Grief and Compassion, Gram, and Guitars

The Real Live Preacher is on target today. "Grief and Compassion" is told in two parts, found here and here. Take the time to read them; it's worth it.

Though the loss in the story was very different indeed, it put me in mind of my grandmother. Gram was 98 when she died, almost two years ago now. Her body failed her at the end, as all do; but her mind never did. She was, until her last days, the same loving, feisty, thoughtful gift that she had been throughout my life. One of the things she fussed about near the end was that she was afraid there wouldn't be any estate to leave behind for us-- like any of us cared one iota about that. She had never had a lot of money, and most of her savings were used up in her final years, for her care and comfort-- just as they should be.

But at the end there was a small inheritance left-- not a lot, but some. It was split between the grandchildren, as both her children had died before her.

I've put my share to various uses, in the nearly two years she's been gone; and every withdrawl I've made, I found myself considering what she'd think. So far, that's worked well; it's led me to make some good choices, and not one I regret.

The account is almost gone, now; but this week, I've decided what to do with the last of it. I've been trying to learn to play the guitar, with only marginal success-- the guitar I have is old, and was stored away improperly (my own ignorance) for many years, so the neck has bowed to the point where it is difficult for me to play-- more an exercise in frustration than anything else.

So, with the help of a friend, I'm going to buy a new guitar. Nothing fancy-- the money I have won't cover fancy-- but something that I can play comfortably and enjoy, rather than fight with. Gram would chuckle, I think, at the idea of being remembered with an instrument-- she was not especially musically inclined. But she was a teacher, and this is learning; she was prayerful, and understood that for me, music is prayer.

I think Gram would approve.

Shodan

One of my husband's interests-- more than an interest, really; more like an avocation-- is aikido. This is a martial art which originated in Japan; but it's unlike Tai Kwon Do, or others you might see on TV. There are no sudden strikes, punches or kicks; no training for attack, unless one is acting as uke (the designated attacker for practice). You won't see this covered on ESPN, either, as there are no competitions in the discipline. Yes, it's still both serious and effective-- as his sensei says, they can put the "harm" in "harmony" -- but that is not the focus.

A couple nights a week he drives down to the dojo and works out, flinging and being flung with a certain joyous abandon. He really enjoys it-- both the discipline of the art and the people with whom he shares it-- and has gotten to be quite good.

Next Saturday, March 5, he'll have the opportunity to see just how much progress he's made over the years, when he takes his shodan test. That's the Japanese term for first degree black belt, and is very much a milestone. The test will be during a seminar weekend at the dojo, and will be at the end of the afternoon training session that day. Visitors and spectators are more than welcome. So if you show up roughly around 3:00, you'll be able to see him in action.

Third Sunday in Lent

Exodus 17:1-7
Romans 5:1-11
Psalm 95
John 4:5-42

The woman at the well is a favorite of mine; I like her. My dad would say she’s a feisty broad. She’s bold enough to look a strange man right in the face, and to say what’s on her mind; and she’s not afraid to question.

But I realized something as I read the story this time: I was coming to conclusions about her based not on what I was reading in scripture, but on what I've heard or read elsewhere, and on my own beliefs and experience.

So let's back up a minute. My Canon Law professor used to begin each class session by asking, "What Do We Know?" We'd recap the previous lesson, and go over the applicable sections in the canon, to reinforce facts and learning, and to correct misapprehensions. It was a helpful exercise.

So... What do we know?

Well, we know that Jesus is in Samaria, which was not a place John's readers would relish going. We can tell that from John's statement about the woman: "Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans." But remember the woman talking about "the well of our ancestor Jacob?" Samaritans actually really were also Jewish. They worshipped the one God, celebrated the Passover and other Jewish feasts, and abided by the Law of Moses, the 5 books of the Torah. Their practice was Jewish, indistinguishable, from the outside, from other Jewish traditions. However, the land had been conquered hundreds of years before, and there had been intermarriage and some blending of customs between the Jews with the Gentiles there, so the “pure Jews” had come to consider them outcast, and unclean. I can just hear the conversation now: "Introduce me? what do I care what their names are; they're Samaritans."

What else do we know?

We know that Jesus speaks to Samaritan woman; a double surprise, as it wouldn't have been considered at all proper for a woman to be speaking to a strange man. And not just a passing hello; theirs is the longest recorded conversation that Jesus has with anyone in the gospels.

And we also know that Jesus knows this woman, in a way that a stranger should not: he knows without being told that she has had 5 husbands, and is currently living with a man not now her husband. Yet another surprise.


Now.. let's think about what we don’t know.

First, we don't know her name. This is a common thing for women in the bible. Of the 4 women we’ve studied so far in our Bad Girls Bible study, only Eve had a name. The writer of John's Gospel may have assumed that it wasn't important. After all, she was only a woman-- and a Samaritan at that.

We don't know what her life is like, not really. What she thought, how she felt, what she had experienced, or how others experienced her. We only know that she happened to come to the well that day, and encountered Jesus.

And finally, we don't know the nature of her sin! yes, of course she's a sinner-- we all are. But the assumption that her relationships with men are sinful is just that: an assumption. She may have been divorced by one or more husbands for reasons beyond her control: for not conceiving a child, perhaps. Then again, the mortality rate was high back then; one or more of the men may have died, leaving her to find another husband as a means of survival. In fact, there is a provison in Jewish law that stated a woman who's husband died without leaving an heir was to be married to the man's brother; this insured her protection, as well as continuance of the family line.

Speaking of protection, we don't really know anything about her relationship with the man with whom she's living. It is possible that there was nothing illicit between them at all. To put the most charitable spin on it, he may well have been simply someone who allowed her to live in his household, to provide her care and protection.

Think about this: even knowing her as he does, Jesus never terms her a sinner, never even mentions the issues of sin or forgiveness, as he does in other places. Rather, he recognizes her-- for all that she is, good and bad. He offers her the living water of everlasting life. He proclaims himself messiah to her. And he inspires her to proclaim him to her community. This woman does nothing in the story to occasion us labeling her as an outrageous sinner.

But we do it anyway, don’t we? At least, I know I did. Even when we talked about her in our study on Wednesday, we went with the assumption of the author labelling her a “bad girl,” and didn’t question it. We took what little we had learned and thought we understood her; even when we didn't know so much as her name.

We all do it, all the time, really-- make judgments about people, or about situations, without having all the facts. It's way too easy, isn't it?

Let me give you a more current example. This is a true story: I know of two women who were out partying until the wee hours one summer night-- barely made it to bed before dawn. They had been in every bar in town that evening, dancing with any number of strange men. Heavens, they had even been seen dancing on the bar, at one point!

What images are in your head? It sounds pretty wild, doesn’t it? Not the kind of people you'd expect to see in church on Sunday morning?

Now, let me add some more facts. The women on the bar were my cousin Linda, and me-- both stone cold sober, I might add. “Every bar in town,” in this particular case, means two-- two bars, situated next door to one another. One serves food, and that's where we had dinner. The other has a better juke box-- lots of classic rock. We were there with a whole bunch of family in town for a reunion, and the dancing was with some of my cousins, who can be very strange indeed.

So maybe this is why scripture cautions us not to judge, lest we be judged. We can't take general information-- race, or gender, or sexual orientation-- and assume that we know enough of the truth to understand and make judgments about others who fit into those descriptions. We don’t know all the facts; only God does. Like the woman at the well, and like all the Samaritans as well, Jesus knows us each by name, intimately and fully. We are created in God's image, after all, known and loved before we were born.

We are not commanded to judge, but to love-- as we promise in our baptismal covenant, to "respect the dignity of every human being."

My brothers and sisters, we each have a name.

Memories. . . light the corners of my mind. . .

(Where do those musical lyrics hide in my brain? And why can't I edit them?)

Anyway, I saw this posted the other day on Susie's blog; it was fun, and I was glad to be reminded of a moment with her that still makes me smile. Then I noticed the same thing over at Ryan's place, and I realized that I hadn't played the second part of the game. So, here goes:

• If you read this, even if I don't speak to you often, please post a memory of me. It can be anything you want, it can be good or bad, just so long as it happened.
• Then post this to your journal/blog. See what people remember about you.
  

Whirlwind Wednesday

Wednesdays are long days in Field Ed, but they're also among my favorites. I begin early, out of the house shortly after 6:00 am. First, Morning Prayer and Eucharist at Trinity. Then a bit of office time there, checking email and such, before I head over to St. A's. We began a Bible study there a few weeks ago which is proving to be very popular. It's based on this book, and the group is loving it. We've added people every week-- up to 9, yesterday-- and the questions and conversation just come pouring out when we're together. They all have taken to staying for the noon Eucharist, too, which has doubled the size of that service.

Carol and I had lunch with a colleague from across the line in Michigan (hey, Paula!), and then spent the afternoon doing prep work. Picked hymns for next Sunday, did some future planning for other events as well.

We are doing soup suppers and evening prayer on Wednesdays, and Carol asked if I'd be willing to lead Evensong last night, so I also spent some time laying that out. This is a congregation who likes to sing, but most of them do not have any experience with sung liturgy. And we have neither organ nor piano to support the congregation at this service. So I made some modifications-- used a simpler Phos hilaron than the normal service music, for example (Hymnal 1982, #25, if you're interested). We also read the psalm, as no one had a Plainsong book to follow (mine is still on the bookshelf at school). Carol accompanied us for the office hymn, which was a nice addition at that point (Note to self: the church owns two big binders containing most of the songs and a fair amount of serivce music from our hymnal, chorded for guitar. They were purchased somewhere; look into this).

I don't know that this would ever be a regular practice in this place; the nature of the community's spirituality is expressed in other ways. But it seemed to work out okay, as a trial. No one got lost, anyway.

Then blessedly home, out of work clothes, into jammies and bed by 9:30. Thanks be to God.

One of these days. . .

• I'll get my morning walk and exercise on consecutive days.
• I'll check the burglar alarm before going into the nave or the sacristy on a weekday.
• I'll remember that too much ice cream with chocolate sauce before bed can result in bizarre and vivid dreams.
• I'll learn to think before I open my mouth.

Then again, if the last couple days are any indication, maybe not.

Second Sunday in Lent

Genesis 12:1-8
Romans 4:1-17
Psalm 33:12-22
John 3:1-17


I love the Gospel of John. Now, you'll likely hear me say that about all the Gospels at one time or another; but today we're reading John, so I was reminded how much I like it. For one thing, it’s pretty easy to spot. John has a different point of view and a very different tone than the other gospels. There’s a lot of overlap in Matthew, Mark and Luke; they contain many stories in that John never mentions. By the same token, there are stories in John (like the conversation between Jesus and Nicodemus we hear this morning) that we don’t read anywhere else.

The other thing that I love about John is that he talks about love, a lot. The theme of God’s love is not exclusive to him, of course; but it is predominant, a theme that is emphasized far more by him than by other writers. If you hear a piece of scripture that refers to love, the odds are pretty good that it came from John-- either the Gospel, or one of the letters attributed to him.

The Gospel this morning is a prime example. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

Heard that before? It’s likely one of the most commonly known pieces of scripture. In fact, there's a whole group of people who call themselves the John 3:16 Society. You 've probably seen them at ball games, and concerts, or wherever they believe they can catch the eye of a whole crowds of people and a camera, holding up placards that say, "JOHN 3:16." Their whole purpose it to direct people to this one piece of scripture. It's an interesting approach to evangelism, and very well-intentioned, but I think it's a tad misguided; because like any scripture verse, it was not written in isolation to stand alone, and really should not be read that way. I believe that if we are to truly hear and understand anything in the Word of God, we need to consider more than that.

This time when I read the passage you heard this morning, I particularly noticed the verse that follows, that completes the thought about Jesus’ purpose in the world. Listen again to the two together:

"For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him."

In other words, God’s ultimate gift to us-- the sacrifice of Jesus, God’s only son-- God’s own self-- did not have anything to do with condemnation or judgment. It was all about a love so powerful, and so profoundly all-encompassing, that its expression left no room for sin, or darkness, or hatred. We are saved by the love of God that leaves no room at all for any of that.

Jesus did indeed condemn sinful behavior - the greed, hypocrisy, and exploitation practiced by the money changers in the temple, for example, caused him to react in a very forceful way-- but he did not ever, ever speak hatefully, or condemn any person as beyond the reach of God's grace.

I found myself thinking of this as I read a newspaper article sent to me this week by a friend of mine. This article, from the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette (my buddy Mark lives in Pennsylvania) refers to some some groups in the state working to repeal legislation which criminalizes hate crimes. They argue that the law is an infringement of the first amendment right to free speech.

The local director of the one of the groups, the Concerned Women for America, notes that they actually would prefer to eliminate the whole law. She is quoted as saying. "We'd like to take it all out." But because a wholesale demolition of the law is not likely, "we'll do it by bits and pieces."

So, the Concerned Women and another group, the American Family Association, are both backing a bill introduced last week by a Democratic legislator that wouldn't kill the hate crime law entirely, but would eliminate the protections given to homosexuals, as well as to the physically and mentally disabled. The law was amended in late 2002 to specifically include those groups, and the proposed legislation would repeal the amendment.

Now, many of those involved in these groups profess to be motivated by Christian principles. They say that the penalties against hate speech inhibit their ability to speak the teachings of our faith. Here’s the problem with that, brothers and sisters: our faith does not allow us that sort of freedom of speech. Of course we can-- and do-- argue, and dispute, and disagree at the most fundamental level; Christians have done so since the earliest days, and sometimes we have been brought closer to one another, and to God, in the process. But if we are truly striving to live as disciples of Jesus Christ, then we are not free to either speak or act hatefully toward or about anyone.

Instead, we are commanded by God to a greater, harder freedom. We are given The Great Commandment: the freedom not to have to pick and choose whom to love and when, but to love God with all our hearts and minds and souls and strength-- all that we have, and all that we are; and more, to love our neighbors-- all of them-- as ourselves. And that command is not an amendment, but a foundational principle of the Gospel. It does not allow room for hatred or condemnation toward another in action or speech. In fact, it means even more than that: not only are we not to hate, we are not even permitted indifference toward one another.

Loving this way is hard indeed; it seems to be so much easier to spew venom, sometimes. We seem to behave as though, for example, if I am striving to be godly as a straight, white, middle-class, midwestern housewife, then someone who is not those things must by definition be sinful and wrong. Or maybe I am more inclined to simply disregard those who are other, treating them with benign neglect: talking around and about them, but not listening to them as though what they have to say is vital to our common life.

But no; the Gospel says flat out this is not acceptable. We are to love one another, with all we have, where and as we are: Male and female, gay and straight, black, white, asian and hispanic, whole and broken, standing squarely face to face in the middle of all our human confusion and disagreement and misunderstanding. This is the radical imperative to which God commands us, for which Jesus died and rose again, and which (as Nicodemus learned) only the indwelling of the Holy Spirit makes possible. This is the coming of the Kingdom in our midst.

“Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, [nor are we sent by Jesus into the world for any other purpose] but in order that the world might be saved through him."

This is hard work to which we are called, my brothers and sisters. So together, let us begin.

Ups and downs

I went up to school today, and learned that some of my classmates did amazingly, wonderfully well on their GOE's. . . while others of these my brothers and sisters did not fare so well.

Turned in commencement paperwork. . . exciting, and daunting.

Got hold of some music I'd been looking for. . . but I have no heart to listen to it tonight.

I had a pleasant, decent day. . . and now I'm moody and irritable, over silly little things.

I think I'll go take a bath.

"Too much time on my hands"

Um, not hardly. The last couple have been really busy. Good, but long and busy.

Tuesday: Visiting shut-in parishioners, helping finish Carol's move into her new office space, and shoving furniture around the commons (parish hall) at St. A's, to accomodate the regional clergy meeting that would be there the next day. Then a warden's meeting Tuesday evening at Trinity.

Wednesday was a very full day. I left the house at 6:30, for 8:00 Eucharist at Trinity, followed by helping to copy and assemble vestry packets, to be mailed out for next week's meeting.

Then I went over to St. A's, to finish prepping for the clericus. Making coffee, setting out food... and covering the bulletin board in the commons with some nice fabric, because it was beginning to look shabby. We decided the day before, while we were setting up, that needed to happen (see what happens when you put women in charge?) so I rooted through my remnants at home and found something that would do. It looks much nicer covered in a brown calico print.

Regional clericus from 11:00 - 2:00. Bible study, Eucharist, and some lively discussion. This was good. Good food, too, and terrific cookies. I'm glad I did not give up desserts for Lent.

Next, a meeting with the Bishop; and tidying up after the visiting clergy (some of whom are apparently accustomed to being tidied up after; their mothers would not have been pleased with them). Then Carol and I did some some general planning for upcoming services, as well as Holy Week. I will be here, and preaching, for Maundy Thursday. The service will be a bit different, and I'm looking forward to it.

Lenten soup supper 6:00, followed by evening prayer; and then finally, blessedly home, around 8:30 or so.

Today I'm working at home - sermon prep, and some reading for my history class. Thanks be to God.

The true harbinger of spring

Crocuses and early bulbs are pretty, but really don't mean much. I don't care what the weather looks like outside my window. And never mind that overpublicized rodent and his shadow. Spring was officially ushered in today, with those four magic words:
"Pitchers and Catchers Report"

Celebrating Valentine's Day. . . or not.

We don't make a big deal of Valentine's Day, around here; but there were a few other opportunities for celebration (or at least thanksgiving):

• The anniversary of Carolyn's baptism
• Surgical patients on my prayer list who are healing well
• A scheduled biopsy that was deemed not to be necessary (at least, not yet; and as I was not enthused about having a hole carved in my cheek, I didn't argue)
• Lasagna and garlic bread for dinner
• A hot bubble bath, a glass of wine, and a novel with no redeeming social value
  

How about you? Anything worth celebrating lately?

First Sunday in Lent

I preached at St. Andrew's this morning. Carol had asked me to share some of my faith journey with the congregation: what had brought me to the point where I am, looking to begin a new stage of ministry in my own life. The Gospel being what it was-- Matthew's tale of Jesus' going into the wilderness after his baptism, in preparation for his ministry on earth-- I did that today, as it seemed to fit. And with it being the first Sunday in Lent, it was also an opportunity to encourage the congregation to do some self-examination about their own calls to ministry and discipleship while we are in this period of preparation, this "wilderness time."

However, contrary to my usual practice, I won't be posting the sermon. First of all, I don't have any record from which to work-- no manuscript, no outline, no written notes of any sort. This one was entirely in my head and heart, until it came out of my mouth. Secondly, while I am certainly willing to share the story of my call to ordained ministry, it somehow does not seem appropriate, or comfortable, to baldly post the tale without the ability to interact with you in person.

So, I will encourage you to consider the scriptures for the day, and to pray about your own call to God's service. As to the rest. . . maybe we can talk about that over pizza and beer, sometime.

Getting the house in order

We're all in that mood this morning at our house, for a variety of reasons.

Bruce is off at his aikido class, diligently preparing for the shodan (black belt) test he'll take in less than a month (Saturday, March 5, to be precise). With that in the immediate future, the training schedule has kicked into high gear. He's bound and determined, as he says, not to embarrass his sensei. Not that Wendy's worried about this, mind you. Neither am I.

I got inspired out of my lethargy this morning by Karen's adventures, tied on my sneakers and went out for a walk around the block. A brisk walk, mind you-- and out here, "around the block" approaches two miles. It felt good, and I was reminded that this is a habit I need to get back into. Thanks, Karen!

Carolyn is whirling in a domestic frenzy. She has apparently inherited one of her mother's techniques for dealing with anger and stress: aerobic cleaning. Be forewarned, gentlemen: right now, at our house, Men Are Pigs-- and judging from the spotless state that her normally scary bedroom is approaching, they will be for some time to come.

Kyle had a friend spend the night last night, and they're now busily tidying up the myriad activity centers that have cropped up throughout the house as a result of their adventures.

And now, onward! Perhaps that long neglected drywall work in the bathroom...

Ash Wednesday

Isaiah 58:1-12
2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10
Matthew 6:1-6,16-21
Psalm 103 or 103:8-14

“Beware of practicing your piety before others,” the Gospel says. Compare these cautions about praying and giving alms in public, with what Jesus says in Matthew 5:16, only a few verses before: “Let your light so shine before men...”

Seeming conflict, isn't there? How do we “pray and give alms in secret,” and still “let our light so shine?”

This is like that perennial Ash Wednesday debate about what to do after the service. Do you wash your face, to avoid the appearance of public piety; or leave the ashes on your forehead, as a witness, a testimony of faith?

Let’s look back a bit more carefully at those scriptures. I find that when I listen carefully, I hear an emphasis that is the same in both passages. Listen:

"Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.”

“Let your light so shine before people, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.”

Do you hear that? In the second passage, our purpose in “letting our light shine” is not to be noticed ourselves, but so that others can see God at work in us. We are instructed to be flashlights, if you will-- not uselessly pointing back in our own faces, but lighting the path ahead of us, to the Savior.

The same is true in the Gospel for today. Jesus is not discouraging piety; far from it. He doesn’t say “if” you give alms, or pray, or fast. He says “whenever” you do them. The assumption is that these are regular acts of devotion and self discipline, performed as an expected and everyday part of the life of a disciple. However, in this passage the emphasis is not on the acts themselves, but the reasons behind them. What Jesus seems to be speaking to here is not so much action, as intent. He is less concerned about what they do, than he is why they do it.

So, there’s the question to ask: Why are we doing what we do? And for whom? If we are practicing our piety in order to be seen, in order to earn the recognition and approval of those around us, then Jesus makes the point that receiving that approval is indeed our reward. We get what we hoped for.

And you know what? That’s precisely the problem. We get what we hope for... and our human hopes are so very narrow, compared to those offered us by our gracious and loving God. When we in our short-sightedness limit ourselves to our own aspirations, we miss out on so much of the radical hope of the Gospel: that in Jesus, through the cross and death and empty tomb, our hearts will be healed, and our lives made holy, and that the whole world will truly live as God’s children-- heirs of God, and fellow heirs with Christ.

And notice the reference point, in these passages: in both cases, Jesus is directing the focus of the action, pointing them toward “our Father in Heaven.” We are to be aware both of why we are doing, and for whom. Because when it comes right down to it, none of what we do (or don’t do) in the way of liturgy, or devotion, or ministry-- none of it is about us, at all. As we are reminded at the imposition of ashes, “we are but dust, and to dust we shall return.”

As disciples, all that we do, and all that we are, is about God, and what God has done for us in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.

So, about those ashes...

Are they left on your forehead to bear witness to your own piety, or to Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross, and our own mortality? Or, are they washed off because you feel their message in your heart is enough, or because you don’t want to explain the mark to friends and coworkers?

Why do we do what we do, and for whom?

...and exhale...

The GOE scores came out today-- and I sustained, in all seven canonical areas. Mostly 3's, some 4's - not setting any records, but good enough to assure the powers-that-be that I've learned something in the last few years.

Insert Doxology Here.

Next step: The diocesan Commission on Ministry meets in a couple of weeks, to consider endorsement for ordination. I'm not counting chickens yet, but suddenly this is looking like it might happen. Wow. Yeah.

Lenten discipline

(Note: the following is the gist of an article I wrote for the newsletter at my field ed parish; I thought to share it here, as well.)

Have you made any plans for keeping Lent? Some people have a standard practice to which they return each year. My grandmother, for example, never in my memory ate desserts or sweets during the days before Easter. It was simply part of her annual devotional practice. Other folks consider something new each Lenten season-- either in the way of some sacrifice, or taking on an extra activity of some sort (beginning a specific devotional prayer or practice, or volunteering at some new ministry). And these things are all fine opportunities to build up one's faith.

This year I'll be one of those doing something different. You may have noticed that I tend to be the busy sort-- inclined to be doing, working, running around and active. And I do already have some regular devotional practices-- scripture reading, or saying the daily offices. However, I find that sometimes those become perfunctory; duties I perform out of habit, and then set aside too quickly as I move on with my day. So beginning on Ash Wednesday, it is my intention to take a few minutes each day simply to be quiet-- to be still, in the presence of God. I'm hoping to spend a few minutes each day listening instead of talking; offering my attention to Jesus, instead of requiring his.

As I told you, this sort of stillness does not come naturally to me. However, that is the very reason that it seems an appropriate sort of lenten discipline. The deliberate effort to set aside my schedules and activities and priorities, even for a few minutes, seems as though it will be a good reminder that what I'm about in my ministry-- indeed, the ministry to which we are all called-- is not about me, or anything I do or don't do. It's not about any one else, for that matter. Rather, it needs to be all about God, and what God has done for us in the life, death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ.

In other words, this year I will be giving myself a gift for Lent: the gift of intentional time spent resting in the presence of our Savior. Won't you join me?

Cultural deprivation

So now we're watching the halftime show, and I am distressed. Not by the show; Paul McCartney is still a wonderful performer and, unlike last year's talent, seems to have his wardrobe under control.

No, it's the conversation I just had with my favorite curate. Of the four numbers Paul performed:

• Drive My Car
• Get Back
• Live and Let Die
• Hey, Jude

Mark thought he recognized one of them. No, not that one-- the movie theme.

I have no words. Oy.

What it was, was football

Along with most of America, we are watching the Superbowl at the moment. Dinner is nothing formal tonight-- tacos, and various munchies for grazing-- and we are parked in front of the television.

I am far from being the biggest fan of the game in general; I understand the basics, but the nuances are lost on me, despite some of the Ref's best efforts. Still, it's fun to watch, especially when it's a big deal like this. We're midway through the second half at the moment, and it does seem to my untutored eye that, even though the Eagles scored first, they are having real problems hanging on to the ball. I don't have a preference one way or the other, but the Patriots seem to be the team everyone thinks will win, so I'm inclined to hope Phily does well... just because.

Meanwhile, there is some entertainment value in the commercials as well. We've been watching those as much as the game, around here. A few good ones, so far. ("We" includes just the family tonight, though several people have stopped by via iChat-- and Mark and I have been exchanging pleasantries throughout the evening).

And then, of course, there is a certain virtue in simply sitting back and enjoying the view. Oh, yes. Not baseball players, but they'll do.

Random musings from a sleepy seminarian

Pleasant surprises. I am generally something of an introvert; however, I'm an introvert who likes houseguests. Even unexpected houseguests. And especially unexpected houseguests who not only appreciate a self-serve kitchen, but who thoughtfully bring decadent, berry-filled muffins with them. Last night we had one of those, and it was a very good thing.

Should Have Known Better. This afternoon we allowed Kyle to cajole us into taking him to see a movie called "Are We There Yet?" If you haven't seen this, don't bother-- the title nicely sums up what I kept wanting to ask the projectionist as I checked my watch every few minutes, willing it to move faster. Nothing inappropriate for the kid, but oy, what a waste of time. Even he conceded that it was lame, lame, lame.

Not Ready for Prime Time Players. I officiated at Evensong at Trinity this evening, as Eugene was down for the count with a nasty, nasty cold. This was the first time I've ever done so-- and maybe the second time I've sung anything solo, publicly-- outside the tolerant confines of our seminary community. Must have been okay; people were kind with their comments, and no one ran screaming from the nave.

Good eatin' The service was followed by Trinity's annual Louisiana-style Shrimp Boil. I cannot speak to the authenticiy of the event, but I do know that we had some awfully tasty food this evening; those people can cook. Dinner was followed up by a cake that should be declared illegal. Wow.

"Running out of Days"

It sure seems like it, anyway. I'm loving the work, but the last few days have been hectic:

• Prepping for our weekly bible study, and planning for Lent in general;
• Two funerals at Trinity;
• Doing double duty for liturgical planning-- two weeks' worth-- as the secretary shared by the two churches will be out several days for minor surgery;
• And finally, one of my supervisors may potentially need to be away on some emergency family business, so we also put two bulletins together for Ash Wednesday services: one based on her being here to celebrate Eucharist; and one in case she won't be, and I need to officiate.
  

It feels good to be home tonight, and I am seriously looking forward to my day off tomorrow. I can get some reading for history done while the kids are at school. This will be a fine and wonderful thing, to sit by myself in the quiet. In fact, I think I'll get a head start, by going to bed. Now.