Prayer Streams that Sparkle

I am always on the lookout for new ways to think about prayer.  I think that many of us feel like we don't know how to pray, or we feel that our prayer life is stale.

A friend of mine wrote the following in an e-mail, and I wanted to remember it:

"I always picture sparkly pink and gold streams of energy covering the people I love. Kind of my way of praying."

I think it's a cool way of thinking about asking for blessings (or protection or just about anything) to rain down on people.

Students and Food Stability

  In pre-pandemic days, I would go to Publix, our local grocery store, at 5:30 a.m. every Monday.  They would give me the carts of baked goods with pull dates that would send them to the garbage if I didn't take them away.  I would spend the first hour of Monday mornings at work unloading the car and putting out day old bread for students and staff to take.  Throughout the week, I would put out plates of treats for students and staff to enjoy.  Usually, I got enough day old treats for the whole week, and despite the pull date, they would last.

I knew that some of our students had food insecurities, and I often wished that I could provide more nutritious food.  I kept some of the bread aside and put it out throughout the week, and we always had a big jar of peanut butter.  I consoled myself by thinking that at least we provided some calories and some nutrition, and I knew that for some of our students, that food was an important supplement, and for some of them, it was all they had.

A year ago, students returned to campus for labs, and our goal was to get them in and out.  We didn't put out food; in fact, we locked the student lounge.  It was the early days of the disease, when we weren't sure of the best ways to keep students safe.  We were more afraid of contagion than of hunger.

A few weeks ago, I got the reminder that the issue of student hunger hasn't gone away.  We had a student who was shaky and out of it, and when we asked him what was going on, he said he hadn't eaten in a few weeks.  We gave him a granola bar and some peanut butter crackers with some juice.

We know we can't solve the problem of student hunger, but we started strategizing.  I applied for a microgrant from Thrivent, the financial group that used to do insurance only for Lutherans only (now they do all kinds of investments for all sorts of people).  Yesterday, we did our first shopping.

We plan to have a basket of snacks and treats always available:

And we'll have something more substantial in the cabinets.  Here's the start we've made on stocking the food pantry/shelf:

Because we know that students need more help than food here and there, we'll also keep handouts with up to date information about where to get more food.  Right now, there are plenty of opportunities; my church's food pantry has never been more well funded, for example.

I'm not under any illusions.  I know that the problem of hunger is far deeper than one food pantry can solve.  But it feels good to be doing a small part to help students stay nourished and stay in school.

All the Pastors I've Known--and Will Know

 The other day my spouse said that he knew over 100 pastors.  At first I thought he was exaggerating, and then we started to count; sure enough, we do know lots of pastor people.  We grew up as Lutherans, so there's our past pastors.  We went to a small, liberal arts Lutheran college which prepared students for ministry, and many of them went on that journey.  We've gone to a variety of gatherings and stayed in touch with some of those pastors, and we've kept going to camp as adults.  Some of our pastor friends have pastor children.

Almost everyone I know is in the education field or the pastor field.  In part, that's because those are the only fields that give parents some flexibility.  I have known lots of single moms who are frank about their needs to have a work life that meets the vacation schedule of the public schools where their children attend, so they often find jobs in the public schools.

It's an interesting time to be planning to go to seminary.  This past year of COVID-19 has created lots of pastor burnout, and I know that many pastors are making post-pastor-life plans.  I am thinking of all the classmates I had who went on to seminary right after undergraduate school.  Some of them have already retired.

As I've been more and more open about my seminary plans, I've heard from one classmate who is also planning to attend seminary this fall.  Like me, she's already had one career.  Like me, that career was in education.  Another friend who I know from Create in Me retreats had been to seminary once before, but she didn't go the MDiv/ordination route, choosing instead to get a Master's degree.  After working in church settings, she realized that more doors would open if she had gotten that degree, so she went back to complete it.  She has just been ordained.

In fact, she's the one who told me about the scholarships that made me think it might be possible for me to go back to school.  I checked into the onground intensive coupled with distance learning approach of the only Lutheran seminary that offered it at the time.  Luther Seminary required a 2 week onground intensive twice a year, and two weeks away at one time is tough for an administrator.  It's probably tough for most people in a non-church setting.

We had a congregational meeting on Sunday, and it was the first time that some of my fellow church members have heard about my plans, the first time that they've heard that my campus is closing at some later point, probably this year.  We also heard that I will be the first seminary student that comes from my congregation since the early 90's.  In some ways, that says a lot about the trajectory of my local church, which is probably similar to many churches:  fewer families, fewer college age kids, fewer people with resources who can go to seminary.

It will be interesting in future years to read accounts of these times.  How many people are making decisions that they might not otherwise have made if the disease hadn't come along to show life in a different light?

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, May 9, 2021:

Acts 10:44-48
Psalm 98
Shout with joy to the LORD, all you lands. (Ps. 98:5)
1 John 5:1-6
John 15:9-17

This week's Gospel continues where last week's lessons about the vine and the branches left off. Notice how many times Jesus commands us to love each other.

Yet most elements of Western culture encourage us to put ourselves first, to keep ourselves isolated. But Christ calls us to a different kind of life. In Eat this Book, Eugene H. Peterson says, ". . . the words of Scripture can no longer be handled by means of definition, 'who is my neighbor?' The text insists on participation, 'will you be a neighbor?' Jesus insists on participation. Jesus dismisses the scholar with a command, 'Go and do . . .' Live what you read. We read the Bible in order to live the word of God" (84).

Again and again, Jesus tells us to love each other. He knows how much we need each other’s love. As a church, we don't devote much time to Jesus' Ascension into Heaven and in a way, that's a shame. It would be a perfect opportunity to remind ourselves that Jesus leaves his mission in our hands. We are the ones who must work towards concrete actions in the physical realm. In today's Bible reading, Jesus makes it clear that we're his equals. He calls us friends. We are to go forth and bear fruit.

On this Mother’s Day, as we read the Gospel, we might see Jesus as the ultimate mother. Jesus nourishes us. But Jesus doesn’t nourish us just to keep us close and smothered and dependent. Like any good parent, Jesus nourishes us and trains us so that we’re ready to leave the nest, ready to be resurrection people shining light into a darkening and desperate world.

You may not be feeling like you’re in a loving space right now. Pretend that you are. Make the effort that it takes not to snap at your troublesome colleague. Pray for the people that annoy you. Leave love notes for your family members. Say please and thank you more often. Look for ways to make play dates with God and with the world.

You will likely find yourself transformed by your own actions—and hopefully, you’ll find the world transforming around you in response to your loving kindness.

And in this way, you can be the nourishment that the world so desperately needs, the vine that delivers God's love to the world.

The Violence of Collision: Interstellar Space, Flannery O'Connor and Other Inspirations

 I've been thinking about how we conceptualize mortality:  do we use images of moistness (mold, exploding cells, rot) or dryness (bones with no flesh, aridness)?  This morning, I tried writing a poem that used those images along with cicadas.  I thought about incorporating ideas about breast cancer.  I read this article about menopause and thought about using some of those ideas.  I was listening to Friday news round up show on NPR, which covered the death of the astronaut who stayed in the ship as the two men walked on the moon for the first time.

From there, I started a new poem about astronauts and satellites and interstellar space.  And now I have 2 rough drafts and a head full of ideas about interstellar space.  The second poem makes the most sense to me, but the first poem made some unexpected leaps.

Now I will let it all percolate.  Maybe tomorrow I'll revisit these drafts or maybe I'll start with something fresh.

Let me record two other ideas before they fade away from me:  this morning I thought about returning to my poems that may be making a series, my poems about Noah and Noah's wife.  Perhaps the few that aren't about Noah's wife I should refashion into poems about Noah's wife.  And this morning, I thought about writing a poem about Noah's wife and cicadas who emerge after 17 years to mate for a month or two (or the whole season of summer).  I'm thinking of Noah's wife and menopause and sweeping away the dried husks.

And my other inspiration: one of my Create in Me female pastor friends made this Facebook post about visiting a congregation to talk about South Carolina retreat centers:  "How wonderful to eat ice cream in a cemetery on a sunny day surrounded by all the saints."

I loved this image--could I do something with it in a poem?  It also reminded me of the graveyard that was beside the campus of my undergraduate school.  Some people found it creepy, but I found it peaceful to take walks back there, to read work for class, to have the occasional picnic.  One of my college friends had his grandfather's grave in that very cemetery.

It also seems like a very Flannery O'Connor kind of detail, which made me think about possible short stories.  But so far, I've got nothing--except for this strange realization that much as I love O'Connor's short stories, they show a sort of meanness and cruelty.  I was thinking about the woman and the traveling salesman who is interested in her wooden leg and how she doesn't have perfume, so she dabs some sort of nasal spray on her neck.  Am I remembering correctly?  And I always see her as pathetic, but lately, I'm beginning to think I may be more like her than I want to realize.

Of course, that thought is so disturbing that I turn away.  Am I like her in her snootiness?  Am I like her in that I am a pathetic excuse for modern womanhood?  Am I like her in that I am vulnerable in ways I don't even like to consider?  Yes, to answer all those questions.

And if I'm a kind scholar, I would say that's the point.  O'Connor's stories work like Christ's stories:  to warn us, to call us to our better selves.  But yesterday morning, I had my doubts.  Maybe she was just delighting in the foibles of humans and meanspiritedly showing how we're all just dupes.  Maybe she sat aloof and judgmental and Godlike.  Her theology is not always (or often?) my theology, so I could see her view of God coinciding with ideas of aloofness and the violence of collision.

The Violence of Collision:  if I was writing a book of scholarly criticism on O'Connor, that's what I would title it.

But now, on to more mundane things:  time to get ready for a Tuesday work day, which hopefully will not include collisions.

Big Girl Trousers

I am having one of those mornings where I am tired of my clothes, all of which do not fit me, but each piece doesn't fit me in a different way.  I am thinking primarily of my pants.  I am tired of so much right now, but I know that I'm lucky to be able to feel tired in the ways that I am tired, not in the more catastrophic ways of feeling tired.

I am tired because I stayed up later than usual talking to friends.  I'm tired because I went to bed with a heavy meal in my stomach, and I realize I'm lucky to have a heavy meal shared with friends, a bed to sleep in, the AC temperature that I couldn't quite get right.

The night before last, I got a great night's sleep, and that, too, is a mark of fortune.  My spouse fell asleep in the living room where he slept through the night.  I went to bed early and instead of waking up at 2 or 3 a.m., I slept through the night.  Was it because I had the whole bed to myself?  Was it because the house was slightly cooler?

I have sent my online students their last e-mail, and now I wait for their last essays.  In the meantime, there's church that will be in person this Sunday, along with a congregational meeting.

Let me get ready.  I will put on my big girl trousers (I mean that literally) and head off into my Sunday.

Solidarity Forever! Happy May Day!

Here we are in the merry month of May--how can it already be May?  The first day of May has ancient roots as a celebration of Spring and new growth and the return of warm weather.  More recently, the first day of May has become a celebration of workers.

So let's think about some ways we could make the day special:

--The traditional way would be flowers, traditionally flowers that we would leave on dark porches for people to discover when they woke up.  It's probably too late for that approach, but it's not too late to appreciate flowers.  You could buy some flowers or a flowering plant.  Or, for future enjoyment, you could do what we did.  We bought 6 packets of flower seeds and planted them all in our front planter box.  We left them alone for the most part.  And now, 3 months later, we have a profusion of flowers:

Even as they decay, they're beautiful:

--It is probably also too late to weave long ribbons around a Maypole.  But we could braid ribbons or strips of cloth and meditate on the types of joy we'd like to invite into our lives.

--Today is a good day to think about workers, workers of all sorts.  We're having more of a national conversation these days about work, about gender, about who takes care of children and elders while people work, about the locations of work.  I look forward to seeing how it all turns out--I'm holding onto hope for positive change, even as I'm afraid we can never make the improvements that need to be made.

--If we're one of the lucky types of workers, the ones who aren't under threat by bosses or by globalization or by robots, we can support those who aren't as lucky.  Send some money to organizations that work for worker's rights. I'm impressed with the Coalition of Immokalee Workers, which works to protect the migrant workers in the fields of Florida, but you certainly have plenty to choose from.

--Can't afford to make a donation? Write letters on behalf of the unemployed, the underemployed, everyone who needs a better job or better working conditions. Write to your representatives to advocate for them. What are you advocating? A higher minimum wage? Safer worksites? Job security? Work-life balance?

--Today, Anglicans, Episcopalians, and Lutherans celebrate the feast day of Philip and James; others will celebrate May 3. These are not the most well-known disciples. Today you could reread the Gospels, a kind of literary Easter egg hunt, to try to find them.

--Can you create something that weaves these strands together? Here are some possibilities: a sculpture made out of ribbons that explores the world of migrant workers. A poem that celebrates flowers and contemplates the ways that we love some blooms (flowers) but not others (algae, cancer). A painting that uses weaving in some ways to think about the past century of efforts to enlarge the workplace and make it safer. A short story that updates the story of Philip--who would he be today?