tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-370303072024-03-14T00:24:02.683-05:00LiturgyGeekA blog about liturgy, faith, snark, beagles, and whatever strikes my fancy. Hopefully mostly liturgy.LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.comBlogger197125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-63375751171685656282016-01-13T07:22:00.000-06:002016-01-13T07:22:02.193-06:00"Weeds are Perennials, Aren't They?"<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Leelawadee","sans-serif";">At one of our team meetings in
2014, a colleague was talking about her beautiful yard, about the perennials she
had planted and moved over the weekend, and about the stubbornness of some of
the weeds in her yard. I remember that we had two distinctly different
reactions to those weeds. I laughed and said, “Ah, a weed is just a plant
growing somewhere you don’t want it to.” I’d read that somewhere, and thought
it was clever. But then another team member said something truly clever that’s stuck with me:
“Weeds are perennials, aren’t they?” I think we both betrayed our dislike with
yardwork, albeit in different ways. But I’ve remembered those lines for a long
while.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Leelawadee","sans-serif";"> Weeds are simply things that grow –
and continue to grow – where we don’t want them to. We employ lots of different
strategies to deal with weeds. We dose them with poison to kill them off. We pull
them out, hoping to get the full roots out (but never actually doing so
entirely successfully). We replant or rehome them somewhere else, perhaps where
they are meant to flourish. My personal favorite is to ignore them until they’ve
completely taken over, then deal with them all at once in a panic, cursing as I
do so. All of these take time, energy, and occupy time in our heads, either by
unsuccessful avoidance or thinking about which strategy will be best. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Leelawadee","sans-serif";"> We also might decide to make peace
with these stubborn and impractical plants, pruning and otherwise managing
them, but accepting that they will always be present. Perhaps we might even
find a use for them, such as adding dandelion leaves to our spring salads. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Leelawadee","sans-serif";"> The secret is, I think, not to see
the weeds as a distraction from the yardwork or the goal of a lovely garden,
but to see the weeds as part and parcel of both the work and the goal. They may
be stubborn and unwelcome, but they are not apart from what we are trying to
cultivate. </span><span style="font-family: Leelawadee, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;">Because the thing is, what’s a weed
to someone is great beauty to another. There are these beautiful thistles that
grow in some places – they are a deep annoyance to farmers, but they make for a
striking photograph or centerpiece. </span><span style="font-family: Leelawadee, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Leelawadee","sans-serif";"> </span><span style="font-family: Leelawadee, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"> Our team in the national offices of the UCC</span><span style="font-family: Leelawadee, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"> is trying to cultivate
ministerial excellence, support and authorization in the United Church of
Christ. That’s our garden. And boy, do we have some weeds in there! I don’t
mean ministers who are stubborn or unethical, or at least I don’t mean just
that. There are things in our work that seem like distractions or deadly
pitfalls or inconveniences or responsibilities that just aren’t ours. This year
feels like a year in which we are both taking on a laser focus in our work, and
a year in which we are getting new responsibilities, so there’s great potential
for weeds of all sorts to crop up in our garden.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Leelawadee","sans-serif";"> I shared something in our team that might be useful for my half-dozen readers here. Will you take a moment to think
about what some of the “weeds” in our work might be in the coming year? Don’t
think about how to deal with them, just think about them. Maybe name them out loud. You </span><span style="font-family: Leelawadee, sans-serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">don’t to plan right
now how or which strategies you are going to use to deal with them, of course.
But this is a reminder that lots of things are going to try to distract us from
our work this year. My prayer for 2016 is that we can pull what we need to,
make peace with what is going to have to stay in our garden for another year (or
more), and build upon the work that’s already been done in this garden (by
others and by us) to make this part of the United Church of Christ even more beautiful
and useful, stronger and healthier, better than ever.</span></div>
LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-42087455390103268472015-11-23T14:54:00.000-06:002015-11-23T14:54:01.099-06:00Some Recent Places I've Been WritingAt a certain point, it seems as if one should either commit to posting more regularly, or admit she just isn't in it for the blogging. I'm discerning which direction I want to go in. And writing my novel for <a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org/">NaNoWriMo</a>, and preparing for Thanksgiving supper, and all that goodness.<br />
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I'm also not altogether clear who, if anyone, is still coming by. It is a bit dusty in here, after all. So for now I'll just post a few links to some stuff I've written elsewhere in the past year:<br />
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<a href="https://carducc.wordpress.com/2015/11/23/fitness-reviews-trusting-our-ecclesiastical-processes/">This</a> is my most recent piece for the UCC's Center for Analytics, Research and Data (CARD), about fitness reviews in the United Church of Christ. This one was for work.<br />
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<a href="https://carducc.wordpress.com/2015/06/29/how-a-minister-spends-her-time/">Here's</a> an earlier piece for the CARD blog from earlier this year, about how ministers spend their time. This one was also for work.<br />
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<a href="https://carducc.wordpress.com/2015/03/23/a-snapshot-of-bi-vocational-ministry-in-the-ucc/">A third post</a> from the CARD blog, about bi-vocational ministry. Many thanks to the colleagues who shared their stories and experiences. Again, this was for work.<br />
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<a href="http://practicingfamilies.com/2015/04/03/muddling-through-mystery/">This one</a> was something I wrote for Practicing Families, about the death of Jesus.<br />
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Thanks for sticking with me; I think I'm leaning toward "committing to posting more regularly." It's been a long, dry season of little creativity, but the well is filling.<br />
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Happy Thanksgiving!LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-806096612827179732014-01-29T14:55:00.004-06:002014-01-29T14:55:43.529-06:00I'm Back?It's a little hard to believe that's been nearly two years since I've last blogged. <br />
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TL;DR Had a kid, moved for a new job.<br />
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Longer version: I think I mentioned the kid already. She's now a bright, engaging toddler and has taken well to our new life in Cleveland. Most of you (all three of you) are probably friends with me on Facebook so you've seen the pictures and heard the stories. We're having a blast with the parenting thing, most of the time. As of this writing, I've also run for 31 days straight and am laying the foundation to run the Cleveland 1/2 Marathon with some other UCC 2030 clergy. <br />
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The new job is more interesting. I'm now working for our denominational headquarters, which is incredibly fulfilling, and really, really different from working in a local congregation. Some of the plusses to this include: a pretty "regular" schedule with minimal evening meetings; coworkers!; reliable, awesome public transportation; getting to do really interesting work engaging with all different kinds of ministers in the UCC; travel; getting to revise the Manual on Ministry (!!!!); developing programs that can be used throughout the life of the church. <br />
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Some of the minuses include: travel; not getting to work with cool funeral directors; no funerals in general; I miss the people in Red Oak; and BackBencher still has to commute 25 miles to work each day. <br />
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But, you know, it's important work, and while I'm not serving in a parish now, we are actively engaged in the life of a local church, and that's proving to be a positive experience for our family. <br />
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I hope to write here more regularly in 2014. It's not a resolution, but a hope. I'm also blogging semi-regularly over at <a href="http://practicingfamilies.com/">Practicing Families</a>, so you can find me there (as well as a ton of other great folk!).LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-88596326894494771582012-03-02T10:09:00.004-06:002012-03-02T10:20:07.936-06:00The Religious Institute Needs Your HelpSo, I don't do this very often, but I feel strongly enough about the work of the organization I'm going to write about to make a financial appeal to you, dear readers.<br /><br />The Religious Institute is an organization that advocates and educates for sexual health and justice in the religious and political spheres. The Rev. Debra Haffner is their executive director, a wise woman, and one of those women I hope I become when I'm all grown up. I've been deeply formed by her writings, her speakings, and our (limited but powerful) personal correspondence. The work of the Religious Institute shapes what I do as a minister teaching sexuality education, and as a sexuality educator open to the spiritual dimensions of sex.<br /><br />No one does quite what Debra and the staff of the Religious Institute do, and their work is vital. Rev. Haffner has taken on Bill O'Reilly and others over the years, reminding him and his audience that there is a broader view to human sexuality than the narrowness promoted by, say, some of the current presidential candidates. You can see why she's influenced me!<br /><br />If you don't already know, they are in a crazy financial bind because their fiscal agent has, basically, taken them to the cleaners. Obviously, "Christian Community, Inc." is no longer their fiscal agent - but they do need money to keep the doors open. They have a new fiscal agent and are working on securing their 501(c)3 status so this sort of thing doesn't happen again.<br /><br />Would you be willing to donate $5, $25, $50, $100 or even $500 to them? I gave $20, which is what I can right now. If 4 more of you do the same, that will bring them $100 closer to their goal. <a href="http://debrahaffner.blogspot.com/2012/03/disasterous-news-but-we-will-survive.html">Read this post</a> and then give as you are moved to give. The work they do is urgent. The need they face is critical. We can make a difference.LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-77886134338061594352011-12-14T12:18:00.003-06:002011-12-14T12:42:16.988-06:00The Thing About IowaSo, some professor at the University of Iowa wrote <a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2011/12/observations-from-20-years-of-iowa-life/249401/1/">an article </a>for The Atlantic about Iowa. Well, I think it was supposed to be about Iowa's unsuitability at holding the first-in-the-nation caucus status, but it was hard to tell that his point wasn't just bashing Iowa until the very end of the article. As one of my dear parishioners wrote on his Facebook wall, "'Exaggerated Stereotypes, I'd like to introduce you to Assorted Facts. I think you'll get along well in this article,' said Dr. Bloom. 'Perhaps I will also include Inflammatory Remarks.'" What valid points he may have made (and there are a few valid points to be made) were lost in the sea of astonishingly inaccurate generalities and too-highly-weighted random facts and experiences.<br /><br />Also, he really needed an editor. I can't get over how, on the one hand, we have all these cracked-out meth-heads and college students getting arrested for public intoxication, and on the the other hand, live in communities where the worst crime is tee-peeing a neighbors house. Which is it? Because, brother, it can't be both.<br /><br />And he writes as if Iowa provincialism is some sort of unique trait to this heartland state. I lived in New York City for six years and I knew people who lived in fear of leaving the five boroughs for any reason (to be fair, some of them lived in fear of leaving just FOUR of the bureaus, if I may say so with apologies to my friends who live on Staten Island). True, NYC has more to commend it than does rural Iowa in terms of "stuff to do," but provincialism is provincialism, and it is everywhere in these United States. At least, it's everywhere I've been to (30+ states and counting).<br /><br />If I may make one more point: as a Christian, I can almost promise you that when a college student tells you she's going to have to face a "come-to-Jesus talk" from her parents after being arrested for public intoxication, it probably doesn't mean her parents are going to tell her she needs to recommit herself to a life worthy of her Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. It probably means they are going to remind her that they don't pay good money to send their student to the University of Iowa so she can get drunk and pass out in public. And possibly do so while yelling at her. The term "come-to-Jesus talk" is a colloquial expression and you should probably know that.<br /><br />Actually, he probably DOES know that and was just trying to be inflammatory. Which is all the more stupid, I think, because it utterly weakened his case. I'm surprised the dude is actually a journalism professor. He should know better. He should WRITE better.<br /><br />He's been threatened and supposedly is a little afraid for his life now. I have mock a little bit - surely he can't think these rural farmers too afraid to use the interstate or even leave their little counties are REALLY out to get him, can he? All kidding aside, this article isn't worthy of threats to his life. I think it represents a threat to his CAREER as a journalist, but he shouldn't be facing death threats or anything like that for this article. So knock it off, angry Iowans.<br /><br />Dr. Bloom has done a disservice to his career and to the state that he has lived in for 20 years. (See a lovely response <a href="http://blogs.desmoinesregister.com/dmr/index.php/2011/12/13/bloomsday-in-iowa/">here</a>.) But even still, permit me to point out that if his house is burned down or his family faces an unexpected medical crisis, those same people he has mocked and belittled by his caricatures in this article will show up with casseroles, paper plates, napkins, love and money to help him out. Even if they think he's an ass. He knows that.<br /><br />Why shouldn't THOSE people be the ones to get first crack at choosing the next president?LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-62416698392071221512011-12-07T11:42:00.002-06:002011-12-07T12:00:44.443-06:00The War on Christmas/ChristianitySo, a local member of the clergy is running for city council. I don't criticize, because I am myself an elected official, having been elected to the school board for some years now. However, I had to laugh out loud when I read the reasons WHY he said he was running for council. They included a comment about how, in the founding days of this country, people who weren't professing Christians and active in their congregations didn't get elected. As if the good ole days of witch-burnings and Puritan overbearing in public life is something to be CELEBRATED. (I won't point out what those early Christians would have thought of his religious tradition, which wouldn't be much. We've come a long way, congregationalists.)<br /><br />And since it's Advent, it's also time for the annual "War on Christmas" ridiculousness that gets peddled about by some of my brothers and sisters in Christ, including this fellow. Permit me to point out that in the "good ole days" when only professing Christians got to hold public office, CHRISTMAS WAS OUTLAWED. One is tempted to say, "Dude, learn some history," but it seems indelicate. UnChristian, even. So I shall not say it.<br /><br />His statement of intent to file also included his belief that there is a war against Christianity in this country, with "no prayer in schools," the Ten Commandments being removed from public buildings, and the supposed mocking of Christians. (Backbencher dryly noted that if there's a war on Christianity, it certainly isn't happening in this little corner of SW Iowa.)<br /><br />Well, I happen to agree with my colleague that there's a war on Christianity, but the forces assailing us aren't the "secularists" (a vague term used by some that includes anyone from the ACLU to those who profess other faiths to, of course, atheists). The forces assailing Christianity are far closer than that. They are the forces within Christianity that convince us that prayer in schools and the public posting of Ten Commandments are the battles Christians should be fighting.<br /><br />Jesus was pretty clear that at the final judgment, he's not going to ask if we insisted on praying in his name at public events, or if we made a many-tonned block with the Ten Commandments on it. He's going to separate us by those who fed the hungry, gave drink to the thirsty, gave clothes to the naked, and visited those who were sick and in prison, and those who failed to see Jesus in their fellow brothers and sisters.<br /><br />So long as we permit people to be hungry, homeless, naked and lonely, the war on Christianity continues. Perhaps this Advent season, we could work a little harder to fight those battles, and let store employees off the hook for wishing us "Happy Holidays."LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-23811666333746443562011-11-14T09:18:00.004-06:002011-11-14T09:37:25.845-06:00Ah, VestmentsServing a small congregation, it isn't often that I have a wedding or a funeral, much less one of each in a span of 20 hours. But such was last week. A man whom I had married to his beloved several years ago died unexpectedly on Monday, which was the start of an interesting week. For months now, I've been working with a couple in our congregation who have been planning their wedding. Both of them love Jesus, but one of them claims a Christian identity, while the other does not any longer.<br /><br />It's not often I get asked to do stuff like write prayers to the four directions or to incorporate smudging in our congregational life. (More's the pity, I think.) Asperging - sure. Smudging? Not so much among these white former Congregationalists. So the planning of the wedding was a great deal of fun. The rehearsal was not as much fun, as we navigated the challenges of all the various rituals involved. This was on my day off, and I had already spent two hours visiting with the widow of the man who had died earlier in the week.<br /><br />The nature of our work is that we both practice self-care and model appropriate boundaries, but we also are always on-call. I'd already planned to do the rehearsal that day, so I was prepared to make up some Sabbath time later in the week. That didn't really happen, and I hadn't thought enough ahead to take some self-care time earlier, so I was relying on lots of my prayer reserves.<br /><br />The wedding was fabulous. The brides were radiant, and the liturgy we'd crafted together happened beautifully. The Spirit was alive and celebrating with us! I slipped out of the reception to nip over to the funeral home in time to catch the family before they left the visitation, and then returned to the church to celebrate some more. Spiritual/emotional whiplash, anyone? Fortunately, everyone knew what was going on, and everyone was as gracious as could be - both the widow and the brides.<br /><br />The next morning, the funeral. It was a "full house" at the funeral home, and we celebrated life of, and mourned the untimely death of, this dear man. It hit me with great force on Saturday that we wear the same vestments to weddings and funerals (and baptisms, too). Of course, I can articulate the theological reasons why this is so, but the yoke of Christ I wear for such occasions - a white stole with gold crosses on either side (the long bar of the cross is one band that runs the length of the stole, with two crosses at my chest) made for me by a member of the church where I did my field education - felt heavier than usual. The magnitude of this calling weighed on me more deeply, reminding me of the burden that comes with this office.<br /><br />It is a joyous burden, most of the time. But this weekend, it was a heavy load.<br /><br />What a privilege this congregation has bestowed on me, to permit me to minister at these joyous and tragic events. I pray that I am worthy .... and then turn my prayers to those who need them more than I do. To the widow who has lost her husband too soon, may she know consolation and peace. To the brides who have committed themselves to each other, may they always know joy together, and may our culture come to value their marriage as it does my own.LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-45524974970023636212011-10-12T10:21:00.003-05:002011-10-12T10:43:30.617-05:00Expanding the WelcomeI daresay that those of you who read this blog agree with the statement that the church should be a place of extravagant welcome, where all people are invited to participate and share in the life of the community. Congregations struggle to varying degrees about how to live out that welcome when it comes to GLBT persons, people of different races or social classes, and sexual offenders - to name just a few.<br /><br />But the other day I had an interesting conversation with a colleague who's struggling with welcoming another kind of family. The congregation this colleague serves takes extremely seriously the baptismal covenant it offers, and they consider themselves a congregation that doesn't do a lot of baptisms for people who are there just for the "insurance policy" but don't seem to have an honest intention of living out the baptismal promises.<br /><br />In the UCC's <em>Book of Worship</em>, our baptismal covenant includes these questions of the candidates' parents (I've edited them to read in the singular):<br /><br /><ul><br /><li><em>Do you desire to have your child baptized into the faith and family of Jesus Christ?</em></li><br /><li><em>Will you encourage this child to renounce the powers of evil and to receive the freedom of new life in Christ?</em></li><br /><li><em>Will you teach this child that s/he may be led to profess Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior (we say "center of his/her faith")?</em></li><br /><li><em>Do you promise, by the grace of God, to be Christ's disciple(s), to follow in the way of our Savior, to resist oppression and evil, to show love and justice, and to witness to the work and word of Jesus Christ as best you are able?</em></li><br /><li><em>Do you promise, according to the grace given you, to grow with this child in the Christian faith, to help this child to be a faithful member of the church of Jesus Christ, by celebrating Christ's presence, by furthering Christ's mission in all the world, and by offering the nurture of the Christian church so that s/he may affirm his/her baptism?</em></li></ul><em></em><br />Lately, my colleague's congregation has had a few families who have gone through the motions of the pre-baptism class, had their child baptized, and have disappeared. Another family, whom my colleague suspects will be doing the same thing, is due to have their child baptized this week. This colleague is struggling. How do we offer this sacrament when it seems clear that the family has no intention of following through? My colleague will, of course, do te baptism, but there's some frustration there.<br /><br />This is not a unique struggle. All of us clergy who take the sacraments seriously face this question, for we've all been there. And if it's not for a baptism, then we've experienced this for a wedding. I had a mentor once who said he almost always did weddings and baptisms even if he knew he'd never see the family again because he didn't think it was right to deprive anyone of an expression of God's grace. At the time I didn't really get it, but I think I'm starting to.<br /><br />Furthermore, of all the families in the church, this family probably needs the grace found in the sacrament more than most. And, without minimizing the seriousness of the covenant or our anger and frustration at those who seem to take these promises far less seriously than we do, our job is to share the grace of God and to teach people that this grace is free, but it isn't cheap. We do that in the full liturgical and educational and missional expressions of the life of the church, but we have to do both. We have to OFFER the grace freely even as we teach the costly nature of that gift.<br /><br />What if we took the opinion that these "splash and dash" families (ugh - I really don't like that expression) really are taking those promises seriously, but that for a whole host of reasons they are only able, even relying on God's help and grace, to do a crap job of living up to those promises? Then the question becomes, are such people welcome in our churches?LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-73909748859777537672011-10-01T09:47:00.003-05:002011-10-01T09:56:20.716-05:00The Obligatory "I'm Back" PostThis morning, one of my seminarian friends emailed me to tell me that she was planning to use the "Ritual of Welcome" I posted a couple of years ago in her contextual education placement. She said she was so grateful I had written it, I should send it to the UCC, etc. Well, naturally I was flattered.<br /><br />I ended up reading through most of the posts I wrote in 2009, looking for that ritual. I noticed a few things:<br />1. I really did model my blog-writing after PeaceBang, she of Beauty Tips for Ministers. A little affected, but she's definitely the one to follow.<br />2. I wrote some pretty great stuff in 2009.<br />3. It's been a long time since I've written anything here.<br /><br />I think I'm going to try to get a post a week up here, going forward. Naturally, there's been a lot going on since I last wrote. I had a baby girl, MC, who is now five months old and the apple of our eyes. I went to Synod, kicked butt and took names. Lots and lots of names. I decided that 2011 is going to be the year of boldness, and it's been working pretty well. I have continued to dream about running, but fitting exercise into an already-busy schedule with a baby who likes to be held non-stop has been a little tough. I finished teaching one class on vital small-church ministry, and am preparing for a few more teaching/speaking gigs on the topic. (Message me if you'd like me to come talk to you, your church, your conference/association/synod/presbytery/group.) I'm loving life.<br /><br />But I miss blogging. I miss my interactions, real and imagined, with all of you. And I miss the discipline of writing something that I release into the universe pretty much immediately. It's scary and wonderful.LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-79752412177550068702011-02-22T11:19:00.003-06:002011-02-22T11:22:37.621-06:00Required Reading: A Year of Visiting ChurchesGo check out <a href="http://neighborhoodchurches.blogspot.com/">this blog</a>, by a man who's visiting all the religious communities in his neighborhood over the coming year. He recently went to an MCC church and found that the people there were less like <em>Will and Grace</em> and more like those seeking to know God's will and live in God's grace.<br /><br />He's also been to a number of other churches, as well as a mosque. He is gracious, honest, and saves his harshest critiques for those whom I suspect he feels the closest theological affinity. But there's a lot of charity and grace in every post. I'm totally sucked in!LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-91036300780103309322011-02-10T16:31:00.003-06:002011-02-10T16:50:13.343-06:00Appreciating My ColleaguesI realized that my last few posts may be interpreted as "bashing" my clergy colleagues here. I knew I'd be the odd one out when I moved here, but I didn't realize by how much. It is truly challenging, and sometimes a little draining, to be the only clergy voice for progressive Christianity (or heck, even "middle-of-the-road" Christianity, for the most part), but I've accepted my role as a missionary for theological liberalism here. And, for the most part, it's well-received - at least to my face.<br /><br />And while it's true that there is a lot of theological disagreement among us, it's also true that when we are face-to-face, at least, "Iowa nice" prevails. While I don't love all that "Iowa nice" is and means, I do find that I appreciate how it allows us to work together on what we can agree upon, and not waste all our time bickering over points of doctrine about which we'll never agree.<br /><br />So, today I want to share some things I really cherish about my clergy colleagues in this community. All of these are snark-free:<br /><br />1. We spend our time together focusing on what we can agree upon, not the many things that divide us.<br />2. We work to feed the hungry and provide spiritual nourishment to one another's members in a variety of ecumenical services throughout the year.<br />3. My colleagues "play nice" when they speak at our church for the Lenten Luncheon series (and they know I will, too, when I speak at their churches).<br />4. My fellow women ministers and I have some special bonds that have allowed us to peel back "Iowa nice" to discuss some of our differences rather frankly and respectfully, and to grow in genuine friendship and collegiality. There's a couple of services that our three churches do that "the guys" don't seem interested in. (More's the pity.)<br />5. My colleagues keep me honest, and help ground me in the text. We don't come to the same conclusions, but we draw from that common well.<br />6. We are genuinely interested in each other's personal lives - we rejoice when there is cause to rejoice, and we lift each other up in prayer in times of difficulty. (I wish we shared more, but I'm grateful for what we do share.)<br />7. We support some of each other's ministries, such as food pantries and soup kitchens. (I hope they'll also support a new mission venture we'll be starting soon.)<br />8. I am grateful that there are other churches besides ours in the community, because I know our church is not a perfect fit for all Christians. I'm grateful that I can say some true and wonderful things about my colleagues to those Christians who are looking for something we can't provide.<br />9. My colleagues welcomed our sabbatical pastor with open arms and truly made her feel welcome this summer.<br />10. I'll soon have a clergy colleague who is also pretty theologically progressive, and I look forward to our growing in faith, service, and perhaps joint ventures with our congregations!! I hope we can be a balm and boon for each other.<br /><br />For my clergy friends, what do you appreciate about your colleagues and partners in ministry? And for my lay friends, what do you appreciate about collegial relationships among clergy leaders in your communities?LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-68354906128406375602011-01-31T13:53:00.004-06:002011-02-01T10:07:20.323-06:00Stories Told and UntoldSeveral days ago, a friend sidled up to me and said she wanted to show me something. It was the bulletin from her church’s Sunday worship the previous week. She had circled a responsive reading, which was all about “life” and abortion. I know this woman is pro-choice, and she was visibly upset. She proceeded to tell me that the whole service was on this theme, that her community’s crisis pregnancy center has moved into the church, and that the minister had said during the service that she’d hoped the church would step up and volunteer with this organization.<br /><br />I listened to this woman share her anger and frustration. I listened as she shared sorrowful family history – a few generations back – that helped to form her pro-choice convictions to this day. In the midst of my anger and frustration, I began to think.<br /><br />I thought, of course, of the many people who affirmed the message at this church service. They probably felt pleased that their pastor was taking a stand. They probably were challenged by her words that "all life is precious." I hope they heard in that the idea that it is not just the lives of the unborn that are precious, but that drug addicts and rapists and racists and other ne'er-do-wells are precious in God's eyes (though I'm a little skeptical that that happened, though there could be perfectly innocent reasons for that.)<br /><br />But I also thought about the other women in this church who’d been present. I thought about how many of them had had abortions. I especially thought about a couple I know, who are largely pro-life but who had made the heart-wrenching decision to end a much-hoped-for pregnancy when they learned their son would never develop more than a brain stem before living for a few months in constant, excruciating pain. What would this service have been like for them?<br /><br />And I began to think of some of the women I counsel. Those who have gotten pregnant after marital rape; those who have cheated on partners only to find themselves pregnant from that one-night stand; those who feel as though abortion is the only choice for them in their circumstance, but who also believe they should be sterilized at the same time because they will never be “worthy” to be parents again; those who have never heard a person of the cloth say that not all Christians oppose abortion, and who, upon hearing my voice, are just grateful that a minister is not judging them or telling them what to do, but simply affirming their journey with God and their heartfelt decision.<br /><br />I wondered, Was there room in this worship service for these women? Was there a place for their experiences? Were these stories also told in the midst of all this “choosing life” and “abortion is murder”? And if not, why not?<br /><br />It is not my place to tell my colleagues what to preach, when or how. For many, including me, this is an issue of justice (though my colleagues in this community do not agree with me on the nature of this justice), and I respect their right and duty to speak out as they feel called to do, just as I do.<br /><br />But I still wonder. How many of the women in the pews, and their partners or children or friends, will be unable to share these burdens with their pastor for fear that they will be condemned? How many people will erect barriers between themselves and their communities of faith because they now believe it is unsafe to bring this part of their lives in the doors of the church? How many people will, like my friend and her husband, simply stew in their anger at the injustice of their church opposing abortion while also failing to support efforts that PREVENT the need for abortion? How many women will be shamed into silence, lest they be judged by the one person who is supposed to represent the love and grace of Christ to them?<br /><br />I don’t always know the outcome of the stories these women tell me, and I have made my peace with that lack of knowledge. But their stories have become a part of me. Their grappling with competing needs, fears, and desires mirrors my own faith-wrestling. I do not want any of these stories to become “tokens” or two-dimensional images upon which we can project our own morality or judgment. So I cannot bear to see this issue reduced to an oversimplified choice between “good” (that is, continuing a pregnancy) and “evil” (that is, ending a pregnancy). These women and their families are very real to me, and I carry their stories inside of me. Their burdens have, in some small way, become my own, and I stand with them in the muck and the mess of our lives and together we wonder where and how God is at work, and to what ends. These lives matter, too. They are precious in God's sight.<br /><br />Why, then, when there is so much talk of "life being precious," are these stories left untold?LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-64572091220947517212011-01-27T14:34:00.002-06:002011-01-27T14:35:47.456-06:00Friend of the BlogI keep forgetting to add my dear friend to my blogroll. She's a fellow UCC solo pastor, a wise woman, wife and mother, and just all around awesome. Go check out her blog <a href="http://forthesomedaybook.wordpress.com/">here</a>.LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-69827273742254122072011-01-27T10:18:00.001-06:002011-01-27T10:19:07.634-06:00Unexpected Gifts of PregnancyWhen I announced to the church my pregnancy, I expected a variety of reactions. Almost everyone was excited and enthusiastic. I knew that for some, however, this joy was tempered. Some in this church have faced infertility. Some have chosen not to have children. Some have lost children, both in infancy and beyond.<br /><br />I know the families who’ve lost children in this church. Some have lost them to suicide, to accidents, or to medical issues. Those stories have been shared with me tenderly and sorrowfully by the mothers and fathers. They have been shared with my by others in the church, who need for me to know why we can’t chop down that tree (it is a memorial tree).<br /><br />I also know the stories of the couples who had tried for years to have children, only to make peace with their childlessness. Some of those wounds are decades old, but they still sting a little whenever a pregnancy is announced or a new baby brought to church. Their joy for others is often tempered with their own private sorrows.<br /><br />And I know the stories of parents estranged from their children – and of children who’ve chosen estrangement from their parents. Sometimes I know the reasons behind these decisions, but sometimes the whole situation just seems like a sorrowful mystery to me, as it often is to the people involved. I am grateful for all these stories, even as my heart breaks for them.<br />But it wasn’t until I announced my pregnancy and began to talk freely about my fears of miscarriage that I began to hear those stories. Women told me about miscarriages they’d had, of the “successful” pregnancies they went on to have, and of how the latter did not cancel out the former, but did help provide a larger framework for their parenting. They spoke with a tinge of sadness for what they had lost, as well as thanksgiving for what they had. I quickly noticed that they only told these stories around other women who’d had children.<br /><br />It has been a strange initiation into motherhood. These stories are seldom told outside of the church kitchen – if indeed, they make it into the doors of the church at all. Even though I’m an advocate for reproductive justice, and even though I’ve spoken of miscarriage, the loss of children, and childlessness in the past, and even though I’ve sat in these people’s homes for more than seven years, listening to their lives and praying with them, it has only been in the past few months that many people have chosen to share these stories with me.<br /><br />It isn’t because they don’t feel the stories are important. And it isn’t because they are finally releasing a torrent of information now that I can relate. Somehow, in some mysterious way, my pregnancy has opened up a door to these conversations. Was it something I’ve said?<br /><br />I don’t think so. If I could have planned it, it would not have turned out this way. If I had wanted to be strategic about all this, I can tell you absolutely that I would have failed miserably. This is a great mystery to me. But the stories are here, now, for us and for God to see, and my call is to touch those stories lovingly and with great grace, as if I were handling a small, delicate child who needs my love, my softness, and my attention.<br /><br />It is the deepest privilege I know to have access to the hearts of others. May God grant us grace to hold those hearts and their contents tenderly, weeping and laughing and finding redemption and hope in every unfolding.LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-33081943013690618722010-11-29T11:56:00.004-06:002010-11-29T19:30:53.961-06:00A Thousand Little ThingsNow, I am just as much a romantic as the next gal, but I've learned in my marriage that the little things do tend to add up more than the grand, romantic gesture. Don't get me wrong - Backbencher does the flower and candy thing as well as the next man, and he's been known to surprise me with Christmas and birthday gifts that I'd mentioned once or twice in passing months ago. (The "months ago" thing sometimes means I had forgotten I'd wanted that item, but it is so endearing!) But overall, I think I appreciate the everyday things Backbencher does to let me know I'm on his mind.<br /><br />Here is just a selection:<br />- He always turns on my seat warmer when we ride in his car, usually long before I would have remembered it's an option.<br />- He has been known to walk the dogs when he senses I need a lazy morning.<br />- He got me a gift certificate to 1800FINDASPA for our first wedding anniversary, because traditionally, the first anniversary is "paper" and, well, gift certificates are made of paper. (And he knows I love massages.) Naturally, he also gave me a book.<br />- He will read a book faster than he normally would if he knows I want to read it, too.<br />- He suggests that I take the first shower when we have to leave early for childbirth class. (And he often showers the night before, too!)<br />- He folds towels, even if I'm the one who washed them.<br />- He remembers to buy my favorite kind of ice cream when we run out.<br />- When we got back from visiting his family at Thanksgiving, I had to run over to the church (20 yards away) to turn up the heat for Sunday's worship service. I took a shortcut past the side of the house, not bothering to go in, and when I returned to the house 5 minutes later, he had already turned on the back porch light. He also does this when I have evening meetings (we have a one-car garage that I use, and it's behind the house).<br /><br />It's that last one that really gets to me. Even if our paths don't cross after the morning, and I get home late in the evening, there is always a well-lit back porch welcoming me home. He never fails to remember to light my way home. In the day-to-day living with another human being, it is the small, everyday things Backbencher does for me far more warming to my heart and soul than the rare grand gesture.<br /><br />This Advent, a new year begins, and I'm so lucky to share it with Backbencher.LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-4267467033610926862010-11-02T14:15:00.003-05:002010-11-02T14:28:14.652-05:00White Crosses in YardsIn our little town, a number of white crosses have appeared in several front yards. At first I thought it was a rash of pet deaths, but I soon learned that it was the effort of our local Methodist Church. A sweet effort for some reason I wasn't really clear about. To proclaim the household's (presumably Protestant, since it's not a crucifix) Christian identity? To be a safe haven for wandering Christians? A testimony of faith?<br /><br />Today I learned that it was in response to <a href="http://www.snopes.com/politics/religion/frankenmuth.asp">this story</a>, about an incident in Frankenmuth, Michigan a couple of years ago. Of course, in the version told to the ministerial fellowship, the ACLU got dragged in. (Doesn't it always, in these cases?) <em>Le sigh.</em> I checked it out on Snopes, and was gratified that at least the minister didn't play up the complainer's supposed "atheism." But as a card-carrying member of the ACLU, I am always so annoyed when they become the bogeyman for all the "persecution" Christians face.<br /><br />Later, it made me wonder: what happened to the man in the story? No doubt he was a pot-stirrer, and it sounds as though he might have been a newcomer to town. Perhaps he was not the most sympathetic character. But as much as the Christians in this town claimed "victory," I wonder how this man felt ministered to by his Christian friends and neighbors. Did he learn about the love of Jesus from all those crosses? Did he experience the grace of God from their overwhelming opposition to his (admittedly rather petty) complaints?<br /><br />Or was he confirmed in a belief that Christians tend to lord it over non-Christians and Christians who don't share their views of church-state separation? Was he treated as an outcast, a collaborator with the enemy, and unclean?<br /><br />Jesus sure ate a lot of meals with people whom the "majority" looked down upon or disdained. I may be preaching to the choir here, but I pray that when we are bold to proclaim the Gospel, we are focused on proclamation that opens hearts and minds to Jesus, not on pummeling others to get our own way.LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-64432641106864973512010-10-19T22:11:00.003-05:002010-10-20T19:10:33.644-05:00Funerals and Family Dynamics<div>Speaking generally, funeral preparation is a fascinating time to observe family dynamics at work, and to especially see the ways that dysfunction plays out through generations of a family system. You can see why the son of these parents married this person, and how their children ended up as they did. You can see why these two people were drawn to each other, even if the motivation appears to be to get as far away from family as possible.</div><div><br /></div><div>This isn't really a surprise. Take a system, throw in a radical and permanent change to that system, and add a forced sense of proximity to other family members. Oh, and social pressures to behave in a certain fashion. </div><div><br /></div><div>Unfortunately, it's also a terribly tragic time of loss for the family, and often for the whole community. To think only about the system is destructive and heartless; but to fail to think about the system is short-sighted and ultimately ineffective.</div><div><br /></div><div>The bottom line is: families are complicated, and funerals bring this into high relief. HIGH relief.</div>LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-91542416934959068992010-10-02T20:14:00.004-05:002010-10-03T14:14:15.972-05:00Sad News and Happy NewsBackbencher and I have sad news and happy news to share. Finally! <div><br /></div><div>First, the sad news. Many of you know that an opportunity for us to adopt a child literally fell into our laps this spring. Just before I left for Costa Rica, we learned that the birth mother - someone we knew from another circle in our lives (and I'm not trying to be deliberately vague, but SW Iowa is a small place and she deserves her own anonymity if she wants it) - has decided to parent her child after all. This was very sad news for us, even if it was not altogether unexpected. She'd decided so early in her pregnancy, and she has a lot of support for both decisions she has made.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, to the happy news: The very morning before we heard the sad news, we learned that I am pregnant! I am about 12 weeks along now and all appears to be progressing well. If one can gauge by nausea, we are breeding a champion in my uterus. That is a much politer way to say that I have been "blessed" with intermittent, all day dry heaves, along with the occasional unpredictable incident of pukeatuge. I am fervently praying this part of pregnancy ends in the next two weeks. (Do not scare me with your stories of pregnancy-long morning sickness - I have heard it before and do not wish to hear more. Also, my stomach is unaccountably weaker than it used to be, so even these stories set me off a bit.) </div><div><br /></div><div>Longtime friends and family know of my iron constitution and bone-deep loathing of throwing up (though really, who enjoys that particular experience?), and are quite sympathetic. Unfortunately, nothing reliably works for me. So thank you for the advice to stuff myself silly with Saltines (done and done), eat or drink every form of ginger imaginable (ditto), or to eat every waking hour. Just pray away the puking, please - but keep the baby.</div><div><br /></div><div>This news, while it doesn't cancel out the sad news, is overwhelming and wonderful for us. We have known we wanted to be parents for almost as long as we've been together (and I've always known I wanted to be a mom), and we are delighted that, Ohala, we will get to meet our first child in 2011. I am also incredibly grateful at the timing of these events, because I know the weakness of my faith, and I would have been DEVASTATED with only the sad news. We have worked through a fair bit of our grief at the loss of that child, but I for one feel buffeted by the knowledge that we will indeed be parents next year. That has muted the grief somewhat, though I think it goes without saying that babies are not interchangeable.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, and I'm due on Palm Sunday. Hi-larious. One colleague pointed out that God clearly wants me to experience the twin blessings of motherhood and ministry right from the outset. Another colleague offered to preach on Easter for me. </div><div><br /></div><div>We'd covet your prayers for us, as well as for the birth mother, of whom we are deeply fond and with whom we continue a friendship. All of this is hard, but that is the way of the world. She deserves love, support and prayers as much as any new parent does. And God knows we will need lots of support!</div>LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-21472560592000530372010-09-21T21:16:00.004-05:002010-09-21T21:42:30.554-05:00In Which I Come Out as a Pacifist Hippie....and perhaps a disappointment to my father, who spent 20 years in the Army and more than 2 additional decades as a military consultant.*<br /><br />The failure to repeal DADT is, in the end, hardly surprising. Others can speak far more eloquently than I about the appalling cowardice of the Democratic Party when it matters to progressive issues. Others can speak far more passionately than I about the crippling terror of the military closet.<br /><br />But those aren't the real reasons I'm unsurprised about the failure to repeal DADT. In the military, young men and women are trained to reject one of the most fundamental values that families, religious communities, and communities teach them. They are trained, in short, to kill - to violate one of the Big Ten. For Christians, at least, this is a grievous sin. And our goverment supports - no, expects, DEMANDS - this from our servicemembers! Our government celebrates those who kill "the enemy."<br /><br />Our culture celebrates, even valorizes, those who are most effective at violating one of the Ten Commandments. (And then we wonder why so many returning from war have trouble readjusting to civilian life.) Why, then, should we be surprised that our military also trains young men and women to reject another fundamental value - that of telling the truth? For thousands of gay and lesbian service members, they are trained - again, expected, DEMANDED - to lie about who they are, and who they love, in order to serve their country.<br /><br />I'm not under any illusions: allowing gay and lesbian servicemembers to live openly will not force our culture to reexamine our lust for blood or our paradoxical insistence that we live in a "Christian nation" while training our young people to violate the commandment against killing. It will not turn us all into pacifists. But perhaps, if we are going to ask our young people to kill, the least we can do is let them be honest about who they are.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>*I kid. He's proud of my ability to think independently and come to my own conclusions, even when we disagree. For my part, if anyone had to do what my dad did, I guess I'd rather it was him doing it than someone else. </em></span>LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-64072475235862867152010-08-13T16:56:00.002-05:002010-08-13T16:59:26.148-05:00Sabbatical GoodnessDear friends, I am off to Costa Rica for the next month, living with a host family and learning Spanish. I am only slightly terrified, as I know about 40 words in Spanish and won't know anyone in this program. And my darling Backbencher and I will be apart for the whole month. If you live in the area, please ply him with food and drinks in my absence.<br /><br />You can expect that posting will be non-existent during that time, but I might surprise you....LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-19715640086592365792010-08-04T21:07:00.002-05:002010-08-04T21:16:15.455-05:00Congratulations California!We here at Casa LiturgyGeek frequently miss The Pocket Mardis, a delightful blog run by a friend. Happily, Mardis still regularly posts pithy comments on Facebook, and today made me laugh out loud. In response to the <a href="http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/08/04/MNQS1EOR3D.DTL&tsp=1">ruling </a>declaring California's Prop 8 unconstitutional, Mardis wrote: "Congratulations, California: You're finally almost as cool as Iowa."<br /><br />As a native Californian now living in Iowa, I could not be prouder that where I currently reside, adults are free to marry, and today I am delighted that my home state is one step closer to the equality we've been living with for the past 16 months.LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-2255373891176374062010-08-03T17:27:00.003-05:002010-08-03T18:28:53.315-05:00Better a Delay Than a Disaster?Our college cross-country coach, Coach Page, was a fount of vaguely useful information that I've grown to appreciate more and more over the years, even if at the time we thought he was kind of a goof. Thanks to him, I know that the easternmost state is not Maine but Alaska, and I'm always filled with some trepidation now that I no longer routinely pack the "Big Five" when I travel (towel, soap, toilet paper, padlock, and sunscreen).<br /><br />Coach Page was also fond of reminding us, whenever we were stuck in traffic in NYC or Newark, "Better a delay than a disaster." I had occasion to remember these words during my sabbatical travel a couple of weekends ago. Returning home from the Great East Coast Baby Tour via train, I was deeply engrossed in a novel given to me by one of my friends (<em>Let the Right One In</em>, if you're interested - a painfully poignant literary novel) and did not think much that we were stopped at a station for what seemed like a longer-than-usual stop. I assumed it was a smoke break until we learned that there was indeed a delay and we could get out and stretch our legs for a while.<br /><br />We soon heard the rest of the story: a freight train a few miles up had struck and killed a person. The investigation and recovery would take some time. And, of course, life would never be the same for the family of the one who had been hit. Speculation was rampant regarding the nature of the death - no one assumed it was accidental, and there was even some annoyance at the "selfishness" of the individual. Incomprehensibly, one man began to describe for me the nature of the clean-up task when trains hit cows. (I stopped him quickly, and crassly, as I told him I did not need the details, having already walked this journey with a friend whose son was killed by a train.)<br /><br />What happens when your delay is someone else's disaster? As impotent as it sounds, you pray and pray. Which I did, off and on, for the rest of that journey. And still do. I invite you to pray for the family of Nicholas Van Alstine. Trusting that God has received Nicholas into the arms of love, grace and wholeness, pray that his family will have the consolation of the Holy Spirit, and the abiding presence and gentle comfort of friends for a long time to come.LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-39090177975980483322010-07-18T15:46:00.002-05:002010-07-18T15:49:59.685-05:00Special Friends of the BlogEmily and Tim are very special friends; she's a UCC minister I've known for a decade, and he's a Lutheran seminary graduate and all-around genius. They are in Jerusalem for the next year and just finished a dig. They are thoughtful theologians, deeply faithful people, and deserve a wide audience. Please follow their blog <a href="http://www.followingarrows.blogspot.com/">here</a> and tell your friends.LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-46261102523994506152010-06-30T18:24:00.002-05:002010-06-30T18:29:02.717-05:00Miracles on SabbaticalI am on sabbatical for the next three months. I'd love this to mean that I'd actually have time to blog, but that might be optimistic to the point of falsehood. I will be teaching a class at my old seminary on leadership in a smaller-membership congregation, learning Spanish in Costa Rica, practicing Spanish in Peru, and baptizing a few babies during this time. I will also be reading, praying, living.<div><br /></div><div>A gem came my way today as I was talking with a friend about her dying relative. I said that I would pray for all of them, and that while I could pray for a miracle, I didn't sense that was what was wanted or needed. My friend said, "You can pray for the miracle of peace." Peace in this friend's relative's dying, peace in the hearts of the survivors, peace in the journey to death. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was such a wonderful nugget that I had to share with you. May you experience the miracle of peace in your life today, if only for a moment.</div>LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37030307.post-64658319501024917572010-06-13T11:23:00.002-05:002010-06-13T11:39:50.736-05:00Generous-Hearted ChildrenAt our church, the person who brings the elements for Communion typically, but not always, helps serve at the table. When that person chooses not to, I ask another person to serve with me. Since part of the job of the minister is to nurture "call," I often ask one of the youth (or adults) who I think has the gifts for pastoral ministry.<br /><br />This morning, I made an assumption that the person who brought Communion would not want to serve and so I asked one of our youth, G. She agreed, and we practiced what she would say while holding the chalice. Just before worship started, the woman who brought Communion came up to me to ask me what she was supposed to say. "Ooops!" This woman, Mrs. N, is a dear soul and in the early-to-middle stages of Alzheimers, so it actually would have been more confusing to explain the situation to her and ask if it was okay to let G serve.<br /><br />I turned to G and said, "G, I'm terribly sorry. I made an assumption that turns out was wrong. Mrs. N would like to serve Communion after all, and since we usually let the person who brought Communion help, I really need to honor that. I hope you aren't too disappointed." She said, "Nope, that's fine" so cheerfully that I just wanted to hug her. Grace abounding from my mistake. I assured her that the next time I needed a Communion server, it would be her.<br /><br />She smiled and said. "That's fine. I was actually wondering how I was going to get to take Communion since I was serving." And this is where it gets really good!<br /><br />I asked, "Did you think you weren't going to get Communion because you were serving it?"<br /><br />"Yes." (Everyone in our church gets to take Communion, no matter their age, membership or baptismal "status.")<br /><br />"So, you were willing to sacrifice taking Communion in order to help serve the rest of the church?"<br /><br />"Yes."<br /><br />She did not understand why I started to cry at that moment.<br /><br />Generous-hearted children like this are what keeps the faith Christ has entrusted to us alive and growing, even in the midst of declining membership and giving. Generous-hearted children like this know what it means to serve, to minister, to care, and they do it without weighing costs and benefits. Perhaps she does not love Communion the way I do, but considering the way our children race forward to receive the bread and juice, I think it more likely that she was willing to sacrifice participating in the feast of God's presence in order to facilitate that presence for others.<br /><br />Fortunately, she also learned that those are not mutually exclusive. So the next time I need someone to serve with, I will ask G. And when we have finished serving the congregation, we will turn and serve each other the feast of God's presence. And today, I leave church overflowing with the fullness of that Presence, thanks to G.LiturgyGeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057237447008958156noreply@blogger.com4