Defriended

When I began blogging, "Social Media" was not the juggernaut we know today.  Oh, I am by no means a forerunner; my initial exposure to blogging was part of a class requirement at my seminary, hardly an institution known for living on the leading edge of new technology.  "Online Journaling" had been extant for a decade or more at that point.

That said, it was newish, from a more widely known perspective-- and the now more popular platforms of Facebook and Twitter did not yet exist. When our professors introduced us to class blogs, and the requirements of posting and commenting, it was certainly new to me and most of my classmates.  So in addition to the functional instructions on how to access the blog, post, edit, and comment, we had a discussion about the nature of public discourse.  We were reminded that the Internet was a widely public forum-- much more so than the papers and reports and other projects that were our usual assignments.  I can still hear AKMA's gentle voice reminding us that whatever we wrote would be "readily accessible to anyone-- including Bishops and Standing Committees and Commissions on Ministry."

In fact, this was part of the purpose:  we needed to learn to communicate while always keeping in mind that our public discourse was just that-- public. And we needed to understand that nothing posted online, however carefully "protected" by passwords or firewalls or pseudonyms, is ever private or free from the possibility of question or argument.  If you don't want to be associated with it, or if you're not prepared to defend it, then don't post it.

On Facebook I continue to operate with this reality in mind.  I am responsible for anything I post, both in content and in tone.  This is especially true when I link to someone else's work (video, article, blog, etc.).  That's why there are a lot of posts out there to which I do not link.  Some are simply distasteful on their face.  Others may indeed be views I share, but they are expressed in a way that is disagreeable, snarky or rude; that is not the way I want to be known, or behavior I wish to uphold, so I don't share them. 

And sometimes I simply do not have the energy or inclination to defend a post.  Will it surprise you to learn that not everyone I know and love agrees with me on every issue?  So sometimes we have discussions about things that I post, or that they do; and I value those conversations.  But Virtual Reality is not the only reality I own; Corporeal Life also matters, and often trumps.  I have other ways to spend my time and energy than online conversations.  So sometimes I don't post the link.

But if I do post something, then I expect to stand behind it.

A while back, a relative of mine-- someone with whom I grew up, and who I still care about-- "defriended" me on Facebook.  I didn't notice right away; this dear soul is not in the habit of posting daily, and sometimes several days would go by without seeing the familiar name in my news feed. 

But I did notice.  I missed the postings about family, and life activities.  I missed the comments on my own news feed as well, reminding me of connections we share.  I missed family.  So I asked-- what had happened?  Had this been intentional, or an interface glitch of some sort?

The response I eventually received was a comment about "being tired of defending myself."

I was stricken over this.  As it happens, we are often on the opposite sides of a variety of issues.  Through this person's links I would often read views and positions that were troublesome to me.  Occasionally I chose to respond-- to ask a question, or to comment from the other side of an issue.  Now I wondered:  when I did so, had I been overly harsh?  Had my critiques crossed the line at some point to personal attack?  Was I in some way rude, or disrespectful, or unkind?

I cannot go back and read them to check, of course, as I no longer have access to that page.  But so far as I'm aware, I always chose to question or comment on the opinion expressed, rather than the person posting it.  I try very hard as a matter of course to limit disagreement or dispute to the specific subject at hand, without insult, vulgarity or sarcasm.  I had no reason to do otherwise, and every reason to be careful.  After all, this was someone I've known my whole life, with whom I share some deep and beloved roots.  This was family. 

If I knew this would be the result, would I have done anything different?  To be honest, I don't know that I would.   Don't get me wrong-- I wholly regret that this connection has been severed.  I miss hearing about that branch of our common family tree-- pictures and updates, joys and concerns.  I miss sharing with someone who gets my background and foundation because we hold so much of it in common.  And it still hurts, that a desire to post political views without dispute was sufficient reason for abruptly severing our relationship.  And I pray for reconciliation.

But I still believe that a posted link is the responsibility of the poster, as well as the original writer.  And part of that responsibility includes being willing to engage in conversation about, and sometimes to defend, views which are made public, even if it is by the magic of social media. 

Remembering Mama

Today is the anniversary of my mother's death.  I wrote the original version of the following 10 years ago, and updated it only a little.  That's all it needed; some things never change.

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She was a Depression baby, born to a family hit hard, dressed in homemade clothes and love.

She was a tomboy, playing baseball and mumbledy peg and shooting marbles in the cinders in the alley. She drew constantly, sketches in notebooks and on scrap paper. And she read-- Lord, she read.  Zane Grey and Frank Yerby, adventures and history, fiction and biography. New books of any sort were relished, and old favorites were cherished as old friends.  "Don't ask which ones to bring home from the library; start in the 'A's' and work your way around."

She was smart. It took her five years to graduate college (the first in her family) but she had 4 degrees when she was done: Math. Physics. History. Government. "Everything’s worth knowing, and there's no such thing as wasted education. "

She married a boy she met in her high school geometry class-- the swimmer with the wavy hair and the ice blue eyes. Together they raised three children: demanding, challenging, and inordinately proud parents.    "Never settle for less than your best.""Why yes, they are marvelous, aren't they?"

She was a "doer." Episcopal Church Women and Sunday School teacher, golf lessons and painting lessons, garden club president and PTA room mother. "Everything's a challenge: find the most efficient way, get it done quicker, so there's time for more of what you want to do. "

She was a survivor. Diagnosed with a neuro-muscular disease, she was put to bed at 38 and told to stay there or she might not see 40. The kids were 13, 10 and 6.   No more doing, except in her head. And she smiled, and continued loving and learning. The master bedroom became the family room and stayed that way. She kept track of the world, figured out the stock market, and taught those kids to deal with life, all from the left side of a king-size mattress.  Like everything else, she learned to manage, to get the most out of what she had. "That's life, and at least I'm still here to live it. "

Fifteen years ago today she died, but she still touches me when I least expect it.  Her hands on my keyboard. Her voice when I answer the phone.  Her scent on the blouse in the back of my closet.

Love you, Mama.

Rector’s Corner

I wrote this for our upcoming parish newsletter.  Nothing profound; just thought I'd share.

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On days like this, it’s hard to stay indoors.  The skies are clear and the temps are warm (but not too warm yet!).  The yard was beckoning as I ate breakfast, and I’m almost sure I heard a siren's song calling me from the corner by the door where my sneakers and garden gloves reside.  I want to be out walking, or digging in the dirt, or... well, something other than sitting at the computer, anyway. 

But here I am.  And one good thing about it is that I can look out my office window and I see that I’m not the only one itching to be outdoors.  Every day there are parents who bring young children to swing or slide or climb on our playground equipment.  Older children come on their own to play catch in the grass, or ride their bikes and skateboards up and down and around the parking lot.  As I go in or out the office door, I’ll notice the occasional neighbor (adult or child) walking the labyrinth.

Those of us who drive to church from elsewhere in the Tri-Cities sometimes forget how much a part of this community we really are.  Some churches with buildings in more commercial locations only have neighbors during business hours; but life on this residential street stirs around us and touches us 24/7. 

Jesus talks a lot about neighbors, and about the importance of loving them-- something so important that it becomes part of his Great Commandment. “Who is my neighbor?” someone asked him.  Although Jesus makes it clear that we are all neighbors to one another, sometimes the answer is even more obvious. 

One of the ways we show love and care for our neighbors around the church is by maintaining our grounds and encouraging their use. Are there other ways we can be the kind of loving neighbors Jesus commands us to be?

Perhaps we need to spend some time outside to find out.

Say what?

As the initial shock of the latest multiple murder settles out, people are beginning to speak. Often this is a good thing:  prayers and laments of the faithful rising before God, words of love and comfort to grieving families... these are ways we begin to cope, and to heal.

But sometimes, my friends... sometimes people say things that are not helpful. And I've about lost patience.

Now, I am not referring to those who, with the best of intentions, inadvertently blurt out some trite phrase that is more appalling than appealing, more hindrance than help. They aren't the ones who get under my skin.  Mostly I'm able to remind myself that they mean well, overlook the action, and focus on the intent and the concern behind it.  After all, it happens to all of us at one time or another.  Goodness knows I've had my own share of foot-in-mouth moments.

 No, what I mean are the kinds of things people say with far less altruistic motives. Like...

"We ask why there is violence in our schools, but we have systematically removed God from our schools."

First, I find the suggestion that people in that school in Connecticut, or any school, do not or cannot have lives of faith and prayer simply because some official does not force the issue, to be simply ludicrous.  It certainly did not stop me, or many of my friends, or my children and their friends.  In fact, if I dug out my old (public) high school yearbook I could show you a picture of our church's youth group.  It's not in there because it was a school activity; they took our picture because we were a group of students taking part in our community in this way.  It was something we did on our own because it was important to us.  Which is the way faith, and prayer, works best.

But this statement is worse than ludicrous.  Quite bluntly, to say that God has been somehow "removed" from school is both arrogant and blasphemous on its face. Do we honestly believe that any human being, or any human action, can possibly be powerful enough to keep God out of anywhere??

I do not believe this has anything to do with comfort or good intentions.  I believe this is an effort to make political points using religious language as a political tool.  Offensive at anytime, and doubly so in the face of this horrible tragedy.

Children didn't get killed in Connecticut because Christian prayers are not required in public schools. Children got killed because a damaged soul didn't get the help he needed and had easy access to weapons specifically designed for wholesale slaughter.  If you want to get political, address those issues.  And by all means, pray while you're doing it-- for guidance, for peace, for grace and comfort, for justice... or whatever else it occurs to you to take before God in prayer.

But do not presume that you have any say over where God is, or is not.  I guarantee that's above your pay grade.

How long, O Lord?

As I write this, my heart aches. I can hardly stand to watch the news coverage-- the shooting at a school in Newport, Connecticut-- and yet I can't look away.

More than 2 dozen people shot and killed at close range. Most were children-- small people, 5 to 10 years old, murdered while they sat in their classrooms.  A community has been forever wounded, and the pain radiates around the world.

It's the worst time, but not the first time, of course. The first school shooting I remember was in Winnetka, IL in 1988. I was a new mother, and I remember clutching our infant daughter and rocking, in tears as I watched the coverage. 

But it goes back way further than that.  I had no idea, until I found this list of U.S. school shootings, that this phenomenon goes back throughout our history.

And it's not just schools.  Remember the mall in Oregon last week?  The movie theatre in Colorado a few months ago?

And although these horrible things mostly involve guns, and mostly happen here in the U.S., it's not only guns, and it's not only here.  The news reports for today-- the same day as the Connecticut shooting-- also include someone who stabbed 22 children at a school in China.

Lord, have mercy.  I pray, and I ask...

How long before we decide that weapons-- guns or any other-- do not provide a solution to our ills and fears? How long before we understand that striking out in response to rage is not the answer? How long before we realize that violence, by whatever means, is not redemptive?

Testing: 1, 2, 3...

So, I'm trying something new: texting to the blog. Let's see if it works.

Pro-what?

You have no doubt heard the political kerfuffle of late. Abortion, Contraception, Planned Parenthood... all the overlapping issues that come under the general heading of "Women's Reproductive Health." Some wild discussions about "lady parts" are making the news-- and strangely, almost always in the bass clef tones of people who are, biologically speaking, on the outside looking in.

*ahem* Sorry. Couldn't resist.

Anyway, I'd like to hear more women's voices in the conversation. And I'd be glad to join in, even though there are a lot of areas over which I still struggle. Why?

I'm a feminist. That means I mean I believe wholeheartedly in the notion, sometimes quaintly expressed on bumper stickers, that Women Are People-- adults capable of making their own independent decisions, for good or ill. I neither need nor want a representative from the federal government present when I consult with my doctor.

And...

I'm an adoptive parent because a woman carried her child to term, even though any but the most virulent would have supported her decision to do otherwise (and probably driven her to the clinic). The idea that a fetus is only so much tissue? Can't go there.

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I have listened to those who chose abortion because they had suffered abuse, or whose health would have been sincerely jeopardized by a pregnancy.

And...

I have also read the interviews of women who were "still having fun," and thought a baby would get in the way.

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I have heard the horror stories from before Roe v. Wade-- tales of coat hangers and evil potions and (for those who could afford it) being quietly whisked out of state for a "procedure" that might or might not have been safer than the above.

And...

I have also known women (yes, plural) who were heartbroken because their "safe, legal abortion" had left them infertile.

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I have held sobbing young women who chose to have an abortion because of fear over how a pregnancy would be received. Not the "geez, my folks are gonna kill me if I'm not home on time" kind of fear, but real "I'll be kicked out if I'm not beaten to death first" terror.

And...

I have held sobbing young women who chose adoption, only to have kith and kin just excoriate them for "throwing away your own flesh and blood."

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So, what's the answer? I don't know. But here's what I believe:

I believe that people having sex when they are not ready to be parents has always been. Our sexualized culture may make it more acceptable and prevalent, but it is not a new phenomenon.

I believe that the 1950's mindset of shaming a woman for having sex, let alone getting pregnant (and it clearly is always her fault, of course; boys will be boys. Yes, I'm twitching as I type that.) is a sign of a warped worldview.

I believe the 2012 mindset that something is *wrong* with the person who chooses not to be sexually active (either before she's ready, or before they're married, or ever), is equally warped.

I believe that having safe and reliable contraceptives readily available, along with accurate information about how to use them, reduces the odds that the choice of what to do about an unintended pregnancy will ever have to be made.

I also believe there are good and solid reasons for saying no to sex, and they can be taught right alongside the above with a straight face, and without ridicule.

I believe that other options for an unintended pregnancy (either raising the child or planning for an adoption) ought to receive a whole lot more cultural support, emotionally and financially, than they do.

All this means I am sometimes "pro-life," and sometimes "pro-choice," and always in prayer over the very messy reality. Lord, have mercy.

Annual Report

The following was my sermon for our Annual Meeting Sunday; it was also printed in a packet with all the other ministry and financial reports. I don't write out sermon manuscripts very often anymore, so I thought I'd post it here where I can find it again.

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Athletes exercise self-control in all things; they do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable one. So I do not run aimlessly, nor do I box as though beating the air; but I punish my body and enslave it, so that after proclaiming to others I myself should not be disqualified. (I Corinthians 9:25-27)

By the time you read this, Super Bowl XLVI will be over. One team—either the Giants or the Patriots—will have emerged the winner. If you missed it, I’m sure you can catch it in reruns on the sports networks. Camera crews and photographers will have recorded every moment of the game, as well as the moments afterward when the owners, managers and players of the winning team brandish the Lombardi trophy while screaming fans rejoice at their victory.

I think it’s helpful to remember two things about this event. The first is that, although we don’t know the outcome until the game is over, it is not a moment which comes along suddenly and unexpectedly—not for anyone involved. The players and managers in both locker rooms have envisioned this for years or even decades. Because of that vision they have practiced, on and off the field—untold hours over a good portion of their lives spent in games and scrimmages, in the weight room, studying play books, watching videos, fine tuning details. Whether or not they win this game, they have prepared for and proven themselves capable of winning, many times over.

But in the end, one team wins and the other loses. So, what then? What happens when the cheering (or the recriminations) die down? Well, that’s the other thing I want to note: the end of the season is never really the end. Win or lose, both teams will be back at it again next year: pushing bodies, hearts and minds toward the goal of the next win, the next game, the next championship. They may change managers, and they will almost certainly draft and/or trade players. They will lift weights and hit the sleds. They will study films and try to see what went right or wrong. They will put in new plays that work better with the current roster, or take out old ones that were not as successful. In other words, even when they look back, they are also looking ahead as well. There is always something to strive for, and to work toward.

Our Annual Meeting is a bit like that. Everyone knows we do this every year, and we plan some bits weeks or even months in advance. Our treasurer and bookkeeper spent a lot of time and effort looking at our finances and assembling a proposed budget for the vestry to consider—and the vestry has done so, thoughtfully and carefully, at the last 2 or 3 vestry meetings, before approving the final version. Our outgoing vestry members concluded their terms of excellent service to God and to the parish by prayerfully considering and developing a slate of candidates to fill their positions, as well as other lining up other candidates willing to represent All Saints’ at our next diocesan convention. Our administrator gently but firmly reminds all those who serve in leadership positions (and there are a good number, thanks be to God!) that our reports need to be in early enough that she can print and assemble the packet you'll hold in your hands.

But that’s far from all that goes into this day. To begin with, All Saints’ has more than 60 years of history as a community of faith. Only a few of you go back that far, but many of you have been here for years and even decades. Your commitment, as the Catechism states, “to work, pray, and give for the spread of God’s kingdom;” has borne and is bearing fruit, right up to this day.

The events of the past year—our first full year together, as priest and people—bring that into sharp focus. We have many reasons to rejoice, brothers and sisters! We have welcomed new members into our community—our records show a modest but measurable increase in regular Sunday attendance, and more than a dozen souls have made a deeper commitment to a life of discipleship through baptism, confirmation, or reception. Our pledges indicate that we can expect to cover all of our needs and some of our desires in the next year, and our budget reflects that. We have worshipped together, in music and silence, in word and sacrament, centering ourselves in Christ. We have celebrated the lives God has given us: in new birth, in marriage, and at death & entry into larger life. We have prayed with and for, and cared with and for, one another. We have studied and learned, worked and played, laughed and cried together. And we have reached beyond our walls to share the abundance we have been given, with God’s beloved children elsewhere—in our community and around the world. In all this, we are striving to live as disciples, doing the work of God, and most of the time it shows. Oh, we are not perfect, goodness, no; but in this work we are continually being transformed by the Holy Spirit. We are being perfected.

So, take a deep breath, and be grateful. Give thanks for all that we have, and all that we are, by the grace of God.

And then… let’s begin to look ahead. Because of course, this is not the end. We don’t stop here, resting on our laurels, as though the job is done. Like those football players—like any athlete—the next step, the next challenge, always lies ahead.

What is the next step for All Saints’? Where do we go from here? Answering very question is going to be part of our task in the days and months that follow. Of course, we will continue much of what already gives life to our congregation: worship and prayer and study and giving and fun. At the same time, we will talk about the next stages of our work together, and where we believe God is leading us. Whether you call this discernment, or strategic planning, we will have invite prayer and conversation that eventually involves all of us in developing a vision toward which we can move together.

Let me give you one example of why this is important. As I said, our congregation seems to be growing, slowly but steadily. If this continues, we might expect to outgrow our current worship space and structure in maybe 5-10 years. What do we do then? Well, as I see it, there are four options:

• We could add another worship service—perhaps a later Sunday service, perhaps Saturday evening, to make room for additional worshippers.


• We could renovate and expand our current building, adding to our worship space—and maybe additional meeting rooms and classrooms as well.


• We could decide to move: buy property elsewhere, and construct a new building that more closely fits our needs for mission and ministry.


• We could be the starting place for a new Episcopal Church in the Tri-Cities, seeding and then supporting a new congregation until they were ready to be independent and self-supporting.

So, which is it? Any of these—or perhaps a combination—would be good and godly options, and ways we could faithfully we live out our mission “to equip the saints to seek and serve Christ in all people.” None of them are bad ideas. But choosing which path to follow will require deciding where we want to end up: what our focus is to be as a congregation. This means listening, choices and commitment—work that rightly ought to be done before the time of decision arrives. Like Paul, we do not want “to run aimlessly;” we are far better prepared to accomplish what God sets before us if we have a clear vision and purpose in mind.

So that will be our intent this year, my friends. But remember, at the same time, we will also continue to do God’s work in this place—and what a privilege it is to do that with you! In this way we will reach together for that “imperishable wreath” of abundant life that Our Lord offers to his beloved people, in this life and the next. Thanks be to God!