Winter Formal '06

Whether it was because of the daylong scramble, or in spite of it, all was ready at the appointed hour. They all (CJ and her date were going with two other couples) had a marvelous time, even though I'm told the music at the dance was less than stellar. They went into The City for dinner afterwards; then all came back, exhausted and safe, to collapse in the wee hours.

At the risk of shameless maternal boasting, I will never cease to be amazed at how stunning my daughter is.

Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany

Year B
Deuteronomy 18:15-20
1 Corinthians 8:1b-13
Mark 1:21-28
Psalm 111

Today is our Annual Meeting. We gather to worship today, as we do every Sunday; but this is also a time when we come together in a special way. We consider our past, we select parish leadership, and we envision our future. It’s good, healthy work-- the work of community.

Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, from which we read this morning, also deals with community. In this epistle, he addresses the behavior of believers toward one another, and toward the larger (secular) community of which they are a part. In this particular section, he speaks specifically to concerns about eating food sacrificed to idols. In doing so, he is also addressing a larger issue: that what we know, or what we believe we know, affects how we behave.

He reminds us that, although knowledge is good and important (after all, Paul spends an awful lot of time instructing new Christians how to live as disciples!), our love for one another, and for God, should be the crucial factor in our behavior and our decisions. As fine as it may be to understand things, it is our love for others that builds up Christian community.

This is the reasoning behind his dietary instructions. He well knows, as some believers did, that it doesn’t matter if food they eat was sacrificed to an idol-- since the God he knows, and that we know through Jesus, is the only God there is. It doesn’t matter what other people may think. Food is just food. However, there are new believers who are not so solid in their faith, and who may be confused or misled. So, for their sakes, Paul urges that the community in Corinth be aware, and perhaps selective, in when and where and what they choose to eat.

This is a lesson for us, brothers and sisters. We also do not need to worry about what others think; it is only God to whom we have to account for our behavior. However, it is a good thing to be concerned about doing things for others' sake.

Here at St. Andrew’s, there is much we do that demonstrates this. For example, the work that the vestry does, working and praying and planning together. These men and women did not accept these positions to impress anyone, so others might think well of them. Instead, I have seen them continually work to consider the decisions they make by the standards of the Gospel, and by what they hope will be best for the sake of the parish. They disagree upon occasion, certainly; but they are also concerned to be careful with how they treat one another. They try to act first out of love, and then secondly from what they think they know.

Those who serve on the altar guild also show this. They faithfully work behind the scenes, setting up for our worship, and then cleaning up afterwards, making sure that all we need to celebrate the Eucharist together is provided, and well-kept, week after week. This is work done for the sake of the community.

Likewise, this is true of those who make the effort in even the littlest things. Even something as simple as arriving a few minutes early to prepare for worship. And by this I do not only mean those serving in specific roles-- the lectors, praise team, or acolytes. It’s also a gift to the community when each of us comes a few minutes early. This isn’t something that we do because of anything others might think, as though an additional 10 minutes might impress someone with our piety. But it is a small thing that we can do for others’ sake, as well as our own. For the sake of preparing our hearts and minds for godly worship. For the sake of our regular community, being ready to begin without having to be distracted with a last-minute scramble. And even for the sake of newcomers and visitors-- being present and available to them, so they aren’t intimidated by the idea of driving into an empty parking lot and walking into an empty church (a daunting prospect!).

My brothers and sisters, I have learned, and continue to learn, a great deal from you in my time here. I will know a lot more than when I started about the way a community works; about the needs of leadership and service; about the way I function as a priest; about the challenges and joys of parish ministry. And this knowledge will continue to affect me in ways I likely don’t even know yet.

However, the things that I will intentionally carry with me in when I leave St. Andrew’s are the ways you have loved. The care and concern that I see in Pastor Carol, and the way she serves here; and the reflection of God’s love that I have seen in so many of you, in so many ways. The ways that we do things for the sake of one another.

“Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.” This is my prayer for you, and for us all, that we continue to remember this: to work in love to build up one another, and this community, and the Kingdom of God.

For Jesus’ sake.

Today's agenda

• Grocery store run - a long list this time
• Last minute stop at the fabric store (lightweight boning, for strapless bodice)
• Finish winter formal dress for daughter's dance tonight
• Assemble treat bags for son's soccer game (it's our turn this week)
• Attend aforementioned game
• Family haircuts, courtesy of my sister, a licensed beautician who (thank you, Lord!) makes house calls.
• Take pictures of gorgeous daughter and beau, and offer traditional parental admonishments ("Have a good time." "Don't do anything stupid." "Remember that we love you.")
  
• Write out sermon - in manuscript form, because it is also "The Curate's Report" for the annual meeting, and will be included in the minutes.
• Join husband at annual Chamber of Commerce dinner-- a formal affair, so prep time will be required.
• Set alarm for EARLY arrival at church tomorrow, to allow for last minute scurrying.
• Collapse into sleep. (Why is this the item I'm looking forward to most?)
  

Okay-- best get to it!

Chaplaincy and discipleship

My friend Mark is an Episcopal priest, and an Air Force chaplain candidate. He was commissioned a few years ago, has served on several bases in training, and is awaiting only the necessary endorsement of the national church to be officially designated chaplain. In light of the dustup in recent months over accusations of overzealous proselytizing, and countercharges of religious supression, he is musing about the call of military chaplaincy-- the work he does, and the structures and strictures under which he does it. Does one need to pray "in Jesus' name," every time, in order to be true to Christian teaching? When does evangelism include talking about one's faith, and when is it best done simply by living it?

Please stop by his place, to read and comment at will.

Postponed gratification

Thanks to all of you who posted helpful suggestions and resources for feeding my knitting efforts. If I had my way, I'd be at the store when they open this morning, shopping list in hand, looking for books and new toys. . . mmmmm.

However, this is the week before the parish annual meeting. On Sunday, in addition to my normal turn in our preaching rotation, I will be explaining why we need a capital improvement commitment for some pretty extensive building repairs. I have pictures and information to assemble and a (hopefully coherent) presentation to put together.

This upcoming Saturday is also our daughter's winter formal, the dress for which is still in the "some assembly required" stage. A lovely kelly green crepe-back satin, lining, patterns (we are combining features of a couple different dresses) and notions are all still lying in wait on my sewing table.

So I will be busy this week. But never fear-- obsession interest does not fade that easily. I have paid rabid careful attention to your enabling thoughtful recommendations. Bright and early next week, I will be beginning (I hope) to put them to use. If I survive both the dress and the building fund, I'll probably need it.

Derby day!

Meet the local Webelo racing champion!

Last night was the annual Cub Scout adventure called the Pinewood Derby. For those unfamiliar with the event, it is an unmotorized race-- the cars run on a wooden track, maybe 30-40 feet long. The track is on a stand at one end that makes the starting point about 5 feet off the ground. It has three lanes, and the cars are each rotated through 3 heats, so each car uses each lane once-- thereby (one hopes) eliminating issues of one lane being faster or slower than another. Then the top three finishers in each age group run a set of heats against one another, to determine 1st, 2nd and 3rd in each division.

The cars are placed behind little metal stops at the start, which are all triggered simultaneously by levers on the sides of the track. One of the parents flips the lever, and the cars roll down, speed across the length, and cross over the finish line at the end. Other parents (augmented by older boy scouts) watch to keep track of how each car finishes each heat.

And at the end of the evening, awards are given to the winners in each age group. A prize is also given for "Best of Show:" the car deemed by the judges to be the best looking vehicle of the evening.

This year, Kyle's car took first place, winning almost every heat it ran! You can't tell it from the photo, but he was one excited kid-- very pleased that "the coolest car I ever did" also raced very well. The form is as important as the function to my young artist, and he worked hard on the shaping and the paint job. Those are carefully designed flames, I'll have you know-- drawn, painted and shaded completely freehand. He did a great job, and had a ball with it. Meanwhile, Dad was in charge of seeing that the car met spec, adding weights on the bottom to bring it up to the allowed maximum. Mom was pit crew-- handling any last minute modifications necessary before check-in (have glue gun, will travel!).

Kyle will be old enough to move up to Boy Scouts in the fall, if he so chooses, so this was his last year racing. From now on, other activities will be on the docket. And he's okay with that, especially after going out on a high note. But I will confess that I'm going to miss it, a little. I will never be entirely nonchalant about my children outgrowing things...

I can stop anytime I want. Really.

I am a beginning knitter. And when I say "beginning," I mean just that. I started this insidious interesting little obsession hobby only a few months ago, after a trip to the local fabric store went quicker than I expected. I had some extra time, so I wandered around-- and discovered that over to the side there was this ENORMOUS selection of yarns, in a riot of colors, and sizes, and patterns, and textures... Lord forgive me, I am a sucker for texture. The next thing I knew, two little skeins and a pair of fat plastic needles had adhered themselves to my hand. In order to make a break from the store they pried my credit card out when I wasn't looking; and then they followed me home.

Being the geeky sort, I wandered around online until I found a place that would show me how to put my purchases to good use. I found some directions that were only moderately confusing, and began.

Ripped out, and began again.

Finally, on the third try, I managed to get a needle loaded and a row of knitting started. This boded well; so I kept going. . . and going, until I had used up my two small skeins. Lo and behold, I had a scarf! A fuzzy blue scarf, with soft little sparkly bits in it. (Okay, I know that yarns have names, and that I should probably remember it-- the yarn that willingly gave itself to my first project-- but I don't. I simply used it, casting on and then casting off without a second thought. It served my purpose, satisfied my longings, and I moved on. (I am coming to better understand the appellation "Yarn Harlot.")

Over the next few weeks, I made trips back to the store on several occasions, and yarn went through my needles like water through a sieve. I took the knitting everywhere-- to sit in the doctor's office, to watch the boy's soccer games, to pass the time in the passenger seat when our family travelled... (no, I did not try to knit while driving. I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid). I've made scarves for both children, the boy's teacher, my sister-in-law... and the current project doesn't even have a destination. It's only reason for existance was that I was working on purling (that being the other basic knitting stitch, and kind of like knitting only backwards).

but you know... a woman can only knit scarves for so long before she wants to move on to harder drugs projects. I considered hats, and mittens, and even sweaters or shawls; but I have lately developed the urge to make socks. This is not logical, I know. I can buy socks by the bin at the local department store, with less effort and less expense. Nevertheless, the desire is there, and grows stronger by the day.

Herein lies my dilemma. I have tried looking up directions online, just as I did to learn what I have so far-- and I find that they are written in code. Unintelligible code, confusing and bewildering and beyond comprehension.

Fingering weight yarn? I finger all of it. That's what yarn is for, yes?
bulky weight? That hardly seems kind. Is there a Weight Watchers for yarn?

Slip 1, purl 9, p2tog, p1, turn.
Slip 1, k3, SSK, k1, turn.
Slip 1, p4, p2tog (across the gap), p1, turn.
Slip 1, k5, SSK (across the gap), k1, turn.

If knitters had been employed during WWII, we would not have needed to worry about transmission of secret information behind enemy lines.

And then I look at the pictures, and they use four needles to do one sock! Criminy, I can barely handle two without doing harm to some vital organ.

However, I am stubborn tenacious. And I am obsessed with committed to learning how to knit a sock.

So I'm coming to you for help. Are there any knitters out there, who would be willing to translate for me? Or heck, show me where to begin? Yarns, needle sizes, directions comprehensible to the rank amateur... ?

Listening

Whether or not you're Episcopalian, you are likely aware that we, in the words of my daughter and her teenage friends, "have issues." I realize that this does not make us a whole lot different than other denominational Christians. Being as how this is my branch of the Christian family tree, however, I tend to pay more attention to the details.

To recap: we've been getting a lot of press since 2003, when our national General Convention voted (in a contentious and far from unanimous manner) to approve the consecration of a partnered gay man as the bishop of the Diocese of New Hampshire. And we've been doing a lot of bickering-- at levels local, national, and international-- ever since.

A group of theological bigwigs got together and wrote a response to that action from the wider Anglican Communion (and the decision on the part of the Anglican Church in Canada to allow the blessing of same-sex unions), called the Windsor Report. Among its several comments was the suggestion that "in particular, we need to develop the habit, and thence the virtue, of that charity which listens intensely and with good will to widely different expressions of sincerely held Christian theology."

It reiterates the Lambeth Conference call, several years earlier, "for an ongoing process of listening and discernment, and that Christians of good will need to be prepared to engage honestly and frankly with each other on issues relating to human sexuality. It is vital that the Communion establish processes and structures to facilitate ongoing discussion."

Under the guidance of our bishop, that's what we've been doing in the Diocese of Northern Indiana. We've had a series of three day-long sessions here, termed in a lighthearted moment "the Merry Days of Windsor." Technically, we've been referring to them as "clergy days;" but this has been a misnomer, as lay leaders of the diocese have also been included. The first of these days dwelt on our understanding of hermeneutics - how one does biblical interpretation. AKMA was the presenter, and you can read on his blog Part I, Part II and Part III of what he had to say. The second day dealt with understanding ecclesiology, and the nature and structure of how the church functions through history. It was led by Fr. Richard McBrien, a Roman Catholic theologian from Notre Dame.

Last Wednesday was the third day in the series. It was not so academic as the other days were; but it was highly educational nonetheless. We had a panel of speakers, lay and ordained, who spoke to their experiences in life and in the church with these issues. Some were gay, and some were straight. Some had been blessed and supported in their Christian walk through the human sexuality minefield, while others had been abused, dismissed and mistreated. A gay man spoke frankly of the very real possibility of losing his job if his administration learned of his sexual preference. A priest spoke of being shut out of job searches, asked to step down from committees, and treated in really nasty ways after he wrote a letter questioning the authorization of same-sex unions. There was joy, and there was pain, experiencd by both "liberal" and "conservative," and they were shared openly and honestly.

And we listened.

I know we get typecast, over here in Hooiserland, as being some sort of conservative bastion; but it simply isn't so. Our people run the whole spectrum of political and theological opinion, in this issue as in so many others. We do not agree, and do not share a consensus. So why aren't we simply shouting at one another, as so often is happening? After all, we hear over and over (from people in both conservative and liberal dioceses) that "we couldn't possibly have that conversation here!"

What makes this work is we are trying to start with what we have in common: the good news of salvation found in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, offered to all who come to him; the Gospel imperative to love one another; and our baptismal covenant promise to "respect the dignity of every human being." So we have this conversation, and we listen to one another, and we pray and worship together. And we begin to understand that behind the issues... are people. We have not come to any conclusions, here; this is only a beginning. But we're working on it. And we're still coming to the Table, together.

I am sorry and ashamed to say that much of the rhetoric from our religious leaders (in the news both secular and ecclesial, in blogs and magazines and press releases and convention minutes) has more to do with power, and control, and "I'm right and you're going to hell," on both sides of the fence, than any desire to live out a life of discipleship. I am grateful to be a part of a place that is trying to live into a different call.

Unclear on the concept

In the literary world, it's not unusual to find that someone has put together a list of favorites, or classics, or "must reads." It's also not unusual to find that not everyone agrees with said list.

Time published a list of "The 100 Best English-language Novels." Then someone named Matthew Baldwin looked at Amazon.com, and compiled a list of his own: one-star reviews of a number of the books.

Examples:

The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (1950)
Author: C.S. Lewis
“I bought these books to have something nice to read to my grandkids. I had to stop, however, because the books are nothing more than advertisements for “Turkish Delight,” a candy popular in the U.K. The whole point of buying books for my grandkids was to give them a break from advertising, and here (throughout) are ads for this “Turkish Delight”! How much money is this Mr. Lewis getting from the Cadbury’s chocolate company anyway? This man must be laughing to the bank.”

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1962)
Author: Ken Kesey
“I guess if you were interested in crazy people this is the book for you.”

Mrs. Dalloway (1925)
Author: Virginia Woolf
“The only good thing to say about this “literary” drivel is that the person responsible, Virginia Woolf, has been dead for quite some time now. Let us pray to God she stays that way.”

You can find the whole article here. Props to Jason for my laugh of the day.

The Communion of Saints

On each feast day specified in the Episcopal calendar, my friend Micah posts a meditation at St. Jerome's Chapel. He runimates on the saint or martyr remembered that day, on the lessons appointed, and ponders what we can take from the example of life and scripture. One can either read the short homily he posts, or listen to it via podcast. If you haven't visited his site, I would recommend it; it's become a regular part of my devotional habit.

Today is the feast of Hilary, Bishop of Poitiers, who lived back in the 4th century. And Micah is right: we have much we can learn from him.

...why wouldn’t he sign the condemnation of his opponents? Why did he endure exile rather than criticize the very people he was so quick to debate? It is in this seeming paradox that Hilary’s true sainthood resides. He wouldn’t sign because it is not the place of a Christian to condemn another for any reason. We are called to seek after the truth of God and to defend it with our whole mind and heart and soul. But to condemn is something that belongs only to God. Hilary could not, and would not do that.

Oh, how our Church today would be a better place if we learned that lesson from the life of Blessed Hilary.

Amen, and amen.

On Call

The phone rang this morning at 3:51 AM. It was the hospital operator: "We've had a Code 99 from the Emergency Room; let me put you through."

So, for the first time since I signed on as a chaplain there, I got dressed and went in. I arrived at 4:25 - not bad for what is normally a 30 minute drive. The hour of the morning helped with that, of course; even though it was rainy and wet, there were very few other drivers on the road, and all the traffic lights stayed green.

As it turned out, my services were not really all that urgently needed. The patient had been intubated, so she was sedated, and no family was present. I prayed for a few minutes, chatted with the ER staff, filled out the necessary forms and left. I'd have been out a little bit earlier, if I hadn't had to backtrack once or twice to find my way back to the pastoral care department. I'm still a little befuddled by the hospital hallways.

I stopped at the grocery store on my way home-- no sense in going back out later, when it's right on my way. Shopping, when it's just me and the cleaning crew, turns out to be quite easy; who knew? I got back at about 6:00 AM, just in time to greet the daughter groggily dragging herself out of bed for school.

Good morning, everybody! Ready for the day?

Barbie Rant

A few weeks ago, I had occasion to do something I have not done in many, many years: go shopping for a Barbie doll. I did not expect this to be a difficult task; I assumed that finding the correct aisle would simply be a matter of walking through the store until I spotted that distinctive, godawful, eye-piercing pink color they use in their packaging. There would be many varieties available, with lots of tiny, overpriced accessories. I could select the stereotype which most closely matched my purpose, and then remove myself from The Barbie Aisle and give my eyes a rest.

I remember a marketing campaign years ago, stemming out of the feminist consciousness-raising of the 70's, I suppose. Mattell tried to offset the useless material girl image she had in my childhood with job-related costuming options: "Flight Attendant Barbie," or "Doctor Barbie" or some such (back then, we joked about the possibility of "Trailer Trash Barbie," with black roots in her blonde hair and leopard-skin stretch pants. Beer Belly Ken sold separately. No, it was not nice. Yes, it is still funny). Our daughter (now 18, and just about as un-Barbie as anyone you will ever meet) was never really into them, so I did not pay much attention to their evolution since those days. I had no idea what to expect; but I believed I'd be able to find something to suit my purpose.

Oh, My.

I was looking for "Business Barbie," or maybe even "Lawyer Barbie." What I found was a collection of "Bimbo Barbies." Not one of the dolls on display was wearing sufficient clothing for July, let alone December. If Barbie had been anatomically correct, she would have been arrested for indecent exposure.

Please understand, I am not unduly modest. I wear shorts and sleeveless tops in the summer, a swimsuit at the beach, and pajamas are more or less dispensible, depending on the weather. Given my experience, however, I can really understand the appeal of this. Because the dolls I saw were not even close to the sorts of things I'd be bringing home for my children to play with, let alone emulate.

Okay, so I'm in a crotchety mood. Deal with it.

Hoosier medical update

We are home. The boy is pale and wobbly, but improving after meds put a check rein on the nausea. Vomiting stopped, clear liquids are staying down, and his color is slowly returning to its normal rosy brown. The good folks at our local ER were exactly what we needed: prompt, efficient, competent and caring. If you're ever in the area and need medical care, St. Margaret's is a good place to go.

Our eldest is also home, the nurse having called from the high school (five minutes after we walked in the door from the ER!) to report that she was ill as well. It does not, thank heaven, appear to be the same bug: hers is the more typical migraine/upset stomach combination. She made a beeline for her bedroom, and we will likely not hear from her for several hours.

Can I just note here that sometimes being a parent is more fun than others?

Thanks for your prayers and concern. God may neither slumber nor sleep; I'm going to bed.

Sleepless

The short story: the last couple days have not been easy, here. A desperately ill parishioner; then a hard conversation with a dear friend; and now, my normally very healthy youngest is ill-- up vomiting all night, never more than an hour between episodes, and usually half that time-- enough that the nurse at the clinic suggested a visit to the ER, rather than waiting until the afternoon appointment that was the only thing available. Just to be sure he's not dehydrated.

We're leaving in a few moments, but I ask your prayers, please.

¹ I lift up my eyes to the hills—
where does my help come from?

² My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.

³ He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber;

⁴ indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.

⁵ The LORD watches over you—
the LORD is your shade at your right hand;

⁶ the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.

⁷ The LORD will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;

⁸ the LORD will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.

I'm really counting on this.

Let there be light. . .

. . . or maybe not. It seems that researchers are finding a link between breast cancer and overexposure to artificial light. You can read more about it here.

Maybe being a morning person isn't so crazy after all.

Attitude adjustment

The alarm clock turned off, and I woke up all out of sorts. The answer to that? Mom got moving:

• Went over homework, helped with corrections, and practiced spelling words before the boy got on the bus.
• One load of laundry folded, and another tossed in the dryer, so my husband has a gi for his aikido class tonight.
• Put together tonight's supper (venison stew) in the crockpot.

Showered, dressed, and drove to church, shifting to Cleric Mode:

• Chose music, wrote announcements, assembled daily office readings, and otherwise put this week's bulletin together.
• Did some research for Sunday's sermon-- got caught up in biblical geography, which is not my strong suit-- but I think it's tying in to what I'll be preaching. We'll see.
• Went over issues and information that need to come before our annual parish meeting in two weeks (that soon? yikes!).
• Developed the beginnings of some thoughts for the next vestry vision meeting. I think we're going to look at the by-laws. . .
• Stopped by the hospital on the way out of town, to visit a parishioner-- a dear, gentle woman battling pneumonia, and not out of the woods yet.

And then, back into Civilian Life:

• Picked up some storage bins on the way home, for the basement purge currently underway.
• Tossed a batch of biscuits in the oven.
• Bid goodbye to the guys, who were off to class, and ate dinner with daughter and prospective beau (polite, friendly, and can hold an articulate conversation; this one may have potential).

And finally, finishing the evening in dual persona: reading through parish documentation and vestry paperwork, and in a much-needed conversation with a friend.

In other words, trying to let a busy day give a reality check to a bad attitude.

The Baptism of Our Lord

The First Sunday after Epiphany (B)
Isaiah 42:1-9
Acts 10:34-38
Psalm 89:1-29 or 89:20-29
Mark 1:7-11

Do you remember your baptism? Some people do, while many others do not, since we make a practice of baptizing infants as well as adults in the Episcopal church. I do not remember mine. I was about 3 months old. Mom and I had just moved from North Carolina, where my father had been stationed in the Army, to Indiana, to live with my grandparents. Dad was not with us-- he was in Germany, part of the peacekeeping forces sent there during the building of the Berlin Wall.

So he was not with us that chilly November day when I was baptized. Nor do I have any memory of it. I do not recall hearing the promises made on my behalf, nor the feel of the water being poured over my head. What I do have are pictures of the day-- a dark-haired baby, dressed in a little white gown with delicate pintucking, being held by mother, or grandparents, or godparents. And I have the word of those good people, who told me of their promises, and taught me, and raised me in faith.

I do remember other baptisms I've attended over the years-- for my own children, of course, and many others as well. A few times, I have stood as a sponsor, presenting a candidate as my godparents did me. More often, I have simply been a witness, promising "to do all in my power to uphold these persons in their life in Christ." This promise, by the way, is not a commitment unique to baptism; when you come right down to it, it is a promise that binds every Christian, to love and care for one another. It is something to remember, even if it is not perhaps the most memorable part of the service.

The gospel story we hear this morning would certainly have been memorable to those who witnessed it. Picture the scene with me, please. I've not ever been there, but the pictures I've seen of the Jordan look a lot like rivers in the western United States. Shallow and rocky at points, surrounded by hills and scrubby bushes and stony ground.

Now imagine: people are gathered on the river bank as John stands in the water, waiting for the next follower to come to him to be baptized. And then Jesus wades out, not looking any different than any other man there -- until John immerses him in the water and pulls him up. Then the heavens are torn open, and the holy Spirit descends upon him accompanied by the voice of God! Understand, my brothers and sisters, that this is not a simple parting of the clouds that John describes. The word in Greek is a form of scidzo, meaning to cleave apart, to split into factions. It is where our word "schism" originates. As Mark describes it, this was a dramatic moment, this tearing open of the heavens. Incidentally, Mark only uses this word one other time: at Jesus’ crucifixion, when he tells us that the curtain in the temple was torn in two at the moment of Jesus’ death. The movement of the Spirit is a powerful thing.

That moment, I think, also carries the key to the question of why Jesus was baptized. It certainly was not for the forgiveness of sins, as we understand our baptism to affect for us. But there were other reasons. I can think of a few.

Identification - It was this moment that marked the beginning of Jesus' ministry, and set him distinctly apart for it. He was shown, for the first time as an adult, as God's own Son-- God's own self-- sent to live with us for a purpose.

Example - Jesus never asked anything of his followers that he himself did not first demonstrate. He went where he wanted them to go, did what he wanted them to do, said what he wanted them to say, taught what he wanted them to teach. He wanted us to be baptized, to bury our sins and accept God's grace in new life; so he showed us the way.

Strength - in that moment, in the descent of the Holy Spirit, God's strength was provided for for the taxing days ahead.

Now, unlike Jesus, we do need forgiveness of our sins, and we are certainly need that; but we also have these reasons as well.

Identification - As we say in our baptismal service, we are "sealed by the Holy Spirit at baptism, and marked as Christ's own forever."

Witness - Even the smallest, quietest "private" christening is not a solo event. It is attended by witnesses, and noted in a church record. Most often it is a public event - the newly baptized is surrounded by family, and friends, and a community of faith that represents and embodies the larger body of Christ - the "Communion of Saints," the "great cloud of witnesses." It is a public testimony of belief and acceptance.

Strength - gift of the presence of the Spirit in our lives is a crucial thing to a Christian, my brothers and sisters, and not to be dismissed lightly. It is not easy to be a disciple.

In a world of sin and hatred, where people can be cruel and dishonest and ugly and unclean, we are called to love everyone, without exception, and without limitation.

In a world that wants to show preference, that wants to define one person, or race, or gender as better than another, we are called to testify as Peter does, that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him.

In a world where the chosen answer to injustice and oppression often seems to be violence and more oppression, we are called to strive for godly justice, by living and proclaiming God’s peace.

These are messages that are often not popular. These are the messages that led to the cross. So we need all the help we can get! The Good news is that God offers us that help. In the life and death and resurrection of Jesus, we are shown what we need, and exactly where to find it. In the presence of the Holy Spirit, we are given free access, every moment of our lives. We need only reach out to claim it. We do that at our baptism, and that claim is renewed -- we are renewed -- every time we come to the Table.

In a few minutes, we will do just that. We will renew our baptismal vows. We will stand and affirm the promises we made, or that were made for us. We will acknowledge the forgiveness of our sins, and then pledge before Almighty God to live the lives to which we are called. Then we will come together at the Table, to be strengthened and renewed as Jesus’ disciples in the world.

This is our challenge, my brothers and sisters-- and our gift. Thanks be to God!

Paradox

Why is it so often that. . .

. . . having just a taste of something is harder than not having it at all?

. . . the most difficult thing to do is the right thing to do?

. . . dreams can seem so real, and reality so hard to grasp?

Today is the first sunny day we've had in two weeks-- such a blessed relief for someone who fights the seasonal blues battle. But then I sit down to work on my sermon for tomorrow, and suddenly I'm pensive and introspective and weepy. Go figure.

Maybe I need a nap. And some prayer time. Not necessarily in that order.

The Book of Daniel

Okay, I watched it. All but the first 5 minutes or so, which didn't get taped. My initital impression? In short, either too much or not enough.

• Too much money. There may well be priests somewhere who live in pristine, tidy family legacy mansions and have household help to serve Sunday supper; but I've never met them. The clergy homes I know tend to be of the "three-bedroom, bath-and-a-half, slightly-shabby, in-need-of-a-good-decluttering" sort. And Sunday supper is far more likely to be a) eating out, b) ordering in, or c) scrounging for leftovers, because no one has the energy to think of cooking. Likewise, it is the rare church indeed that has that kind of money.

• Too much free time. How in the world does that bishop have the availability to be hanging out at Daniel's church all the time like that? My goodness, the bishops I know have calendars scheduled out months in advance, and drive all over the diocese in the process of doing their jobs. Finding a moment to sneak into offices and root around looking for prescription drugs to abuse is not high on the priority list.

• Too much dysfunction. I will freely admit that any of the issues the writers dropped into she script may likely show up in the life of a given cleric, as might any human experience. Yes, priests are people too. But really-- all of that (drug abuse, juvenile delinquency, conflicts over homosexuality, racism, promiscuity, debilitating illness, organized crime)? Crammed into one episode? Please! One gets the impression that the writers assume Daniel has to be really messed up because how could anyone have a commitment to religious life and still have any sense of normality? It was exhausting to watch.

• Too much information. For the record: most clergy are well aware that sharing details of one's personal life in the context of premarital counseling is simply not a good idea (although the concept of scheduling intimate time with one's spouse when life is hectic is actually very sensible, and one I would recommend, in a general way).

On the other hand...

• Not enough information. The writers need to work on accuracy. Liturgically, the bishop is chief celebrant when (s)he is present, not the priest, and would therefore be wearing a chasuble at the Eucharist. And both priest and bishop would be clad in the same liturgical color. And although "confession of faith" is an accurate description, it is really the Nicene Creed, and is called such during worship.

• Not enough awareness. There was a scene where the issue of racism is dropped in like a lead weight: a neighbor made a derogatory comment about Daniel's son (of Asian ancestry, and evidently adopted). And yet nothing was made of the stereotype of the otherwise all-Caucasian family being served Sunday supper by the African-american housekeeper. Was anyone else bothered by that? And the stereotype of the local RC priest being in the pocket of the mafia. . . come on, people!

So, was there anything I liked? Well, yes. The story thread about the family dealing with the grandmother's Alzheimers' was effective, and in my experience accurate. It showed at least a modicum of awareness of the difficulty and the pain of coping with a disease that leaves a loved one sometimes aware, and sometimes not.

Overall, however, I was not impressed. I may watch it once or twice more, in case something improves. But I'm not inclined to waste a lot of time on this one.

Take a Memo

To: Entertainment Media Reporters
From: The Ecclesial Grammar Police and the Pet Peeve Soapbox Commission
Re: "The Book of Daniel," et. al.

If one is covering representations (or perhaps misrepresentations; I have not seen the show yet) of a particular group or denomination, one ought at the very least to make the effort to be grammatically correct.

For the record: "Episcopalian" is a noun. "Episcopal" is an adjective. Please take note the of the correct usage in the following paragraph:

Aidan Quinn is not an Episcopal priest, although he is playing one on TV. I have been questioned about this by a few concerned Episcopalians, and I am not enthusiastic about the advance publicity I have seen and heard (although the venom being spewed against it by the American Family Association perversely makes me wonder if there isn't some virtue in there somewhere). I am taping the show to watch later, as the Episcopalians attending the Episcopal church where I actually serve as an Episcopal priest will undoubtedly ask me about it on Sunday.

Thank you for your attention.

Rev Gal Friday Five: Housewifery

Now that you mention it, Friday is most often a day of housewifery for me. I am off today, so this is when I do grocery shopping, laundry, and the other sorts of miscellaneous tasks that make up my "Domestic Goddess" mode.

The RevGal blog today asked the following:

Name four household products, utensils or appliances that have served you well and truly. For item #5, please share with us one of the above we should never, ever, under any circumstances purchase or expect to manipulate, use or otherwise operate successfully.

1. Scotch Brite scrub pads. Just the scouring pad-- not the kind with the sponge on them, please! They are sold large, so I cut them in half, and use them all over the house: kitchen, bathroom, laundry... I'm cheap enough to have tried several off brands, but they don't hold up nearly as well.

2. Kitchen shears. I discovered the magic of these little gems a few years back, and I don't know how I managed beforehand. Opening packages, deboning chicken, trimming fat off meat or stems off beans, and myriad other uses. My children are under unspecified threats of doom if I find they have left the kitchen.

3. Stand mixer. My first was a Sunbeam, and the current workhorse (of several years' duration) is a Kitchenaid. This is a wondrous toy, and a boon to baking.


4. A good garlic press. I went through several pathetic excuses for this kitchen essential before I discovered this one at a Pampered Chef party several years ago. It actually rices the garlic without peeling it, rather than turning it into a nasty, useless little pancake. I didn't see why people bothered with fresh garlic until I had this thing; now it's all I use.

*******

5. An egg separator. What is that about? Someone gave me a separator once-- it broke the yolk, every time. Um... kind of defeats the point of separating, yes?

Separator, schmeparator. That's why God thoughtfully put eggs in those handy little shells that break in half and pour back and forth until all the white plops into a bowl.

Ups and downs

Up: over the course of last week, we were able to spend time with almost everyone on both sides of our family: first my father and his sweet wife, brother, sister and families; and then Bruce's mom and the clan (he's the oldest of eight children, and with spouses and kids, no other description will suffice). Time well-spent, with happy visits and waaaay too much good food.

Down: As much as I love them all, that's a lot of socializing for this introvert. After several hours in a 3-bedroom ranch with 30 family members, all I want to do is hide.

Up: Mostly, they're okay with that.

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Up: I was back in the church office this week, after more than a week away. I've grown to love my office (a converted classroom, made homey with rugs and pictures and such), and to value the time to pray and work there. Tuesday was a quiet day, spent alone except for a short visit by the exterminator making his regular mantenence stop. Wednesday was busier-- putting together the bulletin with Carol, a conversation with one of our regular study ladies, then Eucharist, then over to drop off some rent assistance to a disabled neighbor.

Down: On the way home I hit a pothole, and took out the tires on the passenger side of the car. Yes, you read correctly-- that was tires, plural. Both of them.

Up: With some assistance from a pleasant county sheriff, I was towed to a nearby auto repair shop, had my tires replaced, and headed home-- two hours later, but all in one piece.

I will note here that the owner of the shop seemed rather nonplussed to have a woman in a clerical blouse sitting in his office. He was very kind, but rather confused. "Okay, I have to ask about that collar. Are you. . . ?"

"Yes, I'm a priest."

Silence, as he glanced above my head-- where hung a life-sized portrait of Pope John Paul II.

"I'm not Roman Catholic; I'm an Episcopal priest."

After a moment he nodded-- told me about his work in his own parish (seems he's a very active layman at Queen of All Saints)-- and gave me a clergy discount on the tow.

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Up: After my mom died, Dad took to getting us gift cards for birthdays and Christmas. He's made a practice of getting my sister and me cards at the same place, so we can do our shopping together; we consider the time part of his gift to us. Today was our day out.

Down: The weather was atrocious-- windy and wet, and miserable. And I have a cold, so my day was punctuated with sniffles and sneezes.

Up: Decongestants work wonders, and the bad weather on a weekday meant that the crowds at the outlet mall were at a minimum; so shopping was easy. In addition, we found some real deals. I came home with a haul that ranged widely: decent work-type clothes, a couple of cute little dresses, some kitchen tchatchkes, fancy underwear and fuzzy, comfy socks. You gotta love clearance racks. The 11th Commandment: Thou Shalt Not Pay Retail.

****************

More ups than downs. This is a good thing.

Go get 'em!

Today is the first day of the annual rite of passage for Episcopal seminarians: the General Ordination Exam. Four days of writing essays to answer questions and "show proficiency" in seven areas, as required by national canons for ordination.

So, to Micah and Hope, Ryan and Jen, Karen, Marcus, and the rest of the good folks embroiled in GOE testing this week: You are in my prayers. And I'm looking forward to hearing from you on the flip side!