"New treasures as well as old."

My blogging scarcity has not been limited to my own personal posting; I've also fallen way behind on regular blog reading and general maintenance.

In light of the latter, let me direct your attention to a couple friends that moved, a while back-- and whose links in my blogroll I have only now, belatedly, updated. Sorry it took me so long, guys.

Classmate Mitch left his country home, back in April, and now can be found rattling his Tin Cup Chalice for our attention and edification.

And my real friend and faux son Si-- music enthusiast, eager wordsmith and Ultimate Frisbee demon-- has also established new digs.

Stop by and say hi, sometime.

"Do this, in remembrance of me."

This morning, Brother Tripp is preaching about the power of remembrance. Do yourself a favor; go on over here and read what he has to say. The boy is bringing the Word, today.

Movies and munchies

This afternoon, we took The Boy to see Shrek 2. My expectations were low, I'll admit. I had expected to be tolerant of inadequacies, as that's my usual experience with sequels.

This one, however, was a pleasant surprise. The dialogue was good, the show kept moving, and even though the ending was entirely predictable, getting there was a hoot and a half. Well worth the price of admission.

The munchies, however, were another story. This particular theatre has the standard popcorn, of course; we purchased some, that being The Boy's favorite film snack. But the candy choices are woefully lacking.

They don't sell Dots.

Now, this may not strike you as such a big deal, but my dad got me hooked on these gummy little gems long, long ago. I rarely eat them at any other time-- and they are utterly necessary to my whole movie experience. However, this theatre doesn't carry them, and has no intention of doing so. Believe me, I've asked.

So I have become a cinematic smuggler... stopping at the grocery store on the way to the theater, hiding my clandestine import as we pay for our tickets, and pulling out it out after we are safely in our seats.

Gotta have the Dots.

What about you? What's your movie food?

"I Will"

With all that's been going on this week, we've decided to celebrate tomorrow; but this is actually the date we said those words. On May 28, 1983-- 21 years ago-- Bruce and I stood among family and friends and promised our lives to one another. And I cannot tell you how much that has come to mean. There are no words, except...

I love you, honey.

Always.

Awards Night

Last night was Seabury's annual Awards Night. The festivities began with Eucharist of course-- one of our "big deal" services, including distribution of a host of formal awards in various areas, and Seabury crosses presented to all the graduating students. I was the MC for the service: in charge of recruiting liturgical ministers, picking music and vestments, putting together the bulletin, and organizing the myriad details that go into putting together community worship.

The evening went well-- Only a few minor glitches, none of which got in the way of the praise of God in worship.

After the service, we had a dinner, and much revelry ensued. There were some really hilarious skits and doings (Tripp and Rev. Ref. do a fine job of telling you more about that) and some more informal student awards were passed out. It was great fun.

What do I take away from the evening? Ooh, lots:

...Gratitude. Once upon a time, I would have really been stressing over all of what had to be done. As I said, this is a big deal for our community here. But one thing that Seabury does well is liturgy-- the training, the teaching, the performing. And students are both encouraged and expected to be in on all facets of that from the beginning. So, after two years here, I found it was exciting to get to put it all together. Time consuming, certainly, but fun, and I'm grateful.

...Wistful joy. This was a winding down toward a time when a lot of people I've come to love dearly will be moving out, and moving on, and no longer part of my day-to-day living. And, while I wouldn't want anything else for them, it's a bittersweet thing.

...Grace. The gifts of late-night conversation, and connection, and love, shared with a kindred spirit. "Thanks" doesn't begin to cover it.

Mea Culpa

My, things have been sparse around here lately. It is the end of the term around here, and keeping up with all the work that entails has been kind of absorbing, especially with having missed the week for the preaching conference. One more week of this, friends, and then school will be over, and I will (hopefully) be back to a more regular blogging schedule.

Thanks for your patience.

We're back!

No, I didn't fall off the face of the earth, though in some ways, it seems so. I've been at the Festival of Homiletics-- a preaching conference, held this year in Washington D.C. My friends, this was an incredible week, for a lot of reasons.

Outside the conference:

..I got to spend the time with a marvelous group of Seabury preaching geeks, sharing laughter and music, awful jokes and amazing insights. If you are ever going to spend 13 hours at a stretch in a car, then Tripp, Susie, Micah, and Judy are the people with whom to do it.

...Tripp's mother was our host for the week, smiling and patient as the five of us swarmed into her home. A more gracious Preaching Camp Mom you will not find.

...We did spend Friday afternoon being tourists, walking the Mall, visiting some of the memorials, stopping into one of the Smithsonian museums. I've only been to D.C. once before, and it snowed then, which had everything shut down solid. This time the weather was sunny and warm, and I was able to get a brief glimpse into that amazing place. The wondrous, amid the ordinary.

Inside the conference:

...Music, from different places and times, and yet so much in common. I learned that when you get 800 preachers in a room, and the organ (or piano, or celtic harp, or jazz ensemble, or gospel choir) warms up, the sung expression of faith is at least as powerful as the spoken word. These folks could sing, and did, and it was a joy to be in the middle of that.

...Long days, full of worship, and lectures, and sermons... Ooh, baby, the sermons. In a myriad of styles, and from a variety of traditions, these people were bringing the Word. Inspiring, and encouraging, both as a Christian and as a preacher. It was exhausting, and I couldn't get enough. I have no words to describe the experience, except to say that the conference is in Chicago next year, and you should make your reservations now. I will not willingly miss it.

What a marvelous gig that God has called me to perform. Remind me to say thank you-- again.

Sermon - 6th Sunday After Easter

John 14:23-29

The ugliest side of warring humanity has been very much in the news this past week, hasn’t it? First, there were the photos and videos released by the Pentagon. Iraqi prisoners being tortured, and abused, and humiliated, by smiling American soldiers.

Then, a horrific reply came on Tuesday, when Al Qaeda members released the videotape of a young man (26 years old) being beheaded, in retribution for that mistreatment. Evil, responding to evil.

These are the horrors that make the news, and justifiably so. They are almost unbelievable; shameful examples of how far we can go in denying the image and likeness of God that is present in each and every human being-- and the damage that results when we do.

However, I am also aware of the less notable moments of war; of quieter suffering that goes on in the background every day. I can close my eyes, and in my mind...

...I’m listening to Cindy, and her mother’s fear, as I sew a patch on her son David’s Reservist uniform-- one that normally indicates that the wearer is slated for overseas duty.

...I’m reading the prayer request that came through my Seabury email, about Holly, the woman who runs our bookstore at school. Her husband is a Marine, and just received orders for Iraq. He ships out in about a month, leaving her at home with two small daughters.

...I’m standing in chapel for Tuesday Eucharist, as the Prayers of the People are read, including a list of soldiers who have died in Iraq that week-- and I watch the blood drain from my friend Susie’s face, as she recognizes one of the names.

The the pain and suffering of war are not limited to body counts, and the criminal atrocities that garner media coverage.

In light of this, Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel have never been more relevant. Sometimes Jesus can seem confusing; but not in this passage. This is as direct as he gets. “If anyone loves me, he will obey my teaching.” The wrongs we’ve been hearing about in the news are clearly not done in obedience to Jesus’ teaching. It is not what God wants for us. It is not what God wants from us. As Christians, we are given another path to follow, away from vengeance and retribution, and toward the loving God that is shown us in the life and teachings of Jesus Christ.

“My peace I leave you, my own peace I give you.” The peace that Jesus offers is clearly not “as the world gives:” that which governments, all though history, have striven to achieve through force. He leaves us his peace, in the example of his life: teaching, serving, healing. He gives us his peace in the assurance of salvation, through his death and resurrection. Through the Holy Spirit, whom Jesus promises “the Father will send in my name,” God continues to reach out to each one of us-- heart by heart, soul by soul. And then he asks us to do the same for others-- loving them one by one, beginning where we are, and with what we have. This doesn’t need to be a grand, impressive gesture, though it can be. Sometimes-- many times-- it starts in small ways.

My friend Mark was ordained a priest last year, and is a Chaplain Candidate for the U. S. Air Force. One thing I’ve learned from Mark, as he’s gone through this process, is this: although they go into the same dangerous places as the men and women in their units, chaplains do not carry a gun. In fact they cannot, by military regulation, carry military weapons of any sort. Mark’s “protection,” his “weapons,” as a Christian chaplain, will include a Bible, and this stole. I made it for him, as a gift for his ordination. One side is Pentecost red-- a color commonly used for ordinations, symbolizing the presence of the Holy Spirit. The other side is camouflage material. Yes, it’s the real thing. David donated a set of his BDU’s for this effort-- the kind he wore jumping out of perfectly good planes over Kosovo.

As you can imagine, camo cloth is an unusual thing to see at a seminary, let alone the sight of someone stitching embroidery on it. So, while I was making this, I had several people ask me what I was working on. My standard response came out of the Old Testament book of Isaiah: I told them I was “turning swords into plowshares.”

Now, one reversible stole is not the answer, certainly. But it is a start-- or maybe a symbol of a start. When I hold this, I see on one side the best efforts of the world at peacemaking; and on the other, the hope of true peace that Jesus offers, in which camo cloth-- and other military equipment-- will neither be used as a way to perpetuate a cycle of evil, nor needed as a protection from violence and sin.

God help us to make godly choices, large and small, “for the healing of the nations.”

A new look.

So, the improvements really are there-- the only catch was moving to a new template. This one will do well enough, though I intend to mess around with it later.

A couple of the big advantages are that I no longer have to add the comments code separately-- a nice timesaver. And they now show up in a standard window, so now the folks whose popup blockers haven't allowed them to read and add comments, ought to be able to do both.

So-- stop by the redecorated digs and say hi!

Problems in Paradise.

Okay, so Blogger has this New and Improved Interface that's supposed ot be the greatest thing since sliced bread. Terrific-- except it won't accept the HTML code for my comments tag, even though it's the same code I've been using in each post for more than a year.

I've sent an email to tech support, and I am eagerly awaiting their no doubt brilliant suggestions. When we get this straightened out, you'll be the first to know, I promise.

Homiletic musings

I was up on campus today, for a makeup preaching class (scheduled to fill in for the time we'll miss next week-- more about that later). My sermon went well, which is good, because this was sort of a dry run-- I'm preaching "for real" on Sunday, in my parish. So I'll wait to post it until then.

Then I stayed for our Thursday night Community Eucharist, and I'm glad, because it was Rev. Ref's last turn at Seabury. I hadn't heard him preach before, so I'm glad I had the chance. The Ref is not an especially polished speaker; there's no pretense to sophistication there. What you see is what you get. And this is a Good Thing, because what you get is solid, and strong, and direct. He'd be welcome in my pulpit, anytime.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

Yes, that's pretty much where I've been the last few days. I didn't intend to neglect the blog, but it's been a hectic week. Good, but hectic.

This is "Reading Week" at Seabury, time for catching up on papers, projects, and yes, reading, before the end of the term. No classes, but plenty to do.

Doubly plenty, as I had a lot of "I can do that over Reading Week" projects stacked up at home, as well. Sewing work, spring cleaning, kid time... all wonderful stuff, and blogging got a bit squeezed out for a bit.

So that's the short story of where I've been. How's by you this fine day?

Mother's Day Thoughts

...It's been 6 years since my mom died. I still miss her, a little, every day. Love you, Mama.

...My children are blessed to be surrounded by strong, caring women who are additional "moms" and "aunts" and "older sisters." That means I'm blessed, too-- I'd hate to be doing this job alone. So, love and good wishes to Kim, Sandy, Paulette, Heather, Susie, Sarah, Pat, Denise, Judi, Sharon... and all those who care for kids in innumerable ways, outside the bonds of biology.

...The best gift of all: spending the day with my family; and, for one solitary afternoon, doing no homework!

More theology

I've just started reading the last of the assigned texts for my theology class: R. R. Reno's The Ruins of the Church: Sustaining Faith in an Age of Diminishing Christianity. And I'm enjoying it, for several reasons.

First of all, there's the simple relief of reading something that is readable. Unlike some of our previous assigned reading, this material is not so "dense" (the seminary term for nearly impenetrable prose-- so called, I assume, because that's how the reader feels after the first few paragraphs). It is meaty, but the writing is quite accessible, and very direct.

Secondly, Reno's offering some solid food for thought. For instance, he maintains that talk about Christian belief and teaching being "relevant," stems from an almost reflexive distancing on our part-- keeping God at arms' length, out of a "horror of dependence" and a "fear of difference."

...The problem with traditional Christianity does not rest in the fact that the so-called modern mind is too sophisticated, too scientific, too worldlywise to believe. Rather, the problem is that we do not want to believe. We want a "gospel" that affirms our increasingly fragile self-images. We want a "gospel" that helps us remain stable and unchanging in a world full of threatening forces that might sweep us away. We do not want repentance. We do not want transformation. In short, we do not want what Christianity teaches.

...the difficulty we face is hardly one of relevance; indeed, we fear Jesus' relevance. The so-called problem of relevance that has dominated modern theology turns out to be a pseudo-problem conjured up to keep the crucified Lord at a safe distance to be navigated only by the hermeneutically authorized.

...the very real difficulty that modern theology senses but misdiagnoses is the challenge of bridging the gap between what we want and what God gives us. It is the difficulty of achieving the intellectual, moral and communal disciplines sufficient to even imagine that dependence is not an assault on our dignity and that the difference of spiritual rebirth does not rend the delicate fabric of our humanity.

I can't wait to see what he says next.

Justifiable?

Brother Mark found this (admittedly unscientific) survey on CNN, indicating that almost half the folks who responded think that there are circumstances in which torture is justified during interrogation.

I gotta tell you, both my gut reaction and my thoughtful, prayerful consideration agree on a response.

Ew.

Seriously, is there anyone out there who can offer an argument? Please feel free to comment, because I just don't understand this.

Oh, my.

Did you know that an ordinance in Newcastle, Wyoming, specifically bans couples from having sex while inside a store's walk-in meat freezer?

Or that in Willowdale, Oregon, it's iilegal for a husband to curse or swear during lovemaking? But a wife is allowed to whisper the identical naughty words in her hubby's ear while in the act.

Of all the odd things about living in our culture, the ways we try to legislate sexuality are some of the oddest. And the most telling.

Sermon

This was my second sermon for preaching class.

John 16:20-32

You know the first thing that strikes me about this passage? It's obvious that the writer of this Gospel has never given birth to a child. I have never yet met a woman who has forgotten the experience of labor and delivery. In fact, I would go so far as to say that, without medication, it doesn't happen. Get a group of women together sometime, and ask what they remember. It doesn't matter if they are new mothers, or great-grandmothers; you will hear labor and delivery stories, recalled in graphic detail, that will curl your hair. Nope-- no forgetting there.

Here's something you may not realize: the same is true with adoptive parents. It's true that they do not share the same physical drama; but the emotional impact is fully comparable. The focus of body and mind, the seizing into memory of the moment, happens in much the same way.

At least, it did for me. My husband and I are somewhat unusual, in that we are both biological and adoptive parents. Our daughter is our birth child; our son came to us through adoption. And I can tell you just as precisely the circumstances surrounding his arrival in our home and family as I can hers: the physical and emotional sensations... sight and sound, smell and touch... all of it. It's a time that builds to a moment when life changes forever, and nothing is ever the same again... How could I forget such an experience?

That impact, those memories, would explain why recent advertising for a television special caught my attention. Last Friday, Barbara Walters hosted a 20/20 special on adoption. Did any of you see it? I wasn't able to watch, because of prior commitments that night-- but then again, I wasn't I sure I wanted to. The advertising for the program took an unusual slant-- or maybe not so unusual, in this age of reality TV. From the ABC News website:

In a unique television event, Barbara Walters documents a young birth mother's journey as she selects who, among five anxious couples vying for a child of their own, will become parents to her child.

...20/20 cameras were there last October when the competition for Jessica's baby began as the five families arrived at the agency one by one.

...20/20 cameras are there as each couple tries to convince the pregnant girl that they would be the best parents for her soon-to-be-born baby.

...20/20 cameras are there as Jessica selects a family to adopt her baby. But this is not the end. Jessica is still not sure she will be able to place her son for adoption.

...In the end, who will raise the little baby boy?

Now, I'm a mother, twice over. I have had new life brought from my body, and I have had it laid in my arms as a gift beyond price, from a woman unable to cope with her reality. So when I read these things, what I think of is all that hope and anguish placed on display, in the name of entertainment, and ratings. All I hear are the words of John's Gospel: "Very truly, I tell you, you will weep and mourn, but the world will rejoice."

How in heaven's name are we to respond to this? To souls so desperate that they will allow themselves to be exploited this way? And to a culture that finds this exploitation of the individual acceptable?

I think that's the key, right there: "Exploitation of the individual." When we hold ourselves separate, from God and from one another, in the name of "independence," and "choice," this is one result: the value of the person is determined by attention, and fame, rather than owned as intrinsic to our very nature: created in God's image, beloved by our Creator in every single fiber that we are.

Jesus acknowledges this feeling of separation in today's Gospel, even as he models being mindful of the truth beyond it:

"The hour is coming, indeed it has come, when you will be scattered, each one to his home, and you will leave me alone. Yet I am not alone because the Father is with me."

There's one answer, one Christian response: to remember that we are not solely individuals, but called and formed to live as integral members of the Body of Christ: something larger, and better, than any of us can be alone. That awareness, and the caring that stems from it, strengthens us to be more than exploiter, or exploited.

"I have said this to you, so that in me you may have peace. In the world you face persecution. But take courage; I have conquered the world!"

No, we can't do it alone. The Good News is, we don't have to.

Lift Every Voice and Sing!

Last night and this morning, Seabury is hosting a symposium; we're learning about one of the hymnals (named for the above song) authorized for use in the Episcopal Church. It's being led by the Rev. Dr. Harold Lewis and Dr. Horace Boyer, both of whom were integral in its compilation (and thoroughly interesting men, I'm finding). The songs in this text come largely out of the African-American gospel tradition, so it's often thought of as a hymnal for black congregations; but you're really missing out if you stereotype it that way. Regardless of its roots-- or maybe because of them-- there's some wonderfully stirring, worshipful music in there, for all sorts of communities and occasions.

Actually, the ECUSA currently offers at least five collections of hymns for use in worship:

Hymnal 1982
Wonder, Love and Praise
Lift Every Voice and Sing II
El Himnario
Voices Found

One of the things I love about the Episcopal church is the fact that music is so important to us. No, we don't always do it well (making "a joyful noise" is sometimes less than "tuneful"); and yes, we spend a lot of time, it seems, bickering over just what is "good" and "proper" in our singing-- liturgically and theologically, as well as musically. But that is precisely because the sung expression of our relationship to God is so integral.

So, do you have a favorite hymn? Please, share-- that's what congregational singing is all about.