Narrow Gates, Wide Paths, and the Holy Trinity

When I first started this sketch, I thought I was illustrating this verse from the Gospel of Matthew:   “Enter through the narrow gate, for the gate is wide and the road is easy[a] that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it.  For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it." (Matthew 7: 13-14 NRSVUE).

I don't have a copy of the early days of the sketch, the black line drawing that looked more like paths winding their way across the page.

As I started to add color, I started to see three figures, and as I added more color, the one on the left, the one in yellows and reds, started to seem female.  My mind went, as it always does, to ideas about the Holy Trinity.  And so, I decided to explore that.  

In the end, the figure on the left in yellows and reds became the Holy Spirit, and the one on the right, in greens, became the Creator.  The middle figure ended up being an amalgamation of colors and shapes that I often use for the Virgin Mary, along with images I've used, and the culture has used, for Christ.  There are three crosses, done in fine-line black pen, in the bottom circle, along with a star, also done in pen, in the space between the two circles. The darker ovals in the top circle were supposed to represent the empty tomb.

I'm pleased with how it turned out--but I continue to be intrigued by how I thought I was drawing something totally different only to end up sketching Trinitarian images again.

Prophetic Imaginations, Past and Present

Yesterday afternoon, in the midst of news of the separation between Trump and Musk, I heard that the theologian Walter Brueggemann had died.  It wasn't exactly unexpected; he was 92 years old.  From what I've read, his death was peaceful.  And then I went to a picnic with the camp counselors for this summer--they're an inspiring group.

This morning, my thoughts turned to Brueggemann again, as I revised my Pentecost sermon.  I went back through some seminary papers; it's the rare theologian that I turned to again and again, the way I did Brueggemann's work, especially The Prophetic Imagination.  It has been especially interesting this morning, thinking about ancient prophets, thinking about Pentecost, thinking about our own time which is so full of nonsense and babble.  I tweeted this morning:  "Here for #5amwritersclub, here to work on my Pentecost sermon about God speaking in languages we each understand, while all around me, men spew nonsense and artificial intelligence hallucinates, and perhaps I'll also write a blog post about these juxtapositions."

I'm not sure I'm doing that, but I did think about the Brueggemann idea that I used most often across seminary papers:  the prophet shows us a world in which God can act and that God has a plan and a purpose (The Prophetic Imagination, p. 218).  And here's another Brueggemann quote that shows up periodically in my seminary papers:    “Clearly Jesus cannot be understood simply as prophet, for that designation, like every other, is inadequate for the historical reality of Jesus. Nonetheless, among his other functions it is clear that Jesus functioned as a prophet. In both his teaching and his very presence, Jesus of Nazareth presented the ultimate criticism of the royal consciousness. He has, in fact, dismantled the dominant culture and nullified its claims” (The Prophetic Imagination, 81-82).

Here's how I used these ideas in my Pentecost sermon:  We have the promise of the ancient prophets like Joel that if we can use our power to align ourselves and our societies to right relationship with God and with each other, we can turn ourselves and our societies in a new direction, one where we can discover a true path to flourishing.

Brueggemann's theology has inspired so many of us in so many ways.  I hope we can continue to inspire others with these ideas.

Contemplating Julian of Norwich During Graduation Week

Today is the feast day of Julian of Norwich, at least for Lutherans, Episcopalians, and Anglicans; Catholics will celebrate on May 13. Tonight I will go back to my seminary campus for the Eucharist service for students who are graduating with their Masters degrees, and there's a dinner and reception afterward.  How wonderful to be celebrated this way!

And how different from how Julian of Norwich has been celebrated, or ignored, through the centuries.  She was alive from roughly 1343 to 1416, a tumultuous time with the Black Death making its first appearance in England and a revolt of peasants that spread across the country.  She lived in Norwich, which was a center of commerce and a center of religion.  

I've been interested in Julian of Norwich for a long time.  When I first started teaching the British Literature survey class in 1992, the Norton Anthology had just added her to the text used in so many survey classes.  Why had I not heard of her before?  After all, she was the first woman writing in English, at least the first one whose writing we still have.

My students and I found her writing strange, and I found her ideas compelling.  She had a series of visions, which she wrote down, and spent her life elaborating upon. She wrote about Christ as a mother--what a bold move! After all, Christ is the only one of the Trinity with a definite gender. She also stressed God is both mother and father. Here in the 21st century, we're still arguing about gender and Julian of Norwich explodes the gender binary and gives us a vision of God the Mother, God the Wife--and it's not the Virgin Mary, whom she also sees in her visions.

Her visions showed her that God is love and compassion, an important message during the time of the Black Death.  She is probably most famous for this quote, "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well," which she claimed that God said to her. It certainly sounds like the God that I know too.

Although she was a medieval mystic, her work seems fresh and current, even these many centuries later. How many writers can make such a claim?

A few years ago, I read her complete works, which I didn't enjoy as much as I thought I would.  The writing seemed circular, coming back to many ideas again and again, with lots of emphasis on the crucified, bleeding Jesus, lots of focus on suffering and sin. The excerpts that most of us read, if we read her at all, are plenty good enough.  I was both disappointed to discover that, and yet happy.

Not for the first time, I wonder what's been lost to history in terms of writing. If she was thinking about some of these explosive ideas, might others have been even more radical? What happened to them?

I'm grateful that we have her work--at least there's something that gives us a window into the medieval mind, which was more expansive than we usually give credit for.  And I'm grateful that so many people have discovered her in the decades since the Norton Anthology first included her.

I'll keep her in mind today, as I participate in ancient rituals, like Communion, that she, too, celebrated.  I'll keep her in mind as I discern next steps on the path.  My path would seem as strange to her as hers does to me--although I will confess that the cell of an anchoress/anchorite is appealing on some days.  I love the idea of ancient church rites and rituals that connect us across centuries--may they continue!

International Women's Day, 2025

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

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

Until recently, I'd have assumed that rights that had been awarded by the Supreme Court were ours forever.  That belief is gone.  Yet I also know that I'm living in a better place than many women across the globe.  Part of that reason is because of my race and age and class.  But part of that reason is that women across the globe face much more bleaker circumstances than women on the lowest rung of U.S. society, even the ones who live in states that have greatly restricted health care for women and other protections that women need that men don't.

So, it's a hard year to be thinking about the status of women and celebrating accomplishments.  But it's important to remember that there have been accomplishments.  Women have been doing the work that needs to be done.  And in some years, surviving to fight/live another day is accomplishment enough.

It's also important to remember how bleak life has been in the past, in the not too distant past.  We have not slid all the way back to bleaker days, and it's important to remember that.  We do have rights, we do have opportunities, and we can move fairly freely in the world if we're careful.  Of course, even as I type those words, I think about all the people who don't have rights, who don't have opportunities, who cannot move freely--that's especially true in countries like Afghanistan and Iran.

In my various seminary classes, we've done a lot of analysis of oppressive social structures, of what we might call Powers and Principalities if we used theological terms.  We've talked about how these structures are self-perpetuating, about how hard it is to defeat them because they have power and accrue power simply by existing and because they have existed for so long.

No one said defeating them would be easy.  But many people have seen the vision of a better life for us all, and they can assure us the struggle is worth it, even though it's hard.  Future generations will thank us, even if we leave them tasks to finish.

And let me end on a positive note, even if I'm not feeling particularly positive.  

We know that the world can change very quickly.  I have often thought about how my 1987 self would be astonished at the fact that Nelson Mandela walked out of prison and went on to be elected president of South Africa and how there is no longer an East and West Germany. We are called to be part of the movement to change the world in ways that are better for all--and particularly for the vulnerable and powerless. We have made great progress on that front. But there is still more to do.

So, today, let us continue.

Having the Answers vs. Living Faithfully

Last night, my seminary class on Christmas and Easter discussed the non-canonical texts that tell about Mary and Joseph and the birth/childhood of Jesus.  They are bizarre texts, the Proto-Gospel of James and the Infancy Gospel of Thomas.  One thing that I wondered was whether or not the canonical Gospel stories would seem just as bizarre, had we not spent our lifetimes hearing them and watching them and acting them out in childhood pageants.  I think they would.

My professor finished by saying that we can see how the non-canonical texts are trying to fill in the gaps, that they are harmonizing with the canonical texts not competing with them.

She reminded us that it's good to have gaps in the texts.  The gaps remind us, as do the texts (both canonical and non), that having the answers is not the same as living well and living faithfully.  Her closing thoughts seem so essential to me in this time of deep division.

Lessons and Carols and Theology Ancient and Modern

Many churches today will do a Service of Lessons and Carols.  It's a great way to give church folks a lower-key Sunday, after the work-intense week that includes Christmas Eve and perhaps Christmas morning.  Musicians already know the music, and if pastors don't want to preach, the lessons do the work.  Many churches won't have communion, so more people can take the day off--after all, pastors have families too, and many of them haven't had much holiday time with those families.

When I was younger, I loved this service.  Of course, when I was younger, I loved everything about Advent and Christmas, and I wondered why church services throughout the year were no match for Christmas Eve.  Even today, the Christmas Eve service seems the most perfect to me.  I know I should love Easter best, but I don't.

One of the gifts seminary has given me is an appreciation for various theologies that have been squashed throughout church history--and not just appreciation, but hearing about them at all.  I will always wonder what might have happened if Pelagius had become the go-to theologian, not Augustine.   Just imagine it:  a church based on God's love of all of creation, not a church based on ideas of a fallen, unworthy creation.  What if the idea of sin took a back seat to ideas about the beauty of creation?

Alas, most of us aren't living in that world, which is one reason why Easter isn't my favorite.  Even though we have an empty tomb at Easter, we also get a lot of substitutionary atonement theology in an Easter service, lots of references to that old rugged cross.  And if that's true in ELCA Lutheran churches, I can only imagine how much worse it might be in more conservative churches.

But Christmas Eve is different.  We might want to lean into Christmas Eve as a story of God vs. Roman empire--well some of us pastor folks/social justice folks might.  But Christmas Eve is about beauty, about a Divine love so huge that God comes to be with us, to experience all of human life.

I've often marveled at the idea of God who is willing to be a baby, willing to be a teenager, willing to experience pain the way we do.  Again, I think of a different way that church/theology might have helped me frame this differently:  a God who wants to experience the exquisite wonder and awe of being human.  If I had it framed this way, earlier, preached from the pulpit, maybe it would have taken me less time to feel wonder and awe at being human, less time feeling trapped in my body, my fallen body in all of its femaleness (the way the Church has framed it through the ages). 

I write today, surrounded by Christmas beauty, lights and decorations that will soon be packed away.  It's a good day for thinking about ways to keep this wonder and awe going throughout the year.  Now that's a new year's resolution that makes me happy.

Nuggets of Inspiration from Facebook Posts: C. S. Lewis on Saints and Theologian Ruben Alves on Hope

Every day I worry that I waste too much time zipping around to Internet sites, and I always feel I spend too much time on social media.  But each day, I get a bit of inspiration, a bit of uplift that keeps me hopeful that it's not a complete waste of time.  I've pasted some samples below.

And it's also worth remembering that I've always wasted some time:  trashy books, afternoon talk shows like Oprah, gossiping with colleagues.  It's good to remember that they weren't all complete wastes of time.  And it's probably unrealistic to expect myself to be productive every waking hour.

A Facebook friend who is a female pastor made this post:

As I drove to my last radiation treatment this morning and listened to the news about the escalation of the war in Ukraine and Russia, I remembered C.S. Lewis words, “How monotonously alike all the great tyrants and conquerors have been: how gloriously different are the saints." And here, I don't think he's talking about the saints with a capital S, but those who persist in the small, everyday acts of courage, hope, and kindness. These are the things that make for peace and that will, in the end, erase every memory of the great unoriginal tyrants.

A Facebook friend who is a female pastor made this post (completely unrelated to the above quote):

An Advent thought from Brazilian theologian Ruben Alves: “Hope is that presentiment that the imagination is more real, and reality less real, than we had thought. It is the sensation that the last word does not belong to the brutality of facts with their oppression and repression. It is the suspicion that reality is far more complex than realism would have us believe, that the frontiers of the possible are not determined by the limits of the present, and that miraculously and surprisingly, life is readying the creative event that will open the way to freedom and resurrection.”

Can God Change? A Theologian Changes His Mind

Yesterday, I came across this interview between Richard Hays and Peter Wehner in The New York Times.  Richard Hays is a theologian who published a book arguing against gay marriage and arguing even against gay and lesbian marriage.  That was back in 1996, and now, he has changed his mind; now he has published a new book, The Widening of God’s Mercy (what a great title and a great concept).

In the interview, Hays resists saying that God can change.  He's not saying that it's not possible, but he always circles back to the necessity of realizing that we can't possibly know.  Peter Wehner points out that if God can change, if the way we interpret scripture can change, that there's a great risk of only picking out passages that support whatever line of thought we're having at a particular time; Wehner asks Hays about his earlier beliefs and what Hays would say to his earlier self.  Hays says, "Yeah, but the shape of the whole biblical story gives us a pattern, a pattern of grace that is played out again and again, where we see God’s mercy broadening in ways that were unforeseen in earlier experience of the people of God."

Hays points out that there are plenty of scriptural ideas that we are willing to say are of their time and not relevant to ours, like Paul's ideas about slavery.  Why shouldn't sexual behaviors be seen similarly?

He also points out that there are practices described, like Jews and Gentiles eating together, that would have been incredibly shocking at the time, but now we don't even register them as an issue at all.

The interview circles back to whether or not God can change.  The idea of a God who changes is a dealbreaker for some Christians, but Hays is open to the idea, and can show places in the Bible text as evidence of God changing.  There's actually a whole theology that explores this, process theology, but Hays doesn't really mention it.

Hays is facing a reoccurrence of cancer which led him to write this book.  He also talks about the practice that he and his wife have, one they adopted with the first diagnosis, of reading a Psalm every night after dinner.

It's a long interview, but well worth a read.  I'm happy that a major newspaper gave the space to it.

More Essential Questions, Inspired by Theologian David Bosch

In my seminary class on Mission, we covered the work of David Bosch, one of the theologians who furthered the idea that mission work didn't need to involve an airplane ticket, that there's mission work to be done at home.  I was taken with his idea of how we can recognize the work of God.

I am not sure I can explain it well, but I want to capture an idea that has intrigued me for a few days now, the idea that the work of God, the mission of God, can be recognized in the overlap between a saved universe and a just universe.  And it's God's vision for creation--not for a future time, but right here, right now.  

In fact, that may not be what Bosch wrote, but it also intrigues me in a different way.

Maybe we recognize the work we should be doing by looking at this overlap or by asking these questions:  "Does this work usher in a more just universe?"  "Does this work offer some form of salvation, a saving kind of power?"

Are we moving the world towards justice and salvation?   And I think of salvation in a very different way than many Christians have.  I am less interested in saving souls so that they can go to Heaven than I am in saving creation for future Christians.

The Death of a Great Liberation Theologian

Gustavo Gutierrez, one of the great liberation theologians, has died.  It's really not a surprise--he lived into his 90's, after all.  Dr. Wingeier-Rayo, one of my seminary professors, contributed to an article in The Washington Post:  "Father Gutiérrez’s approach was 'substantially different from earlier church practice,' Wingeier-Rayo wrote in an email, 'because it took into account the local context and interpreted the Bible from the perspective of the poor and marginalized.' Among other tenets, it emphasized the 'preferential option for the poor,' a belief in giving priority to the powerless; and promoted a broad concept of sin, in which it is unjust not only to lie or steal but to participate in social structures that contribute to inequality."

As we read these words today, they may not seem so radical to us.  We've had 50 years of studying this type of theology, 50 years of hearing these basic ideas, 50 years of going deeper.  We've seen people like Archbishop Romero murdered for these ideas, and he has gone from being controversial to being made a saint.

Some people may reject these ideas for being too political, and liberation theologians come down on different political sides.  The Washington Post article notes:  "The central question of liberation theology, he [Gutierrez] said, was, 'How do you say to the poor, the oppressed, the insignificant person, ‘God loves you?’”

Gutierrez told us again and again that Christians must be in solidarity with the poor, and that solidarity went further than charity dollars and donations.  Liberation theology looks at structural issues that keep people in poverty.  Liberation theology calls us to dismantle these systems of oppression.

I have already seen some social media posts that remind us of how far we have to go in terms of this theology, and that is true.  Still, it is good to remember how far we have come--and how much of that progress is because of liberation theologians like Gustavo Gutierrez.  

The Holy Trinity, in One Lakeside Picture

On Tuesday, I made this Facebook post:

"Some of us look at the lake, and we see trinitarian theology in motion: Creator, Redeemer, and the Mist of the swirling Spirit, all present this morning."

It included this picture:

As I stared at the lake, I was struck by the way the fog/mist moved.  I thought about earlier generations who might have wondered if they were seeing spirits out and about.  I tried to make a video to capture the swirls, but it looked more like a still photo.

So, I made the Facebook post, and when I continued to think about it, I made this post.  What will this morning's walk bring?

We Begin with Native American Spirituality

When I read about the June 2024 onground intensive for the spiritual director's certificate program, I wanted to attend for many reasons; alumni are invited back once a year, and I've been in the past as an alum.  It's great to be reminded of best practices and to discover new techniques.

In terms of the teaching, the focus on Native American spirituality was one of the main reasons I wanted to say yes to the invitation to return.  We covered that material last night, and it did not disappoint. 

Long time readers may remember that I wrote a blog post about a similar experience in January of 2022, and in some ways, last night was similar.  We began with a smudging ceremony.  

This year, no words were spoken during the smudging, but in other ways it was similar.  The smudge stick burned and the tribal elder used the feather to wave the smoke towards us, down one side and then down on the other side, and we lifted the heel of each foot to allow smudging there, too.  When we did the ceremony in January, it was dark and cold outside; it felt a bit strange to do the ceremony in the blinding sunlight of an evening in June (we started at 6:50 p.m.).

Then we moved indoors, where a drum circle had been set up.  There was a big drum in the middle of the circle with 6 Native American women seated around it.  They drummed, and we each had a shaker.  Each shaker was different--here's the one that I chose (I asked permission to photograph it):

Much of the music was the same as the session in 2022, but it was good to revisit it.  The workshop leader told us that the music to "Poor Wayfarin' Stranger" is a Cherokee tune.  We sang the words of "Amazing Grace" to a Creek tune.  Our leader talked about Native American theology and compared it to Christian theology to show that we are worshipping the same God.

She also mentioned the new version of the Bible, the First Nations Version: An Indigenous Translation of the New Testament.  I had seen this version while at seminary, and we have a Kindle copy.  I was glad to know that it was done by Native Americans, that it's not an appropriation.  

After the workshop and the drumming, a woman passed out prayer squares; here's the one I got:

It comes with this card attached:

I love this idea, the idea of a patch of cloth, with strings that can be knotted as one prays.  It's a variation of prayer beads which appeals to my fiber loving self.

Yesterday wasn't even a full day of the intensive, and I already feel like I've gotten more than a full return on my intensive investment.  My cup overflows.

My Year with Jurgen Moltmann, Who Just Died

While I was away on our long car trip to Arkansas for a family wedding, Jurgen Moltmann died.  A year ago, I did not know about him at all.  But I've spent the last year reading his work for Systematic Theology class, across nine months, so it seemed important to note his passing.  I am intrigued that the major newspapers have yet to report on his life and death, but maybe I'm just not entering the correct search words.

My Systematic Theology professor called Moltmann the greatest theologian of the twentieth century, as are many others who commented on his death.  I've now read several of his books, along with chunks of other books.  The material that I read didn't seem that profound, but that might be because much of it was 50 years old, and maybe it's impacted theology so deeply that what was once revolutionary is now taken as a normal approach to theology.

I think of all the great theologians of the twentieth century, people like Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Walter Wink and Walter Brueggemann and more feminist theologians than I can name.  Was Moltmann greater than those?  He may have been more wide ranging because he was a systematic theologian.  But nothing that I read over 9 months unsettled me to my core (or even to a lesser extent) or made me think about God differently.  I do realize that may be my fault, not Moltmann's.

Or maybe it's foolish to think in these terms at all.  Moltmann spent much of his life crafting a systematic theology that addressed essential questions, a task that most of us will never do.  For that reason alone, I stand in awe.  I think about my papers for Systematic Theology class, and I think about revising them into book length works, and I realize the scope of what Moltmann was able to do and the sadness of losing such a mind.

The End of Spring Term 2024

In some ways, this week has been the first week of summer break.  In some ways, it's felt more like the end of spring semester.  I've been waiting for grades, and this week, the last of them finally came in.

I've had some grades for several weeks.  My internship class was pass-fail, so once I completed the assignments, it was easy for my instructors to submit the passing grade.  My paper for Systematic Theology was graded a day or two after I turned it in, and I was happy to get my grade of A.  Even after 9 months of Systematic Theology class, I still wasn't completely sure that I was creating Systematic Theology.  And in fact, creating a complete systematic theology, in the way that the best systematic theologians have done, would mean I'd be writing multiple volumes of books, not just a paper or two.

This week, I got my Foundations of Worship class grades.  I had gotten grades throughout the term, so I was fairly sure all would be well.  But it was a relief to get grades for the last assignments I turned in.  I had to go back to the assignments to even remember what I wrote, so that I could fully appreciate the comments, that's how long it had been for some of them.  I was happy with what I had written, and so was my professor.

I turned in my last big paper three weeks ago.  It was for Environmental History of Christianity (EHC) class, and in some ways, I was covering some of the same territory as I did for my Systematic Theology class.  I wanted to talk about the ways that Substitutionary Atonement Theology has failed us.  For the EHC class, I talked about how our ideas of salvation leave us willing to let the planet die, since we're just waiting to go to Heaven.  I got an A on that paper.

But more important to me, I restored my hope.  In my paper, I talked about our failure of vision, but I reminded the reader (and myself) that we worship a God who takes the worst kind of brokenness and transforms it into beauty.  I found myself asking myself if I really believed in the possibility of resurrection--not the specific resurrection of Jesus, but resurrection in general.

The answer:  yes, yes I do.  Here's how I concluded my paper:

Throughout the centuries, Christians have declared their faith in a God who can work miracles and bring redemption to the grimmest of situations. We are facing such a situation now. Christians have looked at the history of the planet and pointed out the places where God takes brokenness and transforms it into beauty. Our faith is built on those stories of transformation, and the world is desperate to hear these stories too. Christians have preached and proclaimed that they believe in the powers of God and the powers of resurrection, and the coming century will test that faith. Christians can create the rituals and theology that will help explain and guide humanity through desperate times. Christianity is a religion that has supported humans through the biggest challenges throughout history. We are called to do likewise now.

We may feel like we’re too late. N. T. Wright assures us otherwise. In Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church, N. T. Wright says, "What you do in the present--by painting, preaching, singing, sewing, praying, teaching, building hospitals, digging wells, campaigning for justice, writing poems, caring for the needy, loving your neighbor as yourself--will last into God's future. These activities are not simply ways of making the present life a little less beastly, a little more bearable, until the day when we leave it behind altogether . . . . They are part of what we may call building for God's kingdom" (page 193, emphasis in the original). Wright goes on to reassure those of us who are prone to apocalyptic thinking: " . . . what you do in the Lord is not in vain. You are not oiling the wheels of a machine that's about to roll over a cliff" (p. 208). Jesus, too, issues this promise in John 8: 31-32, 35-36: “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free. The slave does not have a permanent place in the household; the son has a place there forever. So if the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed” (NRSVUE). We are resurrection people, free indeed. Let us move forward in faith, developing a new theology for this time, trusting in God’s promise that the forces of death and destruction do not get to have the final word.

The Bread Braid of the Holy Trinity: A Sermon for Youth (and Adults?)

Last year, Trinity Sunday, the Sunday after Pentecost, was the first Sunday where I was the Synod Appointed Minister at Faith Lutheran in Bristol, Tennessee.  I knew I needed to do a children's sermon, but I hadn't met any of them yet.  I thought about all the ways of explaining the idea of a Triune God.  I finally settled on water-ice-steam as a good demonstration (for more on last year's sermon, see this blog post).

I still think it was a good sermon and a good way to introduce myself to the youth and to the congregation.  It was more than just me droning on; although some of my youth sermons are just me, droning on, that wasn't the first impression I wanted to give.  But I no longer think it was as original as I might once have thought.

But maybe originality isn't the goal.  It certainly isn't this year.  This year, we'll be thinking about the Trinity as a braided community.  I thought about fabric, about something for everyone to take with them.  Then I thought about bread.  My church community seems to love the homemade bread that I bake and bring for communion, the youngest ones most of all.  And it's easy to make different colored bread dough.

I could make three different doughs:  pumpernickel, oat, and white/egg.  Or I could use food coloring for something dramatic.  I could have different flavorings, maybe made with chips like chocolate chips, butterscotch chips, and red hots--and those would also color the dough.

Three bread doughs, one substance--if I created a Systematic Theology, it would be anchored in bread dough.

Systematic Theology Rough Draft Process

 As is usual on a Tuesday or a Thursday, I have less time to write.  Soon I need to get ready to head down the mountain to Spartanburg Methodist College--but today is the last day of face to face classes for me this semester.

Yesterday, I wasn't sure what to expect.  I knew that the tile crew would return.  I knew that I had plenty of tasks to do at my desk, and my spouse has a wide variety of home repair tasks to choose from each day.  I sat at my desk and got to work.

I got grading done and e-mails done and a bit of writing revision, the tinkering just before a paper gets turned in kind of revision.  I went for a walk in the chilly Spring air--chilly, but in a crisp way, not in a kill the plants way.  The sky was so blue, and the landscape is filling in; soon we won't be able to see much beyond the roadside but green, green, green.

As I came to the end of the road by the lake, I had a vision for how to write my final paper for Systematic Theology.  I've had lots of ideas for what I want to say, but no idea for how to organize it.  I came home knowing what to do, and I sat down to do it.  I organized it by doctrines of the Church that have worked together in a less good way than they could have:  Soteriology (salvation), Ecclesiology (the Church), Eschatology (end times), and Creation.  To sum up:  our focus on salvation for individual sin coupled with our belief that we're just here as a holding place before heaven has left societal "sin" running rampant, putting all of creation at risk.  

I have a complete rough draft!  I just need to go back to add some quotes, and do some polishing.  I didn't think it would come together that easily.  I expected to have a skeleton at the end of the day, 4 pages that could be expanded later.  But I have nine full pages, so getting to the 15-20 page requirement will not be a problem.  

It's a relief.  In some ways, this should be an easy paper to write; we have a lot more latitude since it's our final paper for the two semester Systematic Theology paper.  But that latitude made me cautious.  I also have a paper to write for my Environmental History of Christianity (EHC) class, so I don't want to use similar ideas and get flagged for plagiarism--that, too, made me cautious.  

The paper I just wrote is not likely to overlap with the paper I will be writing for my EHC class, which is due May 11.  I'll be using different outside sources for each.

It feels good to have a rough draft.  I still have much work to do;  with all the classes that I'm teaching and taking, I have at least 5 deadlines to keep in mind, with smaller deadlines along the way.  But in some ways, that's easier than if they all came crashing to an end during the same week.  Steady, steady, and it will get done.

My Bible Study for Lent 2024

My internship project was putting together a Bible study for Lent for the Southeastern Synod, my internship site.  I'm really happy with it.  It gives discussion questions, quotes from scholars, and ideas for ways to engage with the Sunday lectionary texts through creative projects using materials on hand and/or using activities from different spiritual disciplines.  I also inserted some photos to make it easier to see where we're moving to a new week.

It's free and available for everyone to use;  go here where it's on the website if you scroll down, or go here to access it directly.

I enjoyed creating all of it, but going through photos to add. I used my own photos because I know I have the rights to them.  I liked thinking about the surrounding material and choosing photos to match.  For example, one of the spiritual disciplines to try is walking a labyrinth.  I chose this photo:

It was also a delight to go back and use the pictures to reflect on the wonderful experiences I've had.  Even though I haven't had a once in a lifetime trip, like going to Iona or the Holy Land, I've taken advantage of a lot of opportunities that came my way.

Creation Theories

Yesterday, I posted this picture, with this Facebook post:  "One of these things does more to affirm my belief in a benevolent God than the others (the cup contains coffee from a pod, and the graham crackers contain chocolate frosting). Discuss."

Yesterday was a day of modest revelations.  I read God in Creation while waiting for students to come for their individual conferences.  Moltmann is the Systematics theologian around whom we're structuring our two semesters of Systematic Theology.  So far, my reaction has been a shrug, but I really liked yesterday's reading.

As I was getting ready to go to school, I wished I had a pen with purple ink and a finer tip.  And I remembered the Copic multiliner pens I bought a few years ago.  They worked perfectly, for both writing on student papers in a conference and for underlining as I read.  I bought a variety of colors, and I should really use them before they dry up.  And now I have some ideas about how to do that--they aren't useful for sketching, the way I thought they would be.

But no, the real revelation was the graham cracker and chocolate frosting concoction.  When I got to campus, the glass walled conference room was being set up for the weekly Academic Affairs meeting.  As I walked back and forth to the only working printer, I kept my eyes on the graham cracker treats.  Were they sandwiching peanut butter or chocolate or Nutella?

I have noticed that the treats from the weekly meeting are often set out in the break room after the meeting, and sure enough, later in the morning, there they were.  The break room has a Keurig and pods, so I helped myself.  What a delicious treat.

I told the admin assistant how much I had enjoyed them, and lo and behold, the Vice President for Academic Affairs had made them; his mother used to make them when he was a kid.  I asked if she thought it was just frosting from a can, and she said that she thought it was from scratch:  "He cooks a lot--he even makes his own pasta!"  I thought it tasted better than canned frosting.

In fact, it tasted so good that I had three of them.  I was relieved to see that they were all gone when I came back from class.  Here's a close up of one of them:

I finished the day by going to class by way of Zoom, a good Systematic Theology class; I am intrigued by what some of my classmates assert about Adam and Eve and that garden.  Once again, I think about what a strange seminarian I am, with my poet's sensibility, my academic training/Ph.D. in literary criticism, my decades of rebellious rejection of much of traditional Christianity.  

As we talked about Adam and Eve and other creation myths (familiar to me, but not to everyone) from both that time period and much, much earlier, I started this sketch:

Why did I give Eve wings?  I didn't start with that intention.  But Eve's upper back and left shoulder had a feathery look, and I thought it worked in some ways--plus, I was covering a mistake (there's a life lesson in here somewhere).  In some ways, I think I've drawn Eve that looks more like a muppet than a human.  I'm OK with that too.

So, yes, a good day, a day that left me tired, but in a good way.

Thinking about Bonhoeffer and Our Current World

 Last night, we watched the 2003 documentary Bonhoeffer.  I needed to watch it for Systematic Theology class on Thursday, and I wanted us to watch something other than the Court TV kinds of shows that have consumed my spouse lately.  I found it riveting, although it wasn't unfamiliar material to me.  Let me collect some thoughts that might not have cohered into a focused essay:

--I wrote this Facebook post:  "Watching a Bonhoeffer documentary for my Systematic Theology class, wondering about New Hampshire primary results, about past being prologue, about history not repeating but rhyming, -- and feeling really intrigued by this new seminary community that Bonhoeffer was creating before the Nazis shut it down. It's not new info to me, but feels newly pertinent."

--I know that I'm predisposed to focus on this topic, but I was surprised by how often Bonhoeffer thinks about how to create/protect community.  I know, I know, he wrote a whole book called Life Together.  It made me wonder what advice he would have to give us now as our communities seem to be torn into bloody tatters.

--Long ago, I read Life Together, but it wasn't what I expected or wanted.  I should revisit it.

--I used to be very judgmental about the churches who tried to keep themselves safe by signing agreements with Hitler or by living in ways that deflected attention.  I now have more sympathy for those impulses, that idea that if we can just survive, that is not something to discount.  I don't get the idea that all of those churches/pastors/leaders were antisemitic, so much as I think they wanted to save their skins and live until the danger was past.  I am not sure that all of those people knew what was going on, but I am no longer as sure of that.

--I had either forgotten or had never known that Bonhoeffer's group tried to kill Hitler more than once.  I thought that there was a botched attempt, which exposed them all and sent them to concentration camps.

--Before they were arrested the family had devised a way of communicating with themselves in prison.  They were allowed to have books, so the person sending a message would put a small dot under a letter every few pages.  With these messages, they could keep track of what they were telling officials.

--They were tortured/interrogated, which Bonhoeffer's father said he feared more than death.

--I am also intrigued by the seminary that Bonhoeffer created.  Did he do something radically different?

--I was struck by how much Bonhoeffer traveled, especially as war efforts amped up.

--I thought about my college years, in 1983 and 1984 where I first heard about Bonhoeffer.  He seemed like one of the fathers of the Church, like Luther and Calvin, and it's sobering to realize that he hadn't been gone very long, 40 years, when I first heard about him.

--His theology seems much more severe, which makes sense, given what he was facing.  My thoughts circle back to the question of evil, and how evil moves in the world.  Those historic films of all the people cheering Hitler--so sobering, even when they're not unfamiliar.

--I'll be interested to see how we use Bonhoeffer's work in Systematic Theology.  Much of the course focuses on Jurgen Moltmann, who my professor says is the most important theologian of the 20th century.  Will the works speak to each other? 

A God Who Sins

Part of my sermon on the baptism of Jesus talked about John the Baptist teaching baptism for repentance of sin.  My spouse and I talked about the idea of Jesus having sins he needed to repent.  He was partly human, after all.  It wasn't hard to come up with a few times where he could have behaved more perfectly; the interaction with the Canaanite woman comes to mind (Matthew 15:  21-28).

Then I went back to revise and came up with these lines:

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If Jesus has sins to confess, Jesus who is part of the Triune God, do we also feel that God has need of confession?  Could we believe in an imperfect God?

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My spouse read the revised sermon and declared I had written a whole different sermon.  He advised taking these lines out.  I did, but mainly because I thought the idea of a God who sins, the Creator who sins, was too provocative.  Plus, I didn't develop the idea.  I don't want to throw out ideas that are bombshells and just leave them there, not when I'm preaching.  I don't feel like I have to answer all the questions, but I do feel like I should give a range of answers.  These questions felt more like the kinds we'd explore on a retreat.

Still, they intrigued me, so I wanted to record them.  Maybe I'll return to them.  Maybe another theological world is about to open to me, like when I first started thinking about rejecting God's omnipotence.