Autumn Seeps into All the Spaces

Today one of my former colleagues will be laid to rest.  I deliberated for a long time about how to word that last sentence. 

In 2014, that colleague was diagnosed with Stage IV colon cancer at the same time my high school best friend was diagnosed with Stage IV esophageal cancer. I remember looking up the survival statistics of both diseases and resolving not to do that again--it was pretty grim. My friend was dead a year later. My colleague managed to live long enough that I thought he might beat the odds.

But along the way, there were glimmers that he might not. He kept a blog where he talked fairly openly about setbacks. I knew that the numbers that he didn't want to rise were rising. But he had been lucky. I wanted that luck to continue.

It did not continue.  This year, more than other years, I feel autumn seeping into all my spaces--and not the apple harvest, pumpkin spice scented autumn.  I feel the haunted, mists rolling in, All Saints parts of autumn--the year gallops to its end, leaving me shaking my head and feeling like I've lost several months.

I got the news about my former colleague on Monday, and I spent some time staring numbly at the computer.  I wanted to do something so that I didn't spend the whole day staring numbly at a screen.

I decided that it was time to create what is now our annual Veterans Day interactive board. A few years ago, I created a bulletin board type space and invited people to put up a picture of their favorite veteran or a note of appreciation. We got a lot of participation, and now I put it together every year. I use some elements from past years and leave space for new additions.

It was an oddly satisfying way of grieving. As I constructed the board, the words from "For All the Saints" went through my head--another satisfying response.

I won't go to the funeral of my former colleague this afternoon.  We weren't close that way.  I will be at work, perhaps having an all-campus Academic meeting by phone.

I read other people's autumnal postings, and feel a yearning to carve a contemplative space.  I feel like I have a lot to process.  I am going on a retreat this week-end, but I fear I will remember it as a time of driving more than a time apart--the curse of living this far south on the peninsula.

But I will give myself a fighting chance.  I've decided to leave my laptop at home.  I'll bring my notebooks and pens, my sketchbooks and markers.  I'll bring books.

And let me also remember that I can carve out space in daily life too.  This space helps me do that.  And maybe I can help others learn to carve out space too.  Most of us don't have the luxury of the kind of contemplative space I wish I had.  The trick might be to learn to work with what we have.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, November 10, 2019:


First Reading: Job 19:23-27a

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Haggai 1:15b--2:9

Psalm: Psalm 17:1-9

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 145:1-5, 18-22

Psalm (Alt.): Psalm 98 (semi-continuous) (Psalm 98 (Semi-continuous) NRSV)

Second Reading: 2 Thessalonians 2:1-5, 13-17

Gospel: Luke 20:27-38


This week's Gospel reading finds Jesus in a familiar situation: a group of religious leaders approach Jesus with a tricky legal question about a woman who marries seven times with no children. When she dies, who will be her husband in heaven?

It's amazing to look back over our lives and realize how many times we engage in these kind of useless legalistic arguments. Sure, they're fun at first, especially when we're children (if you had to be blind or deaf, which would you choose?) or when we're in college ("Would you rather be a free man in Sparta or a slave in Athens? Discuss"). But as we get older, I suspect that most of us find these lines of discussion increasingly tiring and tiresome.

For one thing, we already know what most people would say. Why continue to argue? I’ve noticed lately that political discussions usually turn into arguments, even when all the people in the room feel the same way. We’re actually arguing with people who aren’t really there. We already know what we think. We’re just arguing for the adrenaline surge, the joy of the jolt of self-righteous anger that arguing gives us. Yawn.

Likewise, those religious leaders don’t really care what Jesus thinks. They aren’t confused themselves. They know what the right answer should be. They want to see if Jesus will give it.

Jesus gives his questioners a giant yawn too, and he reminds us that we are chosen for better things than this. Perhaps his remarks seem anti-marriage to you, and it's important to remember that you have to edit Jesus fiercely before you get the Family Values Jesus that some people promote. Many of Jesus’ teachings warn about the pull of the worldly life, and families are a big pull.

Jesus comes to move our conversations into realms that are truly important. Who cares about marriage and all its social niceties, when our very souls are at stake? Again and again, Jesus reminds us that important work remains left to do, and we are called upon to do it. Along the way, we should avoid those activities that sap our energies and move us away from our true purpose. Those activities may involve our families.

Does that mean we shouldn't get married? Not necessarily. But even our family duties don’t excuse us from keeping our focus on more important issues. We’re not to worry about who our families will be when we’re in Heaven. We’re to worry about families that are alive right now.

Again and again, Jesus tries to show us what is most important. We are called to love each other. Most of us aren't very loving when we're arguing. Move your energies to something more productive. It was true when Jesus walked the earth, and it’s just as true today.

Can Theology Speak to Management Issues in the Contemporary Office?

It has been a long several months of discussion about management issues.  We discuss them at work, and then I often come home to process the discussions with my spouse.  In addition to his graduate degree in Philosophy, he has a Master's of Public Administration, which means he knows as much about management theory as many of the MBA's I know.

But does the management theory that many of us are taught serve us well?

I've been thinking about the different approaches to management, and how understanding them can help us talk to each other.  In much the same way that discussing our theological stance, instead of assuming we're coming from the same space, can help us understand each other, maybe thinking about the differences in management theory can help us understand.

Here's an essential item that is often unspoken:  are we managing people or are we managing a budget?  I know that the answer might be "Both."  But diving a bit deeper into the question might help us focus our efforts.

If we're managing people, are we managing those who report to us?  Or our customers?  And how do we define customers?

If we've delegated some of our management to a different level of managers, do we trust those managers?

And lately, I've been wondering if people's theology might be influencing our management styles more than we would suspect--certainly, for me, more comfortable than I feel articulating in my secular workplace.

But in this blog post, a single blog post in a sea of social media waves much bigger than mine, let me begin to think about this idea.

I'm an ELCA Lutheran, steeped in the doctrine of grace.  I suspect that I approach my management tasks by wanting to extend grace instead of punishment.  I truly do believe that almost every person is doing the best that they can do.  If I act out of that position, it's distinctly different than many management approaches.

I have noticed how many managers act out of a fear of being ripped off and taken advantage of.  It's a theology of damnation, of a sort.  Those managers tend to manage/rule by fear, similar to a preacher offering a view of hellfire and brimstone to inspire right behavior.

From my elementary school years, I've been haunted by the question of unforgivable sin, even though my denomination doesn't really stress unforgivable sin.  As someone being managed, that question still haunts me.  As a manager, I try to believe that there is no unforgivable sin, although I know that there are--inappropriate activities with students, for example. 

I could expand this idea, if only I had more time.  Does a Hindu theology change the way we manage?  Do Buddhists make better managers?

But time is short and spin class calls.

Forty Years a Hostage

Today is the anniversary of the takeover of the U.S. Embassy in Iran in 1979.  My family was with another family for a week-end get away at the Outer Banks, and it was one of the few times we had the TV on. My dad saw the coverage and shook his head. He said, "This doesn't look good."

It would be worse than we realized. Everyone in that house that day, the grown ups like my parents, the high school kids (me), and the little ones--we all thought that it would be quickly settled. It must be a mistake, right? Crazy school kids taking over an embassy who would soon come to their senses--now, of course, we know it was nothing like that.

In later years, as I've worked in a variety of places with a vast assortment of people, I've returned to the thought of those hostages, taken and held in their place of work. I can't imagine spending over a year in captivity with most of my colleagues. I'm lucky in that I like most of them well enough to spend a working day with them. But to be cooped up with them day in and day out?

I think of what I keep in my desk; I do keep stocks of items that might be important in an emergency: dental floss, tampons, other toiletries, a bit of cash, water, oatmeal, pens, office supplies of all sorts. Still, after a month or two, I'd run out.   And if I was held for any amount of time at all, I'm sure I'd rue the other items that never made it to my office.  And those hostages would be held for over a year.

Those hostages haunt me--did they have any sense of what was going to happen? Did they know they were in danger but stayed in their diplomatic post regardless? 

I think of those students.  It was just supposed to be a sit-in, that day at the embassy.  How on earth did those students manage to take an embassy--and hold it for so long?  Did they wake up periodically saying, "How on earth will we get out of this?"  Did they fear it would end badly?

  

I know that many released hostages have troubles after being released. I remember at national youth assemblies of my high school years where one or more of the Iranian hostages would come to talk to us--but they often glossed over the troubles with adjusting.

And here we are, forty years later.  The relationship between Iran and the U.S. was changed forever on that day.  It would have been changed by some turn of events, regardless--but how unlikely it seems, both then and now, that it would be a protest turned into a hostage situation that would be a catlyst for so much geopolitical change.

In so many ways, that event still holds us hostage.

All Saints Sunday 2019

Today many churches will celebrate All Saints Sunday.  We will remember those who have gone before us, those whom we loved and those whom we never knew.

Will we find a different way to converse with our ancestors?

Some of us find this time of year suffused with a strange grieving for those who are here but in a different form from the way we once knew them.

Are we looking to commune with ghosts or to scare them away?

This time of year can be one of those thin spaces, where we sense what lies beyond.

I appreciate the liturgical calendar that runs beneath/beside the secular holidays.  I like having more to celebrate, more ways to remind myself that there's more to life than what occupies most of my time (work--both on the job and at my house).

I like having holidays that remind me that we're only here for too brief a time.

It helps me to treasure the fleeting moments that I have. It helps me to keep perspective.  All too soon, we too, will pass through these gates.

The End of Our Autumn Triduum

Today is the last day of our autumn triduum. "Triduum" is a Latin word for 3 days, and it's most commonly used for the time between Good Friday and Easter. But the days of Halloween, All Saints, and All Souls are deeply linked, and in similar ways.

Halloween is the shortening of an earlier name for the holiday: All Hallows Eve. In some cultures, it would simply be the night before the Feast of All Saints, a rather benign feast. Other cultures see this time as one of the thinnest spaces, when it's easiest for souls to slip between worlds--and thus, we see the variety of holidays designed to ward off evil spirits, appease the ancestors, and protect the living--in various combinations.

Most of us understand at least some of the symbolism that comes with Halloween. Those of us who are church going folks have probably celebrated our dearly departed in early November. But what about the overlooked Feast of All Souls?

The Feast of All Saints was originally designed to honor the saints, those who had been beatified. Official saints, canonized by the Pope. Some scholars point out that in many countries it was a feast day that honored those who had been martyred for the faith, and that some of those worship services might have been somewhat jarring, with disturbing stories and perhaps an artifact or relic on display.

All Souls Day, celebrated the day after All Saints, was designed to honor everyone else who had died. I've also heard it described as the day that honors those who had died in the past year. In the medieval Catholic theology, those souls would still be in Purgatory, and special prayers would be offered for them on the Feast of All Souls.

Those of you with excellent memories of your English major days may remember that Sir Gawain left for his adventure with the Green Knight on All Souls Day. Medieval audiences would have read a lot into that date of departure. They would be expecting that next year, Gawain would be one of the souls prayed for on this feast day.

In most of the U.S. and Europe, we live in a culture that tries every way possible to deny death and the fact that we are all here for a very short time. But this triduum reminds us not only to honor our dead loved ones and spiritual heroes, but also to take advantage of every minute that we have because we don't have very many of them.

Many of us won't have a chance to worship today, but we can take some time to think about the mystery enfolded in this triduum. We could remember our loved ones and the stories they would have told us. We can think of what we'd like to accomplish in our remaining years.

We are already skating down the corridor which takes us to Thanksgiving and Christmas. It's a time of breathless pace for many of us. Let us take another day to remember the souls of those gone before us. Let us think of our own mortal souls which will not be on this earth for a very long time. Let us resolve to strengthen our spiritual lives, so that we serve as saints for those coming after us.


Here's a prayer I wrote for today:


Comforter God, you know that we miss our recently dead. We do take comfort from your promise that death will not have the final word, but there are stages of our grief where it is difficult to believe. Please forgive us our unbelief and doubt. Please keep reminding us of your love and care. Please strengthen us to be able to provide the same quality of love and care to those around us who are grieving loss. Please keep our creative imaginations focused on the redemption of Creation, where you have promised we will not have any reason to cry anymore.

The Feast of All Saints

Many (most?) of us celebrate Halloween and move on.  Maybe we celebrate the whole day of October 31.  Maybe we only do something special in the evening.  Maybe we turn off the porch light because we already ate all the candy and watch old Halloween episodes of old shows on TV.

Those of us who are more liturgical might recognize that All Saints Sunday comes around every year. Maybe we look forward to it. Maybe we shrug and say, "Well, great, a day to miss and appreciate our loved ones."

Many of us don't realize how the days of Halloween (Oct. 31), All Saints (Nov. 1), and All Souls (Nov. 2) have been linked traditionally.  Perhaps it's my training as an English major, but I hate that modern traditions minimize the medieval aspects.

Medieval people would have seen this three days as one of those "thin places," the time when the separation between worlds was much thinner. It's a belief rooted in pagan times, about parts of the seasonal year when souls from the other world might slip back. In a world lit only by fires, one can see where it would be easy to be spooked this way.

In our fear of any beliefs that don't mirror our own, many churches have banned the Halloween aspect of this three days. And we've sanitized the other two days.

In this blog post, the Rev. Laurie Brock reminds us of the roots of the All Saints feast day: "Lest we think All Saints is only a lovely, elegant holy day where we pray the litany of saints and sing the song of the saints of God, we are remembering people who were martyred (church lingo for dying an often painful and unpleasant death). Early commemorations of this day involved venerating relics of the dead. So imagine going to church and praying with a mummified foot or remnants of a skull of a saint on the altar. Or going to church and praying the names of ones who had been martyred who were members of your family or close friends. So while it is a day of prayerful hope, sadness and tears weave the hope together."

And in more ancient times, the Feast of All Souls is the day after the Feast of All Saints. All Souls is the feast where we remember the ones who have died in the past year. Even our most liturgical churches have lost the idea that we're observing two very different kinds of celebrations.

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to live in modern times, not medieval ones. But I do envy other cultures who have much more vibrant grieving customs. Our culture seems to expect us to grieve for 3-5 days, if we get bereavement leave at all, and then it's back to work.

Let us spend some time today thinking about those who have gone before, whether we knew them personally or knew them from a larger cultural sense.  Let us think about the ones who have modeled good (saintly) behavior.  Let us think about the world we are creating for those who will come after us and remember us on these feast days.

Here's a prayer I wrote for today:

Comforter God, we give thanks for all the saints who have gone before us. Give us the wisdom, courage, and faith to follow in their footsteps. And when the time comes that our earthly light will be extinguished, allow us to rest easy in the sure knowledge that we will be welcomed into the company of all the saints.