The Waiting Room

Random.

Capricious.

No guarantees

whatsoever.

You sure you want this?

You might not

even get what you need.

Your best intentions

won’t matter.

Your actions will

be like atoms colliding

in a galaxy

you may have the luck

to live in.

Others will offer

what they can:

in God’s time,

if it’s meant to be,

but they can’t always wait with you.

You will look to blame

someone

but find only yourself.

Whatever it is

you can’t forgive

set it down like a stone

or hurl it into space.

Gravity will turn out

to be stronger than

you are and infinitely

more patient.

An altar of bones

An Altar of Bones

            It will not out of the flesh, that’s bred in the bone.

                        —J. Heywood, Dialogue of Proverbs, ii. viii. K2 (1546)

Moonlit thanks

Paper joy

We are an altar of bones.

Put on that fragile flesh

Then wear it well.

For Love invites a life

fully inhabited.

Prophesy this:

The incarnation

is the resurrection.

The resurrection

is the incarnation.

the Gospel = God's valentine

Stuck on ourselves

Since beginning my search for a settled position as a church pastor, I have had to read quite a few mission statements, job descriptions, and quick blurbs about what a church is searching for in a leader.  Many of those blurbs and descriptions have two things in common:  stewardship growth and increase membership.  Most, if not all, churches are worried about their survival.  If it's one thing that's incredibly shameful to a faith community, it's having to close its doors and books and seek brighter skies elsewhere.

Trouble is, the pastoral staff is largely looked upon as the one(s) who is/are to lead the way, attract new people (read 'younger families'), and provide their own job security.  Which can make ministry look pretty self-serving.  As I wrote in a previous post, yeah, I'm concerned about my income but I don't want that to be lurking in the shadows of everything I do.

As I wrote in my profile, "If you value new people as workers and pledge units rather than as welcomed agents of change and companions along the Way, then I’m probably not the right pastor for you."  Ministry is about relationships, transformation, becoming alive and authentic, more of who God intends for us to be, not only for ourselves but so that we might liberate others.  Salvation is not about some hereafter heaven, but about right now, this moment, being saved from drowning in self-absorption.

At one time I thought that the mainline church was in decline, has been in decline since the 1960's, because of this viewing new people through the headlights of money and survival.  But it goes deeper than that.  Individuals are not the only ones who can be self-absorbed.  Because communities and corporations and countries are made of individuals, these bodies can also be self-absorbed.  And that is why the church is in decline, why government is failing, why corporations and banks are in hot water--because their main concern is themselves and their survival.  And today survival has all to do with money.

For the past few months this has been like a splinter under my skin but I didn't know what was causing it.  I am tired of serving in a place, for a people whose main (not only) interest is themselves.  We are addicted to ourselves and our own way of being.  Worship and programs and Sunday school that are for us rather than for those who aren't here yet don't serve the gospel.  I want to minister in a church that is up to the challenge of taking the first step, of the twelve, that says:  We admitted we were powerless, that our lives have become unmanageable.

If we are to get unstuck, we need to get out of ourselves, and let mission and outreach become our worship.  Jesus said that when we have ministered to the least of these, we have ministered to him.  The prophet Micah asked God with what shall he come before God and bow down?  With animal sacrifice, with signs of wealth, with the blood of one's firstborn?  No.  God has told us what is good and what is required but that we do justice and love kindness and walk humbly with our God.  Or as Eugene Peterson put it in The Message:  "And don't take yourself too seriously— take God seriously."

The worship that God 'needs' is that we behave with justice and mercy towards each other, with whomever.  Not for only for our own sake but for the sake of the other.  The good news of Jesus Christ is not that he died for our sins so that we might go to heaven.  The good news can be summed up in six words:  Love God, love neighbor, love self--and in that order.  In this way we are saved from ourselves and our propensity to get stuck there.

In my right mind

Within the past year or so I have been on a creative streak.  I have had more ideas of what kind of art I want to create and I've had the opportunities to do so, thanks to some inexpensive art classes and a very kind art teacher at the high school.

This is a Communion set that I designed and sculpted out of clay, using space in an art classroom here in town.

When the set is not in use, it is a sculpture with a rose in the chalice/bowl used for the juice or wine or water for baptism.

In the bowl is the same spiral that is on the front of the bowl and on the pitcher.  The spiral, the rose, and the pitcher are all feminine images of the divine.

The hands are the bread plate, as in Christ's body, broken and blessed, given to us.

On the bread plate is a verse from the gospel of Luke:  "Jesus said, 'You give them something to eat.'"  This signifies that the Eucharist is not only an act of personal devotion but also a spiritual, moral and ethical imperative.

These are some acrylic paintings I did in a class about painting to music.  Did you know that Pythagoras matched the 'do-re-mi' scale to the 7 color wheel and then transcribed musical compositions into progressions of paint colors?

This is an acrylic painting of a photo of an opening rose that was sent to me on a greeting card.  It reminded me of a painting I saw of a lotus used for Buddhist meditation.

This is the clay sculpture that started it all.  I began by making the pear and it had to be split in half and hollowed out before putting it together again to be fired.  When I held the two hollowed-out halves in my hands, I knew what I wanted to do with them.

I then sculpted my first pair of hands, joined together, with a 'well' in the middle where I could epoxy a quartz crystal after the piece had been glazed and fired.  I call it "Star Stuff", in that all matter is made of the same stuff as the stars across the universe.  (Someone pointed out to me that it is also animal, vegetable and mineral.)

This piece is a capital, what sits on top of a column.  Some styles that I remember learning in middle school were Corinthian, Doric, and Ionic.  This one has four corners, each with a different style vase sitting in the midst of it.  The vases can only hold dried or silk flowers.

I call this piece "The Garden", mythical, ancient, sensual.

When there is art in my future or my present, I am more authentic, more alive, more of who I am.  From the photo at the top:  "I am the right brain.  I am creativity.  A free spirit.  I am passion.  Yearning.  Sensuality.  I am the sound of roaring laughter.  I am taste.  The feeling of sand beneath bare feet.  I am movement.  Vivid colors.  I am the urge to paint on an empty canvas.  I am boundless imagination.  Art.  Poetry.  I sense.  I feel.  I am everything I wanted to be."

We're in and out of the money

Earlier last week on NPR a story was featured about the Sundance Film Festival, that many of the films highlight our nation's economic struggles, both documentaries and fictional films.  I recently saw Tower Heist in which the little guy gets robbed blind by the big rich guy and the little guy gets revenge.  (Which incidentally involves a cool twist on Ferris Buehler's Day Off.)  And many of us are swept up by Downton Abbey, in which a wealthy, landed family is thrust into the lives and cares of their working-class dependents during World War I.

Lately I have been reflecting about the power that money has in our lives, how most of what we do is motivated in some way by the pursuit and earning and spending of money.  If I talk about stewardship and giving in the church, it seems oddly self-serving, as a good portion of a church's budget is spend on staff, especially clergy.  Now that I am seeking a settled position as a pastor, I have to consider compensation, real estate prices in the area, and the fact that my oldest daughter will be in college in two and a half years, not to mention whether or  not my husband will be able to find a job in the solar field in the area where I am called.

To me, it seems that money is a symbol of our inability to trust one another, that we will do what we say we will do, at the level of expectation of the one who requires our service or product.  In the movie Phenomenon there is a brief interchange in which George (John Travolta) is repairing a friend's vehicle.  The friend needs his truck but doesn't have the money to pay for the repair.  George needs some solar panels installed but he doesn't know how to do it.  A neighbor who does know about solar needs to have a well dug on his property, something the truck guy does for a living.  So George proposes that the truck guy dig the well, the solar guy install his panels and George will fix the truck--all with no money changing hands, trusting that everything will wash out in the end.

Money is a system invented, produced and protected by human beings, often at the expense of another group of human beings.  Like any source of power, those who have it have a difficulty time sharing it with those who don't, and yet this is the primary example of Jesus, Buddha, and others whose example of compassion and downward mobility mystifies the powers that be.  And yet we in the church are beholden to this system of distrustful transactions.  In fact, we accept it as part of the norm, rather than imagining another way.

Unless we start sharing the power of money in radical fashion.  Think of all the places that money hides in a faith community, in your church: buildings, endowments, Communion silver, make your own list.  Because that's where it will begin, locally.  I know this is an unpopular view with some but sooner or later denominations will not be able to sustain themselves.  Local and small is where it will be at.  Coalitions between different faith communities and civic organizations and mission assemblies and grassroots organizations like Simply Smiles will be the model.

Money in and of itself is not a bad thing, but how we have organized economies has become systemically evil.  The church is the workshop for the kingdom of God, for God's realm of justice and compassion for all and for the earth.  Jesus spoke about more about money and the poor than he did about anything else.  It's high time the church joined him.

Now that I have your attention...

If you've ever wanted to see a sermon from me, here it is.  I preached this on January 15, 2012 at Monroe Congregational Church for the purpose of sharing the video with search committees.  It's entitled "A Driveway Moment".  The scriptures were Psalm 111 and Mark 1: 21-28.

Sometimes it's not just a cookie...

Every now and then I order Chinese takeout for lunch--vegetable mai fun--thin rice noodles stir fried with an assortment of fresh veggies.  Yum!  And each time I save the fortune cookie for last, perhaps with a cup of green tea.

Now usually I read Chinese cookie fortunes with equal measures of skepticism and fun.  But the last five fortunes have begun to sound like the UCC slogan, that God is still speaking, only on little slips of white paper.  And this all started when I sent in my profile and began hearing from search committees.  Here are those five fortunes, in the order that I received them:

• Yet by calling full, you created emptiness.
• The possibility of a career change is near.
• All things come to him [sic] who waits.
• A  person with a determined heart frightens problems away.
• Bide your time, for success is near.

Now you may think I am reading into these.  I probably am.  Don't we do the same when we read the Bible for guidance?  But what if it's also my hopes and desires calling out into the unknown and the unknown answering back?  Is that any more ridiculous than thinking an ancient book can speak to me in the present?  And by the way I believe the Bible does still speak, the way that God still speaks through you and me and community and actions and strangers and experiences.

From these fortunes I've chosen my 'word' for 2012:  a determined heart.  Not only because of my search for a settled position but also because I'm 46 and my father died of a heart attack at 46.  I don't want to just 'get through' this year so I can be 47.  I want to embrace it, savor it, delight in it, wrestle and struggle and cry and laugh and be real through it all.

So who's to say the universe doesn't speak through fortune cookies?  Now I'm looking forward to the next word.

An unwelcome prophet

“You know, Jesus reminded us in a magnificent parable one day that a man went to hell because he didn’t see the poor. And I come by here to say that America, too, is going to hell, if we don’t use her wealth. If America does not use her vast resources of wealth to end poverty, to make it possible for all of God’s children to have the basic necessities of life, she, too, will go to hell.”

— Martin Luther King, Jr.

Highly irreverent but terribly relevant

(This video contains language some might find offensive. For those who wonder why it's on a pastor's blog, read the title of this post again.  It's also wickedly funny!)

The difference between being a Christian and being Christian.

Off the map, without a plan

For quite a while now I haven't believed in that whole 'God has a plan for me' thing.  When you think about it, it's one of the most self-absorbed things one can say about the divine.  Yes, I believe that there is a God, that of Love, but a plan? All scoped out, just waiting for me to figure out what it is?  With all that there is in the heavens and the earth, God has also mapped out each and every life since time immemorial?  The purpose of this seems to be to lift up a shaky, vulnerable ego, not sure of its place in this world.  And right now I could use some lifting up, just not in a way that puts me at the center of my own little universe.

Now that I'm searching for a church to serve I'm also wondering about the working of the Holy Spirit in this process.  In the past I thought the Spirit would lead me to a specific church, one prepared for me.  But again, listen to how ego-centered that is.  Realistically, I would think that the leading of the Spirit has more to do with being:  being authentic, real, compassionate, loving, alive -- and helping others to do the same.  The rest is just geography.  It doesn't really matter where I serve, as long as it is a place and a people where I can be true to that calling of the Spirit.

Developing character

I think Charles Schultz must have read Paul's letter to the Romans:  "And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us."  Romans 5: 3-5

Forgiveness 2.0?

 

I have been reading Brian Zahnd's book UNconditional?: The Call of Jesus to Radical Forgiveness, which at first glance on the library bookshelf, looked like an excellent read.  After all, Miroslav Volf wrote the foreword and there's an endorsement from Eugene Peterson on the front cover.  And with the word 'radical' in the title I buckled up for an exhilarating ride.

I agree with the whole premise, that in order for forgiveness to be healing and transformative, that it must be unconditional.  Which also means the degree of sin does not matter.  Radical enough so far.  However, Zahnd posits unconditional forgiveness as a uniquely Christian virtue/teaching, as given to us from Christ on the cross:  "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

I agree that if those of us who call ourselves 'Christian' are truly going to follow Jesus, then we need to be unconditionally forgiving.  But to tout Christianity as the religion that teaches and espouses radical forgiveness is hubris.  What we certainly do not need is more Christian triumphalism, which Zahnd decries in the preface.

He writes:

"Of course there is cheap forgiveness that is worthless and an affront to justice.  Essentially, the Buddhist position is that evil is a nonexistent illusion, so there really is nothing to forgive.  This is nothing like the Christian position.  Christian forgiveness is not a cheap denial of the reality of evil or the trite sloganeering of 'forgive and forget'."

I'm wondering, given his Pentecostal background--I'm not sure he truly understands the 'Buddhist position'.  To get to that place of nonexistent illusion, one must meditate and practice a lifetime of detachment and compassion, which takes a great deal of discipline.  There is nothing cheap about it.

He also implies that the law of Moses is improved upon by Jesus, implying a lower status to the Ten Commandments and the books of Exodus, Leviticus and Deuteronomy:

"In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus is making an implicit claim to speak with the same authority as the One who gave the Law at Mount Sinai.  Jesus was saying that the Law given at Mount Sinai was being countermanded (italics mine) by the sermon given at the Mount of Beatitudes."

Stating that Jesus expanded the Law of Moses might have been a better choice of words. Even so, I'm not sure many Jews would be heartened to hear it.

In fact I think that his holiness the Dalai Lama might have it all over Zahnd.  In his book Beyond Religion: Ethics for Whole World, his holiness writes that religion is not necessary to cultivate compassion.  Jesus said that we are to love our enemies and forgive them, which seems to me to be a radical form of compassion.

"...[Extended], universal compassion is not rooted in any self-regarding element, but rather in the simple awareness that all others are human beings, who, just like oneself, aspire to happiness and shun suffering.  With this kind of compassion, our feeling of concern for others is completely stable and unaffected by the attitude they may have toward us.  Even if others threaten or verbally abuse us, our compassion for them, our concern for their welfare, remains.  Genuine compassion, therefore, is directed not at people's behavior but at the people themselves."

 Our Western, Christian-based notion of forgiveness has a great deal to do with ego, which is why Jesus' call to radical forgiveness can be so difficult for many.  We still think in terms of worthiness and entitlement, often withholding our forgiveness because the offending party has not, will not or cannot apologize or repent or atone for the pain they have caused.  Yet both compassion and forgiveness are neither earned nor deserved.  And when we get down to it, both may lift up and heal another but it is through them that our own hearts are saved and made whole.

True, I have just begun both books--a habit of mine: reading more than one book at once.  Both promise to discuss justice in later chapters.  Still, the first few chapters, I think, give the overall impression of the author's viewpoint.  And when it comes to forgiveness or compassion, there can be nothing unique about them, except how each of us lives out this radical call in our own lives.

So, Brian, this could be a lesson in forgiveness for me, in that I was frustrated and angered by some of your words.  But in truth, there is nothing to forgive.  You are a human being, like me, trying to find your way in this world by following the Way of Jesus.  And though Jesus calls us to embrace suffering rather than shun it, we usually fail miserably.  And so we have the need for radical compassion.  And so I thank you for your words, for like that Serbian Orthodox priest of whom you wrote, you have pushed me closer to compassion and closer to Jesus:  "For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have?" I have much farther to go in following this wisdom.

Here is an example of radical compassion from the animal kingdom, from the Pocatello Zoo in Idaho:

Elk saves marmot

It's not socialism--it's the kingdom of God

The first Sunday in November our interim senior minister preached on the workers in the vineyard, from Matthew 20.

From The Message by Eugene Peterson:

"God's kingdom is like an estate manager who went out early in the morning to hire workers for his vineyard. They agreed on a wage of a dollar a day, and went to work. Later, about nine o'clock, the manager saw some other men hanging around the town square unemployed. He told them to go to work in his vineyard and he would pay them a fair wage. They went.

He did the same thing at noon, and again at three o'clock. At five o'clock he went back and found still others standing around. He said, 'Why are you standing around all day doing nothing?'

They said, 'Because no one hired us.'

He told them to go to work in his vineyard.

When the day's work was over, the owner of the vineyard instructed his foreman, 'Call the workers in and pay them their wages. Start with the last hired and go on to the first.'

Those hired at five o'clock came up and were each given a dollar. When those who were hired first saw that, they assumed they would get far more. But they got the same, each of them one dollar. Taking the dollar, they groused angrily to the manager, 'These last workers put in only one easy hour, and you just made them equal to us, who slaved all day under a scorching sun.'

He replied to the one speaking for the rest, 'Friend, I haven't been unfair. We agreed on the wage of a dollar, didn't we? So take it and go. I decided to give to the one who came last the same as you. Can't I do what I want with my own money? Are you going to get stingy because I am generous?'

Here it is again, the Great Reversal: many of the first ending up last, and the last first."

Many Americans do not like socialism because they think it's unfair. "Why should I pay more taxes so everyone can have healthcare and an education, whether they work or not?" Many of us like living in a meritocracy: we earned it, therefore we deserve it, we're entitled to it.

I would bet that most folks who enjoy this lifestyle also think they have to earn their way into heaven as well. "I give to my church and I pray every day and read my Bible and I've even served the poor. I've made mistakes but I know I'm forgiven through God's grace." But is God's grace also for that Muslim, Jew, Buddhist, atheist, gay, prostitute who had an abortion, who cheated on his wife, who's addicted to alcohol and drugs, who's indefinitely incarcerated for being an illegal immigrant, who's on death row for murder, who just got out of prison for molesting children?

Folks, we'd like to think that we're the ones who showed up first, who agreed to that daily wage in the early morning and thought we were going to get more. In truth, we are all johnny-come-lately's. All of us have fallen short of the glory of God. None of us deserves any of this, the good or the bad. Yet God is generous with us anyway. So why should we be stingy with this extravagant love that has been lavished upon us?

But then there's the question of why should we be good at all? If God's grace is for everyone, even the most heinous of sinners, why should we love and give and forgive others?

I don't know about you, but when I'm giving to others without a second thought to myself (and it doesn't happen often enough), that is when I feel truly alive, when I feel as though I am living the way I was intended to live. And when I forgive and accept someone as they are, I feel as though a huge weight has been lifted from my heart, setting both us free.

It isn't socialism, it's something better. It's called love.

"Love never gives up.

Love cares more for others than for self.

Love doesn't want what it doesn't have.

Love doesn't strut,

Doesn't have a swelled head,

Doesn't force itself on others,

Isn't always "me first,"

Doesn't fly off the handle,

Doesn't keep score of the sins of others,

Doesn't revel when others grovel,

Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,

Puts up with anything,

Trusts God always,

Always looks for the best,

Never looks back,

But keeps going to the end."

 --from 1 Corinthians 13, The Message by Eugene Peterson

Time for an image shift

I just finished reading Rob Bell's book Love Wins.  At first glance I thought it would be a post-modern, evangelically emergent take on Phillip Gulley and James Mulholland's superb book If Grace is True: Why God Will Save Every Person.  And to a certain degree it is.  It's written in brief paragraphs, the kind used by pastors when preaching a Sunday sermon, with the appearance of an epic poem.  On some days the story of faith is rather like an epic poem.  He uses stories from his own life and from folks who worship at the church he pastors.  He puts interesting spins on Bible stories and passages we think we know up and down.  As USA Today puts it: "One of the nation's rock-star-popular young pastors, Rob Bell, has stuck a pitchfork in how Christians talk about damnation.” Which is a relief, as most evangelicals have been using that pitchfork when speaking of salvation and what's required for it.

But when Rob Bell speaks about hell, when he takes away the abuse but leaves the sting of it and puts it in its place, he says nothing of the hell inflicted on others, the hell that we do not choose but has been chosen for us by those in power.  He says nothing about oppression, injustice, and the hell prisons that the powerless have been locked in and struggle to break loose from.  Hell on earth may be the consequences we suffer as a result of our own actions, but what of the hell on earth that is suffered as a result of the actions of others?  How does an abused woman take responsibility for her own hell?  How does she learn to trust the love a father God?

I posted this on Rob Bell's Facebook wall, which I think he doesn't even read, judging by the comments:

"I have deep concerns about the chapter "The Good News is Better Than That": the story you begin with about an abused woman and then you go on to tell the 'stories' of the father and his two sons. Why should a woman who's been hit by every man she's been with now trust the retelling of her story by a God who is male? We still continue to shape God as male and that definitely shapes some of us women in a way that is not only helpful but hurts."

I then received 7 comments declaring that God does not have a penis or reproductive organs and therefore I should not be offended, that God is Father in the Bible or that God isn't male but identifies himself that way or that we in our small minds can't know who God is, so God reveals God's self as Father but God isn't male.

Huh?  Last time I checked, my daughters' father is a male.

Jesus did a radical thing by calling God 'Father'.  Jesus brought close the Creator of the Universe, the One who fashioned the earth and the heavens--YHWH, I Am Who I Am, the ineffable.  The Church brought God even closer by declaring that Jesus was God in human form, the Word incarnate.  What has happened in the two millennia since then is that we have personalized God.  We have brought God so close that we think we know who God is.  We've rendered God powerless by thinking we have a handle on who God is.  Thus, we can also reject this God and walk away without a second thought.

We need another image shift in our relationship with God.  Not male, not female.  Jesus brought God close; now it's time to back up a bit and see the bigger picture.

Panentheism:  from the Greek pan (all), en (in), theos (God)--All in God.  "Everything is in God and God is in everything, but God is more than everything" (Karl Christian Friedrich Krause, 1828).  Or as it says in the Book of Acts: "In [God] we live and move and have our being."  Native Americans called it the Great Spirit.  Ancient hunter-gatherer societies worshiped the great Mother Goddess.  George Lucas called it the Force.  Australian Aborigines speak to Divine Oneness.  Dietrich Bonhoeffer referred to God as "the Beyond that is in our midst".  Immanence and transcendence.  No names, no gender.  All names, all genders.  More and more.

Interestingly enough, Rob Bell made a short film entitled "She", about the feminine characteristics of God, about how we cannot understand God until we recognize the feminine qualities that God possesses.  I just wish he had used the Isaiah passage he mentions, regarding God having compassion like a mother, when he introduced his chapter with the story of the abused woman.  It would have been so much better.  Then he could have given his different take on the father and the two sons.

Here's the film:

Human need over corporate greed

I was hungry and you blamed it on the Communists.

I was hungry and you circled the moon.

I was hungry and you told me to wait.

I was hungry and you set up a commission.

I was hungry and you said, "so were my ancestors."

I was hungry and you said, "we don't hire over 35."

I was hungry and you said, "God helps those..."

I was hungry and you told me I shouldn't be.

I was hungry and you told me machines do that work now.

I was hungry and you had napalm bills to pay.

I was hungry and you said the poor are always with us.

Lord, when did we see you hungry?  (Matthew 25: 37)

Thank you, Sojourners.

Ten good reasons not to call me as your next pastor

(Another section in my profile requires me not only to give references but to give myself one as well.  I borrowed this idea from another pastor who had posted their own good reasons on a consulting website.  The way I look at it, this list will tell a search committee if they want to invest time and resources to interview me or not.  I know what I want and I don't want to settle for less.)

1.     If you believe that worship is the most important thing you do as a church and that it only occurs on Sunday morning, then I’m probably not the right pastor for you.

2.     If you value new people as workers and pledge units rather than as welcomed agents of change and companions along the Way, then I’m probably not the right pastor for you.

3.    If you’re looking for someone who does not share some of the same common weaknesses and foibles as you do, then I’m probably not the right pastor for you.

4.    If you think that being Open and Affirming is the final frontier of Christian witness, then I’m probably not the right pastor for you.

5.    If mission is something that occurs only on a trip or once a month, then I’m probably not the right pastor for you.

6.    If ministry is something that can be measured, quantified, strategized, programmed and categorized, then I’m probably not the right pastor for you.

7.     If the idea of creating art, poetry, and music alongside the poor and outcast shrinks your spirit rather than enlarging it, then I’m probably not the right pastor for you.

8.    If you’re searching for an expert to teach you how rather than a fellow student to learn with, then I’m probably not the right pastor for you.

9.    If the phrase “Life is messy—love it” fills you with more fear than trust, then I’m probably not the right pastor for you.

10.     If laughter and humor aren't regular and highly-prized expressions of your life together, then I’m probably not the right pastor for you.

This is the church I want to serve

The following is from my Statement on Ministry, one part of my ministerial profile:

When Jesus revealed the Way of ministry, he was very direct and brief:  “You give them something to eat” (Mark 6: 37); “Let the children come to me” (Luke 18: 16); “Take, eat; this is my body” (Matt. 26: 26); “Take up your cross and follow me” (Mark 8: 34); “Let anyone with ears to hear listen” (Luke 8: 8); “Go, make disciples…” (Matt. 28: 19); “Love your enemies” (Matt. 5:44); “…love one another” (John 13: 34); “Feed my sheep” (John 21: 17).  These could be the purpose statement of any local church.  But more than that these verses are spiritual practices:  the bedrock of ministry and faithfulness to Jesus Christ.

I believe that it is our spiritual practices, our faithfulness that saves us each and every day.  And what I mean by “saves” is that we are pried off our tendency to focus solely on ourselves in any given moment.  Ministry is about learning those spiritual practices and sharing them with others, not only for ourselves but that lives may be changed and transformed, that we might do justice and make peace with one another, that the unconditional love of God would be made visible and tangible.

The next frontier of the church will be those who consider the church to be irrelevant but who still want to make a difference and are working for change in the world.  What can unite believers and non-believers are the spiritual practices common to many traditions such as meditation, serving others, feeding the hungry, extending hospitality, forgiveness, compassion, and moving others to do likewise and more.

In our Christian tradition the pendulum of salvation swings between its two foci of faith and the practices of faith.  There are phases we go through where faith alone, belief that a power greater than ourselves, can save us.  Other times we are caught up in the practices of faith—worship, service, prayer, study, giving, hospitality—and we are saved, released from self-absorption, by the doing of them. 

The apostle Paul tells us that we are saved by grace alone, that works/practices alone will not save us, nor will faith without works.  We need both but even then it is only grace that saves.  Paul is not talking about the present moment but salvation on a grander scale, of that time when all will be welcomed to the heavenly banquet.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t think about the heavenly banquet on a daily basis.  Rather, every day it is myself I need to be saved from, from my pettiness, my ego, my wants and wishes, my propensity for procrastination, my snarky attitude while driving.

Ultimately, the spiritual practice that saves us is love:  love of God, love of neighbor, love of self.  Ours is a ministry of love.  Author Samir Selmanovic, in his book It’s Really All About God, says it well, about following Jesus and his ministry of love:

“Jesus offered a single incentive to follow him…to summarize his selling point:  ‘Follow me, and you might be happy—or you might not.  Follow me, and you might be empowered—or you might not.  Follow me, and you might have more friends—or you might not.  Follow me, and you might have the answers—or you might not.  Follow me, and you might be better off—or you might not.  If you follow me, you may be worse off in every way you use to measure life.  Follow me nevertheless.  Because I have an offer that is worth giving up everything you have: you will learn to love well.’”

This is the Jesus I follow, the ministry that gives me joy, the grace that sustains me, the Church I serve.

Maybe. May be.

It's difficult to write about many things when there's one thing struggling to be heard.  As poet Ellen Bass once instructed a bunch of us burgeoning poets, "You have to write the poems you don't want to write before you can write the ones you do want to write.  Otherwise, they'll all have to crawl over the ones sitting like a lump in the back of your throat."  Or words to that effect.

So...I haven't been writing much of anything because of one true thing (thank you, Anna Quindlen) that needs to be said.

I am grieving.  I thought it would nice to have a rest from parish ministry for a few months (no telling when they will end), but all I feel is sad and angry...what most folks call depressed.  I didn't just go from 90 mph to nothing; I parked the car in the garage, put an old parachute over it, and tucked the keys in a drawer.  Yes, I've done some things this summer I would not have done had I been working:  I went to South Dakota on a mission trip with my Monroe peeps to an Indian reservation with Simply Smiles; I co-deaned a conference for twenty 5th and 6th graders at Silver Lake Conference Center with my friend and pastor Jennifer Gingras entitled "Clowns for God"; I traveled to Costa Rica for a week-long adventure with my family.  I'm teaching myself how to play the Native American wood flute.  I'm working on a clay sculpture at the high school that will serve as a Communion set in some future ministry setting.

But it's not enough.  This November I will be celebrating 20 years of ordination; 15 of those years have been in temporary ministry positions.  I want to settle down with a congregation and see what that feels like.  Ever since I left full-time ministry to be home with my children (which I have never regretted for an instant, for which I am immensely grateful) I have also been grieving the loss of that ministry.  And please do not attempt in the comments to mollify that emotion or to help me realize the blessing of being able to stay home with my children.  I know that.  I've heard all of that for the past 15 years.  What seems to be beyond understanding is how something so wonderful can also be a source of pain; how a life with God can be life-giving and be a struggle, that God can be the one thing that saves you and the biggest question mark of your life.  A life with God, like any other relationship, is complex and sometimes there are no answers--not even a 'yes' or 'no' as whether or not to stick with it.  Most days it's a 'maybe', which might turn out to be the most faithful answer we can give.

I've written my profile.  I've received all my written references and I've submitted my profile as 'complete' to the UCC Profile Office in Cleveland.  I've decided that despite everything, perhaps because of everything, that I need to do this:  I need to love and to serve and to make it my life's work.  And I think I'm good at it, at least, as far as I've gotten to this point, and I still have a long way to go.  But it is a calling I can't let go of and that won't let go of me, even if I wanted it to; a heartstring that does not break when stretched but only keeps pulling.

Tricky part is...my husband feels called to work in the solar field, research and design specifically.  This is the other reason I have kept myself temporary and loose; so that when he finds that dream job we can pick up and go.  But for one reason or another he has not been able to find that job.  And he's paid just enough at  his current job to make it difficult to consider leaving, even though he's miserable there.  It would be easier having him lead the way since he has the higher earning potential.  But I can't wait any longer.  Four years ago he earned another Master's degree, in computer and electrical engineering, that took three years to finish.  Another temporary ministry gig for me and I just might go the way of John the Baptist.

Prayers, people, I need prayers.  Big ones, small ones, one word of hope.  Strike a match, hold a vigil of candles, a campfire in the backyard, a bonfire on the beach.  Bring them all together to make this light big, that a faith community in need of a pastor like me might see it, that I might go to where they are.

A chance for world peace

This past Saturday I took my youngest daughter to a Yankees' game in New York.  If you know where I grew up, you know this is quite a feat.  I'm from the South Shore of Massachusetts.  My mother took me to Red Sox games during the days of Fred Lynn, Carl Yastrzemski, Carlton Fisk, Jim Rice, Luis Tiant, Dwight Evans, Dennis Eckersley, Wade Boggs and Bob Stanley.  I have "lived and died with the Sox", as they say, for most of my life.

So for me to take my daughter to a Yankees' game is no small thing.  And yet I did it because my love for my daughter is much, much greater than my love for my Boston Red Sox.  I wore my Red Sox cap and proudly escorted my daughter into Yankee Stadium on a bright, sunny Saturday afternoon. 

I had decided ahead of time that I would ignore jeers and taunts but would welcome any questions about my choice of hats.  As it happened, I heard only two of the former and received but one question--from a woman sitting in front of me:  "So, why the Red Sox cap?"  We had already made exchanges about the game; now she was ready to satisfy her curiosity.

I replied that I was making an effort toward world peace.  If I, a Red Sox fan, can take my Yankees' daughter to a Yankees' home game and cheer them on, then there's hope for the world.  After that declaration, she and the man seated next to her spent the next several minutes trying to figure out what I did for a living.  At first they were convinced I was a teacher--not bad for a first guess.  Of course, after that they didn't get any closer; the man even paid me a backhanded compliment with "a swimsuit model"!  I replied that I do that in my spare time.

When I finally confessed that I was an ordained minister, the woman, who was Roman Catholic, said to me, "You have to go to school for that?"  (When they were guessing, I had said that I went to college and grad school.)  I explained, yeah, we have to learn all that church history, Hebrew scriptures, the New Testament, systematic theology, etc., just like a priest would.  In return, she gave me a blank look.  Oh well.

So now I had my ally in the bleachers in case anyone gave me a hard time.  By the way, Boston fans, Yankee fans aren't half so rabid as you might think.  Although if I had worn the cap to a Yankees'/Red Sox game in New York, perhaps they wouldn't have been so forbearing!

It was a great game and a wonderful time with my daughter.  Here's recap of the game:

Mid-August Lunch (2008)

The need for connection, conversation, good food, and good wine never leaves us. At least, I hope so. Wouldn't it be wonderful if as we age, we could live in small groups, cared for by one or two individuals, who would cook delicious food for us, look after us and keep us comfortable and safe? There's a time when we all need more care than what our families can provide, and that's alright. But before that, we're capable of still living a life that gives great joy.

Mid-August Lunch is a delightful movie, a slice-of-life story about Gianni and his mother and the three unfamiliar Italian mamas (one is an 'auntie) who come to spend the weekend during the Italian summer holiday Pranzo di Ferragosto or mid-August lunch. Gianni Di Gregorio, who directs the film, stars as the mother-doting son who takes life as it comes, as slowly as he can enjoy it. While watching the film I got the feeling of some friends who got together to tell a simple yet entertaining story.



I should be so lucky at the age of 80 or more to spend the month of August in Rome, eating a meal cooked by someone like Gianni. Ciao, bello!