I keep forgetting to post this link on here. The photo at the top of my blog is from a skit I conceived and helped put on in the VTS variety show my junior year at seminary. Here it is: Episcopal Girl from the 2010 VTS Spring Variety Show:
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Seniors at VTS are given the opportunity to preach one sermon during our chapel team week. This was my stab at it preached at the noon Eucharist today. I am happy to say that I didn’t pass out!
Luke 8:16-18 — “No one after lighting a lamp hides it under a jar, or puts it under a bed, but puts it on a lampstand, so that those who enter may see the light.For nothing is hidden that will not be disclosed, nor is anything secret that will not become known and come to light. Then pay attention to how you listen; for to those who have, more will be given; and from those who do not have, even what they seem to have will be taken away.”
Luke 8:16-18 — “No one after lighting a lamp hides it under a jar, or puts it under a bed, but puts it on a lampstand, so that those who enter may see the light.For nothing is hidden that will not be disclosed, nor is anything secret that will not become known and come to light. Then pay attention to how you listen; for to those who have, more will be given; and from those who do not have, even what they seem to have will be taken away.”
I know this will come as a shock to many of you, but I can’t hide it any longer: I love glitter. It’s true, I can’t deny it: gawdy or glorious, sequins or spangles: if it sparkles, I’m a happy girl. Now, I know what you’re thinking, “But Audrey, glitter gets everywhere and is impossible to clean up.” // // // Exactly.
Glitter leaves a trace, sometimes for years to come. // My unnatural love of this craft supply stretches even further than the confines of my craft closet. My love of all-things-sparkle has become a metaphor in my life: I use the adjective to describe a certain type of person and I’ll bet there is someone in your life, either presently or in the past, who just seemed to sparkle. //
There are those people whose joy, depth, or energy seems to glow through them. // The light they possess is dazzling and infectious. // Their sparkle gives us something to strive toward. // Their light offers joy, comfort, hope, or encouragement seemingly without any special effort on their part. // That, my friends, is the light of Christ and I’d like to introduce one of those sparkly individuals now:
It was a bright morning in mid-September and Jessica was excited to drive herself to school after years of riding the bus. The sun was especially bright that morning and as she came to the crest of a hill she was momentarily blinded. It was just a moment, but in that moment Jess couldn’t see that there was a school bus stopped directly in front of her; She couldn’t see that she needed to stop. In that moment her life changed, but the the most important part of her remained exactly the same: her faith was unshaken.
Paralyzed from the neck down, Jessica arrived at the hospital for months of therapy and rehab. It would have been perfectly normal for her to experience depression or hopelessness. But while she had her difficult days, the remarkable thing about Jessica was the positive outlook she brought to each day. In her mind, her accident only proved further that God was merciful and loving and that there was a purpose for her life. // Jessica sparkled with the best of them.
Working with Jess was an exercise in listening: but not just with my ears, listening with my heart to even the smallest gestures. As the author of Luke’s Gospel wrote: ‘Then pay attention to how you listen; for to those who have, more will be given; and from those who do not have, even what they seem to have will be taken away.’ // // // While this may appear at first glance to be at odds with the “last shall be first” theology we usually hear in the Gospels, we learn upon reflection that the Gospel writer is talking about faith. The writer isn’t talking about taking away from the poor or destitute. The writer is explaining that those who believe in the truth of the Triune God will learn more and more about God each day simply by experiencing God’s creation with an open heart. But those people who put their faith in transient things or false prophets, as they listen to each day, they will see their faith whittle away because new information experienced in creation will contradict their false assumptions.
This short passage is an imperative towards listening: not listening in the way we normally do, with our brains working full speed trying to think of what we will say next, but listening with our whole selves. Listening with our eyes and our ears and our hearts. It is only when we listen with our full selves that we can see the sparkle.
Many of us have spent so long telling our story that we forget how to listen without looking for the trick question or trying to find a way to make sure we are heard.
Well, friends, the time for trick questions has passed. Right now, in this moment, you have nowhere else to be. // If we all pause for just a minute, like the map at the kiosk in the mall, I would like to proudly declare: you are here. // Take a deep breath and rest in that for a moment. You Are Here. Regardless of where you need to be next, or where you just came from; right now, in this moment, we are here, together. And in a few minutes we will be right there *points at altar* at the communion table with Christ. ////
We are here at VTS to be formed in community. Whether we are staff or students we are all being formed by one another, because the process of Christian formation is lifelong. No matter if we are being formed to be teachers or priests, youth ministers or deacons, missionaries or evangelists: we are all being formed, and every person here: staff, faculty, students, spouses, and families, are part of that formation. There are members of this community who are going to leave traces of sparkle on your heart. Formation requires that we listen for that still, small, sparkly voice of God and if we do that, we will find the Christ light in some of the most unexpected places.
It is in listening that we are able to learn about one another, and in seeing each others sparkle we see the face of God. There is a little light of Christ in the heart of each – and every – person here. // We all have brokenness and pain in our lives, and what a shame it is when that brokenness becomes a jar that blocks the light of Christ, burning within our souls, from shining to the outside. – Our brokenness doesn’t need to be a jar placed over the flame… it can become a lens through which those shards of pain become kaleidoscope pieces that add interest to our sparkle. That is why we have come to this Monday healing service: to offer up that brokenness to God to be transformed.
As the gospel writer reminds us, “there is no truth that will not eventually get out,” so who are we to stand in the way of this truth? // Who would hide a light under a jar? No one, of course, except each one of us who tries to hide a piece of ourself from the world for fear they won’t understand. // // //
I would bet that each of us has the potential to be that “sparkly” person in the life of another, just like Jessica was to me. Maybe you already are. I would also bet that each of us needs to make a conscious decision of what we are willing to let go of in order to truly shine with all Christ’s light. We all have the light of Christ within us, but only you know what it is that is holding you back from shining to your full potential. // // // Won’t you share your sparkle with us?
Here is my Trinity Sunday sermon from St. Paul’s in Natick. I had the interesting challenge of meditating on the Trinity while also remaining mindful of the fact that it was Father’s Day. Here is what resulted:
It took 16 hours to drive home from seminary three weeks ago. I arrived at my dad’s house at 11PM and went straight up to my childhood bedroom and fell into my bed… which had been made with fresh sheets and had extra blankets on the end, just how I like it. // When I awoke the next morning I came downstairs to find all of the boxes from my car stacked neatly at the bottom of the stairs. -there were a lot of boxes- I went to the kitchen to make some breakfast and found my favorite yogurt and a new box of my regular cereal. // My dad doesn’t eat yogurt, and he sure doesn’t like paying for name brand cereal. // My dad can tell some of the most long winded, detailed stories about random events of New England history you’ve ever heard. But when it comes to talking about his feelings he is a man of few words. // // //
In the words of Brother Tobias Stanislas: Trinity Sunday is the one day of the church year when we specifically “focus on God’s being rather than God’s doing.” // It is important to consider, however, that it is through God’s doing that we learn about God’s being. After all, isn’t the old saying: “actions speak louder than words?”//
The wonder of Trinity Sunday is encompassed in the breadth of the readings we experienced this morning. It is through those readings that we learn the Triune nature of the God we worship and of the majesty, power, love, and potential that is gifted to us through God’s multidimensional essence. // The task of Trinitarian theology according to Augustine is “to manifest what is expressly revealed in the Scripture concerning God the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; so as that we may duly believe in him, yield obedience unto him, enjoy communion with him, walk in his love and fear, and so come as length to be blessed with him for evermore.” // In other words, the task of trinitarian theology is to learn about God through God’s actions and words in the bible so that we can fully love God and walk on the path to which God calls us. //
When we hear the creation story from Genesis, as we did today, it is like coming home. We all know this story. It is written on our hearts… and if you’ve ever attended the Easter Vigil at St. Paul’s, then you probably want to say “good, good, very very good” every time God creates something. // When a story becomes comfortable we anticipate what is coming next, and that anticipation causes us to stop listening with our full selves because we think we already know all that is happening. // It is like reading a story book to a child each night before bed. If the child has a favorite book, and has heard it enough times, she will say to you, “Daddy, let me read it.” And even though she is too young to read, she will take the book and tell you the story from memory; guided by the images, her retelling of this favorite tale will catch most of the major points but you notice the text and you can see when she is leaving out bits of the tale. // It is for this reason, I want us to take some time together to really listen to this creation story. To hear all of the profundity that is encompassed in this timeless tale, and to consider what special message it has for us on Trinity Sunday, of all days.
As I said before, it is through God’s doing that we learn about God’s being… and God sure is doing a LOT in that first reading from Genesis. // As we look at this story with fresh eyes let’s consider those things which have become the pieces we leave out when we are retelling the story. // It is often in the little actions that the greatest character traits of a person are revealed. //
In the second verse of this lesson from Genesis a “wind from God” sweeps over the deep. Wind is important in the bible. Just last Sunday we heard about the “violent wind” of Pentecost sweeping through the house and gifting the disciples with the ability to speak and hear in multiple languages. And one reason that wind is chosen as a metaphor is because it is an image we can relate to. // We have all experienced wind. A soft breeze on a summer day, a bitter whipping wind in the throws of winter, and just two weeks ago our neighbors out by Springfield felt the terror and destruction of tornadoes winds. // Wind is a powerful image because it is invisible yet has the ability to disrupt everything in its path. // It can be gentle or forceful. Welcomed or feared. // Wind is a perfect image for the Holy Spirit essence of God because the Holy Spirit is described as God’s essence at work in the world around us.
That’s right, in the first two verses of the bible, those that we heard in Genesis today, we were unwittingly introduced to two members of the Trinity. God: who we commonly refer to as father or mother, and who is generally credited with creation. As well as God the Holy Spirit. The Hebrew word used to describe the wind in the second verse is the first occurrence of the word Ruach, which means wind or Spirit. This wind not only served as God’s action towards the void and precipitated the change that began the formation of the world, the wind was God.
What do we see after this initial wind is sent? // 6 times God speaks aloud and calls elements into being. God calls them by name. // Naming is a powerful act. // As humans we name specific things: when we are young we might begin by naming our imaginary friends, we then move on to name family pets, we give nick names to our friends, when we get older we name our children. // Naming implies a relationship: either a present relationship or an anticipated relationship. By naming creation with care, God is showing creation that God intends to continue in relationship with that creation after the initial act is complete. //
What is more than that, after each act of creation God calls the creation good. // God praises the elements and creatures of creation. God is pleased with them. And what’s more than that God blesses them. // God loves them. //
It is specifically important to look at this beginning of the human relationship with God. When God creates humans on the sixth day the command from God is different. Rather than saying “Let there be…” God says “Let US create humankind in OUR image…” Let US… OUR image… who is US? // To whom was God speaking? // // // As Christians, we believe that this is an example in the beginning of the Hebrew scriptures of God speaking within God’s self to the members of the Trinity. // We have already looked at the occurrence of the Holy Spirit as the wind from God in this passage… as God’s action in the world… but where would we claim is Jesus? // The Gospel according to John begins by saying “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was God and the Word was with God and all things came into being through him.” If we use this text as a lens through which to read the creation account we would say that the Word that God speaks… each time that God commands there to be light, or water, or animals that work is the word of the Son in creation. According to John, Jesus was this Word made flesh… the Word was with God and was God from the very beginning of time. And as we heard in the Gospel reading from Matthew, Jesus will be will us “until the end of the age. // From the beginning of time until the end of the age. //
Is it important whether or not this is exactly the way in which the world came to be? Does it mean that you can’t be a person of faith if you don’t believe that this description is adequate as an explanation for the creation of the cosmos? Of course not. // But this account can be viewed as means of explaining the nature of God and the existence of the world by the early people of the world. Since the very beginning, humans have been trying to make sense of God. But God is so awesome and so inconceivable that we needed stories and personifications in order to start to grasp God’s reality. // God recognized this inability to fully comprehend and so God interacts with Creation and even sent Christ into the world to save humanity from the sins we have fallen into. // God sent part of God’s self in a tangible form as a continuation of creation. // God’s actions from the act of Creation to the Exodus from slavery in Egypt, to the birth of Jesus to Christ’s death on the Cross and rising to new life… all of God’s actions tell us who God is. They teach us about the Trinity. //
If the story of your life was written, what would your actions betray about your being? // // //
They say that reading the New Testament is reading a life. But I believe that the truth of the matter is, reading the entire bible, Old and New Testaments is the experience of reading a life. // True, it is a life completely other than that which we live… because it is the life of the Triune God throughout the ages.// From the very beginning of time itself to the prophesies for the end of the age… the bible is our opportunity to read God’s being. //
As we move forward into this summer it is our chance to move out into creation and continue writing the story of our being through our actions. // Every moment of every day we betray a part of our innermost self to the people with whom we interact. Whether it is a brief interaction with a stranger, a reunion with a friend we haven’t seen in years, or those everyday moments with our families each action speaks to our core characteristics. // Reading the creation story on Trinity Sunday is a wonderful opportunity to encounter God’s undivided, Trinitarian essence in God’s first recorded act in the Holy Scriptures. Every story, every verse, every action teaches us more and more about God who is Mother and Father to us all. // God who is our brother, teacher, savior and friend. // God who is continuing to work in the world and in our lives each and every day. //
Next school year, my final year at the Virginia Seminary, I will be undertaking the challenge of writing a thesis on this very topic: the persons of God. I will specifically be exploring the issues we have as a church explaining the third person of the Trinity, the Holy Spirit, to those new to the faith -both children and seekers. // We generally do a good job giving concrete illustrations and personifications of God as parent and God as Jesus, but we often send people out with an ability to only articulate a dualistic faith. // We are Trinitarians and I want to explore how we, as a church, can do a better job at teaching those within our denomination how to articulate this core doctrine and understanding of the Christian faith. // I will start my work by exploring the scriptures, just as we have this morning. I will go back into the stories and read them with fresh eyes to see where God’s actions betray bits of God’s essence. // All the while, this act of reading and researching and eventually writing my thesis will betray to those who witness it elements of my core being. // Every moment of every day has the potential to tell a story about who we are. // // //
What do you plan on doing today?
I seem to have won the preaching lottery this summer! This morning I got to preach for Pentecost Sunday at my childhood parish: St. David’s in Kennebunk; and next week I am preaching Trinity Sunday at my sponsoring parish, St. Paul’s in Natick! Here is my sermon from this morning:
It seems futile to sweep a bamboo slat floor in a dust-covered jungle, but that is exactly what she was doing when we arrived. It was a hot, humid day in January on a mission trip to Myanmar -formerly known as Burma- in East Asia. // Church let out that morning and my classmates and I were separated and sent to visits parishioners’ homes in the small village of Mwa Bvi, Myanmar. I was partnered with two Burmese bible college students in their early twenties and two Burmese high school students. They would serve as my translators. We walked for about fifteen minutes before coming to the first home. As we walked we tried to carry on a conversation, but their English comprehension -while extraordinary- was still slow and the exchange of ideas was hampered. I was nervous. // No one told us what we would be doing. I assumed we were going to learn from people in the village about their lives as Christian minorities in an oppressive military-controlled country where the majority religion was Buddhism.
The home we arrived at was made entirely from bamboo apart from a thatch roof fashioned from palm leaves. It was on stilts two feet above the group to protect from flooding during the annual rainy season. A tiny, old woman was sweeping the floor in preparation for our arrival. The woman was no more than four and a half feet tall; her body bent and broken from osteoporosis. She smiled broadly to welcome us into her home. We left our shoes on the ground and stepped up inside. I had to crouch to avoid hitting my head on the ceiling. It was a single room with mats on the floor. I sat down and the room quickly filled up with 5 children, 3 more adult women and an adult man. A forth woman brought in some tea and a cup was handed to me. Was I even allowed to drink this; was the water safe? The room was silent so I drank. The old woman smiled at me expectantly. I looked to my translators and they said, “She would like you to pray for her family.” //
“When the day of Pentecost had come, the disciples were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.”
Have you ever wondered what that “violent rush of wind” must have felt like? The selection from Acts says nothing about the feeling that the disciples encountered that day. It sounded like wind, like hurricane winds tearing through the house straight from heaven… but what did it feel like? Tongues of fire that rested upon them. Was it still? Could you see it? Or was it simply a feeling that suddenly invaded their bodies and graced them with the ability to speak and to hear? The text implies that the sound of wind tore down from heaven and invaded the home, appearing as fire that rested on the disciples. That sounds terrifying.
Pentecost wasn’t a lovely summer day or a walk in the park. Folks didn’t leave there saying, “Well, that was neat. I wish I could speak all those languages, too.” People were surprised, scared, in awe, confused, and inspired. The Holy Spirit, in all Her fury, rained down upon the people and the church was born.
Kind of makes you wonder, if the church started with such drama how did we get here? // The disciples were commissioned to spread the Gospel to all the corners of the earth, fire rained down upon them and they went forward in shock and awe proclaiming, and prophesying, and interpreting. And not just the twelve. As the book of Acts moves forward from this place we learn that men and women, young and old, jews and gentiles were blessed with gifts of the Holy Spirit that enabled them to carry Christ’s message into the world. // Did the Holy Spirit just stop moving in the same way after this grand act from biblical times?
No. The Holy Spirit has been and continues to be the presence of God in creation. The second verse of the Bible introduces the Holy Spirit when it says, “the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.” The wind was the Spirit already moving through the formless void. When God breathed life into the creation that breath was the Holy Spirit. That breath was the Holy Spirit. Time and time again we hear in scripture about the breath of God moving on the earth and affecting change. In our creed we proclaim that “we believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord the Giver of life…” But in our lives, how many of us really feel like we experience the Holy Spirit on a daily basis?
It takes intentional effort. In a world that is tied up with modern communication devises and scientific explanations for everything it takes intentional, prayerful contemplation to see the Spirit moving in the little things. But remember, Pentecost was an event unlike any other, the disciples had slow moving days when they had to look for the Spirit too.
I once heard a priest say that word of mouth is the greatest evangelical tool for growing the church. He went on to explain that Episcopalians were the least likely of any denomination to invite their friends to church which is a major reason that our churches are shrinking. Now, I am not sure where he got his facts, but it wouldn’t surprise me. The Episcopal Church is seen from the outside as an exclusive club. When newcomers enter our doors they discover the need to juggle multiple books, learn special hand signals, and sing out in a culture that tells them keep their songs to themselves. // // // Pentecost is the day when God sent God’s Spirit down to tell them to take their hope as Easter people out into the world. Each year we celebrate Pentecost as our common call to be witnesses of Christ’s redeeming love in the world. What about being witnesses even with our neighbors and friends?
So, where is the Spirit raining down in your life? We don’t receive gifts of the spirit so we can be better at the things we are doing; we receive them so that we can go forward to do the work God is calling us to do. Oftentimes, that work is scary. It is something we could not have imagined on our own. And it is something that we feel in the very core of our being that something other than ourselves is willing us forward.
When I went to Myanmar in January I went expecting my heart to be broken open for the people there and for the plight they were facing. I went already planning my next mission trip to Tanzania for this summer. I went telling the Spirit what I expected to get out of it. // Those are the times when God laughs the hardest; when we tell God our plans. // If you had told the disciples that the Holy Spirit was going to rain down fire upon them and they would instantly become multi-lingual evangelists for the Gospel of Christ, they would have laughed. It seems that despite all of the amazing things they witnessed during their time with Christ they still thought they had it all figured out. // Myanmar broke my heart open, but in ways I wasn’t anticipating or ready for. // This summer I will be living in Maine. I am not going to Tanzania; the Spirit told me that I wasn’t supposed to go on that trip.
The Spirit is a funny thing. She comes into our lives when we least expect her, and like hurricane winds whipping through the house, She tends to disrupt everything in Her path. Because everyday can’t be like Pentecost, the major difference for us from what the disciples faced that day so long ago is that we must intentionally focus our hearts on hearing the rustling wind of the Spirit in each moment of our lives.
The old woman smiled at me expectantly. I looked to my translators and they said, “She would like you to pray for her family.” I didn’t know this woman or her life. I had only been in the country for 24 hours and was already experiencing major culture shock. I was tired and overwhelmed.
I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and asked the Spirit to enter my heart. Then I prayed. // // // I have no idea what I said that day. I felt inadequate and unqualified, but then I remembered Jesus telling his disciples not to worry about what they would say for in that moment the words would come to them. // It seems that in that moment, prayer became the Pentecostal, universal language. // I pray that we can going forward using this universal language to share the good news that has been gifted to us. To share it with our neighbors and friends. To invite them to our church. And to open our lives to the transformative power of the Holy Spirit.//
“I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful, and I know them well.” Psalm 139:14
This is a psalm that I return to time and time again. Have you ever stopped to think about your life -to really slow down and think about it. Think about your body first: all of the systems that have to work together in order for life to happen and continue. Think about each tiny hair on your head. Think about how your eyes are your fathers and your lips are your mothers. Think about your hands, the miracle of the way they move even before you consciously realize you have sent them to do so. Our bodies are miracles. Now think about your personality. The things you love and the parts you wish you could change. Your sense of humor. Your propensity towards pessimism. Your curiosity at nature. Whatever they are: All of them are parts of who you and all of them were fearfully and wonderfully made.
Now, I don’t know about you, but when I am praying I find it easy to thank God for the people who are blessings in my life. There is often a long list of loved ones for whom I pray. But I do not often stop and pray for myself. To thank God for the awesome gift of making me just as I am. For my voice and my compassion. For my emotions that sometimes run wild, but always help me connect with the present. Today I am thanking God for the quiet breeze, the gentle rain, the gift of rest, and the wonder of being embodied. 
The irony of this quiet day is not lost on me. Today is Ash Wednesday, and also a quiet day here at VTS. Quiet days are my favorite days of the semester. We started the morning with Eucharist and imposition of ashes followed by an opening meditation by the Rev. Martin Smith. His meditation focused on the need to allow ourselves the vulnerability of getting dirty before we are ready to be washed by Christ. He quoted Thomas Merton who said, “We have what we seek. It is there all the time, and if we give it time it will make itself known to us.” Merton is referring to those things we seek in prayer, and Rev. Smith was using this quote to illustrate that our time of intentional prayer and quiet, when we seek to open ourselves to God, is actually us opening ourselves to the mind of Christ which is already in us. (I Corinthians 2:16)
After talking about this he took a comedic turn and talked about the American obsession with hygiene. As a Brit, he said that it was a culture shock to move to this country and be bombarded with advertisements for tooth whitening, deodorizing, anti-bacterial, etc… products at every turn. Our obsession with cleanliness is quite different than a lot of the rest of the world. Through his meditation he encouraged us to embrace our dirtiness today; to realize the grace inherent in our weakness. He said: “We cannot become priests until we know the sacramentality of our shadow.” This resonated deeply with me. He encouraged us to go off and embrace the dirt we had wiped on our foreheads as a symbol of the dirt in ourselves. He told us to go off and become, “dirty angels.”
The irony comes after that point when I returned to my room to engage in what I had already discerned as my practice for this quiet day. It was to start with a nice, hot bath. I returned to my room and thought about it for a short time. Was I disregarding what I had heard this morning? No, I was not… I was internalizing it. I drew the water into the tub and soaked for a bit as I thought about the inability of that water to clean what was really underneath it all. I do some of my best thinking in the tub and so this was, just as I discerned, a perfect start to my quiet day. I remain amused that Rev. Smith’s opening meditation spoke so directly to my private plans for the day.
The rest of my day has been spent simply resting with God. I read some of my book about the Ignatian Examen prayer. (The Examen is the spiritual practice I am adopting for Lent.) I laid on my bed and simply listened for God. I enjoyed lunch, silently, with my peers in the refectory. And I have breathed. Oh sure, I have taken a break here and there, but all in all I felt called to a very intentional day of Sabbath and I am grateful that VTS sees the importance of such a habitual practice in the school calendar.
Our closing meditation begin in a half hour. I intend to go to that meditation and then return to my room for continued Sabbath, meditation, prayer, and maybe some sermon writing -if the Spirit is feeling so inclined. It is days like these that make this finite journey feel infinite. I can here the beeping of construction trucks off in the grove but aside from that my heart and my head are quiet. It is nice to enjoy a day of solitude with God. For me, this is the perfect entry into the wilderness.
…dorm. There is no place like a dorm. Dorms are a wonderful place. I have a room all to myself, a common room to share a glass of wine and a song, and study rooms to… well, to store the vacuum actually. Living in community is a curious thing. You spend all of your time with these people from various walks of life who have all converged because of a shared calling. We are all called to be ministers of one sort or another. Some lay, some ordained, all crazy in our own little way. Fascinating.
Every Wednesday night at 9 we gather for “Whine on Wednesday.” A lovely little get together where we share a cup and some laughs to gear up for the rest of the week. Tonight I found myself looking around the room feeling proud that I will be sharing in church leadership with these folks.
Jenny and Jonathan wrote a lovely Eucharistic prayer that the former presiding bishop of the Episcopal church prayed as he presided at the table. Lara and Ginny sang some fabulous songs. Murmuring in the background rumbled along about preaching for the first time in homiletics class, the Ethics exam that schooled us this morning, and the Church History paper that will take over the lives our the junior class this coming week. I found myself thinking how lucky I am to be here and that my biggest concern, at this the halfway point in my seminary career, is how I am to spend my summer of formation.
God is good, all the time.
Click here to view this photo book larger
This is part of my final project for the Myanmar course. I have ordered this book that I built to accompany me as I make presentations.
Enjoy!
(atop Wat Arun in Bangkok, the day before we left for Myanmar)
This is a story about humility, friends, shared humanity, gratitude, and hope.
Humility
There was a woman who had grown up in Maine and had a dream of seeing the world through her own eyes and bringing that world back to share with those she loved. Finally, the opportunity came to engage in mission in the far off land. The woman had followed God’s call to a seminary in Virginia and from that seminary she would travel to meet God’s children in Myanmar. The woman was thrilled and grateful for all of the people who supported her so that the opportunity was possible. So the woman from Maine flew to Thailand and brought along her trusty little camera so she could bring the world home withher. She took pictures of everything she saw: the people, the trees, the fruits, the animals. All of the mundane beauty was captured so that she could show this new world through her own unique vision.
Then the time came for the true mission to begin. The woman traveled with her friend to Myanmar. They flew to this country were few others from home will go. The need for images became even more important to the woman. As soon as the group arrived in this far-away land, the woman was struckby the “otherness” she perceived. One of her goals was to look beyond the “otherness” to identify and capture the shared humanity of this place. She took out her camera and began what was to be a month in search of mutuality.
(The taxi driver pushing the cab to get it started)
The journey had been long and the culture shock had already begun to sink in. After dinner with her traveling partners the woman retreated to her room to journal and she turned to her camera for the images from which the words would be born. Alas, the camera case was empty. She calmly, but meticulously, searched her belongings. With a thud of recognition she remembered an audible thud from the taxi ride. What she had dismissed as simply her water bottle falling to the floor had actually been her beloved camera: her parter in memories and communication. You see, the woman has found that she appreciates capturing the simple beauty in the everyday, and photography is her means of communicating that beauty with the world.
A friend from her group helped to confirm that she had not overlooked the small piece of electronics:it was gone. In a final effort checking the hotel lobby, the night manager of the hotel asked what was happening. The woman explained,with tears beginning to well in her eyes, that she had mistakenly left her camera in the taxi and if it was returned to please call her. The woman than went to her room where finally, after a long day of travel, she began to cry. And that is where our story begins.
Friends
Shortly after returning to her room the woman received a telephonecall from her trip leader asking for a description of the camera and where in the taxi it had fallen. The trip leader explained that the night managerwas moved by the woman’s tears and was trying to track down the taxi. (Now, you must understand: Myanmar taxis are not like US taxis. There is no radio, no meter, this taxi even had to be push started on the journey from the airport.) With some words of encouragement she hung up the phone. Daring not to hope, the woman continued to unpack and organize her belongings while kicking herself for her oversight. A couple hours later, close to midnight, the phone rang again. The woman was exhausted, but unable to sleep. She walked to the phone and answered. It was the soothing but tired voice of the trip leader, “I have just returned from the airport with the night manager. Your camera will be returned tomorrow morning at 8:00. Try to get some sleep now.” Stunned, and unable to form coherent sentences the woman simply said, “Thank you, I think I can now,” and hung up the phone. The next morning at breakfast the woman found the trip leader sitting alone. She sat down to join her and the trip leader calmly regaled the tale from the night before:
Shared Humanity
(The night manager of the hotel in Yangon)
“After you returned to your room last night I got a call from the night manager telling me what had happened. He explained that you looked very upset and he was trying to track down the taxi number. He asked which taxi, what your camera looked like, and where in the taxi your camera fell. A short while later he called me again and told me that the guard stand did have the taxi number and he was going to the airport to look for the taxi. I told him to wait because I would go with him…” She continued to explained that they hailed a taxi and negotiated a rate for the night. They went to the airport and found the gates closed and locked: the flight the group was on had been the final flight in that evening. -This was good and bad news because it meant the taxi driver likely had no other fares, but it also meant the taxi driver had gone home. They drove to where some of the airport taxi managers were and learned where the taxi manager for the international terminal lived. They traveled to his home.
It was a road in poor shape with many dilapidated houses and huts lining the street. They pulled up to one and the night manager went to knock on the door while the trip leader was asked to wait in the taxi. The night manager explained to the taxi manager what had happened. They spoke for several minutes in Burmese and the taxi manager glanced back at the cab where the trip leader waited. After a long while the night manager returned to the car with the airport taxi manager and gave an address to the driver: they had the address for the taxi driver.They traveled further down the dark, difficult road to another modest home. There, in the driveway, was a van with a cracked rear window: this was it. The night manager and the airport taxi manaer went and knocked. No answer. He knocked harder and louder. Eventually atired looking man opened the door. It was him. The three men spoke for a long time. The trip leader waited in thecar wondering what was happening. After several long minutes they returned to the car and the taxi driver retired to his home. The night manager said that he had the camera and would bring it to the hotel at 8:00 the next morning. The trip leader said that she tipped the driver who had brought them around the night before witha crisp $20 bill and that was that.
Gratitude
The woman sat speechless for a moment. A man whom she had nevermet and her trip leader, who had been just as jet lagged and exhausted as she had been the night before, had spent hours traveling all over Yangon in search of a simple camera that the woman had foolishly dropped. She was humbled and very grateful. She thanked the trip leader in the only words she could find at that time. After a moment, the woman realized how close to 8:00 it wasand she gathered herself to ask how much would be appropriate to tip the man who was coming with her camera. And that, the trip leader explained, led to the rest of the story:
She began to tell the story of two parishioners who entered hospice care just before she left on this mission. One of the people, a kind and joy-filled soul, was in care in Bangor -several hours from her home. The week before she left, the trip leader traveled to Bangor to administer the Sacrament and to visit. Before she left he gave her an envelope with a crisp $100 bill inside. This was not a man of great means; this gift was tremendously generous. She asked about it and he told her that he wanted her to use the money for an unanticipated expense on her trip. He wanted her to use this money for something important and that was he could travel all the way from his hospice bed in Maine to Myanmar with the group of seminarians and their leader: a beloved parish priest from Maine. The night before the trip leader had used some to tip the driver who traveled the dark streets. She used a portion to tip the amazing night manager who went above and beyondin recognizing a burden and deciding to alleviate it. And this morning, she handed another crisp bill, a portion of the man’s great offering, to the woman and said, “He would want you to use this.”
Hope
Literally, just then, the front desk workers told them that the taxi driver was there. The woman and her trip leader went to the parking lot. The man was humble and timid as he approached the woman. She had a broad smile on her face and fought tears as she reached out to shake his hand. Instead, he pulled the small, blue camera out of his pocket and put it in her hand. He looked her in the eye for only a moment and then looked at the ground and backed away. She said “thank you so much” as she reached out her hand again to shake his. This time he smiled broadly. His teeth were stained with beetle nut and his eyes crinkled at the sides as he shook her hand. She then handed him the crisp bill and again thanked him. His eyes widened at the sight of the bill and his smile grew wider. The taxi driver and the airport manager got back in the van to drive away when they were waved back by the trip leader and the woman. “Can I take a picture with you?” she asked.
(The taxi driver from the airport)
Epilogue
There is so much about this trip I am still processing. If you know me at all, you know that it takes me a lot of internal time to process events before I can find the words to express accurately how I feel and see the world and my experiences therein. (Once I process, as evidenced above, I am rather verbose. *grin*) My camera is the way I capture future words. They say that a picture is worth 1,000 words. In my case this is more than true. Myanmar contained learning that Icannot yet verbalize. Learning that is vital for my formation as a minister in the church. I formed relationships, felt new feelings, breathed the Spirit, and met Christ in an entirely new ways. The gratitude I feel for The Rev. Kitty Babson (our trip leader), Khru Maung Sau (the night manager of the hotel), the modest taxi driver, and Kitty’s generous parishioner can only be expressed in the imagescontained in the 4,000+ pictures I returned home with on my camera.
I spent this morning writing my Ash Wednesday sermon. This may sound a bit odd in light of the fact that it is the day after Thanksgiving and only 3 days before Advent 1, but I assure you, all of these things played a heavy role in the text that resulted. First of all, the sermon is for my preaching class and since I do not have another sermon to be preached at field ed this semester I figured it would make good sense to write a sermon that I will use next semester. Second, since Advent is another penitential season of the church year I was able to settle into the task quite well. For me, the connection between Lent and Advent is intrinsically bound so going to that place required commitment to begin the journey a few days early.
Ten years ago, when my mother died, Advent became my Lent -A role reversal of sorts that works on the outside because they are both penitential seasons, but in the hustle and bustle of the commercial Christmas season can be quite a difficult feat.
Now, as I prepare for the ten year anniversary of that season and that day, my whole world is different. I am more the woman my mother knew I could be, but that I, in my adolescence, had no knowledge of. I still ache for her: this time of year more than any other. But I smile too, because she would be proud. Advent is my lent. I prepare for a birth as I prepare for a death. I search my heart and ask what God wants of me. My adolescence stopped abruptly and I wasn’t ready. In that time I was so angry and wanted to know what I had done to deserve the ache; but now I ask what I did to deserve such a wonderful woman to be my mother for even those 19 years.
So this Advent will begin with the traditions I learned growing up: with the preparation for a birth. I will decorate. I will sing. I will worship. I will sit quietly and know that God is God. I will be thankful. But a different tradition that I have added to my repertoire is that I will remember. I will remember who it is that God has called me to be, and I will remember the many gifts that God has given me along the way to help me become the woman I am called to be. I will remember and give thanks for my mom.
I listened to a Kris Delmhorst song on repeat for much of my sermon writing process and I offer you now the words of the chorus:
“I’m not on no yellow brick road, got a mind and a heart and guts of my own. I’m not looking for a one to set me free. I’m not on no yellow brick road; I’ll find my own way home. I’m just looking for someone to walk with me.” -Yellow Brick Road by Kris Delmhorst
So, I invite you now to walk this Advent road with me. I invite you to remember what it is that we are preparing for even when the commercials and store displays try to distract us from the truth. And I invite you to give your loved ones a hug and to thank them for walking with you. Thank you, my friends, for walking with me.
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