Creeds

Tripp is thinking about creeds. This is a big deal for Baptists, in a different way than I'm used to, being a "cradle Episcopalian." As I understand it, they do not object to sayng creeds, to the idea of professing one's faith. Goodness knows the Baptist tradition is way comfortable with confessions of faith, with Christian testimony, in ways that Episcopalians could learn from, at points. What they have a problem with is "forced assent," and for some very good reasons.

I had not thought of the way we recite the Nicene Creed on Sunday morning as forced assent, not in the way that is meant historically. No one is standing at the end of my pew, gun at the ready. I will not be fined, or arrested, or otherwise persecuted if I skip a part. Nor should they be used as some sort of litmus test, to determine whether one is "right-thinking."

In part, I see the historical creeds as summations of faith, as a telling of the Christian story. When we say them together, we are, among other things, outlining the basics of what it means to be Christian, for ourselves and for those around us.

I believe in God, who created everything.
I believe in Jesus as the Son of God, who lived, and died, and rose again.
I believe in the Holy Spirit, who guides us still.

If I don't believe these things, then am I in fact Christian? I don't mean that to sound perjorative, in the sense that some people have with equating "Christian" with "Good." I know plenty of decent people who are not Christian, and not a few Christians who are jerks. But a Christian is one who professes faith in the God incarnate in Jesus Christ. That is a basic definititon, is it not? So if one does not believe in the the outline of the story, then whatever else may be true, one is not Christian. Which, as I see it, is a starting point, not a reason for disdain or disregard.

The issue then becomes more complicated at the end of the creeds. Both the Apostles' Creed and the Nicene Creed list things rather quickly that are less about belief in the Trinity, and more about belief in church and doctrine.

I believe in the holy catholic church
communion of saints
forgiveness of sins
resurrection of the body
and life everlasting.

I believe in one, holy, catholic and apostolic church
I acknowledge one baptism for the remission of sins
I look for the resurrection of the dead
And the life of the world to come.

How many of these things do we actually think about when we say them? Do we really believe them? Do we even know what they mean? This gets trickier. Not only, are we Christians, but what sort of Christians are we?

Now, if there is some part of a creed that someone does not understand, or believe, does that mean he or she should be drummed out? Certainly not. In fact, I think that is a fine basis for the start of what can be really healthy theological discussion and dialogue. An opportunity to share faith, and understanding, and to learn from one another. What we are supposed to be about is talking about our faith, especially with those around us who do not share it.

So yes, I'll keep saying the creeds. And if you have questions, holler. I don't pretend to have all the answers, but I'm happy to work on finding them with you.

Sight and sound

I went up to school this afternoon, with a couple of purposes. First, to do a bit of library research for my preaching presentation; secondly, to sing at the Evensong service.

Nothing ever goes quite as you expect.

I had expected to spend an inordinate amount of time searching for the texts I wanted. However, in a rare moment of cooperation, ATLA (the Evil Overlord of Library Databases) actually gave me the titles I needed with only minor quibbling. Insert Doxology Here.

On the other hand, I had expected Evensong to go off without a hitch. True, Tripp had been scheduled to preside, and is currently down for the count with an impertinent bug; but I'm quite comfortable filling in that role, and Susie and Judith both have beautiful, strong voices, and are usually more than able to lead the congregational singing.

However, both of those poor souls were also hit by the same nasty germ that nailed Tripp, and were only a couple days' worth of healing ahead. And I still am having issues with the whole lung virus thing. Mostly, I can ignore it; but deep breathing still hurts. Which includes singing.

So, God was praised this evening; but it was not the best that chapel has ever sounded.

Time to take some aspirin and go to bed.

Literary Lent

Today being Ash Wednesday, I am surprised to note that I began the Lenten season not with a sacrifice, so much as a gift-- indirectly, from the late Dr. Griffiss. Much of his library was laid out in our school lounge, books free for the perusing and taking (though a contribution to the memorial fund set up in his honor was welcome).

Free books. In a seminary. Can you say, "feeding frenzy?"

I found a small stack of gems that followed me home. Nothing like AKMA and Trevor, of course; but I'm tickled with my selection.

May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

Stylin'

My sister is a beautician. A good one. She's cut my hair dozens of times over the years, with remarkably few faux pas in all that time. She's much better than I at this sort of thing. Under her professional ministrations, I have been, at varying times, trimmed, curled, permed, styled and coiffed, and generally maintained, hair-wise. The only thing I had never tried was coloring.

Until today.

No particular reason for this; in a whimsical moment, we picked out a color, and took it home to try. It's different, but I think I like it.

So... How do you feel about redheads?

Blogaria U. and bubbles

Tripp has, at long last, opened the doors of the University of Blogaria, Sjlbvdnzv Campus. Further, I am pleased to note that I have accepted appointment as Provost of this august institution. Now, before I did so, I looked up "Provost," to see what I was getting into. The definitions I found read as follows:

1. A person who is appointed to superintend, or preside over, something... as, the provost of a college, answering to the president.

2. The keeper of a prison.

Either way, the job promises not to be dull.

In order to celebrate having been granted such an honor, what should I do? Buy some fancy jewelry, or an expensive toy of some sort? Well, there's a lot of prestige to the position, but not much monetary remuneration. At the U of B we're long on kudos, short on cash.

So I did something almost as rewarding. I took a bath.

Now, I used to take baths a lot, but not so much, lately. My bathroom up at school only has a shower in it; and, on weekends, I'm usually so busy that the quick shower is my staple here, too.

But, after this week, a bath was definitely in order. And not just a quick rinse, mind you. A bath. A hot-as-I-can-stand-it, up-to-my-neck-in-bubbles bath. A "do not bother Mom unless you are bleeding or on fire!" bath.

Oh, what a wondrous thing.

One more thing...

I find it rather surprising to note that if you Google on "Road to Emmaus" my blog pops up first. After all, that's a reference that's been around a long time; I've only been out here for about a year.

Make that precisely a year.

Yep. One year ago today, I took up residence in the blogiverse.

Work and Play

This weekend, we played a little.

The Boy Scouts held a skating party Saturday night, to which all were invited, and those (including my youngest) who sold massive quantities of popcorn were admitted free. Family members were also free, if they weren't skating, and most parents spent their time propping up the side wall, watching the kids roll around. However, a few hardy souls braved the rink, including yours truly.

All right, stop snickering. I like to skate. Surprisingly, as much as a klutz as I can be, this is one thing I seem to be able to manage all right. Admittedly, I was in my own skates, which are quite old-fashioned, in this day and age of high-tech roller blades; but I had a ball bobbing and weaving among the pint-sized throng nonetheless. Need to do that more often.

Last evening, Bruce and I went up to see Trish's current show. I am not an enormous fan of Greek tragedy, but this was well done, and a good way to spend a couple hours; and Trish gave a fine performance, as always. Jennifer and her husband Ted were also in attendance, so I got to put a face to another soul I'd only encountered in virtual reality. Nice folks; it was good to meet them. After the show, Tripp led us all around the corner to a little restaurant-- one with a tasty, predominantly vegetarian menu (there were a few fish things), desserts to die for, and a discount for showgoers. Good food, good company, good prices. What's not to like?

After those festivities, it's back into the books for me today. Next on the agenda: Phase III of my Ethics project, and research for a presentation for my preaching class on some one historical preacher of note. I have a few ideas, but I'm also taking recommendations. Any ideas?

Ethics II - Week 7

For the remainder of the term, we are focused on William T. Cavanaugh's Torture and Eucharist. It's a consideration of the Roman Catholic Church's response to torture in Chili, under Pinochet's regime, and (though we haven't got quite that far in the assigned reading) how the theology and practice of the Eucharist informed and fed them as the Body of Christ, and strengthened them to resist the atrocities of the state.

It's a little hard to comment on the substance of our discussion this week. On Tuesday, when we began talking about the reading, I wasn't there, having been a bit sidetracked with my most recent medical adventures. And Thursday, while present, I was still not tracking as well as I'd like.

Nevertheless, there were a few things that stuck out for me. One thing I found that captured my attention was the comparison of a couple of the Eucharistic prayers we use (Eucharistic Prayers B and C, for those interested and not present). Listening to the way people hear the messages in them, or not, brought home something for me.

I was struck once again by the differences in how we hear the words of these prayers; how dependent our understanding is upon what we bring to the moment. Not only was there a significant variation between the two prayers we compared, but the spectrum of interpretation that our class shared within each one was wider than I would have expected. How do we develop commonality in our understanding within the diverse spectrum in which we hear the exact same words and phrases?

This is where a clarification that Nancy offered really made sense. We were tossing off the definition of "Liturgy" as "the work of the people," almost without thinking about it, we've heard is so often. But she restated it, referring to "private work done for the public good." Keeping this in mind casts a different tint to what we do in the context of our Eucharistic liturgy. It is private work-- not only performed, at this point in our worship service, primarily by the presider, but heard and seen and owned by each participant also as a private piece of worship, within the community gathered. At the same time, it is done "for the public good." Our private understanding contributes to the public worship, and influences the ethos that the community develops, as the "good" to which we hold, by which we are collectively formed, and through which we then see the world outside the liturgy of the church. The parts remain distinct, but the whole becomes greater than their sum.

I have not read the rest of our text yet, but it seems that this was the development that allowed the Roman Catholic church to eventually become a force for resistance against Pinochet's torturous practices, rather than to be ultimately splintered by them. And I can understand that. I think of something that Robert Harris said in our preaching class earlier that day, about Christian faith and practice being "Important. I mean, really important. 'Take-me-out-of-my-comfort-zone' important."

Done and taken in intentionally, isn't that what the Eucharistic liturgy does? Through it, are we not called out of our comfort zone, and given both comfort and challenge, as individuals and as part of a larger identity? "For we who are many are one body, for we all share in the one bread, one cup."

Silly quiz of the day

Yankee or Dixie?

This is directed specifically to those among you who are living in a different region than you would prefer-- especially those among my Seabury brothers and sisters who have dragged the Mason-Dixon line up to Evanston with them.

Incidentally, my tally was 46% - "Barely Yankee;" a score explained by a combination of Southern heritage and Midwest upbringing.

Props to Mumcat for this one.

Theology, Bickering and Christian Unity

God knows we Episcopalians have very little high ground to stand on in the area of Christian unity, right now. Mean-spirited monologues and indignant diatribes and self-righteous proclamations are largely the way we are making the news lately. Too much gossip, and too little Gospel, if you want my opinion/sound bite added to the mix.

So, when Bruce mentioned in passing that he had read a short notice of the Southern Baptist Convention's withdrawl from the World Baptist Alliance, I'm ashamed to say my first thought was "Well, apparently we're not alone." I know that the concept of schism does not, strictly speaking, apply in the Baptist world of voluntary alliance and independent association; brother Tripp has taught me that much about their polity. But the battle lines, the cracks in the foundation, sure look similar from a distance.

And, while the dividing issues may be different, the underlying behavior sounds eerily familiar. I refer you to this article, and the argument presented by the head of the Women's Missionary Union-- a group given no vote or decision-making authority in the SBC. Read what they say, these my Baptist sisters, and consider their words.

"During their January meeting, the WMU leaders devoted an entire Monday session to prayer and reflection, with no intention of discussing the SBC/BWA conflict. However when WMU leaders learned that the state women executives were already discussing the issue “in the corridors” they decided to address it. After more than two hours of ‘outpouring’ their feelings on the matter they concluded, “while we recognize differences among member bodies and Baptist sisters around the world, we do not want to separate ourselves from them.”

Hoffman explained that women in different states who partner with women around the world had learned so much from their persecution, devotion and prayer, and that “the ground is level at the foot of the cross.” When it came time to vote, Hoffman said, the women were asked to stand “and they stood as one, many with tears running down their face to support the BWA,” she said.

In her final appeal to the Committee Hoffman said, “The SBC witness is diluted by division but multiplied by unity.”

In the end, the all-male leadership of the SBC elected not to heed the voiceless women in their midst, and voted to break a fellowship of more than 100 years of working for Christ in this world.

When we do not listen to one another in the Body of Christ, we lose something precious indeed.

Are you listening, ECUSA?

Book Quiz

I love books, and I like silly quizzes. So when I saw this in Tripp's corner of the blogiverse, I thought to bring it here, as well.

You're The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe!

by C.S. Lewis

You were just looking for some decent clothes when everything changed quite dramatically. For the better or for the worse, it is still hard to tell. Now it seems like winter will never end and you feel cursed. Soon there will be an epic struggle between two forces in your life and you are very concerned about a betrayal that could turn the balance. If this makes it sound like you're re-enacting Christian theological events, that may or may not be coincidence. When in doubt, put your trust in zoo animals.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Medical adventures...

Bad news: Chest pains and difficulty breathing are scary, and can cause friends to haul you off to the local hospital posthaste.
Good News: These can also be symptoms of a minor problem, like an odd little virus infecting the lining around the lungs.

Good news: The aforementioned symptoms get prompt attention in the ER.
Bad News: A poor family history can cause them to keep you overnight, even when all the tests come back negative.

Bad news: Multiple EKG's and an echo stress test leave lots of adhesive where adhesive just should not be.
Good News: The adhesive is water soluble. I have never been so glad for a shower in my life.

Good News: The staff at the local hospital is uniformly kind, competent and concerned for their patients' well-being.
Bad news: That caring does not include any consideration for trivial concerns like sleep.

Good News: I am surrounded by wonderful people, who love me better than I deserve.
Bad News: Nope. No bad news, here.

Field Ed

This is a seminarian's equivalent to a professional internship, something like student teaching for educators. At Seabury, we begin to connect with a field assignment in the spring of our middler year, and then work there full-time during the winter quarter of our senior year.

I'm in the process of setting up my field ed site for next year. Got an idea for a placement that sounds like a fine fit; just enough of a stretch for me to grow into. When those plans get firmed up, I'll tell you about it.

In the meantime, I also have an additional opportunity, this summer. I will be taking charge of two small, mission-sized congregations a bit south of here, while their vicar is on sabbatical in England for 2 months. Not being ordained yet, I'm not presiding at Eucharist, of course-- we are arranging for a supply priest to come in a couple of times, to provide the sacrament. For the remaining Sundays, however, I'll be leading Morning Prayer at both churches, as well as weekly bible studies, and doing anything else that comes up in the meantime. I'm excited, and nervous, and a little intimidated, but very eager for the opportunity. Another priest in the diocese will be providing me with some oversight, for which I am grateful. Someone to run to with questions and concerns is a Very Good Thing.

So, if you're in Indiana this summer, anywhere near Rensselaer or Monticello of a Sunday morning, stop by and say hello!

Ethics II - Week 6

This week's syllabus topic? Performance. Now, having been around Seabury, and the intrepid Professor Trevor, for the last year and a half, I no longer leap as quickly to think of that in terms, for example, of Trish's talented efforts. I hear it in a wider context: as enactment, and embodiment, and a sort of living into one's self, the way one sees reality.

Our readings and discussions along this line centered around liturgy. Now, this should not surprise anyone. We're Episcopalians: liturgy is what we do. It is what we focus on, bicker over, and define ourselves by.

High church - Low church - Broad church?
Anglo-Catholic - Evangelical - Charismatic?
Traditional - Contemporary?

Now, theologians of various stripes will declare that these areas all have significance, and difference, in multitudinous ways: theology, in piety, in Christian understanding. They can argue the abstract nuances until my eyes cross and steam rolls out my ears from the overload. In practice, in performance, I believe these distinctions are most clearly seen in our worship. In fundamental ways, our liturgy shapes who we are; and then, who we are shapes our liturgy.

Our guest speaker, Jim (I'm sorry that I don't remember his last name) led us through a look at various writers' understanding of the performance of liturgy, and the four areas upon which they focused. Saliers' affections; Rossi's understanding of symbol and response; Winter's combining of spirit and sacrament; and Farley's search for instantiation.

Don't let that last word throw you; I hadn't heard it before Tuesday, either. But Farley's article was one I liked, so I get to explain it. Instantiation means to create an instance. It makes the distinction between wanting to do something, and actually doing it. As Trevor explained, kicking someone is an instantiation of disregard.

Likewise, in the best of all possible worlds, liturgy is an instantiation of communion. In the other writers' terms, liturgy brings us together in a moment of affection, of emotional involvement, involving symbol and response, reflecting a sacramental presence of the Spirit.

Now, I don't mean to be dismissive or disrespectful; but, then what? If our worship does not produce some sort of performance outside of the liturgy of the church-- does not cause us to ask, "Now what?" and to seek an answer for that-- then is it not incomplete somehow? If, as Farley suggests, we don't do in our lives what is embodied in formal language and symbol on Sunday morning, then where is the meaning?

We are a fallen people, certainly; we do not always live into, or respond the way we ought. But we are nonetheless, as James says, to strive to "be doers of the Word, and not hearers only." Otherwise, we are not in communion, but only deceiving ourselves.

Yes, I'm still here!

My blogging has gotten pretty sparse during the week, this term. Sorry 'bout that; but it's that kind of quarter. Classes, student body responsibilities, canonicals and field ed preparation... oh yeah, and an incredibly patient family, too, that deserves more time and attention than they are getting right now.

Don't get me wrong, I love everything I'm doing; but keeping up with it all is pure scrambling. I'm done with this term in March, and maybe Spring quarter will be more conducive to regular posting. I do miss it.

Need to work on the weekly Ethics post, and then I'll give you an update.

After a short nap, that is. Weekends are for catching up, in a lot of ways.

Trucks

I love driving a truck. The feel of a larger vehicle, and the visibility, and the ability to transport quantities of stuff, are seriously cool things.

"Mom's car" had been a Blazer for several years; two of them, since 1985. The last one died two years ago. Because I was already looking toward seminary, it was replaced with the little Toyota I'm currently driving-- the one my husband calls "the oversized roller skate." Between driving back and forth to school a couple times a week (roughly 50 miles each way, through Chicago's traffic adventures), and the dearth of parking available at school, it is by far the smarter choice. Great gas mileage, very reliable, and wedges into parking spaces that I would previously have sighed over and passed by. I love my little car... even as I miss the truck.

This weekend, we returned to the land of trucks. Bruce's business has grown to the point of needing to establish some credit, and the screwed up excuses for tax laws in this country were putting the company in the position of losing money to Uncle Sam because they had no debt against which to charge earnings. So Bruce is selling his car, and the company has bought a truck. A very neat truck. A very neat red truck.

I am still driving my roller skate, and happily so. Wouldn't want to have to fight the thing around Evanston, not at all. But boy, am I looking forward to the weekends. Anybody need an errand run?

The Dance

Last night was our local high school's Winter Formal. This was Carolyn's first formal dance, and so preparations have been all-consuming. Dress (my daughter in a dress! Voluntarily!!) and shoes were chosen with due care, and yesterday afternoon was devoted to transformation (My sister, a licensed beautician and way more competent in this arena than I, was in charge of the hair/nails/makeup department).

Suddenly, in place of the sturdy little jock stood an elegant young woman, poised and beautiful.

Then the beau arrived, and many pictures were taken, and off they went, into the frosty night.

And Kyle was left wondering why his parents remained standing together by the door for a time, after they left.

New Buddies

Well, maybe not new, exactly. I've been reading these musings for a while now; it's just that, as hectic as things have been this quarter, I've been remiss in blogrolling them.

Mumcat has a clear and concise take on the Superbowl "costume malfunction," which saves me the effort of writing. I can just point here and say, "Yeah-- what she said."

And Karen blogs in the Heretic's Corner from her seminary on the Left Coast. She's reading about Paul right now, and trying to connect the line between dry and inspiring theology.

Welcome to my corner of the blogiverse!

Ethics II - Week 5

Good Sex.

Do I have your attention? Thought so.

Yes, that was not only the focus this week-- sexual ethics-- but also the title of one of the articles we were assigned to read.

Now, the arguments that the author was making in the article were not radical news flashes: that human sexuality is a gift from God; that it has virtue beyond procreation; that the pleasure we take, and give, in lovemaking is not, in and of itself, inherently sinful. The article was a good one-- written by a Roman Catholic theologian, using Natural Law theology to argue her point that the church needs to become more comfortable in it's teaching around the issue, especially as concerns women.

Okay, I can entirely agree with this. But the discussion we had ranged farther afield, and at points I found myself uncomfortable. And, in chatting with a few classmates, I found I was not alone. So, here's some things I wish I'd said, questions I wish I'd asked:

To say that "the church" has fostered guilt about sexuality, is accurate, as far as it goes. Holding celibacy as a higher, holier calling than marriage, for example (a belief still clung to in some circles, if the RC ordination sermon I heard a while back is any indicator) can lead to guilt and discomfort about sexual expression, even within a marital relationship that is blessed by the church. However, does recognizing that needs to change mean that other strictures in this arena are also inappropriate? And which ones, and upon what basis do we decide that?

(ed. note: In Anglican terms, I heard a lot of reason speaking (mostly critically) of tradition, but scripture consideration was notably absent... and this I find bothersome.)

"Exploring your sexuality" is all well and good; but where is mention of prior emotional commitment? The necessity of focus on the other? Is being willing to wait for the appropriate time, place, and person, and not caving in to the passion of the moment, such a bad thing?

"For the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control." And I think that nowhere is that more true than in the intense intimacy of a sexual relationship.

Preaching Class: Sermon #3

The sermon below is a little different. I didn't write it out-- preached it with out a manuscript, without notes, without a safety net. And in prepping it, found that the Spirit took me in a direction that I wasn't expecting to go. An amazing, unnerving, exhausting process.

Anyway, what you're reading is not a verbatim account of what I said-- I couldn't do that if I tried-- but rather a reconstruction, as best as I can manage. The propers are for the Feast of the Presentation.

Malachi 3:1-4
Psalm 84
Hebrews 2:14-18
Luke 2:22-40


Last week, Elizabeth began her sermon by asking us to move around the chapel, in response to a series of questions. In reading the scripture for today's sermon, I find myself hearing one of those questions again. "Have you ever had a perfect day?," she asked.

I think that was how Simeon must have been feeling. Here is a man who spends his life waiting, in eager anticipation of the arrival of the Messiah, the One coming to bring salvation to Israel. He clings to the promise given him by the Holy Spirit, that this will happen in his lifetime. That's his focus, his reason for living.

Then, in my mind's eye, I imagine the scene. One sunny morning, a young couple walks into the temple with their infant son, to perform the purification rites required by Hebrew law. Simeon steps forward, and takes the child in his hands, and suddenly, in that brief, shining moment, he knows. He knows that in his arms rests the Christ, the salvation of his people, the answer to God's promise.

And so he sings, "Lord, let your servant depart in peace; for these eyes of mine have seen the Savior!" I can die happy. It doesn't get any better than this.

But then, did you hear what happened next? It's a surprising thing, like a thread of a different color running through a piece of fabric. Simeon turns to Mary, hands back her son, and tells her, "this child was born to be a sign of opposition... and a sword will pierce your own soul, as well."

It's jarring to hear that warning, in the middle of the perfect moment. But that's the way human life works, isn't it? In our lives, there is no perfection without an element of sorrow, or struggle, or pain. That's part of why Jesus came to live among us, wholly human: so that we would know, that God knows, what it's like to live in that tension. This is why God Almighty, the master and creator of all that is, became a helpless baby w/ unfocused eyes, totally dependent. A boy with skinned knees and missing front teeth. A man with calloused hands, and dirty feet. An innocent victim, betrayed and abused and beaten and crucified.

As our reading from Hebrews says, “Because he himself was tested by what he suffered, he is able to help those who are being tested.”

I spent the summer experiencing some of that testing, firsthand. I was a chaplain intern, part of the CPE program at the University of Chicago. The U of C is a big hospital-- almost 800 beds, I believe-- on the city's South Side. It serves a very diverse population, providing specialized care for people who come from all over the world, as well as being the local provider for a large, low-income, heavily ethnic population. It's also a Level I Pediatric Trauma Center, which means we get severe cases that other hospitals are not equipped to handle.

Yes, I saw plenty of testing, in my 3 months there. But the case that sticks with me was from a night I was on call, toward the end of the summer. I was doing rounds, and wandered down to the Emergency Room. It was packed, as usual-- people who had no regular doctor, waiting hours to be seen for one reason or another. I looked over, and noticed a young woman in a wheelchair, parked against the side of the hallway. She was all curled up onto herself, wrapped in a spare white sheet. And she was sobbing, uncontrollably. She couldn't talk. She couldn't move. She could barely breathe. Eventually, I was able to learn that she had been horribly abused, assaulted at a party the night before.

So I spent the night praying with her, and walking through the process of phisical exams, and evidence collection, and interviews with the police and the doctors. I searched desperately for something for her, for both of us, to cling to in that time.

And here's the gift. I could say to her that I have, in a small way, been where you are; but more importantly, God has been where you are-- in the pain, and the blood, and the terror. At the cross, a sword pierced God's soul, also. Jesus has been where you are, and holds out his hand, offering a way beyond it. In that message, there is good news. There is healing. There is redemption.

Jesus has led the way, living in the actual and showing what is possible. He has lived the truth, that not one of our joyful, perfect times is untouched by human failing; and because of that, he is able to be the holy life present in and among the most profane moments of our lives.

There is no better news than that.