School days...

Sorry about the scarcity around here. Blame it on Holy Week exhaustion, and reacclimation to campus life after field ed. Getting back in the academic swing of things has taken more attention than I anticipated, given that a) this is the third year I've been doing it, and b) I only have three classes this term; finding the rhythm has been a challenge. Between 10 weeks of parish work (just as intense, at points, but in a very different way than seminary requires) and serious "Senioritis" (much of which stems from an eagerness to move into my call, born of that field ed experience), I'm finding it difficult to settle back into the routine of classes, reading and research papers.

At the same time, I'm glad to be back among friends and classmates, sharing this life we've known together for a little while longer.

And the courses are going to be fun! I've already mentioned the class on Exilic Prophets with Frank. In addition, I'm also taking Biblical Theology with AKMA, and Liturgical Practicum in Celebration (aka "Play Church"). In other words, I get to spend my time this quarter learning the ins and outs of eucharistic celebration, and noodling around in scripture with some phenomenal professors. What's not to love?

Well, I can't say that some of the reading is especially lovable. Instead, "dense" is the word that comes more readily to mind. And Tuesday's Bib Theo discussion... well, suffice to say I was much more able to connect to the lecture in the second half of the class. Today's readings were much more accessible; I hope the conversation goes that way, as well.

Speaking of reading, I'd best get back to it.

The Light of Christ - Thanks be to God!

Almighty God, who for our redemption gave your only-begotten Son to the death of the cross, and by his glorious resurrection delivered us from the power of our enemy: Grant us so to die daily to sin, that we may evermore live with him in the joy of his resurrection; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

I began this day by standing vigil in the predawn dark, and celebrating the Eucharist in the new day. Then a lovely brunch; and into the car to drive down for Easter Sunday worship at our home parish. Dinner with my sister and her family; and finally, home.

Thanks be to God, indeed-- for the gift of new life in Jesus, and for the day off tomorrow to rest up from the celebration thereof.

Maundy Thursday

...but I am among you as one who serves...

Washing and drying: skin smooth or calloused, muscles frail or work-hardened.

...this is my body, broken for you... this wine, my blood outpoured...

Dinner together: sharing food and water, bread and wine.

...pray that you will not fall into temptation...

Into the church: anguished memories, and stripping the altar, in silence and tears.

...Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.

Back at it

Palm Sunday yesterday-- and back in my home parish, after several weeks of field ed adventures. It was good to see folks, and to reconnect.

Today, in addition to being Monday in Holy Week, was the first day of classes for the new term. And it was a busy one.

• Unloaded the car-- clean clothes, sheets, towels and guitar up to the dorm room; vestments back in the sacristy.
• Bought books for the new term. I always vacillate between cringing at the cost, and reveling (is that one "l" or two?) in the adventure promised by new texts. Once again, reveling won out.
  
• Moved back into my place in the chapel, tardy but not unreasonably so for midday Eucharist. It is good to be settled back in there.
  
• Lunch in the refectory, which included still-warm chocolate chip cookies-- lovely!
• Deacon training, a la the Seabury customary. After the Feast of St. Income and All Taxes, there will be nine deacons here; so we now have a rota for serving at all the Tuesday and Thursday Eucharists for the rest of the year.
• Checked email, and spent some time cleaning the dorm room. I've been gone several weeks, of course, and Hope has been dashing in and out between housesitting; so the space needed some serious attention. Fortunately, I was inspired.
• First class: Exilic Prophets, with Frank as professor. This is going to be fun!
• Finished organizing: old files stored away, and binders and bookshelves prepped for the new quarter.
• Dinner, reading, and my evening call home to the family. Then some practice time, more reading (yes, classes have really started!) and catching up on the blogiverse.

Now it's time to shed some layers and open the window a bit wider-- the radiator is doing its level best to imitate summer in here!-- and try to get some sleep.

It's the little things

My cousin is in town from South Dakota for a couple weeks, and came over last night for dinner-- along with my sister and her younger son. Seven people at the table, all of whom know that grace properly concludes by quoting Gram's Uncle Mark: "Amen, Brother Ben-- shot a goose, and killed a hen." No, it doesn't make sense. Yes, we do it anyway.

The last time I went to the dentist, he gave me a toothbrush that turns out to perfectly match the colors on my toothpaste tube. This may be the only thing in my bathroom so well-coordinated.

The drum solo during the instrumental portion of "Radar Love," one of the songs on my current favorite CD mix, sounds exactly like the theme from the old "George of the Jungle" cartoon.

I am very easily amused.

Ready and not. . .

Thank you, one and all, for your prayers and good wishes. I appreciate the latter, and can use all of the former you can muster.

I find that I am a jumble of emotions over all this-- excitement, of course, and a certain relief, as well as a sort of convicted joy.

At the same time, I have these moments of what might best be described as amazed panic. I mean, as Cliff noted in the last set of comments, we (my family and I) have been on this path, through joy and struggle, for a long time. How strange it feels to be at this point: at a turn in the road we've been approaching for so long that I hardly recognize it, now that it's in front of my face. I feel both eager and afraid, both confident and inadequate, both supported and challenged in a way I've never been before. I can't wait for the middle of April to get here, and I'm surpressing a mild urge to run swiftly in the other direction, before someone figures out how very ready I'm not.

Okay, God, this was your idea; and once again, I'm hanging on for the ride. Your will in all things, and to your glory.

It's official.

God Willing,
the Right Reverend Edward S. Little II
Bishop of Northern Indiana
will ordain
Rebecca Ann Crise
Jane Ellen Schmoetzer
and
Jeff Wilhelm
to the Sacred Order of Deacons
on Friday, April 15, 2005
at seven o’clock in the evening
at the Cathedral of St. James
117 North Lafayette Boulevard
South Bend, Indiana
Your prayers and presence are requested.
Reception following
Clergy: alb and red stole

Ten things I've done. . .

Strictly speaking, the original title of this little game was "Ten things I've done that you probably haven't," but I'm not feeling quite that challenging today. Anyway, DawgDays had it on his blog a few days ago, and it got me to thinking. My life is not especially exciting, all things considered; but here's my version.

I have. . .

1. hiked and camped in the Kaibab-- the south rim of the Grand Canyon.
2. broken the same arm three different times.
3. ordered 400 tons of steel to be scrapped.
4. been kissed by Harry Chapin.
5. earned certification to teach CPR.
6. gone skinny-dipping in the Atlantic Ocean.
7. signed up to be a bone marrow donor.
8. operated a Scanning Electron Microscope.
9. tiled a bathroom by myself-- both floor and tub surround.
10. made my own cassock.

How about you?

Commuter musings

I spend a lot of time driving back and forth to my field ed sites. It's about 55 miles each way, give or take-- takes me about an hour to get to church. The things you notice, when you're doing that 5 days a week. . .

• Like the fact that truck stops seem to come in clusters. Sometimes, just one will stand alone; but more often, there will be two or three truck stops at the same exit.
• Exits that have a cluster of truck stops also often play host to establishments billing themselves as "gentlemen's clubs."
• Despite the name, billboards for these clubs never, ever feature gentlemen in their advertising. Funny how that works.

In addition, there seem to be an infinite number of bumper stickers out there. Many are similar ("My child is an honor student..." or "pray for our troops"), but I do see some unique efforts, now and again:

• Silly Boys-- Trucks Are For Girls! (on the back of a Chevy half-ton pickup; and yes, the driver was female)
• Smart Cowgirls Keep Their Calves Together
• Dear God, Please Protect Me From Your Followers

Never a dull moment on the road.

Justice. . . ?

Indiana is, by and large, a good place to live. Oh, we have our quirks and idiosyncracies, certainly; but Hoosiers are generally friendly, practical sorts. I'm usually pleased to say this is my home: where I was raised, and where I am raising my children.

Today, reading this. . . not so much.

State-sanctioned execution, even of someone guilty of the crimes this man committed, is still murder. In this case, murder done in my name and on my behalf-- as well as the rest of the citizens of my state.

Sweet Jesus, have mercy on us all.

Testing day

Testing day has come and gone, and I am pleased to say all went well. My husband is now officially shodan, and sporting a spiffy new black belt.

Actually, there were two people testing yesterday afternoon; and, though I will admit to a certain bias, it was evident that Bruce was better prepared in several areas. A testament both to his hard work, and to the solid teaching ability of his sensei (who by day really is a schoolteacher, and has been for 30 years). I was very proud of him.

It was a good day.

Fourth Sunday in Lent

1 Samuel 16:1-13
Ephesians 5:1-14
Psalm 23
John 9:1-38

This week I had a fun adventure: I bought a new guitar! I’ve been trying to learn to play for a while now, without much success. The guitar I had been practicing on was old, and the neck was bowed. Every time I’d try to play, I’d simply end up quitting in frustration. So finally, I decided to take some money I had set aside, and see about getting a new guitar.

I went with a friend over to a local store, where they had a whole room full of acoustic guitars. Different sizes and shapes; and some of them were very fancy, with mother-of-pearl inlay on the pick guards and the necks; one even had brass or gold tuner keys.

But guitars are not about looks; they are about sound, and feel. And after holding and playing several of them, we found this one. By comparison, it’s pretty plain: no mother-of-pearl anywhere, nor even a shiny lacquer finish like most of them have. It’s also, as you’ll notice, a bit of a nontraditional shape. It has this cutaway at the top of the body, which makes it look different than you might expect a guitar to look. If I had been clinging to the picture in my mind of what a guitar ought to look like, if I had been blinded by my preconceived image, I would never have picked this one up, and would have missed the wonderful sound that is has, and the joy that it is to use, even for a rookie learning to play.

This experience put me in mind of today’s readings. Samuel had to go through a string of Jesse’s sons, each of whom looked like suitable king material. But he was blinded by his image of what a king ought to look like; he couldn’t see what the Lord saw. Certainly Jesse was, as well; he didn’t even bring David to the sacrifice.

There’s an awful lot of blindness going on in the Gospel, too. We start, of course, with a man born blind, “so that God’s works might be revealed in him,” Jesus says. And indeed they are, for Jesus mixes up a mud mask for his eyes, and when he washes it off, he can see.

But he’s not the only one in this story who struggles with blindness, is he? The Pharisees remain stubbornly blind, clinging to their preconceived right answers. Jesus had the nerve to heal on the Sabbath! He didn’t follow the rules from God, so he couldn’t be from God. And the man testifying otherwise-- the one he healed-- must have been a sinner, an understanding which was ingrained in their culture. Why should anyone listen to an obviously tainted person? They don’t understand these challenges to the established order, so they become angry, and refuse to consider other possibilities.

I will admit, brothers and sisters, that I have some sympathy here with the Pharisees. Think about it from their point of view: there’s nothing wrong with the idea of keeping the Sabbath holy, is there? And respecting God’s law is certainly laudable. And yet, their very devotion to that law was getting in the way of seeing God at work.

We still do that all the time, don’t we? We human beings are such creatures of habit. It’s so easy to fall into routines, good ones even, that make us feel secure and stable. And then, when those routines are challenged, or the possibility arises that they may need to change, we are threatened.

Change can be hard. It is unpredictable, and and to some extent uncontrollable,. And there’s no guarantees. We can hope, but there’s no way of knowing for sure that the new will be better than the old. There’s always a risk that it won’t be an improvement at all.

I know what my own reaction can be like when faced with the fact that a habit I’ve developed, or skill that I have, might be well done another way. I can dig in my heels and get as stubborn as anyone you know. (Trust me-- I can give you a whole list of family and friends who will be glad to confirm this!) But I am learning, slowly, that when I open up my eyes and my heart, that God can speak to me in ways I would never have imagined.

I found this to be true of the service of Evensong. When I first got to seminary three years ago, I was not enthused about the idea at all. I have generally been centered on the Eucharist; and though I love to sing in worship-- both traditional, multi-part hymns, and contemporary praise music feed my soul-- the idea of monotone and plainsong chant, quite frankly, sounded just deadly dull.

But I discovered, over time, the solemn beauty and the quiet rhythm of plainsong, and meditative nature of the service, spoke to my heart. It didn’t take a thing away from my love of rousing hymns and joyful, upbeat praise music; not a bit. Instead, it added another dimension. By being willing to try, and to change, a bit of my blindness was stripped away.

We here at Trinity also can begin to try and to change. We know that changes are necessary here. Over and over, that has been made abundantly clear. Things can’t continue the way they have been going; we have reached the point in the life of this parish, where, as my dad might say, we have to “fish or cut bait.” But what exactly do we do? My brothers and sisters, if I had the answer to that question, I’d be shouting it from the rooftop. The one thing I will say is that I believe we need to not refuse to consider anything. We can’t cling to any of our comfortable blind spots.

Let me give you a few examples. Hear me clearly, brothers and sisters: I’m not saying that I think any of the things I mention need to be done, or ought to be done. I simply want to ask you to consider your own reactions to those ideas, and what that says about where those blind spots might be for you.

• What would happen, for example, if we swapped liturgies at our services: if we did the Rite II Eucharist at 7:30, and Rite I at 9:00?
• What would happen if we didn’t do incense at one service? Or both?
• What would happen if someone moved the tabernacle, so that the priest and congregation could celebrate facing one another if they so chose?
• What would happen if a hymn were accompanied by guitar rather than organ, once in a while?
• What would happen if we responded to the greetings we’ll hear in a few minutes-- “The Lord be with you” “Lift up your hearts” “Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.” --enthusiastically, sounding as if we meant them?
• What would happen if every person here committed to tithe? Not only money, but time, and the gifts and skills that God has given each one of us in abundance?

Do any of these questions push your buttons, or threaten your blind spots? I know that some of them do mine. But I put it to you, brothers and sisters, that Trinity Church has choices to make. Do we choose to remain comfortable within our habits and expectations; or can we open our eyes and our hearts to the possibilities?

On this my last Sunday with you, I want to say that it is my heartfelt prayer that Trinity Church lives on; that it not only survives, but thrives. There are so many wonderful gifts here to share! As Episcopalians we have the gift of liturgy, which becomes beautiful when we step beyond rote habits to worship “in the beauty of holiness.” In addition, you have a rector who has earned my deepest respect and admiration for his kind heart, his deep faith, and the rare gift he has for courageously speaking hard truths, gently. You have committed parish leadership seeking to follow Jesus in this place, the best way they know how. And you have certainly shown yourselves as caring people, in the warm and loving welcome you have shown me over the last several weeks.

The peace of God be with you, my brothers and sisters. Please know that you will be in my prayers: in gratitude for your support and fellowship, and in the hope that God will continue to work at opening all our eyes, yours and mine together; so that we can see, as Paul says, “the fruit of the light which is found in all that is good and right and true.”

Day off?

It's supposed to be, anyway. And it's true, I didn't go to either of my field ed sites; but that didn't mean stopping, much.

After some minor housekeeping, I headed up to Seabury this morning. I had a bunch of paperwork shuffling to do, and then had lunch with Susie, doing some necessary catching up.

Then I was to meet with my independent study professor, except that she apparently forgot the appointment. The time wasn't wasted, though-- I made a trip to the bookstore; talked with another professors about field ed details; and still another about the possibility of a contemporary praise service sometime in the spring quarter (all you traditionalists can stop making faces; there are many ways to worship God, and the more of them we can appropriately employ in our liturgy, the better).

Then , AKMA and Si and I spent an hour or so working through a bit of John's gospel in Greek. Yes, it was fun-- really!

Had a meeting with the other two seminarians from my diocese, doing some planning for this and that, in advance of the COM meeting tomorrow morning.

And then came home (Almost two hours. Through rush hour traffic. In the rain.) and did some more housekeeping.

Yep, just another relaxing day off...

"Can anything good come from Nazareth?"

Nazareth, PA, that is-- and the answer is yes.

Isn't she lovely?

"Some days, I don't like them very much."

One of my field ed parishes runs an ongoing food pantry. It's not very formal. A closet across from the chapel is kept stocked with canned goods and nonperishables. During regular office hours, whenever someone rings the bell and asks, the secretary will load up a grocery sack and hand it out. Anyone can come by, as often as once a week-- no ID necessary, no questions asked.

The secretary's been doing this as long as she's been there-- several years now. She recognizes faces, and knows the names of some of the regulars. She even has a sense for when the need will be heavier, and so some days she'll pre-pack a few sacks and have them ready on the floor in her office, waiting.

On Tuesday, a couple of the clients were difficult-- bickering with one another, and trying her patience. She handled the situation very well, and with practical grace; but after they left, she turned to me and made the statement in the title, rather shamefacedly.

"It's okay. You don't have to." I replied. That surprised her-- I got a wide-eyed look, and a nervous laugh. So I tried to explain.

"I mean it. We are called as Christians to love them: to treat everyone we meet with respect and kindness; to be willing to listen and learn; to help one another, and to share what we have in the name of the Lord. But nowhere does it say that we have to like their behavior."

She seemed relieved.