behavior change?

In these stewardship days, we may hear that old-fashioned term, tithing.  I wonder if tithing is an outmoded concept--not that it's not important, but it could be expressed in ways that are more meaningful.

Would we give more money if we understood exactly what our money was buying?  If we translated every restaurant meal into a mosquito net, would we give more?

Or, if we understood some of our spending as truly discretionary (nobody needs beer; I could get all my books from the library and do away with my book budget), would we give more to our church?

In Colossians Remixed: Subverting the Empire (a book I highly recommend), Brian J. Walsh and Sylvia C. Keesmaat have this interesting approach to charitable giving: "One guidepost we work with is that if we ever find in a given year that we have invested more in our won future by way of retirement savings than we have given away for someone else's present need, there is something terribly wrong. We tend to think the ratio should be at least two to one: for every dollar we invest in retirement savings, two dollars should be given away to an agency that will serve the poor" (page 189).

While I essentially agree with them, I am not there yet, and may not ever meet them there. But maybe I should begin with a smaller goal:  match my retirement savings with my church/charitable/social justice giving.

 Walsh and Keesmaat remind us, "We can probably tell as much about the real spirituality and the real worldview of a people by looking at the cars they drive, the food they consume, the gadgets that fill their homes and the garbage they throw out as we can by listening to the songs they sing and the prayers they pray" (page 199).

 What does your spending say about you and your values?

House Purchases and Social Justice

We have finally closed on our new house.  Now I own 2 properties in South Florida.  Well, to be more accurate, I outright own one house and I have a heavily mortgaged new house.

I've been writing a bit about our search, but I haven't written about the specifics much.  I didn't want to jinx the process.

I've taken the same approach in real life as online life.  A few friends know of this journey.  A few people at work know because I've had to rearrange work hours at some points.  But for the most part, we haven't told very many people.

Now I face the interesting task of saying, "Hey, you didn't know we were doing this, but we've bought a house!"

Will people feel odd that we didn't tell them earlier?  Why do I feel odd?

With our friends at church, and with some of our other friends too, there's an interesting social justice angle.  Lest you think my friends are judgmental sorts, let me hasten to say that it probably comes more from me than from them.

My inner 19 year old objects strenuously to this project.  She points out that if we're willing to spend gobs of money on a new house, when we have a perfectly good house already, that we should funnel that money instead to the poor and the dispossessed.

My inner 19 year old would not care one whit about housing values and crime rates.  She wouldn't give us a break because retirement approaches, and we need a house that will appreciate in value.

She would get huffy.  She would say, "There are only 2 of you.  Why do you need the luxury of all this space?"

Ah, we're back to that question, the one that haunts the Gospels, and not just the Gospels, but most spiritual texts:  are we living a life that's integrated with our values?  What does our use of our money say about what we truly value?

So, I am conflicted, as I have been conflicted most of my life.  I feel guilt because I have much and so many have so little.  I share what I have, but it doesn't alleviate my guilt.  It doesn't erase the sorrow that I feel because I have had opportunities while others have faced obstacle after obstacle.

I'm fairly I will feel this way my whole life. 

And truth be told, I wouldn't want those feelings to vanish.  I want that feeling of gratitude, of knowing that I have been the lucky recipient of much abundance.  I want to feel that sorrow for those who haven't had the same blessings.  I want my sorrow to motivate me to share.

And more than that, I want to continue to work for a more just world, one where abundance is more evenly distributed, where more people have all sorts of opportunities.

Jesus, too, wept over the plight of the poor and dispossessed.  And Jesus showed us all sorts of ways to work for them.  And the first place to start is prayer.

Soundtracks to a Budget Process

Last night, we had a budget meeting.  It's part of a long process wherein we try to drain the potential negative energy out of the process.  We present the proposed budget to the congregation during a week night.

We used to have long meetings after church--long, ugly meetings.  People were already there, so they stayed, and during coffee hour, we'd present the budget.  We always hoped that the coffee hour element would help people stay civilized.  It did not.

Now, we are happy to meet with people as long as they'd like, but in a different setting, one where newcomers won't see us at our worst.  We also require people to make some effort.  We've had much less ugliness after adopting this approach.

Now we hold our congregational vote on the budget during part of a worship service.  It's an up or down vote--no conversation.  If you want conversation/debate/discussion, you come to the week night presentation.

Last night was a bit surreal.  Our fellowship hall has 2 wings.  We met in one, while the drama group that uses our space with a stage met in the other.  They were having their end of the year talent show.

So, we talked about the budget with lots of different background music, like that song which says, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."  Later in the evening, Annie sang "It's a hard knock life."

We had to admit that our congregational life was not so hard knock.  We have some issues, like a lot of roof repair to be done.  But we have resources.

And it's important to remember the message of abundance that we get over and over again in the Gospels.  In some of those Gospels, Jesus begins his ministry by turning water into wine for a wedding feast--and not just any wine, but good wine.  Jesus expands a simple lunch of loaves and fishes into enough for everyone--with 12 baskets of leftovers.

That message of abundance is one that doesn't often come through during budget meetings.  Could we shift our budget process to one of embracing abundance instead of minimizing ugliness?

It's a vision worth keeping.