"Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." Paul to the persecuted at Philippi (2:5-11)

29 December 2012

Stuff to read

My stocking, like so many of yours no doubt did, included an Amazon gift card this year.  Now, I think gift cards are impersonal and lacking in thoughtful creativity, but when it comes to books, I'm happy enough to receive.   So I'm contentedly mulling over how to spend ye olde gift card, courtesy of my mom.

So I thought to ask you, dear readers, what should I read?  Fun stuff especially, as I've gone through a number of novels this year without finding more than a couple worth finishing.  You're welcome, of course, to post anything from "brain candy" to a healthy mental main course.

And since several of you are no doubt in the same boat, here are a few books I've read in the past year or two that are worth passing along for your consideration:

North of the DMZ: It's a little dated now but a classic text of modern North Korea.  I've been reading one or two brief sections before I go to bed in the evenings, which has occasionally made for some funky dreams that I'm actually IN North Korea (on vacation, in the snow, and they took my passport and kept it.  Seriously.) 

There are several good books out right now on North Korea, but a lot more of what is coming out has a poor signal to noise ratio.  The problem with North Korea being so much in the news these days is that everyone feels the need to publish something, which makes the good books a little harder to find among the rubbish.

New Testament in Antiquity: I have finally found an introductory New Testament textbook that I like.  I'm looking forward to teaching from it next semester.  Again, textbooks are another area with a poor signal to noise ratio.  The average reader is probably not in the market for a textbook, but this one is worth having on the shelves, for those of us who have a geeky side.

I'm frustrated that I can't remember the title of the novel I read while I was in Alaska this summer.  I picked it up at a local bookshop there and read it so intently that I was finished with it in time to pass it along to another book seller once I got to Anchorage.  She was interested in the book, so I gave it to her.  Rats that I can't remember the title because it was good... the life story of a fictional but not far-fetched woman captured in Africa and taken for a slave in the US.  The writer was listed as a "best new writer of 2011" or some simliar award.  Rats and rats that I can't recall it.

**Later addition: I found the book.  It's Someone Knows My Name. I think I'll toddle off to Amazon now and see if the author wrote anything more.**

Trying to google whatever that book was brought up Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl which I read many years ago and still have on my shelves and is a very worthy read indeed.

I've also been reading through Our Little Korean Cousin and if you find the title condesending you should probably avoid it.  If you can mentally file the title as dated and quaint, then its an interesting image not only of Korea at the end of the Choseon Dynasty but also of how western eyes saw anything foreign.  Yes, its condescending.  It is also quaint.  And its free on Amazon for Kindle.

But another interesting portrait in time of Korea is Korea: A Walk Through the Land of Miracles which was written in teh 1980's and Korea's come a long way since.  Still its an image of that time of transition from war-torn third world to the globe's eleventh largest economy. 

So what should I read next?  Fifty dollars, free shipping... how to go about enjoying the bounty?

19 November 2012

Black Friday

I am wondering how to redeem the Black Friday phenomenon in our culture. I'd think that such a huge gathering of people lined up in annual pilgrimage to pay homage to the gods of WalMart, China, Apple, and their ilk... that this would be an opportunity to be countercultural, to preach a different message, possibly transcending words. I guess its too late in the season to organize a movement, but there's always next year. Maybe we could band together to give something away. Or to serve folks, push their carts, load their cars for them, bag their baggage. Or maybe we could have a ministry fair in the WalMart parking lot where the masses could see and adopt Compassion children, donate to food banks, pick up a few packages of warm woolies for the homeless ministries. Wouldn't it be cool if WalMart had less of a run on GameBoys and more of a run on scarves, hats and socks?

I am, of course, boycotting China again this Advent. I try to not buy much Chinese plastic during the year, but Advent is an all out ban for me. I'm also considering boycotting chocolate, though that may be just me --not buying chocolate for me or eating any-- and not boycotting it in my gift giving, since I have kids.

As an aside, for those of you who say "why chocolate?" The vast majority of chocolate in the world (Fair Trade offerings being the exception) are made by the labors of exploited and even enslaved children. Every time you enjoy that Hershey bar, you're encouraging slave labor. Not so sweet.

Advent, in the Eastern Church, is seen as a lesser Lent, a time to repent and get ready for the great works that Christ has done for us in the Incarnation and the Resurrection (and all points between, before, and after). Of course in our culture its the opposite, party and buy. A month of gluttony and greed.

How about buying local, giving handmade gifts when you can, keeping Christmas small and meaningful, and saving the party-season for the Twelve Day Festival of the Incarnation, instead of jumping the gun and skipping the real reason for the Advent/Lesser Lent season.

16 November 2012

Secrets to Happiness

The secrets to happiness that occurred to me in the grocery store today, as I dropped by to pick up a gallon of milk on the way home:

1. Take life exactly at the speed it comes to you, never faster.

2. Like everyone unless and until they give you a very good reason not to. My dad always said that "95% of the people in this world are good people."

3. Explore often.

I'm not always good at those things, but there they are. Wondering what secrets to happiness you all might add. I guess its kind of like having a rule of life (Pray, Work, Study) but more Tao (watch the river go by, always changing, always the same.) Oh well, I don't mean to be theological, just "hey, these are good ideas." So there they are.

And I do like most people. I think just about everyone I've ever met is pretty cool, at least in some way or another. And I'm not always good at taking life at the speed it arrives. I get impatient mostly. And I do like to explore, though I get timid when I don't want to be sometimes.

So I guess I'm not good at my own advice.

But my dad had another saying... "Do as I say, not as I do."

08 November 2012

More (probably stupid) thoughts on racism...

A friend (and the youth minister for my teen's youth group) posted an article on facebook today in which a bunch of teens were saying all manner of ignorant, racist, and rather inarticulate things about the re-election of Barack Obama to the White House.  I posted back to her this:

 Americans are so weird about race. We're afraid to mention it. We want to say it doesn't matter. We have "white guilt" and we forget that there are other races than just black and white.... race does matter but not in the ways we want to think it does. It matters in the wonderful scope of human cultures and foods and stories we can enjoy and explore. It matters in the sheer fun of foreignness. It matters in who, statistically, gets what diseases and to my cocky littlest kid who thinks its funny that he doesn't sunburn as easily as his white-boy older brothers. It does not matter in who makes a good president, employee, neighbor or friend. I just fail to see how our country misses that memo.



Most people responded that they were "heartsick" or otherwise saddened by the post.  (To clarify, she posted this to show the state race relations among those who are young enough to know better, rather than having been indoctrinated into the racism of the past.  She was not endorsing the racism, rather she was pointing out that it still exists.)

And the more I got to thinking about her post, the more I want to say: "of course racism still exists!"

Racism in America is no longer cool. 

That's a good thing.

But because racism has gone so rapidly from being a social norm to a social stigma, we've not had a chance as a culture to process out our real thoughts.  We've had institutions, people, society and such all jumping at the chance to re-educate our racist selves, whether or not we actually are racists, without regard to the fact that real racists won't respond to this sort of re-education.  In short, we've not eradicated racism so much as driven it underground.

And so it is no longer kosher to notice race.

And so it is no longer kosher to say "how cool! You're different!"

And so it is no longer kosher to ask "what is it like to be you?"

And it is no longer kosher to wonder "what is out there that is new, exciting, foreign to my worldview?"

Its probably no longer kosher to say "kosher" because it might be offensive to Jews.  Or liberals.  Or the politically correct thought police.

Because we've come to express equality as sameness.

And it becomes scary to wonder about difference.

And because we've made race a no-man's land...

and so thoughts are thought in isolation.

And there is no safe place to ask innocent questions, make mistakes, step unknowingly on toes, and learn something in the process.

And every Tom, Dick, and Harry, and Jane, is subjected to anti-racism training whether they want to grow in this area or not, that feels like an accusation, that requires an investment of time resources that may seem unavailable, that is forced on them from the outside and that, therefore, like it or not, breeds resentment which in turn breeds racism. 

I am thankful that I have a couple of Asian friends who allowed me to safely ask my impertinent questions when we adopted a Korean child.  I know friends who have children of African descent who are thankful for friends who have offered them similar safe havens for questions about culture, language, life, and yes hair (or in the case of my Asian kid, ears... oh, nevermind).  They don't assume I'm some sort of ignorant racist, they assume I'm a white person with white person hair (and ears), who had never eaten kimchi, never tied a hanbok, and never been asked in my own country whether or not I spoke English. 

I'm thankful for the chance to be that safe friend when people ask me stupid, seemingly racist, innocent questions about my Korean child who does happen to be good at math, and martial arts, and is admittedly on the short side, hates his hanbok like most Korean boys... but doesn't like kimchi and doesn't speak Korean and his English is just fine thanks.

Sometimes we have to air our ignorance to grow.  That's called humility.  And sometimes we have to put up wiht others' ignorance and assume the best, that's called relationship.

And the reason the anonymity of the internet causes real racism to bubble up is that so few people have had the chance for humility and relationship where they can process out their thoughts in a healthy way.  

I'm not sure how to cure the problem, except that the society learn to extend to one another a "freedom to fail."  I guess its a start.  I guess.

21 October 2012

How Did I Miss This News?

Archbishop authrorizes a Theological Task Force on Holy Orders Archbishop Duncan has appointed the Rt. Rev. David Hicks, Bishop of the REC Diocese of the Northeast & Mid-Atlantic to lead a Theological Task Force on Holy Orders. The Task Force will lead the College of Bishops through a thorough study regarding the ordination of women to Holy Orders.

The rest of the article is here.

This looks to be fairly new, judging from its placement on the Province's website, but I've not seen any discussion of it in the church media. Probably because the South Carolina situation rightly takes the spotlight.

Some of you may know that Forward in Faith North America recently called for a moritorium on women's ordination to the priesthood. I found the request sad on two fronts... the first is that it didn't come from ordained women, who should have an interest (see earlier posts) in the integrity of our orders and the consciences of our brothers who can't accept us (even deacons, my friends, even women deacons are not universally accepted) and second because of all the women whose process would be adversely affected by a moritorium. Nobody wants to see anyone hurt further. The damage has already been more than enough.

Nonetheless, I fully supported FiFNA's request, moritorum aside, its the right thing to do. Its the necessary thing, for the sake of the church and all who are in ministry together. And so I'm encouraged by this news.

I'm encouraged that Archbishop Duncan has placed an REC bishop in leadership in this group. The REC, you may be aware is not a body which ordains women as deacons or priests. Most folks would trust that Archbishop Duncan would place someone in charge of this committee who is favorable to women's ordination to the priesthood, and so I suspect that and REC bishop approved by Archbishop Duncan is about the closest you can get to someone who will give a balanced ear to the Scripture and the Tradition of the Church in this regard.

I'm encouraged that a request has been made for women to serve on this committee. (Anyone want to convince them that I need this job???) Women need to be represented for the results of the study to be credible to the pro-women's priesthood segment of the church.

I'm encouraged that we seem to be ready to take the risks required for deeper unity and community, while maintaining respect for varied opinions on the subject, at least while the theology is sorted out.

Hopefully, we'll read, mark, learn and inwardly digest the work of Bishop John Rodgers and the AMiA on the subject, but also pray and exegete and think for ourselves, under the guidance of the Spirit. I don't know what the answers will be, but I'm so glad we're no longer fearing to ask the question!

15 October 2012

American Neuroticism and Greek Cynicism

I just returned from a trip to Greece (with stops in Turkey and France) and I have learned two things, perhaps things I already knew.

1. Americans are neurotic. Greece, a country with some serious unrest over the economy and a half step away from the Arab world was pretty much business as usual. Most notably, I breezed through security at the airport (and likewise in France) with little fuss and bother. At one point I needed to retrieve a passport, set my bag on the floor and was told by the Greek agent that I needn't bother, I could put my bag on her desk. Really? In America that would likely trigger alerts. Enter not the TSA agent's space. We all know that.

Meanwhile, my fellow Americans were taking off shoes and all manner of unnecessary hoopla, while the Greeks looked on amused. I did have to toss out a bottle of water at Charles de Gualle, but otherwise, security was not a problem. My bag did not go through security in France... it just showed up later in Athens like magic. Funny, I felt no less safe there.

Passport control was also not a problem. Greece happily accepted that I'd been through passport control in Paris, no need to re-visit the issue. Have a nice day. Paris ran a mob through passport control (in English for those of us non-French folks who so preferred, though I am marginally capable in French) in no time. New York (JFK) kept a somewhat smaller mob in line for over an hour and fifteen minutes... for citizens! Form a line here, join a line there, wait, wait, wait. Answer these silly questions, retreive your bag, drag it across the room, recheck your bag for your next flight. Seriously America? Seriously?

Turkey, by the way, was totally casual, too... despite that on another of their borders they're exchanging bombs with Syria. If we were bombing Mexico, I doubt the even the more distant New England states would be as relaxed with foreign visitors as was Turkey.

2. Greece is getting tired. There's graffiti all over Athens and Thessaloniki. But on the whole, nothing was interrupted, our tour ran smoothly and I only visited one going out of business sale. Our guide told us most of the graffiti was with regard to the economic situation. Some of the graffiti was in English for international attention.

We learned that a lot of Greek woes are coming out of misappropriation of funds and overspending on the Olympics in 2004. There were some similar patterns in entitlement spending, lack of accountability, and patronising crony-corporations (think Rapiscan, folks) leading up to collapse. Greece can't limp along much longer and will need to pay the piper.

Wither Greece goes, so goes America.

Anyway, I'm a bit jetlagged (getting better every day) but glad to be back. It certainly is true that travel gives you a better perspective on your own home. I'm not sure its one I'm proud to see, though. Not sure at all. And unfortunately, none of the monkeys stumping for office next month seems capable of resolving anything.

26 September 2012

Things Heard

Driving through Sewickley, in the rain, I looked over and saw (not heard, not over my radio giving me the daily news) a guy playing a violin. He stood there alone under an awning of an empty storefront (unusual to find an empty store in upscale little Sewickley) and played the violin. Its also unusual to find "street performers" in such a small town. It felt like he was just there to practice or something. I couldn't resist turning off my radio, putting down my window despite the cold rain, and listening while I waited for the light to turn green. Whoever you are, thanks. Then on my way home I heard a commercial for the Libertarian presidential candidate. That's the first time I think I've ever heard a third party candidate broadcast on the mainstream media, even if it was just the radio. Cool. Its about time some alternatives got some steam in this country. Of course the two, the violin and the election commercial couldn't be more different. Except that both were unexpected enough to be a little out of place. And both made me smile. Not everything in America has to fit the mold. Yeah, that's encouraging.

21 July 2012

New Old Friends

I’m currently at my mother’s house, worn out, after a weekend of aggressive reunion-ing with my high school… um… people I thought I knew.

If you have a class reunion coming up and haven’t been to one, go this time.  Its not at all weird and kind of refreshing.  All in all it is a second chance to make a first impression, or so they say.   Surprises, well, some… like the super shy, kind of freaky goth guy… who turned out to be level-headed and fascinating and someone I wish I could spend more time with.   Some non-surprises, normal people in high school (rare though they were) are still normal and rather likeable.   People I grew up with who weren’t friends got the chance to become friends.  Twenty years, it seems, is time enough to heal wounds and calm raging hormones. 

Turns out, nobody enjoyed middle school, not even the “popular” kids.  And we all thought more highly of one another than we expressed then.  Now we know how to say so. 

And maybe that’s the most important change in two decades, we’ve learned to appreciate people and are free to enjoy one another.  We all left wanting to see each other again, sooner this time.  

Oh, and my middle child found a kindred spirit… he called him “the Tennessee version of me” on the ride home.   I’m sure play dates will be requested whenever we visit Grandma.  Funny, I’ve known “Tennessee-Me’s” parents since we were even younger than the kids are now.  At middle boy’s age I was playing on the soccer team with his new pal’s dad.  

It makes me miss small town life.  Some of them are still in the same place where we grew up.  They see each other, some work together.  Middle boy’s new buddy even has an older sister who goes to the high school where all those reunioning adults graduated.   Its kind of rhythmic to see life going on in the same small town. 

And if any of them are reading this… thanks for giving me a second chance too.   Hopefully I’m less insecure and obnoxious now.  But I’m not counting on it.

16 July 2012

Posted for all you students of the diaconate.

Roman Catholic Deacon William Ditewig has the distinction of being my favorite author on subjects relating to the diaconate.... no, that's not saying enough since those of you who know me in real life know that I'm not fond of most published material on the diaconate.... so let me rephrase... Students of the Diaconate, Deacon William Ditewig is the only writer on my must-read list.... Here are a pair of great blog posts (part one is just below part II on his blog) for your edification.


Deacons Today: Musings on Diakonia and Diaconate: Women and the Diaconate: Part II

10 July 2012

Why I'm not a Priest, part two.

Okay, so here is a part two... again, don't assume that this completes the reasoning, but it needs to be said.

Women's ordination to the priesthood in the Episcopal Church was an act of rebellion.  (Note, none of the argument that follows applies to traditions unrelated to the Episcopal Church, but they do heavily apply to those of us who are related by the fact of our corporate ecclesiastical ancestry... like it or not, we need to deal with this.)

Just because the governing body of the Episcopal Church looked the other way and allowed the rebellion to run wild does not make it less rebellious.  These women and their bishops broke the canons of the church, acted on their own in rogue fashion, and unilaterally denied the authority placed over them.

And this practice has recently leaked out among a few other churches (most notably some rogue Roman Catholics who repeated this action a few years ago right here in Pittsburgh, attempting to make Roman women priests... the Vatican doesn't seem to have so easily glanced the other way). 

And every woman in the Episcopal Church or the continuing/realigned Anglican Church in the US (and possibly also abroad) has since profited by (and therefore participated in) that act of rebellion.

Its cruel to the authority of the church.
Its cruel to godly women in ministry.
Its cruel to those who can't accept women's ordination.

And the only way I see to overcome that cruelty is to cut off the blind acceptance of women's ordination as a carryover from TEC and re-engage in the risk-taking high-stakes theological study that would lay the foundation for our own considered response to the issue within the ACNA.  That means we all have to be willing to risk being wrong, so I doubt it will happen any time soon.  But I'd be willing to risk everything to ask the church to reconsider the ordination (at all levels) of women and abide by the theologically demonstrated conclusion. 

I'd be willing to take that risk because I see it as the only way to give women a chance to serve God free from the act of sinful and cruel rebellion that we have dragged in from the wastebaskets of TEC.   And its possibly the only way to resolve some of the bitterness between those who are for and those who are against women's ordination and let us finally  move forward together in ministry, for the good of the whole Church.

So again, part two... talk amongst yourselves.

09 July 2012

Why I’m Not a Priest… part one

Honestly, I don’t know if I’ll write a part two or not.  This may just be in the spirit of Mel Brooks’ History of the World Part 1; there may be no part two.  But the title stands, lest the good reader assume that the reasons given here are the only reasons.

There’s a lot of brouhaha right now, ever since Provincial Assembly, possibly before that, about women’s ordination to the priesthood.  Some (with whom I vehemently disagree, most of whom we left behind in TEC) seem to think this is an equal rights issue.  Scripture is interpreted for them in such a way that, lacking a specific” thou shalt not ordain girls” seems to strive to explain away (way away) prohibitions against women in ministry.  They don’t wrestle with the text, they wrangle it.  That’s of course one extreme, but they can be vocal and their methods are not responsible exegesis, so they are a force to be reckoned with. 

There’s another vocal group, which remarkably has a similar motivation in fear (fear that the next archbishop won’t agree with their position… funny how both sides are alike in that presupposition) that believes that women simply cannot be ordained priests.  Ordination bounces off women like teflon and thereby endangers the spiritual wellbeing of the people because all female celebrated sacraments would be invalid.  I can sympathize with this position, as it is rooted in depth of concern for biblical authority and the spiritual wellbeing of the people.  It is a position that comes out of a sense of continuity with the historic church and puts the burden of proof on anyone who wants to change the tradition.   While “we’ve always done it that way” is poor theology, there is authority in the church’s Tradition.  While I don’t share their opinion, I sympathize with it, and I think we should stand up (especially those of us who happen to be women) to defend our brothers and sisters who hold this opinion, particularly as their strongly held convictions open them to accusations of misogyny. 

Sure there are a few misogynists among them.  There are jerks on all sides, always will be.  But for the vast majority, this is simply a theological conclusion, on the way to faithfully following God.  I’m cool with that.

In the middle are all sorts.  Including me.  I’m pretty convinced that the Bible allows for women to become priests.  (I am convinced that biblical affirmation of women deacons is blatantly obvious, less so though for priests.  Anyone who tries to base an argument off the unclear debate whether Junian was a woman or a man is probably barking up an unsteady tree… but the text seems open to the idea of women priests, though a touch ambiguous, certainly not firm… and the Tradition of the Church is not to be left voiceless… so I just barely fall on the pro-Women’s ordination to the priesthood side… just enough to recognize and work with women as priests, but not enough to really think its a preferable notion for the church today.)   Real wrestling with the text leaves us with as many questions as it solves, and those who like pat answers don’t seem to find satisfaction. 

I’m convinced that its allowable, but I’m not convinced that its preferable.  A lot of the Scripture defines Christian community as setting aside our own freedoms for the sake of the Body.  And I am not convinced that, aside from a few extreme cases, women priests are good for the larger Body.  I know some awesome women who are priests, don’t get me wrong.  I could name a score of names in as many seconds.   But I am simply not convinced that these women are not exceptions to the general rule as well as being exceptional.   All things being lawful, this may, at this time in church history not be always helpful.

I do know this, its not an equal rights issue.   Nobody, male or female has a right to be ordained.  None of us is worthy.

And as for me, I spend a lot of time in ministry among those who are against women’s priesthood.  Not being a priest gives me the flexibility to serve among them in a fuller, richer way.  Becoming a priest would, in that way, be a liability, and its not a liability that I have felt called to take on (though I acknowledge that some women may have felt called to take that liability on, fully knowing that it does limit effectiveness in some circles.  God sets the limits, I get that.  I’ve just been given one set of limitations instead of another.) 

So why am I writing this… well because a few people have asked me to write about women’s priesthood.  Because I see fear on both sides, and fear is anti-Gospel.  Because our canons are clear (women priests at the bishop’s discretion, but no women bishops because that would impose women’s ministry on those whose theological convictions oppose women priests), but our hearts are not… that the needs of the church must be placed before the needs of the individual.  That just because we can, doesn’t mean we should.

There aren’t many people I can talk about this with, since I probably annoy both sides equally.  But I’m pretty sure I am where God wants me to be.

And maybe I’m pushing my luck by publishing this… but unless given a reason otherwise, comments are open.  Be respectful.  Talk amongst yourselves.

27 June 2012

Funeral for a Friend

Actually, that was the title of a song we played one year in, of all places, high school marching band.  I don’t remember many of the songs we played, but that title stood out.  At fifteen (wow, the age my own eldest child is now) the idea of a funeral for a friend seemed surreal.  It made me think of people my own age dying, and that seemed both possile and impossible at once.  It conjured images of funerals with empty caskets, because who on earth would be in there at fifteen.

Of course, now I’ve gone to a few funerals for friends, but always older friends.  One person who was a college classmate died, but she was far away and I never considered her a close friend when we were in school.

All this is the roundabout way of saying, a friend from middle school and high school died tonight.  We were the same age… six of us who moved together from middle school through graduation (with the exception of one who joined us in high school), we thought ourselves inseparable.  One of them wrote in my senior yearbook “they say college friends are the best friends you’ll ever have, but I can’t think of any better than you all are.” 

The person who wrote that didn’t keep in touch in college, but in recent years she’s returned to my closest circle of friends.

Another friend disappeared halfway through college and only comes back when she wants money, which I don’t give her and she disappears again.

I was a bridesmaid for another one of them, but lost touch within a year after her wedding and haven’t heard from her since.  Its been seventeen years and I do miss her.

Another lost touch for years but we re-found one another on Facebook.  I’m glad we did, we have a lot in common.

And she re-introduced me (also on Facebook) to the sixth, with whom I’d lost touch.  We talked on the phone some after that, but not face to face.  Still, I’m thankful, without the little gift of modern communications, I’d have never known what became of her and I’d have never heard that she passed away tonight.

We used to talk about “deep thoughts” that gaggle of six girls… Carliea wanted to live until the End Times and see Christ return.  The rest of us thought that sounded a bit intense for our tastes.  Now we’re still here and she’s gone.  Carliea’s church taught that the soul “sleeps” until the end times.  Clearly not consistent with orthodox Christianity but not a matter of salvation either.  Now she’s awake and alive indeed with Christ.

It still seems surreal, a funeral for a friend.  I don’t know if that feeling goes away as we get older.  But I don’t know that she’s the one I’d have picked to be the first of the six to go.  

Ah well.  Rest in peace… “Walter.”

08 June 2012

Day 2: Activities, Speeches, and Games. Oh my!

Today was a splendiferous day. (So surprised that the spell-check didn’t pick up on that.) That pretty much is the best possible word to describe it. No other word counts.

Mom and I kicked it off with the old-school early dilemma; almost missing breakfast. We got up rather late, and it took a little while to get out the door. As we finally did, I turned to Mom and told her, “See, everyone; Tara and Isaac shall have no bread, for they slumber still,” in my most sarcastic but serious-sounding voice. But it was almost true, as we got in the last line open for breakfast. Good thing we didn’t get there later!

After that, the youth and I went off to do some activities, and sing some songs. After the latter, I slipped out to listen to the Baroness Cox give an extremely moving speech about the Southern Sudanese, which I described in Dystopia Here. (see below) After this, my mom and I stayed in the exact same spot for a short noonday prayer, and then went to have lunch.

Soon afterwards the youth and I spent some time hanging out together in one of the conference rooms. I got a small workout in that time.

After evening prayer, we went down to the dining hall for a very nice salmon dinner. It wasn’t nearly as nice as Mom makes it-she makes it fall apart to the touch and makes it so flavor-full it tasted more like candy flavored fish- but it was food, and I ate.

I must wrap this up, for I have another session to go to, as well as some time to hang out with youth at the bonfire!

~~Isaac, Guest Writer.

07 June 2012

News from Ridgecrest

I have to say, I never went to an Episcopal General Convention.  But I’m told that its profoundly not like this.

The majority of our time here together is intended for program, not legislation.  And indeed, we heard a great talk this morning by Ed Stetzer about engaging people in meaningful ministry.  I’m all about the things he said, I dare say the whole assembly of the faithful here would agree, that if you are a Christian you have gifts, and the duty of the leadership (lay and ordained) is to equip the saints for the work of ministry. 

The mood here is very much like a family reunion.  Greeting friends we haven’t seen in years, making new friends, and engaging in exchanges of resources, the better side of what the world calls “networking.”  I get to run around visiting with and encouraging friends and talking about the diaconate, so I’m in my personal little hog-heaven.   I’ll be presenting an ‘interest group’ on Saturday, and am looking forward to it.

Legislation happens tonight but having already read the documents at hand, don’t expect any earth-shattering headlines. 

The only real news happened a few minutes ago, at the close of the opening Eucharist, when the Primate of Rwanda released to us a number of bishops, priests, and deacons, formerly of the Anglican Mission in the Americas.  He noted to them that they have moved simply from one room to the next of the same house, at which words (and in honor of receiving these dear faithful friends) the congregation responded with a standing ovation.

I am hoping my son will report again on the Youth Assembly now that things are fully underway.   The teens/young adults have joined us for many events, but there’s a lot of youthful fun to be had too, and some great talks,  I was encouraged to see that the teen schedule included positive and healthy talks about sexuality and homosexuality.  For those on the outside who think we are some sort of anti-sex anti-gay church, as well as for our youth who are growing up into maturity in all areas of their lives, it is so important to see healthy sexuality taught openly in our Church.  They’ll also be teaching about social justice, and politics, and also retelling the Gospel consistently for these young leaders.  They should have a lot to take home.  I’m glad to see material directed especially for them without separating them from the comings and goings of bishops and other leaders.  As I said to my son, the purpose of this event is in part to get them addicted to leadership.

Anyway, that’s all the news that’s fit to print!  Needless to say, I’m feeling really positive about our church and the direction in which it is going! Thanks be to God.

06 June 2012

First Day at Assembly

After arriving at Asheville from a long day of flying, we finally got a ride up to Provincial Assembly. The place was really cool; we had our own room to stay in, a bunch of old friends and tons more new ones, Mom and I knew we were going to have a blast.

I personally am really looking forward to what Provincial Assembly will offer tomorrow. All sorts of craziness awaits us starting early tomorrow morning, and I can barely wait to see what it will be.

~~Guest Blogger Isaac

04 June 2012

Taking This Show on the Road

Yep, that’s right, I’m putting the “Free Range” to business this week as I’ll be travelling to Provincial Assembly in Ridgecrest NC.   I’m sure I’ll blog a little, maybe even snap a few pictures.  My teen will be joining the youth assembly, so if we’re nice to him maybe he’ll blog a little from that event.  And if you’re going to be on site, stop in on Saturday’s deacon breakout group… its not just for deacons but anyone who is interested, and I’m leading the group, so if you want an easy chance to poke your head in and say hello, there it is!  I’d offer to sign autographs, but no one would care.

31 May 2012

A Little Good News for Once

I think this is a sweet story, worth watching for all you frazzled homeschool moms out there….
But admittedly I have a little personal interest here; Bobbye Pointer is my cousin.  

25 May 2012

Moving Forward

Folks,

Our friends at the former St. David’s will be moving out of their building this weekend!  These brave souls are willing to walk away to be faithful stewards of their resources and of the Gospel entrusted to them.  David Wilson, their rector, has posted a letter from the Presiding Bishop of the REC over on his website (anglicanyinzer.blogspot.com) and I thought to myself… wouldn’t it be cool if Christians they’ve never met, from all over internet-dom, would take the time and bless these faithful folks on their way.  I’m on my way over there in a moment, but if you feel like wishing them well, the comments section on Presiding Bishop Riches’ letter is up and running and a good place to add your fond wishes for the new congregation of Christ the Redeemer!

Sometimes it is incredibly easy to make your voice heard!

19 May 2012

Bramble Flowers

delicate white flowers

dotting my landscape

today

tomorrow

amid the thorns

tart dark fruit

 

A poem for my friend Beth, who has often reminded me of the simple value of the poetic.  And for her daughter, whose appreciation for the wild berries on the edge of my yard a few summers ago makes me think of her every time I look at those promising buds.

15 May 2012

Busting Loose

I had the privilege of visiting a little guy at Children’s Hospital on Saturday.  I long ago became convinced that hospitals are one of those places where the secular and the sacred collide, with noticeable results.  God is at work, bidden or unbidden God is there, as they say. 

Being a patient in a hospital, aside from whatever reason put a person there in the first place, is boring as all heck.   Boredom is probably worse than pain for a kid.  I think of every little kid I’ve ever known who would rather risk a spanking for misbehavior than sit still while waiting for an appointment or keep quiet while mom’s on the phone.  Boredom stinks. 

But I marveled at the hospital at how little the children’s hospital feels like a hospital.  Its colorful, for one thing, and whimsical.  And it has places where the kids can get out for a stroll (complete with tubes and equipment and wheelchairs and whatnot), a little library, a play room, a giant statue of a robot holding the Stanley Cup (for you robots and Penguins fans) and some sort of funky projected image that little kids seem to like to stomp on.

On the way out of the hospital I came across two healthy siblings of a hospitalized child, going bonkers in the foyer.  I passed a patient room where I heard a child crying, and gave thanks that he or she was healthy enough to squalk a bit.  I met a little mop top child running like mad while being tailed by tubes, parents, and one of those medical “trees” on wheels.   It was a thankful thing, that some architects somewhere had made space for kids to bust out, even if their bodies weren’t exactly able to co-operate.

Even the little guy I was visiting, when his mom was out of the room (shhh… don’t tell), had fun with our adventures to turn on the light switch (which I will sacrifice my adult and professional dignity to confess involved lots of “vroom, vroooooom!” sounds and unnecessary little detours around the room with his wheelchair) and some silly reading of Cat in the Hat (which we didn’t quite finish… I owe him one).   Strolling about with him and  his mom, we had a great view of the city.  Things look different a garden from six floors up.

In the end, I think its easy to underestimate kids who are hospitalized, to dehumanize them into needy objects, especially those who are severely ill.  But they’re still in there, just aching to bust out, even when their bodies don’t wholly co-operate.  They’re still contributing to our world, even when we are too self absorbed and busy to notice their quiet ways. They’re still active, even when so attached to tubes and medical trees that the activity is veiled, when pain or loss of control demands that the activity be slow and deliberate. 

And it makes me thankful for their witness.
And for whoever thought a garishly hot pink ladies room was a good idea. And for the person who painted a six foot Statue of Liberty black and gold for the sixth floor atrium.  And for the garden designer who put a mosaic sun in the middle of the winding wheelchair friendly little paths.   And for the little kids who, heedless of pain and medical accoutrements were busting loose on the path and in the atrium and in countless other corners of the hospital and our world.

If play for children is more important to them than pain or discomfort or risk… what for adults has the same value?

21 April 2012

They're voting in Pittsburgh today....

Episcopal Diocese will be electing a bishop today. I'm watching closely because I have friends there and want to see them get a good and godly bishop (though I admit I'm not optimistic). I'll post interesting news as I find it. Thus far I've refrained from making too much commentary because one of the candidates is my friend and former rector.
Stay tuned....
Election results Ballot 1 and comments:
Ballot #1
Needed for Election .... Clergy Votes: 22 -- Lay Votes: 44
The Rev. Dorsey W. M. McConnell 16 19
The Rev. Canon Michael N. Ambler, Jr. 2 4
The Rev. Canon Scott T. Quinn 11 18
The Rev. R. Stanley Runnels 9 33
The Rev. Ruth Woodliff-Stanley 4 12
Right now it looks like a split in the conservative (or close to it) vote between Quinn and McConnell. I would suggest the conservative side get their act together behind one or the other if they want to elect one of their own. McConnell looks rather strong, but I'm pleased to see Quinn making a good showing.
Ambler, who some watchers pegged for the next bishop and who tried to pass himself off as a moderate seems to be dead last. This may indicate some polarizing in the vote. Not sure.
Runnels seems to have a strong showing in the lay vote. Runnels is a vocal advocate of same sex blessings.
Woodliff-Stanley, by far the most vocally liberal candidate is certainly not in last place. It remains anyone's election right now.
One thing the numbers really reveal is how small the diocese is now. Wow.
Second ballot is in....
Ballot #2
Needed for Election .... Clergy Votes: 22 -- Lay Votes: 44
The Rev. Dorsey W. M. McConnell 22 24
The Rev. Canon Michael N. Ambler, Jr. 0 0
The Rev. Canon Scott T. Quinn 6 10
The Rev. R. Stanley Runnels 12 45
The Rev. Ruth Woodliff-Stanley 2 7
It looks like conservatives are unifying behind McConnell. I'm wondering if some folks voted for Quinn out of friendship and then switched to McConnell for pragmatic reasons. Not sure if Ambler withdrew or just his few switched over. Looks like its going to be either McConnell or Runnels, depending on which side is slightly better represented. Noticing Runnels now takes the lay vote and McConnell the clergy.
Apologies to all... the new blogger format is making me crazy right now. Will work on cleaning up format here! :)



Dear TEC_PGH... make with the reporting, okay???  Okay, they're having lunch, I'm doing other things here... but seriously, I think this thing has gotten temporarily predictable and would like to get ballot three out of the way so we can go on to the final grudge match between the very liberal and the very conservative.  Nope, no happy middle in PGH today.





Ballot #3

Clergy Votes Lay Votes
Needed for Election 22 44



The Rev. Dorsey W. M. McConnell 25 34
The Rev. Canon Michael N. Ambler, Jr. 0 0
The Rev. Canon Scott T. Quinn 3 3
The Rev. R. Stanley Runnels 14 46
The Rev. Ruth Woodliff-Stanley 0 3        

01 April 2012

Altar Flowers

There as a dear lady at Grace Church, back when Grace met in a mausoleum, who brought altar flowers every Saturday night.  She picked them from her garden or she gathered them as wildflowers, and always they were beautifully arranged.  They brightened up the mausoleum and it was her role in our worship.  She just took it upon herself, but that act was a sweet sacrifice that brought the work of the people a little closer to the altar.

One thing about Church Planting, whether in the mausoleum, or now in the elder care home, was that there was no way to just farm out the little details of church to “church supply” companies.   There are too many things that just have to be hands-on because we’re making it up as we go along.   

Its been remarked lately, that our culture is far removed from our food.  We don’t know where it comes from, or in many cases what’s in it.  But the same is true with the stuff of our worship.  Bread and wine just appear, because someone dropped by the church supply store and bought it.  Flowers show up like magic, and even special holiday flowers are merely an opportunity to pop a designated five bucks (ten? I don’t even know) in the plate with a special note, and poof! they appear.

How many of the non-ordained readers know who buys the altar bread or where, who arranged the flowers or even what brand of wine is used at the altar?

In church planting, it can’t be that way.  Sometimes the wine actually comes from someone’s cupboard (like the Sunday both father and I forgot to bring the wine and one of the residents darted (well, they don’t really dart, but you get the idea) back to his apartment and brought back a bit of his favorite table wine.   The guy that saved the day was on top of the world… moreover, he got the opportunity to offer what he had to the worship of Jesus.

In the Old Testament, God didn’t designate someone to run out and pick up a few groceries so that the people could worship.  The people themselves provided the stuff of worship.  Animals for sacrifice became the festal meal between God and man.   They knew where their sacrifices came from.  It was the opportunity for man to rely on God, thank God, and take an active role in worship.   It was another way to keep elegant worship from becoming performance art.

I posted recently that bread at St. Elizabeth’s comes from my kitchen.  A parish member brought our most recent bottle of wine.  Last time we needed candles, two members of the parish showed up with candles (so we’re set for a while in that area).   We don’t have people whose ministry is to run to the church supply one-stop shop.  Most of our folks don’t get out much at all.  But its good and healthy that the things of worship are brought in by whoever is able to get to the wine shop, or whoever has an oven to make bread.  The altar guild lady is a resident, so is the guy that co-ordinates the readers.   The musicians are parish volunteers.

There aren’t many of us at St. Elizabeth’s but the percentage of us who participate in the nitty-gritty of worship is high. 

And I’m thinking about all of this, because lately the altar flowers are coming from my garden.    After all, the residents don’t have gardens.  In fact, they love to divvy up the flowers and take them home afterward.  And I think that’s pleasing to Jesus, in the same way that sacrificial meals in the Old Testament meant that no one went hungry, that food wash shared among the community.   Its not a sacrifice if I bring flowers for the altar and then take them home with me at the end of the day, that’s just driving flowers around town.  It is a sacrifice if I choose the best of my garden to give to Jesus and then as his representative let the folks who need a little outdoorsy-ness and cheer take those flowers home. 

20 March 2012

Hoopla

So I'm seeing Grinnell College popping up from time to time in the media for their new domestic experiment... Gender neutral dorms. Not co-ed, Grinnell has been doing that for ages, but dorms for those who don't want to identify as male or female. Roommates may be assigned or chosen from the whole spectrum of gender-dom. And Grinnell has allotted 10% of their dorm space as gender neutral.

Here's a statemetn from the college:


Grinnell College provides gender neutral housing to students for whom traditional, same sex room assignments are not ideal. This may include students who opt to participate in a community where the gender binary is not perpetuated. The College is proud that over 10% of the residence hall rooms are assigned as gender neutral. This option is offered in all areas of campus (and in traditional residence hall rooms, houses, and apartments).

Admitted students (incoming first-years) who prefer a gender neutral living environment should reference this in their Housing Form, which will be filled out on Pioneer Web once you are admitted to the College. If you do, you will be paired with a roommate based on your personal attributes and characteristics, and not specifically by gender.

Returning students who prefer gender neutral housing can contact Andrea Conner or Laura Gogg in Residence Life & Orientation before Room Draw in Spring semester to discuss their needs. Alternately, gender neutral options will be available in the regular Room Draw process, without having to go through any steps to attain these spaces.


Now Grinnell has always been a little, um, cutting edge on the sexuality thing. Apparently neutral locker rooms are also being added to the mix. And I've read that its considered impolite to assume someone's gender is what it appears to be, at least it is considered impolite in Grinnell circles.

So what does this matter to you?

Well, I graduated from Grinnell in 1995. It was a big leap from the Bible Belt to Grinnell, where bisexuality was cool, polyamory was beginning to be accepted. But as soon as I left college I understood that what I saw at Grinnell was what would follow in our culture. Grinnell 1995 looks a lot like USA 2012 (although I suspect most of USA 2012 isn't as familiar with polyamory (take the word apart, poly is many, amor is love... but don't google it).

If my theory holds, the Grinnell of my children's generation (not that I'd send my kids there if tuition money fell in abunance from the sky) is the USA of my grandchildren's. Pay close attention.

On transitions

So Rowan Williams has resigned. I admit I'm not a member of the Archbishop's fan club, but I found his words touching and thoughtful. For the last decade, many of us have focused on the fact that whoever the next Archbishop of Canterbury is, he could be a lot better than the one we've got. I'm sorry, Archbishop Williams, we neglected to note, all these years, that he could also be a lot worse.

No one could have kept the Angican train wreck from happening. And no one will be able to pick up the pieces. God Speed, Archbishop, and fond wishes.

05 March 2012

Memo to Rush Limbaugh

And all the other angry talking heads cluttering up our radio waves
And to all those who support the same.

Sensationalism sells. I get that.

But do not, attempt to pass off your sensationalism as debate, information, or engaging the issues. Exaggeration and emotional manipulation are not information, they are propaganda.

I deeply disagree with Ms. Fluke, the woman Rush Limbaugh insulted on air this week. I have been vocal in my belief that we need to stand by the Roman Catholic Church's freedom not to provide birth control against its teaching and conscience. I have been vocal that abortion is murder and that hormonal birth control can cause spontaneous abortion. I have been vocal that hormonal birth control is harmful to women, increasing the risk for heart disease and some forms of cancer. I have been vocal in my opinion that "the Pill" is harmful to society, drugging women in order to divorce sex from procreation and marriage, thwarting the created order so that sin may abound.

I deeply agree with Ms. Fluke, but that does not make her less human. Dehumanizing words like "slut" and sensationalist assumptions about her personal lifestyle have no place in American media, even that base form of communication known as "talk radio." Rush Limbaugh's rhetoric is indefensible.

And yet, people are out there defending him because they agree with him that Ms. Fluke is mistaken. Instead of respectfully engaging, they prefer to dehumanize her. Instead of listening and evaluating, they blindly accept the repugnant words of the one they think they agree with and openly attack the other.

Anyone trained in classical debate understands that when one resorts to the ad hominem attack, one has already lost the debate. Words like those aired this week were a desperate gasp from one who has already lost. In my house, when my eldest son was little, we taught him the phrase 'treat her like a lady, even when she forgets to act like one' in response to a six year old girl who was desperate to kiss him smack on the face every time she saw him. I'm sure Rush would have a foul word or two for this sort of behavior, but Rush needs to learn the same lesson, treat us like ladies, even when we forget to act like we ought, even when you disagree with our opinions and our political choices.

Just maybe, once in a while, an opponent treated with kindness and genuine attentive listening, might actually become an ally.

25 February 2012

Making "Church Bread" with the small guy....

Okay, I know, I know... I hang around with Anglo-Catholics. I like dalmatics, incense, icons and chant. I think Jesus deserves our finest in music, liturgy, and devotion. I think its all good for us too, multisensory, multi-generational (not just us living generations, too), across all time and places.

But I depart from the traditions of the Anglo-Catholics in this one...

Bread.

I like real bread at the altar.

Yes, I play "crumb police" becaue I really do believe that every consecrated drop or crumb must be handled with devotion. Its not ours, its God's. I'm cool with consubstantiation. But I believe bread is bread. The early saints didn't use what Marion Hatchett called "fish food." They had bread.

Okay, wafers store better if you reserve the elements. There's a place for them.

But Sunday to Sunday, I'm into bread.

Good bread, Jesus deserves good bread.

How can we take cheap pita, crunchy hard tack, or dusty wafers to the Lord who called himself "the Bread of Life" and whose birthplace is literally called "House of Bread" and say "here you go, its the best we have to give you."

So I'm into bread. And so its fallen to me, sort of by default to make the "StEAM Bread."

For the uninitiated StEAM is "St. Elizabeth's Anglican Mission"... the yet nonexistent but still sacramentally functioning congregation I serve these days.

What's cool about making the bread at home is that my kids get involved. There are several tasks involved in StEAMBread making. And thanks to the technology of the modern deep freezer, its really only a job for every other month of so. No big deal.

But as little guy and I were making the StEAMBread today, and he was full of questions, I started thinking.... there are a lot of neat Biblical touchpoints in making bread. Okay, they're cheesy, but its fun to pray and talk through what goes into the bread that goes on the altar. So here it is, complete with little guy (hereafter referred to as "LG") comments and questions.

RECIPE INCLUDED!!!!

The recipe is called "Lebanese-Syrian Mass Bread" and I originally gained it as a handout from a classmate's project the summer I was at Sewannee. The class clearly preferred this bread on every count, taste and texture and whether or not it threw crumbs all over the altar. So this is the recipe I use, though I have several from the same classmate.

Add: 1 Package of active dry yeast... or about a half dollar sized round from the jar. LG and I talked about how Jesus said the Kingdom of Heaven is like yeast making the whole loaf rise and be good for using.
Add: 1.5 c. flour... Talk about bread as the foundational food, offerings in the temple of wheat and grain. This stuff has been essential deliciousness for just about forever.
LG asks if he can pour the flour. Yeah fine. LG asks what happens if we turned the beaters up to "10". "It makes a mess."
Add 1 1/4 c. warm water. "He leads me beside still waters." Jesus walks on water. Whatever. There's a lot of water in the Bible.
LG asks if we can turn it up to ten now. Um, no.
Add 2 Tbs. olive oil. There's a lot of olive oil in the Bible too, anointing for healing and welcome. How about I pour that, kid, its messy.
LG notes the bottle has a cork in it. Yeah. It does. Thanks for noticing.
Add 1/4 c. sugar. "How sweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth!" I've thought about trying to make this recipe with honey, but I'm reluctant to mess with it.
1 tsp salt. "You are the salt of the earth." Thinking about how salt is a preservative and a flavoring. Salt is cool stuff if you don't have heart issues.
LG: "What happens if I put my finger in here?" "The mixer will pinch it and you'll squalk."
Add 2 cups more flour, slowly.
LG: "Can we turn it up to ten now?" No it would throw flour everywhere. "Cool!"
Kneed. You can talk about Jesus being beaten before the crucifixion if you like.
LG: "Can I poke the dough." yes.
"Can I smack it?" yes.

Cover and let rise in a warm dark place (I put mine in the oven... blah blah about the tomb and resurrection... and how rising bread takes forever like the eschaton if you're hungry!!!)

Get pestered every five minutes. Is it time yet?

Make the loaves, rounds according to what size your congregation needs. Makes about 12 5" circles. Cut a cross with a knife.

Bake at 400 for 20 minutes, until light brown on the bottom.

And because we only offer Jesus the best, there has to be a family committee to "eat the ugly ones." The oven does all sorts of wonky things to the loaves! Ugly ones are good warm with butter. (hangs head in shame)

They freeze well wrapped in foil and put in a big ziploc.

Anyway, I'm putting this up in case any of you clergy types want to farm off the making of church bread to the Sunday School or a rotation of families. Holler if you want a clean copy of the recipe. I'm sure I can scan it for you. :)

23 February 2012

Thoughts on Lent

Many people see it as a fearful thing, to go to church on Ash Wednesday and hear proclaimed “Remember O man that thou art dust, and to dust you shall return.”  We don’t want to deal with our own mortality.  An interesting fear, since everyone who is older than preschool knows that everyone dies eventually.  Somehow we want to convince ourselves that we are the exception to the rules of Genesis 3.

For me, it is a more fearful thing to pronounce those words over others, especially when these others are colleagues, friends, neighbors.  It is like a small and repeated dose of what physicians must experience when they tell a patient their disease is terminal.  I’m sorry, you are going to die.  There is nothing I can do for you.

Its a conflicting message, when the doctor you’ve trusted and who has genuinely struggled and worked to save your life, has failed.  Its a conflicting message in the Church, too, but with different outcome.

How great a blessing, every Sunday, it is to look into the eyes of a loved one, a neighbor, even a stranger and say the words “the body/blood of Christ which was given for you preserve you body and soul into everlasting life.”  Say it just once to someone, and you can’t help but look at them as Jesus does.  You can’t help but love them.

And then, once a year, you look them in they eye and say “remember you are dust.” Remember you are going back to dust.

If dust were the end of the story, the other 364 days of the year, clergy would be liars.  But what is remarkable is that even at Ash Wednesday, we don’t leave them at dust.  Only a few minutes later, we look again on those ashen faces and lift the faithful up to God with those words, “the body and blood preserve you body and soul into everlasting life.”

Remember you are dust.  You are formed by God’s hands.  But you’re returning to the dust.

And God doesn’t leave you there.  You are formed again, this time for life everlasting. 

Its not a circle of life thing, not a reincarnation without end, but a singular recreation, this time without the corruption, without the ashes.  There is no Ash Wednesday in the kingdom. 

19 February 2012

Interdependence in Ministry

One of the wonderous things about being a deacon lies in what we can't do. We can't, for example, consecrate the Eucharist.

This isn't a big deal in my life most of the time. I have friends who are called to the priesthood say that the inability to consecrate the Eucharist really haunted them in the time when they were deacons, but not so among vocational deacons.

Except when it proves a point of major inconvenience. Like this weekend; Father is sick.

Thankfully, I have a friend who has a Saturday night service and is always willing to bail me out of a tight spot. The church isn't far off, so its an extra couple hours out of my schedule that get replaced with an opportunity to worship in the pews instead of being in the chancel all the time. Rather relaxing. And its a nice time to visit with a friend who I don't see as often as I'd like. Not a problem.

But the beauty in it lies in the fact that this is a visible witness of how Christians, with our various gifts and callings, need one another. God doesn't gift any of us with everything; instead he calls us into community. And a visible token of that is my need to rely on a priest for Eucharist. Even when I'm the one being relied upon, it doesn't happen in a vacuum. There's a team at the ready, willing and able to stand together to make God's work a reality for his people.

That's pretty darned cool.

(And thanks to the priest, deacon, and congregation at Christ Church, New Brighton, for once again welcoming me and my squirmy little kids. Last night was great fun!)

18 February 2012

Finishing Sentences, Thoughts on Community

I used to live in a little, admittedly run down, steel town. Not a big place; you could walk from end to end of town in about an hour, if you were casual about it. About the same size as the quaint little town I grew up near, but this time the town was anything but quaint. When the mills closed, unemployment and drugs came to town and urban renewal, as much as it may be talked about, was usually defeated by a communal low self esteem.

There have been a few new projects, lately, though. And refreshing the landscape does creep along at a pace of sorts. The most recent addition was a small but essential grocery store, near the seminary, where most residents could walk to shop if they were so inclined. I think it will be an important addition to the town. But for now its new and interesting and everyone is coming out to see it. Its bright and clean (let's hope it stays that way) and seems to be well run. Employees are all new hires and the day to day ennui of work has not set in. And the town is enthralled.

The place was crowded, but I still got through quickly, its that small. But on the way, people stopped to chat. A lady with three kids, a grandmother... there was also the guy that looked like he ought to be a neighborhood hoodlum, who was cheerful giving me directions to the right entrance. And there was the local man who informed me that he just came by to chat with people because he didn't have anything else going on.

There was a time, I told him, that people did do that. And perhaps the world is a little poorer because they don't anymore.

In the end, I got a glimps of what the town must have been like in their grandparents', maybe even parents' time. Less jaded and more small town, ready to chat, and maybe needing a bit of an ear. And maybe, if the folks doing the renewal projects there are successful, they'll have that back someday.

Then today, I went on up the road to the next town to hear a friend preach. A friend with whom I'd gone to seminary, who asked me to read a lesson, just because I was there, and who commented on my pronounciation of a Hebrew name, just because she was in my Hebrew classes. As she preached, I could hear our common phrases, learned in class, and could complete her sentences in my head. I settled into the familiar story, the theological rhythms, and thoroughly enjoyed her sermon. There wasn't much new for me in it, but quite to the contrary, it was the familiar, even old, that I enjoyed.

And I realized on my way out that it was the shared vocabulary of our community, seminary in this case, that gave us a casual friendship and a common comfort with the Scripture.

I guess, that's the foundation of community, a shared story, a history together, a common vocabulary and rhythm of life. That's why those little steel towns struggled so when their way of life was taken from them. And that's why, if they'll reconnect with one another when they have such slight opportunities as a new grocery store they have hope of redeveloping the community. I guess that's why the guy who just came to the store to talk to people was such a blessing.

Hot Rod Anglican: A Poem for Saint Valentine's Day

Hot Rod Anglican: A Poem for Saint Valentine's Day

A worthy amusement/reflection for St. Valentine's Day.

11 February 2012

cross posted from the parish blog....

PRAY!

6 WAYS - PRAY from K H on Vimeo.

Video courtesy of OMF!

Prayer is cool. Anybody can do it. That's probably why we talk about it so much in the church that everyone's eyes roll and people say things like "can't I do more than just pray." But if prayer is foundational, and foudations are to mission what they are to buildings, it is pretty super cool that everyone can build foundations, is responsible for doing it, and equipped to make it work.

I get the disciples, saying "teach us to pray." We all think we're doing it wrong. But if the Holy Spirit is indeed interceding for us and with us, then there's grace to cover whatever we're doing wrong and to lift up whatever we're doing right.

Cool.

08 February 2012

Oh the Humanity....

I got in a workout tonight. And while I was there in the class, doing "alphabets" with everyone else (a cruel exercise in which one lies flat on one's back and traces the letters of the alphabet in the air with straight legs... sounds easy, but its murder on my poor put-upon hips), I was trying everything I could not to think about how much this was starting to hurt... That's the think about alphabets, if it hurts on C you've got a long haul in front of you.

And so I started thinking about other stuff... like how loudly I was repeating back the letters to the instructor, about how I surely smelled like the back end of a horse, about how my workout clothes were really more sweat stained than ought to be wearable (but I'm trying to get just three more months out of them).

Now if this were a perfect world, no doubt my hips would not have hurt. But if this were a perfect world I wouldn't have to do silly things to work off the extra chocolate chip cookie (that in a perfect world I wouldn't have eaten in the sin of gluttony anyway) and to keep my body from slowly breaking down with age. If this were a perfect world, I wouldn't smell like horse's rear (okay, I've showered since, then, so I smell like daisies now, of course). If this were a perfect world, there would be no struggle with alphabets, slow kicks (that's what came next) and eventual exhaustion.

There's no denying our humanness, our Genesis 3 problem, when one smells like the back end of a horse.

Which, I realized in my alphabetic haze, is important. Just as working with our bodies helps us to have a positive theology of the body, a sense of our material side as having value and being worth preservation and building, the sheer effort of doing so is living evidence of our imperfection. Nobody in that room was glamorous. Nobody looked like they's just walked off the cover of Cosmo or GQ. And our own horse-smell is probably why we don't notice anyone else's. We're all in this together.

It's the lazy man who notices another man's sweat. The busy man has his own to notice.

Maybe that's why the physical is so tied to the spiritual, and exercise is part of the healthy spiritual life.

04 February 2012

Yoboseo part two.

One of the articles way back (about a year ago) in my blog history is my rambling about Anglicans who don't speak English. It is the article that seems to crop up most often on my traffic reports, where some random person (most often outside the USA these days) has hit that page. Its also the article that I find myself thinking of from time to time. Its not a particularly well crafted bit of writing, that anyone should want to read it, so it must be the topic that is of interest.

I wrote that day because I had stumbled across a congregation in Baltimore called the Korean Anglican Church of Maryland. And though they're Anglicans in America, they don't have an English speaking service. Since then, I've noted in our own diocesan directory (Pittsburgh) that we have two Spanish-speaking congregations in our extended (Chicago) diocese. I've heard rumors of a Korean Anglican congregation out in the Western US and possibly even two.

Anglicanism likes the fact that it is a global communion, but it is not until the modern era that Global Anglicans have been able to truly be in relationship (thanks to modern technology in travel and communications) and approach each other as equals (out of our opposing and complimentary sets of gifts and poverties) and in that way offer balance and completion to our global community. Mission has started to go both ways. Partnership is no longer patronage. Africa, South America, Asia are at our doorstep. The ancient question of "who is my neighbor" bears greater weight than ever before.

And it fascinates me that recognition is more than just seeing, and communication is more than just speaking. We have talked for generations and never heard one another, and now when both sides have contrasting needs and gifts to bring to the table are recognized by all parties, we don't even have to speak the same language to form a bond and communicate.

A few months ago, my mother-in-law, struggling to communicate after her stroke, suddenly seemed to be speaking as clearly as if she had never had a problem. A few words slipped but they didn't matter, I heard her. And when I noticed that, she said, "its easier for me to speak clearly when I know the person I am talking to is listening." I think this is how we are now in Global Anglicanism, when we trust the other is listening, it is much easier to speak softly and still make ourselves heard.

Anyway, short story is that I'm intrigued that the old blogpost seems to keep cropping up on that list of page hits. I wonder if that means other people are thinking the same thoughts, or maybe hearing the same words.

19 January 2012

Borrowed Words (What is posted below was written by my mother-in-law, undated)

The life of sensation is the life of greed; it requires more and more. The life of the spirit requires less and less; time is ample and its passage sweet. ~Annie Dillard.




From my pew in the choir, I watched a father lay his infant son across his shoulder. The baby lifted his wobbling head and looked around; his hands slipped down into his father's jacket and were caught there, and the baby's head wobbled into his father's neck. Trapped by suit and shoulder, he lay still, peacefully hiccupping.

I should have, I know, been at my prayers, but the sermon of this father and child transfixed me. I thought: all the baby has is a shoulder, and it is all he needs, and all any of us needs. . .

I remembered then another infant with another parent I had seen in a toy store at Christmas time.

This baby was asleep in her blankets in a shopping cart, being pushed by her mother, who was at the same time pulling along a second cart piled high with toys for the infant, who, warmed by her soft blankets, lay oblivious to the encrustating snail house of plastic and metal her mother had begun building for her.

The clutter of the world finds its way to us,I thought, recalling also that on a day near Christmas I saw in a shopping mall a girl sitting on Santa's lap. As I walked past her I overheard only the words, "I want--"

In one of his Stories of God the poet Maria Rilke refers to a conversation with an invalid. Rilke tells him, "I know you are sad to be unable to leave your room. But isn't it also beautiful, that the world comes to you: whatever comes here becomes your world..."

We will experience in our youth the desire to control and to accumulate. But through the grace of God a time may come when we quietly let go of such desires, and allow the world to come gently to us, as to Rilke's invalid, in our quiet place; and it is then that we will become the recipients of this grace, that we will begin to learn the lessons contained in the minutiae of our lives, and, uncluttered, we will begin to see how we are at every moment walking on holy ground, surrounded by, swimming through, the love and presence of God.

At the end of his life my father was blind in one eye and weakened by kidney failure. He sat quietly in his favorite chair, with my mother always nearby.

There was nothing we could give him or do for him: he could eat very little; he could not read or concentrate to be read to.

But when we walked by him, he would reach out to us, and we would take his hand.

He had become at last like the infant he had once been on his father's shoulder: his world had narrowed back down to his own small body, and, for my father, our hugs and quiet words of love were, finally, all he needed.

18 January 2012

Totally awesome!


Seven Lies About Homeschoolers

17 January 2012

A mundane little sijo:

Cashmere sweater, cotton skirt. Way too dressed up for taking the boys
Just to piano lessons and home again on a rainy day.
Thumping, thumping, in the dryer, my soggy jeans-- Laundry day.

16 January 2012

A thank you note....

Dear Jackie;
Thank you, dearheart, for the scarf. Overly long, just the way I like a real scarf. And warm, like I could go to Siberia and wrap my head up in it and not get frost in my lungs. And still its cute. It looks just like something you'd pick, with lots of blue and smokey color. I always liked that we both preferred blue. It made shopping so easy. I love the earrings too, threadders seemed a bit daring for you, but I hear you had help. My old threadders broke, so these are a welcome replacement. And the beading looks like something you would choose. Perfect, of course.

I watched that box all week, thinking how strange it is to have a posthumous gift. Not the first time in my life, since my grandfather died in the wee hours of Christmas morning two decades ago, but a rare thing. Did you leave a gift for Janice, too? I bet you did; you thought of everything.

It felt like it ought to be something deeply significant, but the mundaneness of a scarf and earrings was something right and also profound. These are the products of a material world to which you were bound, I am still, and altogether fitting and proper. But how strange that this is no longer your world. What gifts would you give if you were to "shop" today?

How lovely, though, that Richard helped you shop when we were home at Thanksgiving. A few final outings, a last taste of the material and everyday. How lovely that you went out to the grocery store with me and that we talked about the silly things of buying pasta and the fleeting thoughts of being embarrassed by your post stroke and post cancer appaerance and knowing that it didn't matter what others thought, you were still beautiful. It will always be important to me that you had energy about you that day, that your voice danced on the words, that we understood one another when words failed, and that when I remarked on these things you said how much easier it was for you to speak fluently again when you knew the person you spoke to was listening and understanding you.

I wonder, sometimes, if you can read these things. You forgot to knock a picture off the wall, as you had months ago, before you were even diagnosed, promised to do. But the calendar fell about the time you passed, in the room where I was. If that was you, thanks for choosing something that couldn't shatter. I was never sure what I thought of your fascination with ghosties, but when you were so very sick I did quietly hope you'd pick something ugly or unbreakable.

I miss cooking for you. And chatting with you. And how you loved, absolutely delighted in and were totally curious about everything. Except heights, of course.

Thanks. For just being you. For being my mother-in-law for sixteen and a half years. And for being one of my dearest friends all along.

15 January 2012

A quick fisk of the candidate slate for the new TEC bishop of Pittsburgh

And I do mean quick... this was just released tonight, and I've just done a cursory internet snoop on each of them.
The Rev. Canon Michael N. Ambler, Jr.: seems to have run for bishop before, though I'm not sure that means he makes it a habit. Western New York had him in the final four. He's a graduate of Episcopal Divinity School and an environmentalist. Can't say any of that rules him out in itself, but that MDiv from EDS sure makes him awfully suspect for any of my friends who are trying to maintain a conservative position in TEC-PGH!
The Rev. Dorsey W. M. McConnell: Ironically, the dude from Mass. is the only one I couldn't raise anything suspect on. The parish website says specifically that marriage is for one man and one woman, a sacrament and a little snooping revealed him to be a theological dissenter on the appointment of a gay dean when he was in Seattle. Could I seriously find myself hoping that a priest from MA becomes the next bishop of Pittsburgh? If its all true, he must be able to play nice with both sides.
The Rev. R. Stanley Runnels: Is on record as early as 2000 saying that rites for gay marriage are a sort of social justice issue. 'Nuff said.
The Rev. Ruth Woodliff-Stanley: I almost choked on my own breath over this one! She leaves a liberal paper trail a mile long including a ton of homosexual agenda all over her parish website (she's the rector) and an ordained unitarian husband. Seriously Pittsburgh? Seriously?
I know who I'd suggest if I still had voice in the process. Someone still in TEC who loves Jesus and can work with all sides, solid as the day is long and generous too, who has worked with ultra liberals and ultra conservatives (and treated both impostors with kindness...) but nobody's asking me. (Unless, Bruce has an interest in starting a petition... if so I'll email you a name!)

Anyway, for the morbidly curious, or those like myself who just want to see a good bishop leading a diocese largely populated by friends and former colleagues. Love ya, Pittsburgh... obviously more prayers are required as the big day approaches. God be with you.

14 January 2012

Bamboo cottage by the lake...

One thing on which my mother-in-law and I agreed, an area in which we uniquely understood one another, was in the value of living in a yurt. Or a tumbleweed tiny house. Or in the case of my current obscession, a little bamboo cottage by a lake.

My husband, techno king, thinks this is silliness. Especially since my little bambooo cottage would have solar power and a single soapstone stove for its main source of heat. And a little alcove for a kayak. But silly or not, he says he doesn't mind as long as he has a decent internet connection.

She liked funny little houses. I'm fond of simple living that doesn't overwhelm the natural vista, be it trees or water or mountains. We shared a fondness for misty mountains. Gentle architecture with a human touch. Her father was an architect, mine an engineer.

I would build it with transom windows to let the heat out in the summer, or if the soapstone stove became too much in the mild southern lakeside winters. And I would have a little room for the rabbits to hop and eat their hay, indoors away from predators but where they could scatter their hay and nobody would mind.

And a little sunroom for my spinning wheel.
And a little asian style table where you sit on the floor.
And interesting art on the walls.
And a lot of windows for looking out.
And a single (organic) fruit tree in the yard, a little herb garden, and a farm market down the road that I can walk to.

Where I would wade in the lake and maybe learn to paint. Except that I am terrible at art. Except that I can sort of paint silk scarves. And spin yarn. Except I get bored at spinning and painting after a while.

Except that I don't like fish. I spent the last few years learning to like salmon, and now I really do. So maybe for the new year I will learn to like another kind of fish, and I can tell myself that learning to like fish is one more step toward living by the lake in a sustainable little house with a sweeping vista.

06 January 2012

On a personal note: The Lord gives, the Lord takes away....

But at the moment the Lord is giving and taking more than an ADHD five year old. What on earth?

For those of you who know me in real life, you know my mother-in-law passed away on Tuesday after a few months' of wrestling with cancer. I'm going to write more about her later, once I have it all processed out, sorted through. Short story is that she was wonderful and I'll miss her a lot. She was an amazing mother, a kind mother-in-law and a magical grandmother.

But even those of you who know me in real life probably don't know that my own grandfather, on my mom's side, is a bit of a mystery. He estranged himself from the family over sixty years ago and in searching for general family tree stuff we traced his mother to the same county where my paternal grandparents grew up.

A few years ago, I posted on a web forum for any family tree info on my estranged grandfather. Later I learned through another search that my grandfather had died in 1985. That's about all I knew and I kind of forgot about it, although I'm still curious where he came from.

Today I got a message, from that old post on that family tree forum, from his neice. I know there are a lot of scammers out there, but you have to actually know my family to be able to produce my mother's first name. Seriously, its almost tougher than Rumplestiltskin.

I guess that means I have cousins.

I found that my grandfather was the third of five children. Not a surprise, but not a known bit of information.

And I have to say, I'm a bit freaked out. What if they are scammers? Weirdos? or they just have too much baggage from the past to know any more what to do with me than I do with them?

And is this how, a little bit of how, my adopted son will feel when some day he searches (I do hope he will) for his birthmother? I have a whole chunk of the family that stands under a banner reading "Who are these people?" Are they more interesting as a mystery? (probably) What if they're jerks? (Probably not) At least they speak English. (My youngest's bio-family would speak Korean.)

And I guess this is good for me, to walk a mile. To get a glimpse.

But this week, of all weeks? Seriously, God... you've got to be kidding.