cairns me home

being still in God's big world

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Thank God for the “Chreasters”

April 8, 2012 / / 2 Comments

Today at the easter services at St. Anne’s there was the opportunity to meet a lot of new people. There are some people who, for their own reasons, choose to attend services only on Christmas and Easter. Sometimes you might hear them referred to as “Chreasters.” Some people may employ this term pejoratively, but until we have walked a mile in those people’s shoes I would recommend extending welcome instead of judgment. Christmas, Easter, weddings, and funerals are the biggest evangelical opportunities we have in the church. These are occasions when our sanctuaries are filled with people who may not hear the message of salvation on a regular basis. These are people who may have had negative encounters with the church in years past. They may be people who are struggling with their faith. These are people who might profess another faith all together and who are attending these services out of support or love for family and friends.  The point is: we don’t know their story. These are the people for whom the church exists.
I met a lot of so-called “Chreasters” today. There was one woman whom I overheard standing by our bulletin board after the service. There was a job posted on the bulletin board advertising for a new Christian Ed. director at another local church. The woman’s husband said, “Why don’t you apply for this? It sounds like a good job.” To which the woman replied, “God no! If I took that I’d have to get dressed on Sundays!” – I had to laugh. She had just come out from a joyous Easter service with a rousing sermon and her first response to someone indirectly asking her about attending weekly services was “God no!” My first thought was, “Maybe we need a more powerful sermon next time.” (And Jim’s sermon was a home run so I’m not really sure what else he could say!)
There was another woman I met who was elderly. I met her at coffee hour and she told me about her time in Chapel Hill and the church she attended there. She was very involved for years. Her children moved to Reston 25 years ago and she comes up to visit them for Christmas and Easter each year. Her children (and grandchildren) do not attend church except for when she is in town. When Grandma comes to town they all come to church as a family and then have a nice dinner together. Our conversation was interrupted and when I turned back the woman was gone. I was touched by her joy in telling me about her family and the times they come to church together.
 
Finally, at the latest service today there was a couple sitting in the front row right by the altar. It was a middle-aged man and wife. They caught my eye first during the Gospel reading. The wife was struggling with her program and could not find the reading because she had the pages all out of order. Her husband tried to help her and when it was apparent that it was more disorganized than he suspected he patiently traded programs with her and reordered the pages in the disorganized program. Later in the service the couple caught my eye again during the prayers as the woman began softly weeping and her husband passed her a handkerchief before pulling her towards him. As I was distributing the bread at communion and the couple came forward to receive I noticed, for the first time, what she was wearing. She sparkled from head to toe. Glitter flats, a jeweled bracelet, iridescent earrings, and traces of glitter on her face. I smiled despite myself as I said, “The body of Christ, the bread of heaven.” She locked eyes with me for a moment before consuming the bread. In the reception line after church the woman shook my hand before leaving. She looked sad and did not make eye contact until I said to her, “Your sparkles have made my whole day. Happy Easter!” (you know I’ve got a thing for glitter.) She held onto my hand, looked me in the eye, and her face split into the widest smile I’ve seen today. “Thank you,” she said. I could literally feel her gratitude.
Each of these encounters was a resurrection opportunity hidden in plain sight. I did not talk to the first woman. I only witnessed her interaction from afar. But embedded in this witness was a gift of knowledge: this woman is out of work. Why don’t I pray for her? My first reaction was to laugh (it was a little funny.) But the more I thought about her the more I realized that I don’t know her story. The second woman was filled with joy as we spoke about her family and their company at services on these holidays. I don’t know whom they are or why they don’t come more regularly, but I do know that they make this matriarch proud and happy when they come to St. Anne’s together. Finally, the woman from the front row: There was a deep sadness in her eyes. There were other seats available in the church. She didn’t have to sit so close, but she chose to. Something tells me there is more to her story that is between her and God. I am grateful that she found her way to church today and hopeful that some of the Easter message of hope shined some light into whatever darkness she is carrying.
Photo Credit: Cayce Ramey
I felt truly joyous upon leaving church today. I felt the Easter message of triumphant love and a desire to share that love with others. It would be wonderful if our parking lots were so full that we had to overflow parking onto the streets every Sunday. What a great problem it is when we run out of communion bread and need to consecrate extra bread in the middle of communion because so many people have come. But the truth of the matter is: the church is not a building; the church is the people who are charged with carrying this Easter message of love and hope and joy out into the streets. Sure, a few times a year our buildings overflow with wonderful new people with whom we can share God’s message of salvation. But all year round we are supposed to be finding people with whom to share this love. The church is designed to speak to the “Chreasters.” So instead of feeling frustrated with the lack of parking, the new people who are sitting in “our” pew, or the sermon that seemed to go on forever – let’s go forward into this new Easter season thanking God for sending new people to meet. I think sometimes we forget we need to take the Good News outside of our chapel walls and that is why it’s important for for us to greet the “Chreasters:” they remind us that there is church outside of the sanctuary walls.

Have I done my best?

March 16, 2012 / / 0 Comments

This Lent has been an interesting one so far. I feel like a bird poised on the edge of a branch waiting for the wind to turn so I can take flight. Staying with this metaphor: I am also hoping the wind takes its time because I would rather stay in this tree a little longer than be heading towards the clouds. I usually love Lent because it offers a chance to nestle in and snuggle with God. Being still and knowing God is God helps me through the entire year and I find that Lent is generally that time when I readjust my stillness that is all out of whack after the craziness of Christmas and New Year and all the gatherings that come with them. This Lent has been taken at a run and I don’t like it; not one bit!
But as I sit and reflect on this Lent I also recognize that Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness was not a picnic. Jesus didn’t have forty days to just sit and snuggle with God. Jesus was being tempted by Satan. Jesus was being challenged to defy God’s authority. And we call it temptation because it was tempting. If you read the account from Matthew 4:1-11 it might sound like it was easy. Satan tossed out a challenge and Jesus swatted it down with a scripture reference. Boom! Super Jesus to the rescue! But this is not a comic book. Jesus was tired and hungry and weak. The devil was offering a “life line” out of the pain in which Jesus found himself. If you have even been in pain, not just physical pain –but emotional and spiritual pain as well, then you know that it would be excruciating if someone came by and asked you to do some that you knew you could do promising to end the suffering if you obeyed. If someone came and challenged me to sing a difficult aria promising to make all emotional and spiritual suffering cease if I did don’t you think I would get to work learning that aria?
I love Lent because it generally gives me an excuse to focus my eyes on God when other activities invite me to do otherwise. This exercise of turning to God is something that we should do each and everyday, but we don’t. We find countless excuses to do something else instead. So this anxiety that I am feeling about the coming breeze that will ask me to release my perch and fly from this place is actually helping me (against my will) to participate in a more authentic Lenten experience.
This morning I was reading Mother Teresa’s No Greater Love. She wrote: “God will not ask how many books you have read; how many miracles you have worked; He will ask you if you have done your best, for the love of Him. Can you in all sincerity say, ‘I have done my best’? Even if the best is failure, it must be our best, our utmost.” So the question I am asking myself today, and the question I invite you to reflect upon, is ‘Have I done my best?’ In this world of excuses am I really giving all that I have to God or am I holding something back in the hopes that it will serve another purpose later?
Today I am packing my car to drive to Maine and Massachusetts. I will be visiting my sponsoring parish and my new parish. I will be going on the postulants and candidates retreat for the Diocese of Massachusetts. I will be seeing a movie with my sister and shopping for fabric for my ordination stole with my grandmother. And, I will be asking what more I have to give that I have been holding back – because I am pretty sure my metaphor of a bird awaiting flight is flawed since God wants me to be flying already. 

Restructuring inside and out

February 21, 2012 / / 0 Comments

Lent, Lent, I love Lent. I’m absolutely, positively wild about Lent… *sung to the tune of Skidamarink a dinky dink*
Yes, if you know me at all or have followed my blog then you know how much I love the quiet simplicity of Lent. I generally take on a positive practice in my life (which necessitates giving up other, time consuming activities) as a way of marking the season. We walk the forty days of Jesus’ wilderness trials with our own period of introspection. I wrote more theologically about it last year. This year, however, I am writing more practically about it.
I was having a hard time thinking about what I should do for Lent this year. I like to do something that will be truly challenging and will yield positive long-term results. One year I took on reading daily (which necessitated giving up television) for the 40 days and to this day I read more than I watch TV. Last year I practiced the Ignatian Examen –and lead a group at church in that practice (which necessitated giving up Facebook) and I am still more mindful about the events of my day and where God has met me therein (my Facebook addiction continues; but that is the subject for another post.) So to chose a practice for this year I asked: What trials am I facing and what can I do to meet those challenges head-on?
Trials:
–       Saying healthy goodbyes: to the places and people who have loved and supported me these last 3 years of seminary
–       Preparing to transition into my professional vocation as an ordained minister in God’s church (gulp… no pressure there.)
–       Actually writing the thesis on the topic I have prayed, contemplated, and struggled with for the past 8 years.
–       Finding a place to live before it is time to leave the security of the dorms.
–       Being still, and knowing that God is God.
–       Celebrating the successes in my life and not being caught up in the worries.
I have to admit: identifying the trials was a lot easier than figuring out what I can do about them. As I sat and considered these things I got ridiculously stressed out because my living space is in such chaos right now. I did a good job at the beginning of the year keeping stuff organized, but just before Christmas (around the time of the GOEs, job interviews, and the “final” semester) a figurative bomb went off and my room has not been a calming space since. –For those of you with families, please know that I realize how much more difficult it is for you to keep your stuff straight while also organizing your spouse/partner/children’s things. I commend you.—But I have only myself to deal with, and trust me, I am a hot mess.
So I have decided to adopt the daily discipline of tidying my space. This may sound simple. You are probably thinking: “She should be doing that anyway; this is not a discipline it is a copout.” But I assure you, it is not.  Yes, in an ideal world I would be able to keep my chaos from affecting my living space; but I can’t. My room is a reflection of my current emotional space and I intend to use this Lenten period of reflection as an experiment to see if daily tidying of my exterior space can simultaneously offer me the opportunity for daily prayer and reflection –a form of bodily prayer, really—that will result in an internal restructuring, re-centering, and calming practice.
I will have to give some things up to make this a reality. I will not have the same amount of time to devote to stress. (Trust me, this is a huge sacrifice. I spend a LOT of time worrying.) I will not have the same amount of time to devote to Facebook or other tools of procrastination that generally result in an increase of worry. It is my hope that this exterior/interior restructuring can result in a calmer presence as I prepare to end my time in seminary and begin my ordained ministry.
“Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished.” Luke 4:1-2
Dear God, I pray that we may also be filled with the Holy Spirit and led by Her through this time in the wilderness. Guide our footsteps and guard our hearts as we prepare to enter this time of Holy introspection. Use it to strengthen our faith and to turn our eye towards You. Amen.

Cure vs. Healing…

February 17, 2012 / / 0 Comments

Mark 1:40-45


Bless his heart; the author of Mark’s Gospel seems to have made Jesus out to be a game show host in today’s lesson. Jesus has become the ancient day Bob Barker and this is the showcase showdown. The leper has hedged his bets on stating the facts and Jesus, who has just returned from a time of personal prayer born out of exhaustion from numerous healings and teaching sessions is left to make a choice.

It wasn’t a question or a request; when the leper approached Jesus and said “If you choose you can make me clean” he was stating a fact. Last week we heard about legions of the sick and ailing coming to Jesus to be healed. Everyone seems to know that Jesus has this power. They come to him in droves and ask to be made well. But this man, this beggar, comes to Jesus –falls on his knees- and merely states the facts…
“if you choose you can make me clean.”
Jesus was exhausted from the healing and teaching already performed on this visit. He just wants to be left alone… but this poor leper is clearly even more exhausted from what has likely been years of abandonment, isolation, and illness. He just wants a second chance.
According to Mark, Jesus had to think about it. He stood on the road and knew he could choose door number 1 or door number 2. If he sent the leper through door number 1 there would be a brand new life waiting with possibility and hope that comes from being loved, being touched, and being accepted: if Jesus chose door number 2 the leper would be sent on his way, in the same painful, hopeless condition he was in at that moment.
Jesus stood before this beggar and was “moved by pity”… but what if Jesus wasn’t moved? What if the beggar didn’t sound needy enough? What if Jesus was having a bad day and decided he didn’t feel like healing. And I don’t think there is anyone in this room who thinks Jesus even considered saying no. Of Course he said yes! But Jesus did have a choice and the fact that Jesus had a choice is what makes this story so painful when we pay attention to the details.
If Jesus had a choice then this story begs the question: Why doesn’t Jesus heal us all? Why doesn’t Jesus heal us of our ailments, afflictions, and addictions everyday? Why doesn’t Jesus choose to heal me?
If you’ve got the answer to that question then I definitely want to talk to you after the service because there isn’t a person in history –as far as I can tell- aside from Christ himself who could answer it. And if Jesus could answer it, I assure you, he didn’t… at least not in the pages of scripture.
We can point to the redemptive love poured out on the cross as the ultimate healing and sanctification for all of humanity, but in our daily struggles that we cry, pray, and crawl our way through… where is Jesus in those?
It is a painful and impossible question. If we sit in the endless cycle of wondering why Jesus heals some but not all we will waste our entire lives. We live in a world of immediate gratification. And it’s not just today… if we go back to the lesson from 2 Kings we find Naaman who didn’t want to go to the river and wash… he wanted to be healed now. Moving to the modern day: If we want to know any small detail about this or that we can turn to the Internet and have it at our fingertips. In the course of a generation we have gone from hand-written notes in the mail to emails that arrive instantly. We want it now, and if our healing doesn’t arrive instantly and in the form we desire then its not healing at all. Or is it?
When I was in Myanmar last year I had the opportunity to visit the Leprosy Hospital there. The Christians in the region run the hospital: all denominations working together to make the hospital possible. There is no other place for them to go in the entire country. While we were touring the hospital I noticed a small, blue sign in the window of one of the offices that read: “We treat, God heals.”  It was a simple placard, very small and easily missed… but the message was the most profound that I encountered that day and maybe even on my whole trip. I have spent a lot of time thinking about it.
We saw nurses bathing the patients, a man building wheel chairs out of scraps from old chairs that would have been in a junk pile in the US, //  we saw people who were shunned everywhere else being held in love. Their leprosy was not miraculously cured; but they were healed.
There is a difference between being cured and being healed. Being cured is a physical departure of disease. Being healed is when we are once again “made whole” in our spirit. Being healed has a spiritual and emotional side that is separate from the physical ailment. So often when we approach God in our prayers for healing it is actually a cure we are seeking. We want the physical ailment relieved so that we can go on with our lives and if that physical cure is not offered we lament at the lack of “healing in our lives.” What if we were able to approach the cross with desire for healing rather than a physical cure? // Now, I know this is easy for me to say as I stand up here in relatively good physical health. It’s an incredibly difficult question and I don’t mean to imply that it is not. But what is we were able to look to the cross and recognize the healing offered in this world and toward the cure offered in the next?
Healing implies a serenity of spirit that exists regardless of the physical or mental ailments that plague us. // Sometimes a miraculous cure comes along with the healing; but those miracles are not as frequent as the mending of souls.
When things get really rough, when the trials of life seem impossible to bear we are socialized to put our “noses to the grind stone,” flip up those blinders, and just get through. It isn’t until the situation is desperate that we turn to Christ to ask for relief. We can “do it all on our own.”
Over the last couple of Sundays we have heard of hoards of people running to Jesus seeking a touch to make them well. So many people were clinging to Jesus that last week we heard about the disciples searching for Jesus in the morning because he had seemed to disappear, they got all nervous and went to search for him. But he was just off on his own praying to God, His Father in heaven, so that he could find the strength to do it all over again.
We hear these stories and then we go home wondering why Jesus doesn’t make us clean. Or, more accurately, we hear these stories and then we go back to our daily lives forgetting that Jesus really performed these miracles. We go back to our lives. Hearing the radical news of Jesus Christ should make it impossible to return to our daily lives. Believing in the miracles of Jesus should transform our hearts daily making our lives new. //
For Adelaide and Lindsey whom we baptized here today, their parents made an important choice: a choice to turn to the cross. And all of us here today have promised to help Adelaide and Lindsey as they grow in the stature of Christ: we’ve promised to direct them to the cross, to pray for Christ to make them whole when they have difficult times in their lives. And I don’t think there is one of us out there who thinks that Jesus might say ‘no.’
The point of Mark’s story is: the beggar went to Jesus. Everyone else turned away. Every other treatment failed. All other hope was lost. There was nothing left to lose, the worst that could happen was for Jesus to say “no.” That is what we are afraid of: that Jesus will say, “You’re right, if I chose I could make you clean. But I chose not to.” Can you imagine? //  We are terrified that will be the response. So we go through our lives believing that the stories are nice, but we will take care of the day-to-day things on our own.
The healing offered to us today is not a cure for physical disease (although miracles do happen, and I pray for one in your life) – the healing offered to us today is available if we open our hearts to the radically, life altering power of Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior. The healing is offered when we accept kindness from our neighbors, when we go to a healing service and have hands laid on us, when we step outside of ourselves to lend a hand.
The healing is offered when we, like the beggar, fall to our knees in front of the the cross and say, “if you chose you can make me well.” Falling to our knees is symbolic of an opening of our hearts to the healing that is perpetually offered if we are only willing to believe and receive. 

Affirmation

February 15, 2012 / / 2 Comments

I was at Spiritual Direction yesterday and she asked me where I perceive God moving in my life at this time of transition and goodbyes. I am so sad that seminary is coming to an end. I will miss my friends and classmates. I will miss living in a community that forces me out of my shell. I will miss classes that challenge and intrigue me. I will miss professors whom I love and respect. I will miss daily worship and the space for stillness. I closed my eyes and breathed in her question: where do I perceive God moving in my life at this time? There were two places I immediately recognized and I would like to share one of those places with you:
I perceive God in the affirmation of my call to ordained ministry that has come in the form of my first vocational call as the new Assistant Rector of the Parish of the Epiphany in Winchester, Massachusetts!

The week after GOEs was supposed to be a week of respite at home in Maine, instead I was invited to interview with 3 remarkable churches in Massachusetts. (I never made it home during that “vacation.”) Each parish had wonderful positions and opportunities available, but one of those positions spoke to my heart. My interview at the Parish of the Epiphany was both challenging and comfortable, exhausting and energizing. I met with many of the ministry leaders and all of the staff members. The position they described and their desires for their assistant matched so well with my skills and personality that I couldn’t imagine a better first position for myself. I was called back for a final interview the last week of January and learned more about the challenges and opportunities available there. It felt like home.
I am not unrealistic. I know that this job will stretch me in ways I cannot possibly imagine. I know that there will be days of great joy as well as days of great sadness. But I also know that this is the place where God is calling me next.
I appreciate your prayers in this time of transition for my classmates and myself. The luxury available to me in this final semester is that in knowing where I am going I know some of the things I need to learn before starting in June. I am doing an independent study in curriculum to prepare for the Christian Formation work I will be doing. I am working with my field education parish to arrange new learning opportunities. But most of all I am working to hold tight to these short months I have left in this wonderful place. As much fear and sadness as this leaving will have, the affirmation I feel at having secured such a remarkable position this early in the “season” provides me solace and joy. My hands are God’s hands and the opportunity to use them in a new way is just beyond the horizon. 

A look into the future…

December 30, 2011 / / 1 Comment

Leading up to the turn of the millennium (and for a few years after since the bit was so funny,) Conan O’Brien had a sketch he did on his show called “in the year 2000.” I love this sketch. The basic idea was that Conan would announce it was time to look into the future and then a special guest came on and they predicted funny things that would happen “in the year 2000.” (Here is a link to a clip of the skit with Conan and Meghan Mullally. Fair warning: there is one, somewhat crude joke toward the end… but it gives you a good idea of what I am talking about.) I had a dream the other night along the lines of this skit but for me the song was “in the year 2012…”

The realization that the new year is about to dawn finally hit me the other day. It is going to be the year 2012 on Sunday and what is so significant about that is all of the changes that I’ve been working toward for… well… for my entire lifetime that now stand on the horizon. The snow ball is on the way down the mountain and it feels like the choice is to ski in front of the snow rush or get trampled by the ball.

GOEs are next week. I’ve heard from some folks that they are worried that I am studying too much and too stressed over it. In reality I have only really reviewed for the Church History section. For all the rest I am preparing my resources and calming my spirit. Today’s GOE prep included a walk in the woods with my niece and pedicures with my aunt. Generally, it’s when I get quiet about something that worry is warranted; when I am “chatty cathie” it’s because I am coping outwardly. Am I stressed? Yes. Will it be over soon. YES! 🙂 My favorite blog about GOE prep is Janine’s. She describes the test and the stress we are all under. I think what is so crazy about the whole thing is that we all learn about the GOE and the stress it causes during our first year of seminary. We see the seniors around us running around all stressed out and we think it will be different in two years when it is our turn… we were wrong.

The week after GOEs I scheduled a week at home for respite, renewal, and packing in preparation for moving into an apartment at the end of the year. Fortunately (and unfortunately) I will not make it to Maine that week as I intended. Instead, I have been invited for interviews with three outstanding parishes. What an extraordinary opportunity. My skill sets have spiked interest in the market for assistants and I am so blessed to have the chance to start interviewing for jobs so early. But it also makes “the year 2012” so much more real. This is the year of graduation. (God willing and people consenting) This is the also year of deaconal ordination. Holy Spirit guiding, this is the year of my first call. This is the year of moving into my own apartment sans roommates for the first time since Arkansas. And, if I have my way, this is the year I get a dog.

Something that helped frame my break and my approach to the end of this final semester of seminary was the ordination of three of my close friends the week before Christmas. Seeing people who started your seminary journey with you getting ordained makes the joyous reality of our lives vivid. I felt so blessed to share that day with my friends and with the church. For now, ordination is one of the last things on my mind. My focus is on GOEs, job interviews, my thesis, and spending quality time with my peers. Soon enough seminary will be over the real world begins.

So for now I am taking life one day at a time. I walked on Kennebunk beach and at the Franciscan Monastery while listening to church history the other day.  Today was pedicures and chilly walking. Tomorrow is lunch and shopping date with my Grandma. Beyond that? I’m not really sure. I know I am flying back to VTS on Sunday morning, but otherwise I’m not really certain. I will be taking my days slowly and deliberately because life seems to be setting out at a run and I want to savor each moment as much as possible.  I am meditating on Psalm 46:10 so that when the snowball seems to be taking control, I can slow down and remind myself why I am doing this to begin with…

 Be

Be still

Be still and

Be still and know

Be still and know that

Be still and know that I am

Be still and know that I am God

Be still and know that I am

Be still and know that

Be still and know

Be still and

Be still

Be

Amen.

Choosing an Advent Discipline

November 22, 2011 / / 0 Comments
Lent is the time you give something up, or take on a spiritual discipline, as a way of recognizing the penitential season of waiting before Easter. I really don’t understand why we don’t have the same tradition in Advent. Advent is also a penitential season of waiting. It is not a time to celebrate the joy of Christmas; it is the time to walk reverently and with hope, following the star toward the promise of a birth.
This Advent I am leading a group at my field education parish for those folks who have a difficult time during Advent and Christmas. Last year I attended a “Blue Christmas” service at St. Philip’s in Laurel, MD — it was a lovely service that met me where I was and helped me to see a new possibility for Advent. As someone who has experienced a great loss during the Christmas season, Advent and Christmas have been extremely emotionally taxing for the last several years. I decided to take the idea of “Blue Christmas” and extend it further. The group I am leading invites people from various backgrounds to come together and wait together, feeling the feelings we have rather than the feelings we are told we should have. We will share in our grief and our hope as we walk slowly through a world that is running. The group will culminate with a Blue Advent healing Eucharist with a liturgy that I am writing.
So this Advent I have decided to treat the season a little like Lent. I am removing distractions from my life and replacing them with gentleness and mercy for my soul. I am reading prayers by Desmond Tutu, Dietrich Bonheoffer, and Henri Nouwen. I am waiting for the miracle that is coming. The thing about waiting is that waiting in the bible is always an active thing. It isn’t like missing the bus and then needing to just sit on the bench waiting for the next one to come by: waiting for Christ requires preparation of our hearts and our lives so that there will be room for the Joy that is on the horizon.
I write this as I prepare my heart this week for the coming of Advent. We have the luxury of knowing that a season of waiting is drawing close, and that foreknowledge is a gift that we are given. What we do with the gift is up to us. So yes, I am writing about Advent waiting before Advent even begins. It is my hope that I may use this week to prepare my heart to wait patiently and counter-culturally. Advent Conspiracy is one resource if you are considering how you would like to reclaim the season of Advent in your life. There are many others out there. I encourage you to spend this week deciding: What do you intend to do with your time of waiting?

Bishops and Delegates and Fenway, oh my!

November 8, 2011 / / 0 Comments
Bishop Bud on the score board

This weekend was the annual Diocese of Massachusetts convention. As a senior in seminary, this year’s convention was especially important for me to attend. I came armed, with business cards at the ready, with a goal of being an extrovert for the whole weekend. It was actually quite fun. Friday’s events were more subdued with little business and more reports, worship, and imagining for the future of the diocese. It was a short afternoon because Bishop Bud’s retirement extravaganza was to be held that evening at FENWAY PARK!

You heard me right, I got to spend Friday night at Fenway… but you’ll have to wait to hear about that…

Bishop Bud and me… his collar is autographed by Wally the Green Monster!
Dorothella, Steph, and I couldn’t find seats inside, but that
meant we got to eat outside looking over the field.

The most important part of convention this year was the opportunity to connect, and reconnect, with the people who are going to be my colleagues in ministry next year. I was able to sit down with one of my mentors who helped me focus my vision for ministry and think critically about the job search ahead. I got to give hugs to my church family whom I have missed tremendously. I was able to meet some amazing people who are doing great things to further Christ’s kingdom in Massachusetts and beyond. I even got to learn about some great assistant rector opportunities that are coming open this year. After passing out nearly all the business cards I came to Boston with, I am feeling hopeful and excited about coming home next year!

Our view during dinner.

Oh, and yes, I might have eaten dinner in the Pavillion at Fenway… 3 stories above home plate. It was very neat! Bishops Tom and Gayle sang Bud a song and folks told wonderful stories about his ministry with us. Bud is an incredible man and I am sad that he is retiring, but after meeting his family I am excited that they will get to spend more time with him.

Please, tell me about yourself.

October 31, 2011 / / 0 Comments

Greetings from unseasonably cool Alexandria Virginia! Yesterday I traveled to Gettysburg, PA for the Lutherbowl Flag Football Tournament that was sadly canceled after a single game due to snow, mud, and freezing players. It was still a good break from my work. Today was “back to the grind” as it were, preaching 3 services at field education. 
This is the sermon I preached this morning at St. Anne’s in Reston. It was a tough passage to wrestle with, but a good challenge overall. My sermon text is rough because I rarely read exactly what is on the page. I hope you enjoy.
Scripture reference: Matthew 23:1-12
We are a people who live by labels. Take me for instance: I am a seminarian, a daughter, a singer, an aunt, a candidate for Holy Orders, a terrible knitter… I could go on and on. When I meet a new person and they ask me about myself I tell them that I am a graduate student. I label myself. // We identify ourselves with labels because we are a people who have been socialized to identify ourselves, our neighbors, and the world around us with labels. // So what happens when those labels are taken away? What happens when Jesus comes and strips us of the labels we are accustomed to employing? What do we do then?
In the Gospel lesson from Matthew, Jesus admonishes the Pharisees for a failure to “practice what they preach;” this is nothing new, Jesus speaks against the Pharisees quite frequently. After reminding us that we are supposed to give glory to God and structure our lives in such a way that they make this a reality, he goes further to tell us that we cannot call our earthly fathers, “father;” // furthermore, we must not call anyone on earth “teacher” or “instructor” because the Messiah was our one teacher and instructor. // I’ve heard many people try to interpret this message so that Jesus isn’t really saying we can’t call our Dads “father.” Jesus wouldn’t want us to disrespect our parents, that goes against the 10 commandments… “Honor your mother and father…” // So Jesus must mean something else, right? //
No, Jesus is quite clear: “And call no one your father on earth, for you have one Father– the one in heaven.” // He has said something like this before… Earlier in the Gospel of Matthew when Jesus is on the road some disciples tell Jesus they want to follow him. One says, “Let me bury my father and then I will follow you.” But Jesus responds, “Let the dead bury the dead.” // Jesus instructs the man to stop making excuses and to follow Him. // It isn’t an instruction that we should disrespect our parents; rather, Jesus is instructing us to stop letting labels get in the way of following Him.
If we follow the commandment to honor our Mother and Father by respecting and caring for our parents, but then we look past the anguish of a homeless person in the park – have we truly followed the commandment? // You see, what is hidden in the midst of Jesus’ cry against the Pharisees and His call against the labels of teacher, father, and instructor is actually a cry against all of us who say one thing and then do another. // Likewise, it is a cry against those of us who do “the right thing” in order to obtain praise from others.//
This passage does not simply admonish the Pharisees for their inability to live up to the standard they set for others; this passage admonishes all of us who live in the hypocrisy that exists when we call one person father, neighbor, or brother and then pass by a fellow human being who is in need. // It is calling out all of us who work for justice when part of the motivation that drives us is how we will be applauded by our neighbors when they hear about our efforts. // We all fail to fully live into God’s commandment to love as we have been loved because we allow the labels we create to get in our way.
Often when we read the Gospels it is so easy to read what Jesus has to say against the Pharisees, Sadducees, Tax Collectors, and sinners because we forget that he is actually talking to us. // We are not the righteous ones who are being told that we will fit through the eye of the needle with ease because we have left behind the trappings of this world. We are the wealthy and the privileged, we are the sinners who are stumbling along the pathway, we are the Pharisees who make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long. // We are the ones who are praying out on the street corner while being instructed to pray in quiet. // Today, we are the Pharisees. //
Does that mean that we have no hope? // Of course not! But the hope that is offered might be difficult for us to receive. // The hope, and the healing, that is being offered to us today is to strip away our labels. // The hope we have is to accept the Grace offered; // but to make room for that Grace we need to unload a lot of the things that are cluttering up our lives making it difficult for us to feel at home with Grace. // It sounds simple on the surface: opening ourselves to God’s Grace, but let’s really consider what that would mean in the context of today’s Gospel:
When I labeled myself at the beginning of this sermon I said I was a seminarian, a daughter, a singer, an aunt… and so on… for me to stand up and accept the Grace that Jesus is offering it would require that I identify solely as “a child of God” and your “sister in Christ.” // The rest of the labels hold no meaning from a heavenly perspective. When I die I will no longer be a singer or a seminarian, I will be what I have always been: “a child of God.” // And what is more than that… I am a BELOVED child of God. //
And while that feels tremendously freeing when I close my eyes and breathe it in, the thought of loosing track of my labels in the real world of 2011 Northern Virginia is terrifying. // I am currently searching for a job, can you imagine what folks would say if under the special skills section of my resume I put “Being a Beloved Child of God.” What would that even mean? // And I am going into church ministry… what about you? What if the next time you were applying for a position in retail or IT you put “Child of God” or “Brother in Christ” as your descriptor? // // // Is that what Jesus is asking us to do.
Again, no. // It helps if we look back to the Gospel lesson from 2 weeks ago when Jesus was confronted in the synagogue about paying taxes to the state. In that passage Jesus told the people that they should give back to the government the money, and to give to God what is God’s. // What we learned from that is that our bodies, our souls, and our minds belong to God while our earthly possessions belong to this world. // This is the same idea: We are being called to a place where we don’t let our earthly labels distract us from the divine purpose God has for us. // It is the line between pride and glory that we must walk. //
God has blessed us with the skills we have and when we lose track of the fact that it is God who has provided the skills and abilities, that is when we fall into the trapping of Pride. // Jesus is teaching us to be disciples, and to be a disciple we must learn to leave everything behind when we follow Him.
Stanley Hauerwas, professor of Theological Ethics at Duke and author of numerous books, has just released a new book entitled, “Working with Words: On Learning to Speak Christian.” In it he has included a commencement address he gave at Eastern Mennonite Seminary, in it he describes the job of a minister as a teacher of the language of Christianity. Hauerwas says that seminary is an exercise in learning to read Christian texts working toward an end of learning to “speak Christian” so that graduates may enter the ministry and become teachers of the “Christian language.” He focuses his work on the risks and challenges associated with using words to talk about God. // Those same challenges are inherent as we venture out into the world trying to live a Christian life when we are not fluent in the Christian language and when Christian culture is not the prevalent culture in which we live. // One of the most important things for us to learn as we become teachers of the Christian Language, Hauerwas claims, is when to be quiet. He tells us that there is a blessing inherent in learning from the Spirit when we are supposed to speak, and when we are supposed to let the silence speak. //
It is in that silence, I believe, that we are living into our status as always, already, Beloved Children of God. // It is in the silence that we let go of the labels. // It is when we make room for the Holy Spirit to speak through us sometimes with, but often without words, that we live up to that label and allow others to find their “Child of God label” as well.
Jesus isn’t telling us to put “child of God” on our resume in place of the other labels that represent our experience; He isn’t telling us to stop being the creative and fabulous individuals that we are in this world; // // He is telling us that in the great scheme of things, our resume doesn’t matter. // Jesus isn’t telling us to disrespect our parents because our earthly parents are’t as important as our Heavenly parent; He is telling us to respect all of our fellow human beings because we are all brothers and sisters in Christ. // Jesus isn’t telling us that we should condemn the modern day Pharisees who wear their prayers like a cloak while acting in ways contrary to their preaching; He is reminding us that we are the Pharisees who must learn to match our activities to our faith without expectation of accolades or rewards. //
We are a people who live by our labels, if we truly want to follow Christ we don’t need to change our nature … because our nature is having been created in the image of God!… -we can still be people who live by our labels- but we must adjust which labels we use.
My name is Audrey; I am a Christian, a child of God, and your sister in sister in Christ. My current vocation is as a graduate student working towards Holy Orders. I enjoy singing and knitting, though my creations are made with love and very little skill. I have a large family whom I love very much. // It’s a pleasure to meet you. Now please, tell me about yourself… 

I’m an atheist. Enjoy your wine.

October 16, 2011 / / 0 Comments

I was at the wine and cheese store the other night picking out a bottle for a friend. I asked the girl behind the counter for help since, let’s face it, I chose for the pretty labels and know nothing about what is inside. We were having a joyful conversation and after she helped me and we went to check out she asked what it was for. I told her that it was “Wine/Whine on Wednesday” -a tradition in the dorms at VTS. She asked more about it and after learning that I was a seminarian she promptly said, “I knew a girl who went to seminary. She was going to be a minister and everything. We were good friends. I’m an atheist, but I know people who have gone to seminary. Enjoy your wine.”

It was an awkward and somewhat comical interaction. It felt a little bit like a confession. She needed me to know that she is an atheist. It was not said as an invitation to discuss faith, as evidenced by the fact that she walked away from the counter as soon as she was done speaking to me. It was presented with a tone that implied: “This is my atheism shield: do not try to penetrate my defenses, you will not get through.”

If I could count all of the awkward ways conversations end when I meet new people and they learn I am a seminarian I would be up to at least a hundred by now. But I also have those conversations that grow so much deeper and more personal when folks learn of my current station. There is one coworker who confessed her journey of faith and asked how I knew there was a God after I told her I was leaving work to go to seminary. There was a man at the airport who wanted to know what it meant to be an “Episcopalian”after seeing my “SEMINARY” shirt at the airport. There are those “episco-insiders” who ask about the Holy Hill after hearing I am at Virginia.

But for every interesting, deep conversation that results from status as “seminarian” there are at least two awkward, comedic, or sometimes sad ends to conversations that never happened because folks just didn’t know what to think. What this all tells me is that I need to start more conversations. I need to meet more people. I need to do this because there is a funny power that the word “seminary” has over people and the only way to figure out what this power is will be to have more conversations and to remain open to what they bring. Good thing Wine on Wednesday happens every week; I will see my wine store girl again soon.

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