Friday Five: Books, Books, Books

From RevGals...

I've just returned from a meeting in Cambridge so I'm posting this late here in the UK (it is 3:45pm).. because I took the opportunity of a free afternoon in Cambridge's wonderful book shops... I only bought a few- and they were on sale- very restrained for me!!!


So with my head full of books I've seen and a long wish list in my mind, I bring you a Friday Five on books!!!


1. Fiction: what kind? Detective novels, historical stuff, thrillers, romance...
It's easier to identify what I don't read: science fiction, super-gory mysteries (Patricia Cornwell is too bloody for me), and romance. Other than that, I'll read anything with a good story. I love mysteries and, for some reason, I have a thing for books that take place in the UK.


2. When you get a really good book do you read it all in one chunk or savour it slowly?
Depends on how much time I have. Mysteries I tend to devour as quickly as I can; other books take a bit longer. During the school year, I read at night before bed, so it can take me awhile to finish something. In the summer, I have a bit more time and can read for longer stretches. Those public library summer book clubs had a real impact on me!


3. Is there a book you keep returning to and why?
Not so much a book as certain authors. They're like tuna noodle casserole; comforting, if not great cuisine. I always enjoy Rosamunde Pilcher and Maeve Binchy for light fiction. Every few years I re-read the whole Anne of Green Gables series, probably still my favorite of all time. (Along with Emily of New Moon, by the same author.) I also love to re-read the Bridget Jones' Diaries and Agatha Christie mysteries.
And yes, I'm reading Harry Potter again, in preparation for the final installment.


4. Apart from the Bible which non-fiction book has influenced you the most?
I'm not a big reader of non-fiction, honestly. But in college I was assigned a book called Number Our Days, about a Jewish retirement community, and it was fantastic. I believe it was also an Oscar-winning documentary, which I would love to see. Such an amazing story of growing old and the struggles which accompany that journey. I highly recommend it.


5. Describe a perfect place to read. ( could be anywhere!!!)
Exactly as the parentheses says: anywhere. Quiet. My current favorite place in the winter is our living room, with a fire going. In the summer, it's on the deck of the lake cabin (minus the inevitable jet skis).

And I'll throw in two bonuses (boni?) of my own - my two favorite quotes about books and reading.

I have always loved winter, because in winter you get to stay inside, and inside is where the books are. - Garrison Keillor.

The buying of more books than one can read is nothing less than the soul reaching toward infinity, and it is this passion alone which separates us from the beasts that perish. - A. E. Newton

On More Time Into the Fray

This week is Vacation Bible School EXTRAVAGANZA (a word I always believe requires capital letters) at our church. We've turned the sanctuary into a barn and we're singing, talking, and shouting that we need to "Listen Up!" to God the farmer.

I love Vacation Bible School. I love 100 elementary school kids filling the church building with songs and clapping and skits and snacks. I love that, in spite of all the technological changes in this world, we are still making crafts out of popsicle sticks. I love that these kids think VBS is the greatest thing ever and that they want us to do this every week. I love that they are loved by the volunteers and I believe they will remember that, even if they never remember any of the bible lessons.

This year we're also hosting our local church camp counselors, all of whom are here to lead our VBS as their way of practicing to go out this summer and lead day camps at churches all over the area. 60 college kids, so enthusiastic about life and ministry and kids and faith, with energy levels I can hardly believe. They are practicing, so they're not perfect - not all of them ought to play the guitar, it turns out - but what they might lack in some skills, they more than make up for in devotion.

Our local camp is one of the few co-owned by the ELCA and LCMS. If you are not Lutheran, those abbreviations probably mean nothing to you. If you are, you might know that this is something like divorced parents trying to share custody of a child. The ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America) is the liberal one. The LCMS (Lutheran Church - Missouri Synod) is the conservative one. Those are both vast and not entirely accurate generalizations, but you get the drift.

I've been leading a few one-hour theology sessions for the counselors in the afternoon. Some of them are ELCA; some are LCMS. Some are not Lutheran, though all are Christian. And this year, like almost every year, the thorny issue of women's ordination has arisen. Again.

That's the most divisive issue between the ELCA and LCMS; it's why the LCMS didn't join other Lutheran bodies in forming the ELCA in 1988. Missouri Lutherans do not ordain women. In some very conservative congregations, women don't even vote. Some Missouri churches, of course, are so liberal that they probably don't care and would ordain women if they could, but for the most part, this issue is still a live one - even though we celebrated the 35th anniversary of women's ordination two years ago. That means that women have been ordained in the Lutheran church since before any of these counselors were born. Even before I was.

Part of me welcomes the opportunity to talk about this issue. I believe myself to be quite open and non-defensive, and I don't mind engaging difficult issues as long as I am not being attacked. I don't mind showing you my interpretation of Luther's writings on ordained ministry, or my reading of those few passages in scripture that have been used to forbid women from this work.

But another part of me - and this part is getting slightly larger each year that I get asked the question - is tired of defending my existence as an ordained clergy person. Part of me gets so discouraged that people are still arguing about this, because if they're doing that, how much longer will it take for us to bless and welcome the ordained ministry of our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters?

I see so many gifted young women in this group and they ask eagerly about my sense of call, and I am delighted that they might sense that in themselves. It's not the most mature reaction, but I do get a bit pissed off when a few of their male colleagues question whether God could so call a woman. Have you not read the Magnificat? Do you not know Deborah and Lydia and Mary of Bethany? Do you remember who it was that Jesus first trusted to share the resurrection news?

Why do we think that restricting the ministry to a chosen few is a faithful interpretation of the scriptures? Or of Luther, for that matter, who sought to remind us that we are all called to be 'little Christs' in the world, and that no one ministry is more important than any other?

My goodness. I might need a nap. But those elementary school kids make it worthwhile. A few years ago, a mother of one of our 2nd graders told me that she and her son had been to visit a friend's church on Sunday. After worship, her son whispered to her, "Hey mom - I didn't know that boys could be pastors."

The Lord who sits in heaven laughs...

Insert Sigh of Relief Here...

You know the Bible 100%!

 

Wow! You are awesome! You are a true Biblical scholar, not just a hearer but a personal reader! The books, the characters, the events, the verses - you know it all! You are fantastic!

Ultimate Bible Quiz
Create MySpace Quizzes

Always glad to be considered a true bible scholar. Even by a total stranger on the internet.

However, although I know you are dead impressed with my vast biblical knowledge, you must also consider that the answers to "In Jesus' parable, who stopped to help a man in need?" were, "a.)Donald Trump; b.) Donald Duck; c.) Don Knotts; d.)A Samaritan." So I wouldn't run out and buy up my commentaries quite yet.

Actually Thinking About the Sermon Before Friday Afternoon...

We're in the middle of the church-induced craziness known as Vacation Bible School this week, so there isn't a lot of extra time to think, but a colleague and I were visiting about the Sunday texts this morning and I've actually had some coherent sermon thoughts. And it's only Tuesday!

Everybody loves the story of David and Bathsheba. It has all the things you want from good reading (not to mention a soap opera) - intrigue, betrayal, sex, power, and the twist at the end. It's fun to preach on, because you can play around with the whole idea of "biblical family values." This is a phrase which, when used, causes me to think that the speaker has never actually read the bible. Most biblical families are effed up. (That line won't preach; don't worry, I won't try.)

And the way Nathan stings David! Great stuff. Speaking truth to power - don't we all wish we could do the same, at one point or another?

Then this great story is paired with the is-she-or-isn't-she-Mary-Magdalene passage in Luke (I'll tip my hand; she's not) about sin and forgiveness. Which, in it's own right, has overtones of sensuality, if not strictly sexuality, and certainly of sin.

So you could definitely focus on human sexuality if you're reading these two stories. Heaven knows that my own denomination, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, has been completely entranced by such discussions for the last ten years.

Except that it occurs to me that the vast majority of the "gotcha!" stories about morality in both Old and New Testaments are not about sex: they're about money. And heaven also knows that most of us would rather talk about sex than money any day, especially from the pulpit.

I think Jim Wallis once wrote that he cut out of his bible all the passages where Jesus talks about money, and he hardly had anything left. If you tried that exercise with all the passages where Jesus talks about sex, you'd still have tons of decent reading material. What does that tell us? How we treat each other as human beings is certainly important, and sex is part of that. But nothing gets people's ire up as much as someone having an affair. Would we have been half so interested in Bill Clinton's sin if it had been revealed that he didn't tithe? Would Ken Starr have been able to spend forty million dollars dragging that out into the courts?

And what does it say about us that the very prospect of that last suggestion is completely, utterly ridiculous?

These stories are a little bit about sex. But they are mostly about power. And the way Jesus addressed those in power most often was not to talk about their sex lives; it was to talk about whether they were loving the widow and the orphan with their checkbooks.

This could either be the greatest sermon ever, or it could get me fired. Or possibly both, which seems exactly the point.

Friday Five: Getaway Island Edition

From RevGals...

We snitched a bit of time on an quiet island nearby this week. It was a last minute plan, escaping with a minimal amount of preparation. One must have essentials that make it a relaxing time. Perhaps you have had this opportunity to escape, or maybe it's only been a thought to get away. However, suppose you were told to pack some essentials for a trip to get away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

Describe your location, in general or specific terms and....

1) What book(s) will you bring?
Right now, I'm reading (as usual) several books: summer mind candy (Whitethorn Woods by Maeve Binchy); a more serious novel (The Good German); and, also as usual, at least one church-related book (The Practicing Congregation, by Diana Butler Bass). For island reading, I'd probably add another novel and leave the church book at home.

2) What music accompanies you?
I'll take my ipod full o' stuff (I guess that's an answer to the fourth question) - but my favorite vacation music is usually in the soundtrack genre. I love good soundtracks since you can get a variety of music in one album. Some favorites, both old and new: Grey's Anatomy, seasons 1 & 2; SIiding Doors; The Truth About Cats & Dogs; In Good Company. And, as long as I have the ipod, I can also listen to my very favorite podcasts: "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me," and "This American Life."

3) What essentials of everyday living must you take (as in the health and beauty aids aisle variety)?
I definitely require sunscreen. My ethnic background sun-formula goes like this: British paternal side + Swedish maternal side = girl who burns in 5 minutes.
I'd also need to bring coffee. Frankly, my very naturally curly hair would do its own thing anyway, so other beauty aids are unnecessary.

4) What technological gadgets if any, will you take with you or do you leave it all behind?
See #2 - I'm takin' the ipod. Everything else can stay at home. Especially the alarm clock.

5) What culinary delights will you partake in while there?
I love guava juice. And pineapple. (Obviously I'm going for 'tropical island' here.) And good fish: mahi mahi or tuna, maybe. But hey - anything I don't have to cook always tastes just fine!

As a bonus question, what makes for a perfect day on vacation for you?
I get up, get a cup of coffee, find my book, and sit on the couch to read. Twelve hours later, I go back to bed. That's about it.
I might knit, eat lunch and dinner, and do a few other things. But truthfully, I could read all day.

Friday Five: Hopes, Visions and Dreams

From Sally at Rev Gals...
My house has been full of young people all week, young people who have just left school, young people with an eye on the future. Their laughter energy, and hope are infectious, so with that in mind- this Friday 5 is about hopes, visions and dreams...

1. Think back to the time you left High School, what were your hopes visions and dreams for your life/for the world?
For my life? I really don't remember, except that I was delighted to get out of high school and head to college. High school was not my favorite time of life. Funny, I was just thinking about that this morning before I saw the Friday Five: our niece is particularly unhappy in high school at the moment, and I remember so well some of that heartache and confusion.

2. Have those hopes visions and dreams changed a lot, or are some of them still alive and kicking? (share one if you can)
Well, I did in fact go to college, and it was every bit as great as I hoped it would be. One of my 'dreams,' if you could call it that, in high school, was to make a lot of money and come to my 10th reunion happy, wealthy, and totally unlike my high school self - and rub it in to all those people who made high school less than fun. But I got over that a long time ago, thankfully, and I'm quite embarrassed that I ever had such a desire. I'm glad that one changed.

3. Hebrews 11:1 " Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. " Comforting, challenging or frustrating?
Oh, all three. The comfort is knowing, trusting, that there is more than we can see, both personally and in the life of the world. The challenging bit is waiting patiently for it, or working diligently for it, depending on the circumstance. And boy, is it frustrating when you spend so much time waiting for something that seems to have absolutely no discernible reason for delay. (Can you hear the question in-between these lines? "Why I am not pregnant yet???")

4. If resources were unlimited, and you had free reign to pursue a vision what would it be?
Here's the thing about that question: I don't really find it very helpful. (No offense, Sally.) In one way, God promises that resources are unlimited; we just have to find a way to distribute them more equitably. But on the other hand, keeping a huge vision on hold just because you don't have enough resources may be a reality - and simultaneously betrays the whole nature of dreams and visions. So I'd rather think about what visions I have for the life and resources I have right now.

5. Finally with summer upon us- and not to make this too heavy- share your dream holiday....where, when and who with...
Okay, now I'm going to completely contradict my whole earlier statement about thinking beyond your resources! Coming out of a long and grey winter, I'd pick someplace completely tropical - a secluded island, the kind with that perfect white sand and sky blue ocean that you see in magazines. I'll take my husband, and maybe a few other friends. And we will lay around, read books, eat great food, drink good wine, and sleep in.

Friday Five: Hard Habit to Break

From Rev Gals...

As many of you know, I have been experimenting with some severely curtailed Internet usage. I realized that I had gotten into some bad habits, which got me thinking about habits in general. I understand that a habits/random facts meme has already been going around. In the hopes that it hasn't hit too many of us yet, be as lighthearted or as serious as you'd like with the following:

1. Have you ever successfully quit a bad habit, or gotten a good habit established? Tell us about how you did it.
This year I quit visiting a certain website for Lent. This is not a bad site - in fact, it's a message board for newly married women, and the particular page I am, okay, obsessed with, is the page for women having trouble conceiving. I find a lot of support there, which is good. But I can also spend WAY too much time there, which is bad. Giving it up for Lent worked remarkably well. I have gone back since Easter, and I need to give it up again - at least at work. I usually break bad habits by giving myself a specific time in which I can indulge: for example, I have a latte every Tuesday morning on my way to work. Because I know I can have one on Tuesday, I don't crave one the rest of the week. Putting something entirely off-limits generally doesn't work for me - it just makes the forbidden even more attractive. I go for moderation. So I think I'll repeat the Lenten pattern with my problem website: visit only at home.

2. "If only there were a 12-step program for _________________!"
Being superstitious. Seriously. I have a problem with this.

3. Share one of your healthy "obsessions" with us.
I have become a knitting freak. I love it. I have no shame about it.

4. Share the habit of a spouse, friend or loved one that drives you C-R-A-Z-Y.
I love my husband, but he does this thing to clear his throat - this kind of HRAKK sound - that drives me insane. And then he spits this crap in the sink, which bugs me even more. I realize this is a stupid and petty peeve, but there you have it.

5. "I'd love to get into the habit of ___________________."
Walking every day. I've been working on it, but I think I might be fundamentally lazy when it comes to physical activity.

Bonus: What is one small action you might take immediately to make #5 a reality?
I really am working on it: I've been wearing a pedometer since May 1 and it keeps me cognizant of days when I sit still for too long. But I think this is going to be a long-term thing.

Still Here...

So I haven't written in a few weeks, because May has turned into a month of insanity. To top it off, today marks the fourth funeral in ten days for our congregation (and yes, I feel petty complaining about doing funerals since, after all, I'm not the one in the coffin - but four funerals is hard work).

The fourth reception is going on as I type. Just time for my random observation of this morning.

Is it odd for a formally dressed pastor, in suit and clergy collar, to drive down the road with a latte, singing "Are You Going to Go My Way" with Lenny Kravitz, on her way to a funeral?

Yes. But that was me this morning. And from the looks I got on the freeway (I only do this sort of thing on the freeway - it's not like I sing along in the funeral procession itself), other people think it's odd too.

But sometimes you just need to blow off a little steam. Hopefully I'll have time for more blogging after this week is over.

Friday Five: Potato, Po-tah-to Edition

From Rev Gals...

There are two types of people in the world, morning people and night owls. Or Red Sox fans and Yankees fans. Or boxers and briefs. Or people who divide the world into two types of people and those who don't. Let your preferences be known here. And if you're feeling verbose, defend your choices!


1. Mac? (woo-hoo!) or PC? (boo!)
Why yes, the Friday Five author reserves the right to editorialize!
I used to be a PC person. But then I married a Mac person, and he converted me to the Steve Jobs cult. And I'm stuck with a PC laptop that I insisted on buying when we were first dating and I didn't trust him yet...woe is me!

2. Pizza: Chicago style luscious hearty goodness, or New York floppy and flaccid?
Definitely Chicago: the crust is the best part of pizza.

3. Brownies/fudge containing nuts:
a) Good. I like the variation in texture.
b) An abomination unto the Lord. The nuts take up valuable chocolate space.

"If with Christ you died to the elemental spirits of the universe, why do you live as if nuts belonged in brownies?" (A slightly less known translation of Colossians 3:20.) No nuts. Only chocolate.

4. Do you hang your toilet paper so that the "tail" hangs flush with the wall, or over the top of the roll like normal people do?
Over the top. This is a very judgmental list, but I'm okay with that, since I agree with all the judgments.

5. Toothpaste: Do you squeeze the tube wantonly in the middle, or squeeze from the bottom and flatten as you go just like the tube instructs?

I happily disregard the directions to "squeeze from the bottom," at least until I get to the very last bit of toothpaste in the tube. Everybody needs a little chaos in their lives.

For a bonus, I'll add these dichotomies:
...black coffee, never with cream and sugar.
...dark chocolate, not milk (with a few exceptions)
...red wine, not white (except with salmon in the summer)
...CNN, never Fox news (though NPR is best of all)

Hang On

Today I have a dentist appointment, which reminds me of my childhood dentist experiences. (I actually like going to the dentist, by the way.)

But germane to this particular post is that my childhood dentist always had posters on the ceiling, so you had something to look at while your mouth was wide open and being worked on by people in white coats. One poster, I remember, was the classic "cute kitten holding on to edge of some surface by claws," with the caption, "Hang On, Baby."

That's this week: preach last Sunday morning, tear out of church to make it to the airport for a flight to L.A. for conference, return today to plan frantically for this Sunday's sermon and the youth service, happily discover that we have canceled the scheduled lock-in for Friday night since I have two funerals on Saturday, and then weddings the next Saturdays of May...

It's one of those months. So posts may be few and far between. I'm hanging on, baby.

Duck, Duck, Goose

(Disclaimer: it turns out that my midwestern friends, from seminary, all played "Duck, Duck, Grey Duck" in childhood. "Goose" is apparently a west coast thing. So you can substitute your choice of water fowl at will.)

We used to play this game as children. You sat nervously in a circle, waiting for the tagger to touch your head, waiting expectantly to see who would be the "goose" and have to chase around the circle, trying to be the first to sit in the empty spot. I never wanted to be the goose, because a.) I don't really like to run, and b.) as a child, I preferred to be in the background most of the time. Shy Lutheran kid, I guess. "Don't pick me, don't pick me," would run through my head as the tagger approached. She touched my head..."not me not me not me not me"...and moved on to the next kid in the circle. "GOOSE!" Away they ran. I was relieved.

You think this game ends with childhood, but it's been back with a vengeance lately. Whose body is more likely the culprit for our non-pregnancy? Post-coital test, duck. Acupuncture, duck. Pre-natal vitamins, duck. Try not to stress, try to relax, duck. But the hand is approaching, someone coming near. Someone is getting tagged this time. Semen analysis. GOOSE.

So the hand seems to have passed me by. But I am not relieved this time. I can understand why infertility tends to create such problems for couples; when you're frustrated that something you "should" be able to do naturally - something other people seem to do with little time, lots of tequila, or total carelessness - doesn't happen, it's easy to place blame. And the first person I blamed was myself.

I don't know why, really. Statistics say that about 40% of fertility problems are female, about 40% are male, and the rest are either a combination of both, or a total mystery. It was easier to blame myself, I suppose, because I could try to do something about it. I could take vitamins, try to relax, take my basal body temperature, stop using the hot tub, pray like Hannah, stop drinking wine (okay, that lasted about three months), try acupuncture, go to the doctor. It seemed like it should be me, since my body was the one not getting pregnant. But it turns out that I might be the duck.

And my beloved may be the goose. Which comes as absolutely no relief. One bad number in the whole lot does not hopelessness make, but it sure feels that way. Apparently there's quite a ton of the little buggers, and they swim like champs, but not enough of them are the right shape. Come on, people! Aren't we supposed to be all about diversity these days? God doesn't care what shape, size, or color you are - why should your eggs? But eggs persist in being quite choosy, it would seem. Damn.

Deep down, there is a bit of relief that I'm the duck. Not because I can blame him, but because it means that there's still hope. And it turns out that the only way I can envision carrying a child, at this point, is if it were my husband's. I completely understand why women choose donor sperm, and it might be that we will get to that point, but for now, even the distant possibility that there might not ever be a baby with his piercing blue eyes and stubbornness and kindness and cowlick is too much to bear.

Any doubt you ever had about your marriage rears its ugly head when things like this happen. I've never had any serious doubts, but still - who hasn't, in the midst of a crummy day, wondered if there could have been someone else? If you had married that ex-boyfriend, met someone different...would there be a baby now? Believe me, this is not a train of thought I'm eager to get on, but denying that it exists would be a falsehood. I love my husband. I don't want to be married to anyone else. And yet, even I wonder.

So now we head to a different set of doctors than the ones I thought we'd be seeing. Probably less testing for me and more for him - and maybe we'll send him to the acupuncturist for awhile.

It all makes me want to say...well, for the purposes of this post, we'll go with "Mother Ducker." Seems appropriate.

What's On YOUR Desk?

I found this in another blog and thought it was a simultaneously fun and depressing exercise. Fun: the variety of things on my desk reflect the variety in ministry. Depressing: the permanently chaotic state of my desk.

I have a very large desk. So, to keep this from being too long (and warning - it's going to be long enough anyway), I'll stick with what's on the main section...

A pile of papers, on top of which is last night's Pentecost Quiz for confirmation; another pile, which has a Prepare/Enrich inventory on the top; my LBW; a digital camera with which I am supposed to be taking pictures, right now; Free of Charge by Miroslav Volf, just recommended to me; Grace (Eventually) by Anne Lamott, open to page 135.

Yet another pile of papers with an article called "Ethical Decisions About War" on top; a box of sketches from an artist we are commissioning to do a painting in our entryway; a fax; my lunchbox; my confirmation bible; a clipboard with the sign ups to help provide new hymnals for the sanctuary; scissors, a ruler, and a pencil which I was using to do a little craft project for the Relay for Life sign-up; the omnipresent coffee mug; a lovely picture of the church given to me by a parishioner.

I vacillate between reveling in the chaos of my desk and really, really wanting to clean it. But the cleaning isn't happening today, that's for sure.

I Do, I Don't

I swore, upon entering the ordained ministry, that I would NEVER become one of those cynical pastors who said, "I'd much rather do a funeral than a wedding."

It took about six months to change my mind. As one colleague says, "at least at a funeral the guest of honor never argues with you." Have I introduced myself? I'm Pastor Cynical.

Truthfully, a good wedding can be wonderful. Working with a reasonably healthy couple who want a marriage, not just a wedding, is a lot of fun. I've presided at a few weddings that were fantastic, and not necessarily in the Martha Stewart way - some of the most memorable involved very little from the "wedding industrial complex," as one friend puts it. Those weddings are great.

But for every one of those there are a few less-than-healthy couples, with dysfunctional families, where people argue about the processional music and the mother of the bride asks me, in clipped tones, to make sure I sweep the sidewalk clear of grass bits before the ceremony tomorrow. I am not making this up.

Or brides whose cleavage distracts even me, or groomsmen who keep ducking out of the building for a smoke, a friend designated to push the "start" button on the CD player who says, "Is this going to be over quick? Because I've got to tap the keg," or mothers of the groom who insist that their child doesn't need premarital counseling. I am not making any of these up.

And those can be kind of funny - it's more difficult when the couple has tremendous issues, and I feel like they maybe shouldn't be doing this, but...

A couple was in my office this afternoon. She comes from a previous, abusive marriage. She has two sons, and they have a daughter together. He is pretty damn controlling and doesn't understand why his yelling scares her. She doesn't really want much structure for the kids and he thinks they should straighten up. His dad was a loud alcoholic, but he doesn't think that really affects him at all. Her parents split years ago and she's never had a healthy relationship in her life. I have never seen a couple score lower on the Prepare-Enrich Inventory.

Marriage seems like a really good idea here.

Over the past eight years, I've done three weddings about which I had serious, serious concerns. This one will make four. Out of fifty-some weddings, that's not a high number, but one of those is too many. I pray for these couples. They need serious counseling, and all I can do is give them the name and phone number of a decent therapist (which, believe me, I have done with the current couple).

It's not a good feeling. I hope and pray they will be okay, and maybe they will be. I hope and pray that he will not beat the life out of her, that she will find her own voice, that their kids will not grow up and repeat all these crappy patterns.

Today I know exactly what Anne Lamott was talking about:
I thought such awful thoughts that I cannot even say them out loud because they would make Jesus want to drink gin straight out of the cat dish. It drove me to my knees. I prayed about it...I prayed for a miracle. I wrote her name down on a slip of paper, folded it up, and put it in the box that I use as God's In box. "Help," I said to God. (from Traveling Mercies)

Help, I said to God.

Friday Five: Surprised by Joy

From RevGals...

Jesus said to them, "Children, you have no fish, have you?" They answered him, "No."
He said to them, "Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some." So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, "It is the Lord!" When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea. (John 21:5-7)

Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning. (Psalm 30:5b)

This week I've been watching parents of the young people slain at Virgina Tech trying to make meaning out of the lives of their lost children, and each one seems to begin by focusing on something joyful about that child. It's a gift that most humans have brains wired to respond in that way. For some of us it can be harder to work our way out of dark places, but I believe joy remains the key. It is the spirit of resurrection.

Tell us about five people, places, or things that have brought surprising, healing joy into your life.

1. Ducks. Okay, this one requires some explanation. We moved into a new house (new to us) last summer, and it has a smallish pond in the back. Frankly, the pond has been a giant pain in the proverbial butt, but it is quite pretty. Requires a lot of upkeep, though. Lately, however, our newest pond problem is a duck couple who have decided that our pond would make a nice summer home, sort of a small-place-in-the-Hamptons option. And our pond professional tells us that, as cute as the ducks are, they will make a huge mess in the pond.

But they are stubborn, these ducks, and apparently they've already put a down payment on this whole thing, because they are hard to chase off. So we have an official duck-chasing-off-piece-of-cardboard on our back porch which, combined with the official duck-chasing-off-broom next to it, are our tools of the trade. This morning we were out there in our bathrobes, in the 32 degree morning air, chasing off ducks - four times. What could be frustrating has turned into a hilarious dance. My husband is home today, and is taking his turn at DUCK PATROL. Very surprising joy, those ducks.

2. Joy By Podcast. I have a fairly long commute - 70 miles round trip every day - and have discovered the joy of podcasts, particularly of This American Life. What I especially appreciate about that show is its ability to find fascination in the smallest details, in what most of us overlook all the time. As much as I enjoy the stories, I also appreciate that lesson.

3. Baby Girl S. S is the one-year old daughter of a close friend, a smiling, giggly, just-starting-to-walk redhead who never fails to bring me joy. I think we have a secret connection because I got to be one of the first people to hold her in the hospital, the morning after she was born. She is joy personified. (And easy for me, since mom and dad get to deal with her when she's crying and miserable - I just get to see the fun parts.)

4. Answered Prayer...Finally. We've been through a long process in our congregation which has finally led to offering a new position in music to a fantastic, amazing candidate. Lots and lots of bumps along the road, including one this January, when the first candidate who had accepted the job got home and changed her mind. And though I'm not a big believer in God the Puppeteer, in the idea that God is manipulating every tiny event to bring us to some certain point, I do believe that God makes all things work out...eventually. So yesterday, our fantastic - and sought-after - candidate accepted our offer. Alleluia indeed!

5. Spring. We had a long winter, and the appearance of bright spring green is wonderful. Additionally, we are constantly being surprised by what grows in our yard, since this is our first spring in the house. "There's another hosta!" "What is that thing?" "I think that's a Lenten rose!" It's different every day, and I love watching it all appear.

For Virginia Tech

One of the writers who regularly feeds my soul is Barbara Brown Taylor (though Leaving Church is something of an exemption, in parts). God in Pain, a book of sermons, addresses the question of suffering: ours, God's, and most certainly the suffering of Christ. Copyright questions aside, one passage in this book speaks to me this day.

At the end of "The Silence of God," her sermon for Good Friday, is a story from Shusaku Endo's Silence. A summary of her summary: a seventeenth-century Portuguese missionary, Rodrigues, goes to Japan to save souls. His inspiration is the face of Christ, portraying courage, serenity, wisdom, and faith. It is a noble but silent image, offering him neither guidance nor consolation.

When he arrives in Japan, he is jailed in the midst of a national uprising against Christians. In his cell, he hears only muffled sounds, a snuffling which he believes to be the snoring of the guards. The next morning, he learns those sounds are the cries of his fellow prisoners, crucified upside down, their faces half buried in pits of excrement. Before him, the guards put a choice: renounce Christ, or his fellow prisoners die.

They bring in a metal image of Christ, and tell him to trample on it as sign of his renunciation. Shall he betray Christ or the Christians? Turning his back on one necessitates the pain of the other.

To quote Brown Taylor directly now...

Torn between his loyalty to [Christ] and his loyalty to those who are snuffling in the dark, he is hung between the two when he hears the voice of Christ, coming to him from the image at his feet. "Trample! Trample! I more than anyone know of the pain in your foot. Trample! It was to be trampled on by men that I was born into this world."

The silence of God is broken. Christ speaks, not from some safe place outside human suffering but from the very heart of it. He is the trampled one, the crushed and soiled one whose loyalty to humankind leads him to endure all that we endure - right up to and including the silence of God. When Jesus howls his last question from the cross, it is God who howls - protesting the pain, opposing it with his last breath. Only this is no defeat. This is, contrary to all appearances, a triumph over suffering. By refusing to avoid it or to lie about it in any way, the crucified one opens a way through it.

He hallows it by engaging it. He shows us how. We are not supposed to love suffering. We are allowed to hate it and to do everything in our power to bring it to an end, only we may not avoid it. That is not one of our choices. Today we look on the one whom we have pierced. More important, we listen. To the silence. To the howl. What is the gospel, in the land at the foot of the cross? When God is silent, people of faith cry out. When people of faith cry out, it is God who speaks.



Lord, make us instruments of your peace. Amen, Amen.

What I'm Reading

Some stuff I am, or should be, reading at the moment...what's on your list?

Dreams from my Father, by Barack Obama (for a book club)
Provoking the Gospel of Luke: A Storyteller's Commentary, by Richard Swanson
The Good German, by Joseph Kanon
Reclaiming the Great Commission, by Bishop Claude Payne and Hamilton Beazley (this is the one I "should" be reading, but haven't started yet...)

And, for a continuing education project:
A Commentary on Colossians and Philemon, by Marianne Meye Thompson
Public Theology and Political Economy: Christian Stewardship in Modern Society, by Max Stackhouse.

Friday Five: Dental Edition

From Rev Gals: Cheesehead and I are both laid up this week with various tooth maladies. This one's in honor of us:

1. Are you a regular patron of dentists' offices? Or, do you go
a) faithfully, as long as you have insurance, or
b) every few years or so, whether you need it or not, or
c) dentist? what is this "dentist" thing you speak of?
Every six months - I'm a regular. However, I did entirely forget to go to the dentist for the first three years post-seminary, until I realized that my mother was no longer making appointments for me and I really should get myself to a dentist's office pronto.
Rather unusually, I've always liked going to the dentist, because our dentist was a family friend. Plus, I have really good teeth, so my experience with the actual dentist goes like this:

Dentist, poking around with metal stick: "These look great."
Me, mumbling to respond: "Thanks."
Dentist: "Keep up the good work."
Me: "Okay."
End scene.

My dental visits are much more about the hygienist than the dentist.

2. Whatever became of your wisdom teeth?
They were removed during Christmas break of my freshman year of college, resulting in huge swelling and horrible bruises. But, as I remember slightly through the haze of pain medication, I did get to watch a whole bunch of movie musicals while I recovered.

3. Favorite thing to eat that's BAAAAAD for your teeth.
Dots and/or Mike & Ike's. Pure sugar, baby. (Jellybeans, along the same sugar line, are how I lost part of a molar.)

4. Ever had oral surgery? Commiserate with me.
See comments on #2 - I hope never to do this again. Not fun.

5. "I'd rather have a root canal than _________________."
Undergo another church conflict.

Bonus: Does your dentist recommend Trident?
Nope. But he does give me a flower at each visit. Pretty, and tooth-friendly.

Of Wax, Artists, and Mellancamp

Easter was wonderful this year - sun shining (after a freak snowstorm on Monday), children laughing, hymns played and sung well, and a profusion of tissue paper butterflies on the Good Friday cross. Great day.

I realize it's Doubting Thomas Sunday this week, but I think a more appropriate post-Easter (or post-Christmas) reading, at least for me, would be the story of Jesus' transfiguration. More specifically, the walk back down the mountain - back to daily life after the high of a light-filled festival. Back to daily life, where we constantly confront the question of what real difference the celebration makes in the midst of the mundane.

This year was our third Easter vigil, and the first time we actually got to start outside, having endured pouring rain for the past two years. So we had a roaring new fire and lit the paschal candle. The candle is very tall, so though we did put it out after the vigil was over, once we lit it again on Sunday morning, it was easier to let it burn all morning than try to re-light it for the second service. Herein lies the only real problem with young acolytes: too short for the paschal candle.

But the problem with letting the candle burn all morning is that, if you didn't put the little gold cap on just right, it will drip wax all over everything: down the candle itself, all over the font, all over the candle stand, onto the floor. (The floor part is no great loss; I'd do anything to get rid of the pink carpet, including a little paschal sabotage now and then.)

So I found myself on Wednesday afternoon, having taken Monday and Tuesday off for a little rejuvenation, carefully picking wax out of the candle, off the gold cap, off the font, up off the floor. Trying not to break the candle with my frustrating attempts to remove the little gold cap and set it back on correctly. And I thought to myself - something about this little, boring, mundane act is reflective of the post-Easter struggle. Is this it? Jesus died and rose again...so that I could pick wax off the paschal candle? Shouldn't there be more to it than this?

But then I met yesterday with an artist who is creating a mural for our entryway. At the moment, the theme is "Living Water," and the visual is centered on a waterfall, dancing around rocks and leaves and through light and darkness. She and I talked about how to help people understand that, though not explicitly religious, the symbolism of water still conveys something crucial to our faith. "I think people need to learn how to see God in the every day," she said, "as Luther said - 'God in, with, and under' - everything."

Then, in the car on the way to work this morning, I hear the gospel according to John Mellancamp:

Your life is now
your life is now
your life is now;
in this undiscovered moment
lift your head up above the crowd
we could shake this world
if you would only show us how
your life is now

Easter is still now, of course, quite literally - seven Sundays, not simply one. But it is not only the lilies and butterflies, the 200 extra people who show up a few times a year, the procession and the breakfast and the hoopla. It is also picking wax off the candle, listening to a brokenhearted friend, hoping for new life, choosing hymns for next week, interviewing the organist, going to the high school tennis match. Everyday life, ordinary life, infused with grace, one step at a time.

In The Details

I love the Easter Vigil. It's one of my favorite services of the year, probably because it's inherently dramatic, it's so unlike anything other worship service, and it involves no sermon; three lovely realities for a pastor.

But then there's the Easter Proclamation, that unbelievably long chant which goes on and on and on and on, and if you the singer end up on a note anywhere close to the one you started on, you're either profoundly lucky or damn good.

This thing scares the life out of our regular assisting ministers, so I'm still singing it three years into our attempt at the Vigil. I can sing, but I've never had any formal training, and when I start to practice this chant, my lack of training comes back to bite me. Hard.

I suppose you could read it instead, but somehow that would sap some of the mystery out of the experience (even if the mystery at the moment is, "how is the pastor going to get through this? and how long is it, anyway?"). Chant done badly is painful; chant done perfectly is amazing; but I'm aiming for chant-done-reasonably-well, the JCPenney of chant - not Nordstrom, but not Wal-Mart either. Right down the middle. Not distractingly bad, not heaven-shakingly good. Confident enough so that no one has to spend the whole time wondering if I'll make it through.

So I've been practicing, and every year, this is when I start to doubt the wisdom of the Vigil. Little choruses in my head chant their own refrain: I cannot stay anywhere close to G, the note I start on. Who can actually sing, 'Oh, how wonderful the condescension of your lovingkindness! Oh, how inestimable the goodness of your love...'? Condescension? Inestimable? These are not words which lend themselves naturally to lyric form. You never hear these words on American Idol, and there's a reason. Your tongue trips over them.

On the other hand, there's something about the hard work of making this chant sound even passable which seems appropriate for the night. Ah, these words are strange - and so is the story they tell. Yes, the syllables are awkward, painful - and so is the body whose suffering we remember. Can I learn to sing this refrain? Can any of us really learn to hear it? Can we tune our ears to hear the truth which "inestimable," "condescension," "paschal," and "vanquish" would tell us?

Oh, but then there are the bees. The bees make it all worthwhile. They have their very own line:

We sing the glories of this pillar of fire, the brightness of which is not diminished, even when its light is divided and borrowed. For it is fed by the melting wax which the bees, your servants, have made for the substance of this candle.

For most of the chant, I am focusing so hard on the notes, trying to stay in the right key, trying to move the notes on the syllables correctly, that I hardly hear the words themselves, much less the meaning. But for one brief second, when it is time for the bees, it changes. I can see a hive of them, buzzing in and out, busily creating that from which this candle will one day be made. It only lasts a second, but it's enough.

Perhaps that's all the Vigil, or any worship service, can hope for; a second or two, maybe more if you're lucky, when you catch a glimpse of the astounding truth we claim. "God is in the details," wrote Ludwig Mies van der Rohe (such an architect thing to say). In the bees, in the wax, in the chant, in the gathering, in the darkness, as we light the candle one more time.

And we pray, O Lord, rule, govern, and preserve with your continual protection your whole Church,
giving us peace in this time of our paschal rejoicing;
through the same Lord, Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Friday Five: Holy Week, Batman!

Well, the Clergy Superbowl is almost upon us, and so, I offer up this Friday Five (with apologies for the irreverent title):

1. Will this Sunday be Palms only, Passion only, or hyphenated?
Palms only. I've gone both ways, but I still have the sneaking feeling that Palm Sunday deserves a day of its own, and if you tell the whole Passion story then, you're usurping a huge part of the Holy Week pattern. I can be fairly pitiless when it comes to liturgical order: if you're too lazy to come to Good Friday worship, then that's your problem. At any rate, I'm not going to give you an excuse by telling the whole story this Sunday.

2. Maundy Thursday Footwashing: Discuss.
We do a Seder meal. As this is my first call congregation, I've only helped with a footwashing service once, on my internship. Can't say I miss it too much, though I do love the image.

3. Share a particularly meaningful Good Friday worship experience.
I'm almost always moved by Good Friday. That said, I can't pick out one particular worship service, but what I like most about them all is the leaving in silence. It's so different from ordinary worship, and so appropriate to me.

4. Easter Sunrise Services--choose one:
a) "Resurrection tradition par excellence!"
b) "Eh. As long as it's sunrise with coffee, I can live with it."
c) "[Yawn] Can't Jesus stay in the tomb just five more minutes, Mom?!?"
C, no question. Here's what I always wanted to say (and didn't) when we had a Sunrise service: "Even Jesus isn't up yet! Why are we here???"

5. Complete this sentence: It just isn't Easter without...
The processional singing of "Jesus Christ is Risen Today," complete with pull-out-all-the-stops pipe organ.

Bonus: Any Easter Vigil aficionados out there? Please share.
Absolutely. This will be our third annual Vigil (we gave up the Sunrise service in favor of the Vigil - alleluia indeed). I love the whole thing. It's the best service of the year, hands down. A friend's congregation even uses champagne for communion during the Vigil; they pop the cork as they invite everyone forward. It's fantastic. Some year I'm going to steal that idea.