Ordination planning

With my ordination now only about three weeks away, I am caught up in the details. And I have to say, it's amazing how much it feels like getting organized for a wedding. I've only done that once, of course, and that was a long time ago; but I've had recently the pleasure of watching Hope and Andrew planning for their wedding day, and the similarities abound. Invitations, liturgy, reception... I can remember swearing loudly back then that I would never, EVER be doing this sort of thing again, and here I am. Once again I plan, and God laughs.

This time is much easier, though. Much.

• Invitations: No RSVP cards, no separate reception card, and no one telling me that delivering by hand isn't done. White card, black print, and a lovely, fun typeface (its name is Harrington, and AKMA can no doubt tell you more about it than I ever could. I just liked it). Address, stamp and mail to those at a distance, and simply hand out the rest with a smile.

• Outfits: No shopping for bridesmaids' dresses that need to suit the whole spectrum of body types and styles, have to be ordered six months in advance, and then require alterations because the maid of honor is 7 1/2 months' pregnant on W-Day with what turned out to be a 9 lb. nephew. This time a lot more people are dressing up, but here's the sum of my input: BYOA - Bring Your Own Alb - and a red stole. Of course, we have some diehard traditionalist clergy who insist on cassock and surplice as the only appropriate attire for those not in the liturgical party. Fine-- be that way. See if I care. Y'all are big boys and girls-- you figure it out.

• Liturgy: No prima donna musicians, no twitchy overcontrolling liturgists, no marathon rehearsal session. I put together an order of service for the liturgy with helpful and cooperative input from the organist at one church and the praise team leader at the other. Both have been wonderful. The bishop approved it all with no changes (yes, Ref-- even that suspicious, CCLI-licensed, canonically unauthorized music. Brace yourself). The rehearsal will be an hour before the service.

• Reception: No sit down dinner, no fussing over band and cake and seating. This time I pretty much told the nice folks who do the church catering that I was looking for a simple luncheon buffet, with a decent vegetarian option. What they suggested was fine, and I got out of the way.

Now if I can just get the house clean...

Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Proper 21
Ezekiel 18:1-4,25-32
Philippians 2:1-13
Matthew 21:28-32
Psalm 25:1-14 or 25:3-9

Often, when I'm reading scripture, I am reminded of how much we filter through our own understanding and experience. The last two weeks' Gospel readings are a great example; I can't help but hear them from my perspective as a parent. Last week, as you'll remember, we heard about laborers hired at different points during the day to work in a vineyard, who were all paid the same wage. Remember the anger of those who had worked the whole day? "It's not fair! You gave him more than me!" It's a cry everyone who has kids-- or has been a kid-- can recognize.

This week we're back in the vineyard, this time with a father sending two sons to work. And again, I find both of their responses very familiar. The first son is initially defiant, but eventually does what is asked of him. This sounds to me like every kid who goes off to do chores he or she doesn't like, grousing and whining and complaining the entire way. "I don't wanna!" "How come I have to?" I imagine even his body language was grumpy and defiant, stomping off with a scowl on his face.

The second son is initially more pleasant, but doesn't get anything done. And doesn't this sound familiar? It's like seeing a sink full of dirty dishes in the kitchen, and a child sitting on the sofa watching TV.

"Honey, will you please come take care of this for me?"
"Sure, Mom-- will do!"

Then I come back an hour later to find the same dirty dishes in the sink, and the same child on the same sofa, watching the same TV. Only the program has changed.

Isn't that aggravating? Even more so than the behavior in the first scene.

And yet, if I'm honest, I have to admit that I'm guilty of this as well. Maybe not so often with household chores, though it does happen; but also in my walk as a Christian disciple. Aren't we all? We know we need to come together for worship; to spend time in prayer, and reading scripture; to work for and care for one another, beyond the barriers of race, gender, sexual orientation, religion or politics (to name only a few) that we erect between ourselves and those around us. We acknowledge all these things, and say we'll live into the commitment-- and then we fall short, every one of us.

Now, this is nothing new. Even Paul complained of the same problem. "I do not do the good I want," he says, "but the evil I do not want is what I do." We're in good company, my friends. It's part of what is meant when scipture tells us that "all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God."

The good news, my brothers and sisters, is that God forgives us, every time, if only we will accept it. This is what Jesus was trying to tell the priests and the elders, and what the prostitutes and tax collectors had already figured out. That forgiveness, and the opportunity to try to do better next time, is there for all of us, always. Perennially guaranteed, through the life and death and resurrection of Jesus.

Now, doing what we need to do with our lives is not always easy. Sometimes it's really hard. But here's more good news: we can grumble and grouse and argue with God about doing it, knowing that God understands and loves us, even when we feel reluctant and uncooperative. Goodness, even Jesus did that. Remember his prayers in the garden at Gethsemane? "Father, let this cup pass from me!"

We are reminded of this understanding in the Episcopal tradition by the promises we make at each and every baptism. Among them, we make the commitment "whenever we fall into sin, to repent and return to the Lord." We don't say "IF we sin." We acknowledge it inevitably happens. However, we vow that when it happens -- and that includes the sin of not doing things we know we should, our "sins of omission" -- we intend to repent -- literally, to turn away from the wrong -- and to reach for the grace and mercy that we're offered. We can do this with confidence, knowing that we will be forgiven and welcomed back every time. We only need to be willing to admit we erred, and try again.

This is good news, brothers and sisters-- worth claiming, and worth sharing. Thanks be to God.

Faithful departed

I got a note from my bishop today:

The Rt. Rev. William C. R. Sheridan, V Bishop of Northern Indiana, died this morning at 6:15 am at his home in Culver. Please keep him in your prayers, as well as Rudith and the Sheridan family.

I will always be grateful for Bishop Sheridan. He was friend, mentor, colleague, and brother to me, always gracious, ever a voice of encouragement and affirmation. He touched countless thousands of people - in our diocese and far beyond - and is deeply loved and admired. . . Our Lord used him in a mighty way.

Bp. Sheridan was not the first bishop I remember, but he was the first I remember really knowing.

In some ways he was a very formal man. His speech was always precise, correct, and colored by British overtones (the result, I am told, of several formative years spent Across the Pond); and I never recall seeing him garbed in anything but proper episcopal attire. At the same time, I found him to be both gentle and approachable. I can recall his coming to our diocesan youth camp-- resplendent in his purple cassock-- and taking a turn at bat during a softball game. I smile to think of that, even now.

He presided over some turbulent years in our church, a period including the advent of the New Prayer Book and the opening of ordained ministry to women. At the time, he was quietly but firmly opposed to the latter. In fact, he was one of the signatories of a pledge neither to ordain women, nor to allow ordained women to function in his cure.

However, his views changed over the years. After his retirement in the late '80's, he came to know women who served as deacons as well as priests, and to welcome and encourage their ministry. In fact, he was an active participant in the last ordination in our diocese only a couple of months ago, when the Rev. Susan Haynes was ordained to the priesthood. As frail and feeble as his body had become, he still came and vested; still joined Bp. Little in the examination of the candidate; still rose to join in the laying on of hands.

I know there are those who have taken issue with him, over the years. Here and there, now and again, I have been among them. And yet, even with that-- or maybe because of it-- I will miss this dear and holy man.

Rest eternal grant to him, O Lord, and let light perpetual shine upon him.

Oh, be serious!

You Are a Chick Rocker!

You're living proof that chicks can rock You're inspired by Joan Jett and the Donnas And when you rock, you rock hard (Plus, you get all the cute guy groupies you want!)

What Kind of Rocker Are You?

Might I just mention here that I was president of the Science Club when I was in high school? Queen of the Geeks, for pity's sake! And I wouldn't have had a clue what a groupie was, let alone what to do with one.

"What God has joined together"

A promise made last November was kept today, as my Seabury sister/roommate and my very first seminary friend pledged their lives to one another. The weather was perfect, the service was simple and grand, Hope and Andrew were glowing. Susie and I were cantors, with dear Professor Bob's encouraging smile at the organ; and I've seldom felt so privileged to be part of an occasion.

May God's joyful grace always be upon you, my beloved friends, as much as it was and is in this day!

Does the Pope know about this?

Like lots of folks, I was a M*A*S*H fan for years. We even persuaded one of my college professors to reschedule a final exam so that we could see the series finale. Once in a while I'll catch a rerun, and they're still good.



Props to Rev. Ref. for this one.

Make it go awaaaayyy...

AKMA suggested in the comments on my last post that it might be useful to be able to give a song one did not care for negative play time; sort of a mental rewind, so that the end result was a brain wipe of that memory space, just as if one had never heard the song in the first place.

It got me to thinking. . . wouldn't it be cool if you could indeed rewind some songs? How would it be to arrange never to have heard some of the overplayed, syrupy claptrap to which we've all been subjected from time to time? What would it be worth to eliminate that pesky, awful lyric in your head that plays over, and over, and over, like some demented psycho feedback loop that will not stop?

In The Best of All Possible Worlds, I would arrange it so that the latter problem could be handled with a temporary fix. After all, even music I like gets stuck in that annoying way, once in a while; and I wouldn't want never to have heard a good song, just because it had gotten wedged in place in my brain.

However, some music-- and this applies to commercial jingles, as well as actual songs of whatever genre-- I would be just as happy to erase from the memory chip entirely. Yes, Ref-- Horse with No Name could fall here, as could Elton John's Your Song-- some of the lamest lyrics in the history of songwriting.

Then there are a select few that, if I were Queen of the Universe, might cheerfully be wiped from the general population entirely. Shari Lewis singing The Song that Doesn't End fell into this category. There was a time I'd have forked over some serious coin to delete that from my daughter's brain cells. Oh, and the theme song from "Barney". . . ugh. 'I love you, you love me', sung in that dreadfully unctuous, saccharine voice, still makes me twitch.

So, how about you? If it were possible, what song(s) would you give negative play time? What's on your "Better Dead" playlist?

Another silly time-waster

With a procrastinating "thank you" to Beth, for this one...

How many total songs?

• 1338 songs, 5.59GB

Sort by Song Title - first and last songs?

• First: 39 - Queen
• Last: Zombie Zoo - Tom Petty

Sort by Time - first and last songs?

• First song: (0:30) - Hebrew Alphabet Song (sung by a former classmate)
• Last Song: (17:02) - in-a-gadda-da-vida (extended version) - Iron Butterfly

(Actually, the real last item here is not a song; at 29:33, it's Episode 6 of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy)

Top Ten Played Songs
(Something's wrong with my counter. There are a bunch of big negative numbers in this column, and the top ten are not songs I think I listen to so very frequently; but here's what's at the top of the list)

• 1. Weakest Moments - John Mellencamp
• 2. Brain Damage - Pink Floyd
• 3. You're Only Human (Second Wind) - Billy Joel
• 4. I Bow Down - Travis Cottrel
• 5. Goodnight Saigon - Billy Joel
• 6. Mother's Little Helper - Rolling Stones
• 7. Play With Fire - Rolling Stones
• 8. Here's To The Night - Eve 6
• 9. Bat Out Of Hell - Meat Loaf
• 10. J.M.'s Question - John Mellencamp

Last Ten Played

• 1. The Ballad of John and Yoko - The Beatles
• 2. Trying to Love You - Beth Nielsen Chapman
• 3. Bookends Theme - Simon & Garfunkel
• 4. I'd Lie For You (And That's The Truth) - Meat Loaf
• 5. Eight Days A Week - The Beatles
• 6. Best Of My Love - The Eagles
• 7. Astronomy - Blue Öyster Cult
• 8. If My Heart Had Wings - Faith Hill
• 9. The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down - the band
• 10. Next To You - Bell X1

Find 'sex.' How many songs show up?

• Only one item, and it's not a song; it's Chris Rock's standup routine, No Sex (In The Champagne Room), thoughtfully provided me by the college boy-- part of his earnest efforts to broaden my horizons.

Find 'death.' How many songs show up?

• Zero. Zip. Nada.

Find 'love.' How many songs show up?

• 89 of them, running the gamut from Christian Praise (Avalon's I Will Testify to Love) to country (Faith Hill singing I Love the Way You Love Me) to electronic (Digital Lover, by 33hz), to classic rock (Golden Earring's Radar Love)

Apples, apples everywhere!

That, in a few words, describes my day. A friend of ours, and Bruce's sensei, has several (4-5?) apple trees in her back yard. She has no interest in doing anything with the apples; so, for the last few years, she's invited us over to pick however many we care to take home. I am a domestic throwback, so we happily take her up on it, and come home with several grocery sacks full.

These are not fancy orchard apples-- they are small, and more often than not have spots that need to be trimmed out. They likely would not be the gourmet's first choice for snacking. But they are very tasty, and with a little processing effort make fine pies, crisps, butter and sauce.

We began doing that today. When we were done the (literal!) fruits of our labors included frozen sliced apples in ziploc bags, several pint jars of apple butter-- and an apple pie, baked to reward my patient husband, who voluntarily spent time helping to slice and trim.

I always think of my grandmother when I do this work. It was in her tiny kitchen that I learned to can and preserve. My mother, God bless her, had no interest in such things-- probably as a result of having to do too much of it as a child! For me, however, it was a treat. The gift of time spent with Gram, and a sort of domestic adventure. I even still work with some of her tools: the dented aluminum large-mouthed funnel I use for filling jars was hers, as well as the conical strainer on it's three wobbly legs, with the oddly-shaped wooden pestle to push the pulp through.

Gram had used these things since she herself was a newlywed, more than 80 years ago. I inherited them when she was nearly 90, when the arthritis in her arms made it hard for her to use them. Whenever I get them out I have a real sense of her smiling, sturdy, practical presence. She took satisfaction in providing for her family in this way, and in remembering her own family tree. I can still hear her hooting laughter as she shared stories of long-past successes and mishaps with the wide-eyed little girl in the pixie haircut at her elbow.

No doubt some eager antiquer would love to have these things hung on a wall or displayed on a shelf somewhere. And I'm sure there are much fancier modern alternatives out there, that I would likely covet if I knew about them (that strainer and pestle take a bit of effort, and my arms will be stiff tomorrow). As it is, however, I find I am content to do the work, and in the process to remember the woman who first shared it with me.

Later: You know, as I read this over, I noticed all sorts of theological gifts and detours I could have taken, at various points. God is good that way! But I'm tired, and I'm done with writing. So feel free to ruminate on the many moments of God's grace that show themselves here, as I gladly did while tidying up, and add comments if you care to do so. In the meantime the kitchen is clean, and I'm getting ready for bed-- and looking forward to going to work tomorrow, to get some rest!

Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Proper 18A
Ezekiel 33:1-11
Psalm 119:33-40
Romans 12:9-21
Matthew 18:15-20


The word I had thought to bring at the beginning of the week was usurped-- upended and set aside and washed away, just as surely as anything we saw on the news this week. This is more or less what came out, instead. . .

Seems to me that today’s readings are about choices. Jesus and Paul have this in common today-- both of them are talking about how we treat people; how we choose to act, and react, toward one another, whether the “other” is also a follower of Jesus or not. It’s about interpersonal relationships, and living in community, and better ways to direct our behavior in order to strengthen the bonds of faithful fellowship.

But in light of recent events, I find that I hear that Word now in a very different light than when I first read it at the beginning of the week.

Oh, it’s still about choices. And it’s still about how Jesus would have us treat one another. But I’m also hearing more clearly from Jesus that this is not all about sweetness and light. In fact, this gospel addresses how hard that can be. How should you deal with a member of the church who sins against you-- who is likely difficult and uncooperative and unpleasant in the bargain?

Well, you are to try to go privately and work it out, to restore the relationship to health and wholeness.

And if it doesn’t work? Do you give up? Nope. You take reinforcements, and you try again.

And if that doesn’t work, you still don’t give up. You try again, with everything you have. The whole enchilada.

And if the problem still persists, even after that? “Let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector,” Jesus says.

Now, be careful here. Often, I’ve heard this interpreted to mean that you give up and ignore them, but I think there’s more of a lesson here than that. A harder road, maybe-- but one of possibility, and of grace, that we miss if we stop there.

Let’s look at Jesus. How did he treat tax collectors and gentiles? He did not, in point of fact, shun them at all. They did not control his life or his decisions, certainly; and he was not swayed by their unacceptable practices. However he still ate with them, still taught, and healed... still cared for them, even through it all. He remained open, hoping every moment that every person, every possible relationship in his path would become one of faithfulness, wholeness and love. He sometimes got impatient, sometimes bluntly sarcastic, and once in a while actively angry; but he never, ever gave up.

This week, the Gulf Coast region of this country has experienced unprecedented devastation. We’ve all read the news, and heard the reports, and seen the pictures and the videos. . . homes destroyed, and lives taken. . . so much that, honestly, the more I hear, the harder it is to take it all in.

And as time goes by, the stories seem to get worse.
People who lived through the storm, dying in the streets. . .
looting, and rape, and murder. . .
people so desperate and disconnected from any semblance of civilized standard of behavior that they behave like rabid dogs. . .
officials at state and national levels charged with “promoting the general welfare” of the citizenry, whose decisions about funding and emergency planning are found to have ranged from questionable ignorance to thoughtlessly, neglectfully criminal. . .

Given all of this, it seems a reasonable question to ask: where is God in all this?

I do not have all the answers to that question, my brothers and sisters; as God is my witness, I wish I did. However, I believe that I’ve seen part of the answer-- and this Gospel points to it.

I have a friend-- an alum from my seminary-- who is rector of a church in Mississippi, on the Gulf. This week, after Katrina went through, he found that the building is simply not there anymore. Not damaged beyond repair, not demolished. . . gone. As are the homes of something like a third of the congregation. And estimates are that 90% of the remaining parishioners' homes are damaged.

And yet. . . the first word I heard from him, had to do with today.

"We will hold services Sunday," he says. "After that, I don't know. But this I do know - we will get through this and we will continue to be the church."

He’s not giving up.

And his bishop, the Rt. Rev. Duncan Gray, likewise has a reminder to share.

We are a people of both the Cross and the Resurrection. The last word from God is not death, but life. God uses the open hearts, minds and lives of faithful souls to renew, restore and redeem that which seems beyond hope.

We will work hand in hand with the people of the Gulf Coast to rebuild their homes and their churches. We will walk with them as bearers of hope through the work of our Crucified Lord. He has borne our grief, brought our sorrows into His heart and has become for us the vehicle and means for life and hope.

We are His witnesses. We shall be faithful.

He’s not giving up.

Nor does Jesus. “Where two or three are gathered in my name, I will be among them,” is how he finishes today's Gospel. Not only in church on Sunday; not only when he’s in the mood, or except for when he’d rather focus his energies elsewhere; not when our behavior is good enough. . .

Every time.

He’s not giving up.

There is good news, indeed-- good news worth owning, and worth sharing. And there is also a lesson, an opportunity. . . a gift, in the midst of the horror. We also have the chance to choose Jesus’ way, and not to give up. We have gifts placed before us, and within us, to share-- the money in our pockets, the possessions in our homes, the skills in our hands and our hearts. . .

My brothers and sisters, we are his witnesses. How shall we be faithful?

News from the front

A friend of mine, and an alum from my seminary, is rector of one of the Mississippi churches on the Gulf. The building is not there anymore; not any longer. Not damaged beyond repair, not demolished... gone. As are the homes of something like a third of the congregation. And he estimates that 90% of the remaining parishioners' homes are damaged. He posts about some of what they are experiencing here.

And yet...

"We will hold services Sunday," he says. "After that, I don't know. But this I do know - we will get through this and we will continue to be the church."

Amid the horror, my faith has new heroes.

Please, Lord Jesus, help us all, in whatever ways we are able, also continue to be the church.

"How can I help?"

After Hurricane Katrina? Glad you asked.

First, you can pray:

• for those who have lost-- homes, livelihoods and lives; and
• for those who work-- the police, the fire fighters, the repair crews, all those who exhaust themselves trying to rescue and restore.

Then, as you are able, you can give: to one or more groups caring for the former and supporting the latter.

• Episcopal Relief and Development
• American Baptist Churches, USA - One Great Hour of Sharing
• Lutheran Disaster Response
• Salvation Army
• Red Cross