Pink - especially around the nose and eyes. I've got a cold, darn it. Rather than infecting the whole diocesan leadership team, I avoided going to an ordination. Better to stay home accumulating a pile of used Kleenex. Hoping the brunt of this will have passed before I have to drive out to Saint Middle School tomorrow morning.
Blue - because two persons whose work in ministry I really admire are leaving their churches for reasons that were not their fault. Some congregations are not appreciative of what they have, sad to say. I wish I could shrug and say that in each case, it was a bad fit (that does happen, despite the best efforts fo the Holy Spirit), but this is not so, and it makes me sad for them, for their congregations, and for the church.
Gray - skies overhead, but at least the rain seems to have stopped. And they're saying that it will be sunny and almost 70 degrees tomorrow. In mid-November, that seems wrong, but I'll take it.
Green - the lovely veggies that PH brought back from the Farmer's Market. Now if only I could have the energy to cook them!
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Friday, November 13, 2009
Friday Five: Friday the 13th
A cute meme from Sophia today:
"With thanks to my dear spouse TechnoGuy for the great suggestion, it's a Friday the 13th Friday Five!
1. How is this Friday the 13th looking for you?
Actually, wet. Very wet. We're getting the remnants of Hurricane Ida along the MidAtlantic coast, and it is pouring outside and has been for a couple of days. The clogged outflow pipe in the basement added to the overall wetness last night, as PH and I spent a good hour or so mopping up. The plumber came to snake out the line this morning - here's hoping it solves the problem.
2. Have you ever had anything unlucky happen on Friday the 13th?
Not in my memory.
3. Did your family of origin embrace or scorn superstitions?
My mother was a tad superstitious (don't put new shoes on the table, a crow on the roof means death is coming). Surprising, because she was by and large a very analytical person, and a devout Catholic. My father, not at all. When people spoke of superstitions, it was usually women doing the talking. I wonder why? Are we more in touch with the numinous?
4. Are there any unique or amusing ones from your family, region, or ethnic background?
The shoe one is the best. I can't recall what was supposed to happen, just that we were never supposed to do it. I can certainly understand not putting used shoes on the table, given what we all walk through in them, but new shoes? Just doesn't make much sense.
5. Do you love or hate horror movies like "Friday the 13th"?
I hate all horrow movies. I was a suggestible child, and always sensed monsters under the bed or hiding in the closet. Movies that put pictures to my fears were and are not pleasant to me!
"With thanks to my dear spouse TechnoGuy for the great suggestion, it's a Friday the 13th Friday Five!
1. How is this Friday the 13th looking for you?
Actually, wet. Very wet. We're getting the remnants of Hurricane Ida along the MidAtlantic coast, and it is pouring outside and has been for a couple of days. The clogged outflow pipe in the basement added to the overall wetness last night, as PH and I spent a good hour or so mopping up. The plumber came to snake out the line this morning - here's hoping it solves the problem.
2. Have you ever had anything unlucky happen on Friday the 13th?
Not in my memory.
3. Did your family of origin embrace or scorn superstitions?
My mother was a tad superstitious (don't put new shoes on the table, a crow on the roof means death is coming). Surprising, because she was by and large a very analytical person, and a devout Catholic. My father, not at all. When people spoke of superstitions, it was usually women doing the talking. I wonder why? Are we more in touch with the numinous?
4. Are there any unique or amusing ones from your family, region, or ethnic background?
The shoe one is the best. I can't recall what was supposed to happen, just that we were never supposed to do it. I can certainly understand not putting used shoes on the table, given what we all walk through in them, but new shoes? Just doesn't make much sense.
5. Do you love or hate horror movies like "Friday the 13th"?
I hate all horrow movies. I was a suggestible child, and always sensed monsters under the bed or hiding in the closet. Movies that put pictures to my fears were and are not pleasant to me!
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Positive Leadership/Negative Leadership
The Fresh Start session (a con-ed and networking monthly program for priests new to the diocese) was interesting. The plenary was about leadership styles, and evaluating challenges as to whether they were technical (your car blows its clutch so you pay a repairman to replace it) or adaptive (conflicting values that require conversation, exploration, re-education, adjustment, flexing) . I think we all came to the conclusion pretty quickly that in the church, even things that appear technical on one level have some adaptive component to them. That roof that leaks, for example, may be technical in that you hire a roofer and he repairs it, but it may have something to do with a parish that has a skewed view of stewardship of the property, or it's the original roof that grandpa paid for and it's slate, and we couldn't possibly replace it with composite shingles, even though they're half the price of slate, because Granddaddy swore by slate roofing, or some other issue.
It's an interesting way to describe challenges, but one participant rightly noted that it has the possibility of devolving into a fire-fighting, fixit, kind of leadership that can start to feel rather negative. Where's the hope when you're playing Whack-a-Mole all the time?
I wonder if, to keep that from happening, the real sequence has to be the definition of a common dream or vision, a positive one, THEN the identification of what the parish does that already helps support that vision and what the parish does that might hinder or block the vision. Then the community is invested in removing the obstacles, to the extent that they can, to reach for the shared vision/goal.
It presumes not only a positive kind of leadership, but also a collaborative leadership. It's predicated on shared vision, and that comes from the group, not one individual (often the clergy in charge) that imposes that person's vision on the whole place. The process to get to that shared vision is nowhere near as efficient as the vision-caster model, but it surely stands a better chance of making a healthy congregation than dragging everyone along kicking and screaming. Jesus was not only divine, he was a great leader because he kept teaching and teaching and teaching until his disciples got it. It would have been more efficient for him to simply use his divinity to effect change in the world, but he chose to interact with people to carry on the work. They were imperfect, but they were committed.
There's a lesson there.
It's an interesting way to describe challenges, but one participant rightly noted that it has the possibility of devolving into a fire-fighting, fixit, kind of leadership that can start to feel rather negative. Where's the hope when you're playing Whack-a-Mole all the time?
I wonder if, to keep that from happening, the real sequence has to be the definition of a common dream or vision, a positive one, THEN the identification of what the parish does that already helps support that vision and what the parish does that might hinder or block the vision. Then the community is invested in removing the obstacles, to the extent that they can, to reach for the shared vision/goal.
It presumes not only a positive kind of leadership, but also a collaborative leadership. It's predicated on shared vision, and that comes from the group, not one individual (often the clergy in charge) that imposes that person's vision on the whole place. The process to get to that shared vision is nowhere near as efficient as the vision-caster model, but it surely stands a better chance of making a healthy congregation than dragging everyone along kicking and screaming. Jesus was not only divine, he was a great leader because he kept teaching and teaching and teaching until his disciples got it. It would have been more efficient for him to simply use his divinity to effect change in the world, but he chose to interact with people to carry on the work. They were imperfect, but they were committed.
There's a lesson there.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Baking
My group is responsible for much of tomorrow's Fresh Start session. We will be doing worship, providing a brunch of sorts, and our mentor/leader will be doing the plenary session.
I got the worship bulletin done a couple of days ago, so tonight was spent in the very soothing activity of baking for the hospitality. I made madeleines*, those lovely little shell-shaped cakes beloved of Proust's memory, and a crumb coffeecake. The madeleines were Julia's recipe, ones that I've been making for 36 years (!). The only improvement on the original recipe is using the silicon-based Gastroflex molds, much easier to use and simpler to store. The crumb coffeecake was out of Cooks Illustrated, a wonderful advertising-free magazine for food nerds. Chemistry for gourmands. My house now smells like Mrs. Claus's kitchen. Damn this low-carb diet I'm currently on - the others will have to report to me tomorrow whether the goodies were truly good.
My mother was a wonderful cook, but she was not comfortable with baking - she usually used mixes out of a box. They weren't bad, but, oh!, the difference in making something from scratch.
One of the differences, of course, is that it does take longer to make things from scratch. I think I mentioned the other day that I had experimented with Jim Lahey's No-Knead Bread. It's a remarkable recipe - just a 1/4 tsp yeast for a whole loaf, made possible by an extremely long first rise - 12 to 18 hours. It is incredibly simple...the challenge is living with a recipe that becomes part of your household for two days.
In past years, I used to make my own chicken and beef stocks, actually cooking them down to demiglace. There was a difference in flavor, but I no longer have the patience or the time to do the work - at least a days' work.
But there is something most satisfying about understanding how to start something from scratch and see it through to completion. Maybe it is my age that now gives me the ability to ride the time curve, or maybe it is a desire to fully taste food that is real. All I know is that it is a pleasurable process, when I can eke out the minutes, hours, days to do this, and it is meditative work.
Brother Lawrence was right.
* No, this isn't Julia's precise recipe, but it's quite close, and the blog post is charming. My recipe is from Julia's "The French Chef" cookbook.
I got the worship bulletin done a couple of days ago, so tonight was spent in the very soothing activity of baking for the hospitality. I made madeleines*, those lovely little shell-shaped cakes beloved of Proust's memory, and a crumb coffeecake. The madeleines were Julia's recipe, ones that I've been making for 36 years (!). The only improvement on the original recipe is using the silicon-based Gastroflex molds, much easier to use and simpler to store. The crumb coffeecake was out of Cooks Illustrated, a wonderful advertising-free magazine for food nerds. Chemistry for gourmands. My house now smells like Mrs. Claus's kitchen. Damn this low-carb diet I'm currently on - the others will have to report to me tomorrow whether the goodies were truly good.
My mother was a wonderful cook, but she was not comfortable with baking - she usually used mixes out of a box. They weren't bad, but, oh!, the difference in making something from scratch.
One of the differences, of course, is that it does take longer to make things from scratch. I think I mentioned the other day that I had experimented with Jim Lahey's No-Knead Bread. It's a remarkable recipe - just a 1/4 tsp yeast for a whole loaf, made possible by an extremely long first rise - 12 to 18 hours. It is incredibly simple...the challenge is living with a recipe that becomes part of your household for two days.
In past years, I used to make my own chicken and beef stocks, actually cooking them down to demiglace. There was a difference in flavor, but I no longer have the patience or the time to do the work - at least a days' work.
But there is something most satisfying about understanding how to start something from scratch and see it through to completion. Maybe it is my age that now gives me the ability to ride the time curve, or maybe it is a desire to fully taste food that is real. All I know is that it is a pleasurable process, when I can eke out the minutes, hours, days to do this, and it is meditative work.
Brother Lawrence was right.
* No, this isn't Julia's precise recipe, but it's quite close, and the blog post is charming. My recipe is from Julia's "The French Chef" cookbook.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Lovely
It looks like I'll be doing a couple of baptisms, my first, in a few weeks. An infant and a somewhat older child. I cannot express how excited I am, and how I'm looking forward to this. Thank you, God, for this little beautiful affirmation of my ministry.
Doors
"When one door shuts, another opens."
Usually I hear that when something bad has happened, and it's usually job-related. It's intended to be a comfort, but sometimes it can feel like very cold comfort indeed. In that moment, I am stuck on the shut-door part and can't look toward the open-door part.
So it was an odd thing today when I started searching through the various databases where potential calls might be, and found something sorta interesting. I emailed the Diocesan Deployment Officer and said "what's the deal with this place? Should I enquire?"
And an hour later she had left a message on my phone saying, "Funny you sent me that email. I was just thinking last night that we should put your name in for that one. It must be the Holy Spirit!"
Whatever happens with this particular lead - and it is not the only one I am exploring right now - it helped move me from the shut-door to the open-door. And that's a very good thing. Nothing new can get past a closed door, after all.
Sunday, November 08, 2009
Comfort Food
I'm about to try yet another roast chicken recipe, this time courtesy of Mark Bittman, the Minimalist of the New York Times. It's a high-heat recipe. We'll see.
Roast chicken was one of my mother's go-to recipes when I was growing up. She made it with a wonderful gravy that sometimes had caramelized onions, sometimes sauteed mushrooms. Mashed potatoes. Green beans or some sort of other green veg.
I liked the chicken, but it was the gravy and the mashed potatoes that made it comfort food par excellence. The gravy would sit in the middle of the potatoes, in a crater created by the ladle, and the challenge was always to maintain that lava pool of gravy for as long as possible, not letting it flow down the side of the pile of spuds. To this day I'm not sure why it was important. It just was.
My uncle the priest usually called at about 2 pm each Sunday to see if he wanted to invite himself to dinner. If it was roast beef or pork or lamb, he'd come to our house. If it was roast chicken, he wouldn't. He didn't know what he was missing.
When the weather turns colder, I'm usually turning toward comfort recipes like this. At our house, we may modify them a little bit (we'll have caulflower puree and sauteed tatsoi with some shallots and sherry vinegar as our sides), but there is something so elemental about a simple meal like this, so reminiscent of childhood. It feels good.
That isn't to say that all the cuisine of my mother's kitchen was transcendent and pure - she was a fan of Duncan Hines cake mixes and My-T-Fine puddings. In the same way, I'm liable to zap a microwave pizza when I'm tired and hungry and craving carbs and fat and salt. Not very satisfying, except in filling the belly quickly.
But there is something so very pleasurable taking the basics (a chicken, a pan, salt & pepper, an onion, some sage leaves) and transforming them into something that evokes powerful memories.
Roast chicken was one of my mother's go-to recipes when I was growing up. She made it with a wonderful gravy that sometimes had caramelized onions, sometimes sauteed mushrooms. Mashed potatoes. Green beans or some sort of other green veg.
I liked the chicken, but it was the gravy and the mashed potatoes that made it comfort food par excellence. The gravy would sit in the middle of the potatoes, in a crater created by the ladle, and the challenge was always to maintain that lava pool of gravy for as long as possible, not letting it flow down the side of the pile of spuds. To this day I'm not sure why it was important. It just was.
My uncle the priest usually called at about 2 pm each Sunday to see if he wanted to invite himself to dinner. If it was roast beef or pork or lamb, he'd come to our house. If it was roast chicken, he wouldn't. He didn't know what he was missing.
When the weather turns colder, I'm usually turning toward comfort recipes like this. At our house, we may modify them a little bit (we'll have caulflower puree and sauteed tatsoi with some shallots and sherry vinegar as our sides), but there is something so elemental about a simple meal like this, so reminiscent of childhood. It feels good.
That isn't to say that all the cuisine of my mother's kitchen was transcendent and pure - she was a fan of Duncan Hines cake mixes and My-T-Fine puddings. In the same way, I'm liable to zap a microwave pizza when I'm tired and hungry and craving carbs and fat and salt. Not very satisfying, except in filling the belly quickly.
But there is something so very pleasurable taking the basics (a chicken, a pan, salt & pepper, an onion, some sage leaves) and transforming them into something that evokes powerful memories.
Today's Sermon: Mark 12: 38-44 "Good Stewardship"
The other day, I saw a group of financial advisors on the Today Show talking about the choices that people make and what they need to do to stay out of trouble in challenging economic times. And, as they have said often, they told us we all need to have six months of living expenses tucked away in savings, just in case.
That’s great advice, of course, but it has little to do with the reality of most of the folks who are most impacted by the economy. Saving up six months of living expenses, when you are living just a notch above the poverty line, is well-nigh impossible. Most of the folks who call up St Middle School office asking for help for groceries or diapers or gas to get to work live paycheck to paycheck. Most are worrying what will happen if the car breaks down, or if the doctor prescribes some medicine for their child’s asthma that has a high co-pay, or if the landlord raises the rent. So Saint Middle School helps in a small way, with a grocery card or a gas card or a card to Target.
We do that because it is the right thing to do. It is what Jesus told us to do, it is what our compassionate hearts tell us to do, it is mission and ministry and love all bound together. And it is the work of the church.
Contrast that view, then with what we hear about the religious institution in today’s gospel. You may have paid attention to the widow donating her few pennies, all that she had to the temple, and we could spend some time talking about that, but before we do, we should look at the beginning of the passage.
Jesus is teaching in the temple, an expected thing for a religious teacher to do.
The very first thing he talks about is the scribes. He tells his audience "Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! They devour widows' houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation."
First, a few words about scribes. Originally they were secular officials. They were noted for their ability to write and to deal with financial matters, so they were often involved in legal issues. Over time, they became more connected with the synagogue, since often matters that were financial and legal were brought to the chief priest for judgment. Was there a pattern of scribes cheating widows out of their houses? We don’t know for certain. The Law required particular care for widows and orphans, so it would be shocking for someone connected with the work of the synagogue to cheat widows out of their houses…but something was going on here that got Jesus upset. Perhaps it was the flouncing about of the scribes, acting like they were really important, being very conspicuous in their praying, while preying upon others and exploiting them in some of their financial transactions. It was not just the cheating, but their pretending about how righteous they were while they were doing it that really got Jesus upset.
And it was right for Jesus to get upset, because the one place we expect people to behave well is in our religious institutions. We think that if we are in a place that is supposed to be all about our relationship with God, the laws of God will guide those in leadership. Sadly, it is not always the case.
Certainly that little widow with her two copper coins expected integrity on the part of the people in the temple. She gave abundantly even in the midst of her poverty, the very kind of person that an unscrupulous scribe could cheat without much societal push-back, because she believed in the institution as a place of God, a place of God’s law. She gave in faith, with a ridiculous generosity, because that is what God asks of us, since he, too, has been ridiculously generous to us. It was her expectation that those coins would go to the work of the temple, not only in the religious ceremonies, but in caring for the less fortunate. They didn’t have gift cards to Target or Giant, but they distributed funds to those in need. And by and large, the synagogues did precisely that. The majority of scribes were not dishonest, they did their work appropriately. Most widows were not victims.
But Jesus’ teaching today reminds us that we who are the church have a responsibility to behave in a way that is not like the bad scribes. We have the right to expect that Saint Middle School will follow the laws of God and the laws of the land. We have the right to expect good stewardship from those of us in positions of leadership. And that is what we as a faith community live every day.
There may be no parish in the diocese that operates as efficiently. As a percentage of income, this is one of the most generous parishes, giving much to local charities, to international mission, and to people in need. Through the Alternative Gift Fair, we have raised and distributed over $100,000 to benefit our community. And many days, we receive calls from folks who are struggling, and we can offer them a little bit of help and prayer, because of your generosity.
It’s a generosity that recognizes that God’s generosity is so much greater than anything that we can offer. And it’s an act of faith, just as the widow’s offering was a gift of faith. It is predicated on your belief that your faith family will act as Christ taught us, and that your actions make a difference in bringing the Kingdom of God to fruition.
So as you consider your pledge for the coming year, think about a couple of things.
First, God has been, as I said before, ridiculously generous to us. He gave us the goodness of creation, the beautiful world around us. He has loved us even as we were at our most unlovable. And he gave us Jesus to save our very souls. His only expectation was that we love him back.
Second, the church has been the place that has helped us connect to that loving God, to help us with our questions, to share God’s word and love and support each other in our joys and sadnesses. Our hour or two together on Sunday mornings may have more to do with the health of our hearts and souls than anything else we do during the week, feeding us in ways we may not always even realize.
Last, the work of the church is not simply the care of us here in this room, it’s the care of all those who need to be here in this room, but who just haven’t found us yet.
So think about the way religious institutions are supposed to be, not the ones that Jesus decried, but the one that the widow hoped for – a place of caring, of righteousness, of teaching, of celebration – and contribute as ridiculously generously as you can, so Saint Middle School can continue to be that kind of family of faith, doing the work Jesus bade us to do in the way that God has ruled us to do, with love, with righteousness, with humility.
Amen.
That’s great advice, of course, but it has little to do with the reality of most of the folks who are most impacted by the economy. Saving up six months of living expenses, when you are living just a notch above the poverty line, is well-nigh impossible. Most of the folks who call up St Middle School office asking for help for groceries or diapers or gas to get to work live paycheck to paycheck. Most are worrying what will happen if the car breaks down, or if the doctor prescribes some medicine for their child’s asthma that has a high co-pay, or if the landlord raises the rent. So Saint Middle School helps in a small way, with a grocery card or a gas card or a card to Target.
We do that because it is the right thing to do. It is what Jesus told us to do, it is what our compassionate hearts tell us to do, it is mission and ministry and love all bound together. And it is the work of the church.
Contrast that view, then with what we hear about the religious institution in today’s gospel. You may have paid attention to the widow donating her few pennies, all that she had to the temple, and we could spend some time talking about that, but before we do, we should look at the beginning of the passage.
Jesus is teaching in the temple, an expected thing for a religious teacher to do.
The very first thing he talks about is the scribes. He tells his audience "Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! They devour widows' houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation."
First, a few words about scribes. Originally they were secular officials. They were noted for their ability to write and to deal with financial matters, so they were often involved in legal issues. Over time, they became more connected with the synagogue, since often matters that were financial and legal were brought to the chief priest for judgment. Was there a pattern of scribes cheating widows out of their houses? We don’t know for certain. The Law required particular care for widows and orphans, so it would be shocking for someone connected with the work of the synagogue to cheat widows out of their houses…but something was going on here that got Jesus upset. Perhaps it was the flouncing about of the scribes, acting like they were really important, being very conspicuous in their praying, while preying upon others and exploiting them in some of their financial transactions. It was not just the cheating, but their pretending about how righteous they were while they were doing it that really got Jesus upset.
And it was right for Jesus to get upset, because the one place we expect people to behave well is in our religious institutions. We think that if we are in a place that is supposed to be all about our relationship with God, the laws of God will guide those in leadership. Sadly, it is not always the case.
Certainly that little widow with her two copper coins expected integrity on the part of the people in the temple. She gave abundantly even in the midst of her poverty, the very kind of person that an unscrupulous scribe could cheat without much societal push-back, because she believed in the institution as a place of God, a place of God’s law. She gave in faith, with a ridiculous generosity, because that is what God asks of us, since he, too, has been ridiculously generous to us. It was her expectation that those coins would go to the work of the temple, not only in the religious ceremonies, but in caring for the less fortunate. They didn’t have gift cards to Target or Giant, but they distributed funds to those in need. And by and large, the synagogues did precisely that. The majority of scribes were not dishonest, they did their work appropriately. Most widows were not victims.
But Jesus’ teaching today reminds us that we who are the church have a responsibility to behave in a way that is not like the bad scribes. We have the right to expect that Saint Middle School will follow the laws of God and the laws of the land. We have the right to expect good stewardship from those of us in positions of leadership. And that is what we as a faith community live every day.
There may be no parish in the diocese that operates as efficiently. As a percentage of income, this is one of the most generous parishes, giving much to local charities, to international mission, and to people in need. Through the Alternative Gift Fair, we have raised and distributed over $100,000 to benefit our community. And many days, we receive calls from folks who are struggling, and we can offer them a little bit of help and prayer, because of your generosity.
It’s a generosity that recognizes that God’s generosity is so much greater than anything that we can offer. And it’s an act of faith, just as the widow’s offering was a gift of faith. It is predicated on your belief that your faith family will act as Christ taught us, and that your actions make a difference in bringing the Kingdom of God to fruition.
So as you consider your pledge for the coming year, think about a couple of things.
First, God has been, as I said before, ridiculously generous to us. He gave us the goodness of creation, the beautiful world around us. He has loved us even as we were at our most unlovable. And he gave us Jesus to save our very souls. His only expectation was that we love him back.
Second, the church has been the place that has helped us connect to that loving God, to help us with our questions, to share God’s word and love and support each other in our joys and sadnesses. Our hour or two together on Sunday mornings may have more to do with the health of our hearts and souls than anything else we do during the week, feeding us in ways we may not always even realize.
Last, the work of the church is not simply the care of us here in this room, it’s the care of all those who need to be here in this room, but who just haven’t found us yet.
So think about the way religious institutions are supposed to be, not the ones that Jesus decried, but the one that the widow hoped for – a place of caring, of righteousness, of teaching, of celebration – and contribute as ridiculously generously as you can, so Saint Middle School can continue to be that kind of family of faith, doing the work Jesus bade us to do in the way that God has ruled us to do, with love, with righteousness, with humility.
Amen.
Friday, November 06, 2009
Fridays Are No Longer Necessarily TGIF
Many thanks to those who offered words of sympathy and encouragement on the bad news about the call to the parish north of here. I am at peace with it and am looking ahead to what comes next, appreciating even more the blessing of my work at Saint Middle School.
Since my workweek now includes weekends, Fridays are no longer the herald to a break in the action of work. They now function as the herald to "is the sermon done yet?" "Is the educational program done yet?"
Normally, my answer to both questions would be yes. Obsessive-compulsive that I am, I like to get them done earlier in the week, and just tweak them if necessary as Friday approaches. This week, though, because of the intensity of the work last weekend and the distraction of the bad news, I'm running late. Both are not yet complete.
And for some strange reason, I'm very much at peace with that. This may be an indicator of relaxation into the role, it may be an indicator that I recognize that some weeks will be different than others.
In either case, I'm grateful knowing that the Holy Spirit will help me along.
Since my workweek now includes weekends, Fridays are no longer the herald to a break in the action of work. They now function as the herald to "is the sermon done yet?" "Is the educational program done yet?"
Normally, my answer to both questions would be yes. Obsessive-compulsive that I am, I like to get them done earlier in the week, and just tweak them if necessary as Friday approaches. This week, though, because of the intensity of the work last weekend and the distraction of the bad news, I'm running late. Both are not yet complete.
And for some strange reason, I'm very much at peace with that. This may be an indicator of relaxation into the role, it may be an indicator that I recognize that some weeks will be different than others.
In either case, I'm grateful knowing that the Holy Spirit will help me along.
Thursday, November 05, 2009
Into the RevCave
...to do a lot of paperwork. I've gotten the Morning Prayer service done for our Fresh Start session next week - it is such a pleasure planning worship. Still have to finish the sermon and the adult ad program, so that will be the afternoon's work. This is my mid-day break.
I am (mostly) over the disappointment of not getting the call to the church up north of here. There is no point in trying to overanalyze it, since I don't know the person who did receive the call. Got a nice note from the Bishop from up there commenting on my "prodigious gifts." Ah, well, it would have been lovely, but there is something else that God intends for me to do, not the least of which is to continue to serve at Saint Middle School, which is several months away from calling a permanent vicar.
There is a very large pile of books that are calling my name, but I WILL NOT get lost in them until the sermon and the adult ed program are completed. That way I can have a bit of a break tomorrow...I hope.
Thank goodness I've got icon-writing this weekend to look forward to! Saint Nicholas begins.
I am (mostly) over the disappointment of not getting the call to the church up north of here. There is no point in trying to overanalyze it, since I don't know the person who did receive the call. Got a nice note from the Bishop from up there commenting on my "prodigious gifts." Ah, well, it would have been lovely, but there is something else that God intends for me to do, not the least of which is to continue to serve at Saint Middle School, which is several months away from calling a permanent vicar.
There is a very large pile of books that are calling my name, but I WILL NOT get lost in them until the sermon and the adult ed program are completed. That way I can have a bit of a break tomorrow...I hope.
Thank goodness I've got icon-writing this weekend to look forward to! Saint Nicholas begins.
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
No More Wait State
Unfortunately, they chose the other candidate. Lots of lovely language on the phone call about how much they thought of me, and how blown away the Bishop was by me, but they felt the other candidate was a better fit for what they wanted to do.
Ah, well. I'm trying hard to let go of the disappointment and look ahead to what God has in mind for me, but it really feels sort of miserable tonight.
Ah, well. I'm trying hard to let go of the disappointment and look ahead to what God has in mind for me, but it really feels sort of miserable tonight.
The Wednesday Drill
Wednesdays are my day to have office hours out at the Mother Ship (the parish that planted our little mission congregation). I work with our sublime parish admininstrator, the Amazon Empress, putting finishing touches on the bulletin and the announcements, make sure we get consecrated elements from the noon Eucharist at the Mother Ship. Today I've got a homebound parishioner to visit, follow-up calls to a few folks, a drop-by for the fellow whose wife we bid farewell to last Sunday.
I like Wednesdays, because it's when I am physically closest to my parishioners (except for Sunday, of course) and it is hard to minister to parishioners who are 40 miles away from home. This was reinforced once again when I got a call yesterday afternoon from one of my peeps - a son of another parishioner had an allergic reaction and was brought to the local ER for treatment. I talked with the mom by phone - the youngster is fine now, thanks be to God - but there was a moment of indecision: "Do I drive out there (45 minutes to an hour away, depending on the traffic) or do I just call and hope for the best?" It was easy to wait in this case, but if I had gotten a call that one of my older folks had been brought in to the ER, it would have been tougher to say to myself "stay home and wait." I do not like having to make such decisions; I'd much rather just hop in the car and go.
I do much of my work with parishioners by phone or email because of the distance. I can't participate in community events where our kids are a part of the action as easily because of the distance. I just can't be as PRESENT (that wonderful CPE word) as I would like to be for these good folks, and it gnaws at me.
One of the places where I may be called has a rectory right alongside the church. The world's easiest commute. It would be a radical shift after serving part-time at a place far away. And on Wednesdays, it sure does look appealing.
Time to get into the car and drive 40 miles to the west...
I like Wednesdays, because it's when I am physically closest to my parishioners (except for Sunday, of course) and it is hard to minister to parishioners who are 40 miles away from home. This was reinforced once again when I got a call yesterday afternoon from one of my peeps - a son of another parishioner had an allergic reaction and was brought to the local ER for treatment. I talked with the mom by phone - the youngster is fine now, thanks be to God - but there was a moment of indecision: "Do I drive out there (45 minutes to an hour away, depending on the traffic) or do I just call and hope for the best?" It was easy to wait in this case, but if I had gotten a call that one of my older folks had been brought in to the ER, it would have been tougher to say to myself "stay home and wait." I do not like having to make such decisions; I'd much rather just hop in the car and go.
I do much of my work with parishioners by phone or email because of the distance. I can't participate in community events where our kids are a part of the action as easily because of the distance. I just can't be as PRESENT (that wonderful CPE word) as I would like to be for these good folks, and it gnaws at me.
One of the places where I may be called has a rectory right alongside the church. The world's easiest commute. It would be a radical shift after serving part-time at a place far away. And on Wednesdays, it sure does look appealing.
Time to get into the car and drive 40 miles to the west...
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
Is It Tuesday Already? Is It Only Tuesday?
Today was a day with a long laundry list of things to do, including the annual mammosquish and the biennial bone density scan. I got everything on the list done except for one thing, and that was not a critical thing. The sermon is in the percolation phase and the adult ed program for Sunday is in my brain but will get on paper very soon.
I am trying to fill up my days because I am in Wait State, and as I said before, I don't do Wait State well.
On the other hand, I got some lovely sock yarn at my new favorite yarn store, and successfully avoided buying enough yarn for another Major Project, since I've got three queued up right now and heaven knows when they will be complete. My poor sister-in-law has been waiting for her sweater (2/3rds done now) for two years now. And the project for Strong Opinions (we thought about it a year ago) may now be out of style, so I may need to revisit that one. Remind me never to do major knitting projects on size 3 needles again, will you? Only chunky yarns on size 10-13 needles...
We are trying to sell StrongOpinions' car, a 1975 Datsun 280Z. A bit rusty but functional. It has been a slow process...we really need to get this thing sold before the registration expires at the end of the month. Sigh. Anyone want it? It's a really hot car, if you're sixty and balding on top but have a gray-white ponytail hanging down your back, and only the teensiest beer gut.
PH and I took a walk this morning to our polling place; it seems our votes were for naught and the reactionary will be our next governor. Since he sided with those who walked from our denomination and tryied to take the property with them (in contravention of our canons, which their clergy all signed on to when they were ordained), and since he believes women should stay home, barefoot and pregnant, we are not pleased. And the even more right-wing whackadoodle who is running for AG has also been elected, it seems. Damn.
So please say a pray for our poor Commonwealth, soon to be governed by Neanderthals, for PH and me, wondering where we will be and if I will ever be called somewhere permanent, and for all those who have much more necessary things to pray for than us.
On the upside, there is a gorgeous harvest moon in the sky, and the squirrels are really enjoying the pumpkin we set out for their dining pleasure. And we had a very nice dinner of pot roast and potatoes and salad, and now I'm going upstairs to knit and try to avoid watching election returns.
I am trying to fill up my days because I am in Wait State, and as I said before, I don't do Wait State well.
On the other hand, I got some lovely sock yarn at my new favorite yarn store, and successfully avoided buying enough yarn for another Major Project, since I've got three queued up right now and heaven knows when they will be complete. My poor sister-in-law has been waiting for her sweater (2/3rds done now) for two years now. And the project for Strong Opinions (we thought about it a year ago) may now be out of style, so I may need to revisit that one. Remind me never to do major knitting projects on size 3 needles again, will you? Only chunky yarns on size 10-13 needles...
We are trying to sell StrongOpinions' car, a 1975 Datsun 280Z. A bit rusty but functional. It has been a slow process...we really need to get this thing sold before the registration expires at the end of the month. Sigh. Anyone want it? It's a really hot car, if you're sixty and balding on top but have a gray-white ponytail hanging down your back, and only the teensiest beer gut.
PH and I took a walk this morning to our polling place; it seems our votes were for naught and the reactionary will be our next governor. Since he sided with those who walked from our denomination and tryied to take the property with them (in contravention of our canons, which their clergy all signed on to when they were ordained), and since he believes women should stay home, barefoot and pregnant, we are not pleased. And the even more right-wing whackadoodle who is running for AG has also been elected, it seems. Damn.
So please say a pray for our poor Commonwealth, soon to be governed by Neanderthals, for PH and me, wondering where we will be and if I will ever be called somewhere permanent, and for all those who have much more necessary things to pray for than us.
On the upside, there is a gorgeous harvest moon in the sky, and the squirrels are really enjoying the pumpkin we set out for their dining pleasure. And we had a very nice dinner of pot roast and potatoes and salad, and now I'm going upstairs to knit and try to avoid watching election returns.
Monday, November 02, 2009
Go Vote
..and don't vote for mean people, or people who think the good Lord Jesus only judges and does not love. Just sayin'.
Monday Diverse
Well, we all got through the weekend. The memorial service yesterday went smoothly, and I believe the family found great comfort in it. All I can say is that my feet hurt mightily by the end of the day. Shoes that feel okay for four hours may not work as well for ten. Next time, I think it will be the Dansko clogs.
Bless PH. He was home after flying the redeye back from the Pacific Northwest, where he had been at a conference, and I called him as I left the after-memorial-service reception. He had already done some laundry, and he put the lasagna in the oven. When I got home, he poured me a glass of wine and made us a salad. I took out the contacts, took off the shoes, switched into comfortable garb, and had my dinner served to me while we caught up on what had happened to each of us over the few days we had been apart. Bliss.
On another topic, we have seen an increase in the number of folks asking the church for help with groceries, utilities and such. In the past, it might have just been folks within a ten-mile radius of the parish. Now they are calling from much further afield. I'm wrestling with the problem of how to respond to these folks - we will get a bunch of gift cards to the grocery stores or Target, but I am not out there in the parish office every day (part-time position and 40 miles away), and I'm debating ways of setting up a lay-led ministry to work with these folks. It's not fair to the parish secretary, who is there most every day for a few hours, to have to field all this stuff. Maybe I'll talk to those who call and ask for help by phone, then arrange for a layperson whom I've trained to give them the gift cards. Any ideas would be appreciated.
I'm planning on this being a day of rest for me, but other needful things will intrude, I would bet. Maybe it's time for me to take a walk.
Bless PH. He was home after flying the redeye back from the Pacific Northwest, where he had been at a conference, and I called him as I left the after-memorial-service reception. He had already done some laundry, and he put the lasagna in the oven. When I got home, he poured me a glass of wine and made us a salad. I took out the contacts, took off the shoes, switched into comfortable garb, and had my dinner served to me while we caught up on what had happened to each of us over the few days we had been apart. Bliss.
On another topic, we have seen an increase in the number of folks asking the church for help with groceries, utilities and such. In the past, it might have just been folks within a ten-mile radius of the parish. Now they are calling from much further afield. I'm wrestling with the problem of how to respond to these folks - we will get a bunch of gift cards to the grocery stores or Target, but I am not out there in the parish office every day (part-time position and 40 miles away), and I'm debating ways of setting up a lay-led ministry to work with these folks. It's not fair to the parish secretary, who is there most every day for a few hours, to have to field all this stuff. Maybe I'll talk to those who call and ask for help by phone, then arrange for a layperson whom I've trained to give them the gift cards. Any ideas would be appreciated.
I'm planning on this being a day of rest for me, but other needful things will intrude, I would bet. Maybe it's time for me to take a walk.
Sunday, November 01, 2009
Sermon for All Saints’ Day – November 1, 2009 “All the Saints”
We find saints in odd places. Sometimes the stories are dramatic. Sometimes the stories are quiet, even unknown, the gift of a meal to a hungry person, the unheralded donation to keep a mission trip going. But Revelation gives us an insight into what life after death as a saint will be like: a new Jerusalem, a holy city on a hill, with God dwelling with the mortals.
Getting there, though, isn’t particularly easy.
We might consider the sainthood of Mary in our Gospel story today. She was the sister of Jesus’ very good friend Lazarus. Lazarus had died while Jesus was away, taking care of other people with illnesses and problems and doubts. Even as she wept at Jesus’ feet, she was furious with him. She didn’t kneel to honor him, she crumpled to the ground, weeping in rage that Jesus wasn’t there when they needed him, when Lazarus became ill, when his body failed, when he died. She didn’t simply keen with the other mourners as women in that time and place were expected to do – she berated Jesus. “If you had been here, he wouldn’t have died!” You can hear the bitterness in her voice, and Jesus was, as the Gospel says, “greatly disturbed and deeply moved.” He, too, began to weep, because he had made a choice not to return immediately. His intention was to raise Lazarus after death to prove God’s power working through him. But when he saw the pain his plan had caused, he wept, even as he moved to the tomb to raise his friend from the dead. Mary's anger was a kind of saintly rage, wasn't it?
Saints - they appear in all kinds of stories.
Think of the story of a man who is imprisoned, a political prisoner unjustly held. He is on the verge of death. His wife disguises herself as a man, takes a job as a prison guard, and rescues her husband almost at the moment of his death from the tyrant who had imprisoned him. This wife, Lenore, disguised as Fidelio the prison guard, is brave, a saint who saved her husband and others who were about to be executed. She has fought for the right to see her husband in the dungeon, she has fought for the right for him and his fellow prisoners to be brought up into the sunlit courtyard of the jail, and she eventually fights the force of tyranny, the evil Pizarro, by shooting him, then releasing the political prisoners. This woman Lenore, in her passion and courage, feels a bit like Lazarus’ sister Mary, doesn’t she?
This is the story told in the opera “Fidelio,” written by Ludwig van Beethoven.
A dramatic story – after all, it IS grand opera…but perhaps not so farfetched.
In the midst of World War II, a Hungarian attorney, Hans von Dohnanyi, was imprisoned by the Third Reich. The Nazis had reason to imprison him. He had been involved in a plot with several family members to kill Hitler. Dohnanyi’s crime had been to keep detailed records of the Nazis’ oppression of Jews, homosexuals, and communists.
When he first began to fear he would be imprisoned, Dohnányi worked out a clever system whereby he could communicate with his family from behind bars. His wife, Frau Dohnányi, sent her husband books containing hidden messages made by marking various letters in various words on various pages; when strung together, the underlined letters formed instructions from wife to husband.
Frau Dohnanyi sent him one such message that she was sending him a package of cookies tainted with diphtheria. He would become ill with the disease and be transferred to the hospital from the concentration camp where he was being held. Dohnányi did become ill, but he was moved, not to the hospital where they thought he would go, but to a room guarded by Nazi soldiers at a clinic in Berlin. In a striking parallel with the plot of Fidelio, Dohnányi's wife disguised herself as a nurse so she could see her husband without peril to herself. A doctor who worked at the clinic tried to help the family to escape from Nazi Germany.
It was not to be. Because the SS was guarding the family residence where their children were living, escape would have been impossible, even if their father had managed to be smuggled out of the clinic. Hans von Dohnányi, and four other family members were executed on the same day, April 9, 1945, in separate concentration camps.
Not as happy an ending as the one in the opera, but was Frau von Dohnanyi any less a saint because the plan did not succeed? Was Hans’ opposition to the Nazis any less noble because he died? But in her courage and attempt to save her family, wasn’t Frau Dohnanyi a little like Lazarus’ sister Mary? Not the most prominent name, but a saint in her bravery? And wasn’t Hans a saint for speaking out for those who had no voice against overwhelming odds? Sainthood is not a goal-defined honor – it is not about succeeding in achieving something other than faithfully following what Christ taught us about how we are to love God and love each other.
But the story of Dohnanyi is not simply about its odd parallels with the opera Fidelio, which Hans’s father Ernst had conducted in prewar Berlin and which his son Christoph recently conducted at the Lyric Opera of Chicago. There is yet another saint in the story…the brother of Frau Dohnanyi, one of the men who shared that imprisonment with Hans.
His name was Dietrich Bonhoeffer.
Bonhoeffer was a Lutheran minister and already a highly regarded theologian before he was imprisoned. He had been in the United States a few years earlier, studying with Reinhold Niebuhr at Union Theological Seminary, and was deeply impressed with the kind of muscular Christianity practiced at Abyssinian Baptist Church up in Harlem. He saw the power of a Gospel of Social Justice and the necessity for the church to speak in the world against evil and injustice. He returned to Germany in 1931 to be ordained and to take a post teaching theology at the University of Berlin, but his career was cut short by the coming to power of the Nazis, with Hitler as their Fuhrer. He gave a sermon on the radio decrying what he saw as an idolatrous cult of Der Fueher…and that was the beginning of his long walk to his death. He opposed a pro-Nazi Christian movement called the German Christians, many of whom won high posts in the Nazi regime, and allied himself with what was eventually to become the Confessing Church, a group of church leaders who opposed Nazism.A schism in the German church between those who thought that Hitler was right and those who cried out against Hitler’s racism. Bonhoeffer went to London to take a post in the German speaking church there in 1933, amidst an outcry from others in the Confessing Church, who thought he was running away. He wanted to use the message of the Confessing Church to drum up ecumenical support for its views, to oppose Hitler and Nazism. He returned to Germany to found some underground seminaries, not beholden to Hitler, and then went back to Union Theoloigcal Seminary in New York in the late 30’s. He decided, though, he had to return to Germany, to continue to fight for the true Gospel and against the Nazi’s racist policies. His words to Neibuhr: "I have come to the conclusion that I made a mistake in coming to America. I must live through this difficult period in our national history with the people of Germany. I will have no right to participate in the reconstruction of Christian life in Germany after the war if I do not share the trials of this time with my people...Christians in Germany will have to face the terrible alternative of either willing the defeat of their nation in order that Christian civilization may survive or willing the victory of their nation and thereby destroying civilization. I know which of these alternatives I must choose but I cannot make that choice from security."
It was, of course, a death sentence. He had begun working years before with his brother in law, Hans von Dohnanyi, and another small group plotting Hitler’s overthrow. He was arrested in 1943, and taken to Tegel prison. Later, he was put into Buchenwald, and then to Flossenburg, where he was hung. Some of his writings were smuggled out of prison, and later published as “Letters from Prison.”
Bonhoeffer argued that Christians should not retreat from the world, but have a duty to act within it. He believed that as faithful people, we were required to do two things: to fight for the implementation of justice and to accept divine suffering. He insisted that the church, like the Christians, "had to share in the sufferings of God at the hands of a godless world" if it were to be a true church of Christ.
A saint? No question about it. He is honored as such by the Lutherans and the Anglicans. But as powerful as Bonhoeffer’s story is, as extraordinary as his acts were, there are other saints in the story as well. The saints whose names are not known, perhaps a prison guard who had a hand in smuggling out Bonhoeffer’s writings, perhaps an Abwehr official who snuck Bonhoeffer out of prison briefly to meet with leaders of churches from England and America, to tell them what was really happening and what they must do, perhaps even the doctor who attended Bonhoeffer’s hanging, who wrote: “I saw Pastor Bonhoeffer ... kneeling on the floor praying fervently to God. I was most deeply moved by the way this lovable man prayed, so devout and so certain that God heard his prayer. At the place of execution, he again said a short prayer and then climbed the few steps to the gallows, brave and composed. His death ensued after a few seconds. In the almost fifty years that I worked as a doctor, I have hardly ever seen a man die so entirely submissive to the will of God.” And of course, Frau Dohnanyi, who saw her brother and husband killed in the service of what Christ had taught.
All of these other saints, the ones whose faces are not carved into stone in the great cathedrals, the ones whose names are not known to us, they share the same promise spoken of in Revelation, living in the holy city on the hill, the new Jerusalem, with God among them.
So part of our work today as we honor all the saints is to remember the invisible saints before us and among us. You know the saints in your lives – the grandmother to whom you ran for comfort when your parents chastised you, the teacher who encouraged you to keep working on your math, the crossing guard who smiles at your children every day, the cashier in the supermarket who always has a smile.
Sainthood isn’t always a matter of martyrdom. It isn’t always dramatic. It doesn’t always encompass an entire lifetime’s work.
Sometimes it is just a few words, witnessing to power of the Gospel in a simple way, speaking for someone who has no one to speak for him, doing what the Gospel teaches. Saints are all around us, giving us a glimpse into that heavenly kingdom, the new Jerusalem, and a seat with God right alongside us.
Let God, and all the saints, be praised!
Amen.
Getting there, though, isn’t particularly easy.
We might consider the sainthood of Mary in our Gospel story today. She was the sister of Jesus’ very good friend Lazarus. Lazarus had died while Jesus was away, taking care of other people with illnesses and problems and doubts. Even as she wept at Jesus’ feet, she was furious with him. She didn’t kneel to honor him, she crumpled to the ground, weeping in rage that Jesus wasn’t there when they needed him, when Lazarus became ill, when his body failed, when he died. She didn’t simply keen with the other mourners as women in that time and place were expected to do – she berated Jesus. “If you had been here, he wouldn’t have died!” You can hear the bitterness in her voice, and Jesus was, as the Gospel says, “greatly disturbed and deeply moved.” He, too, began to weep, because he had made a choice not to return immediately. His intention was to raise Lazarus after death to prove God’s power working through him. But when he saw the pain his plan had caused, he wept, even as he moved to the tomb to raise his friend from the dead. Mary's anger was a kind of saintly rage, wasn't it?
Saints - they appear in all kinds of stories.
Think of the story of a man who is imprisoned, a political prisoner unjustly held. He is on the verge of death. His wife disguises herself as a man, takes a job as a prison guard, and rescues her husband almost at the moment of his death from the tyrant who had imprisoned him. This wife, Lenore, disguised as Fidelio the prison guard, is brave, a saint who saved her husband and others who were about to be executed. She has fought for the right to see her husband in the dungeon, she has fought for the right for him and his fellow prisoners to be brought up into the sunlit courtyard of the jail, and she eventually fights the force of tyranny, the evil Pizarro, by shooting him, then releasing the political prisoners. This woman Lenore, in her passion and courage, feels a bit like Lazarus’ sister Mary, doesn’t she?
This is the story told in the opera “Fidelio,” written by Ludwig van Beethoven.
A dramatic story – after all, it IS grand opera…but perhaps not so farfetched.
In the midst of World War II, a Hungarian attorney, Hans von Dohnanyi, was imprisoned by the Third Reich. The Nazis had reason to imprison him. He had been involved in a plot with several family members to kill Hitler. Dohnanyi’s crime had been to keep detailed records of the Nazis’ oppression of Jews, homosexuals, and communists.
When he first began to fear he would be imprisoned, Dohnányi worked out a clever system whereby he could communicate with his family from behind bars. His wife, Frau Dohnányi, sent her husband books containing hidden messages made by marking various letters in various words on various pages; when strung together, the underlined letters formed instructions from wife to husband.
Frau Dohnanyi sent him one such message that she was sending him a package of cookies tainted with diphtheria. He would become ill with the disease and be transferred to the hospital from the concentration camp where he was being held. Dohnányi did become ill, but he was moved, not to the hospital where they thought he would go, but to a room guarded by Nazi soldiers at a clinic in Berlin. In a striking parallel with the plot of Fidelio, Dohnányi's wife disguised herself as a nurse so she could see her husband without peril to herself. A doctor who worked at the clinic tried to help the family to escape from Nazi Germany.
It was not to be. Because the SS was guarding the family residence where their children were living, escape would have been impossible, even if their father had managed to be smuggled out of the clinic. Hans von Dohnányi, and four other family members were executed on the same day, April 9, 1945, in separate concentration camps.
Not as happy an ending as the one in the opera, but was Frau von Dohnanyi any less a saint because the plan did not succeed? Was Hans’ opposition to the Nazis any less noble because he died? But in her courage and attempt to save her family, wasn’t Frau Dohnanyi a little like Lazarus’ sister Mary? Not the most prominent name, but a saint in her bravery? And wasn’t Hans a saint for speaking out for those who had no voice against overwhelming odds? Sainthood is not a goal-defined honor – it is not about succeeding in achieving something other than faithfully following what Christ taught us about how we are to love God and love each other.
But the story of Dohnanyi is not simply about its odd parallels with the opera Fidelio, which Hans’s father Ernst had conducted in prewar Berlin and which his son Christoph recently conducted at the Lyric Opera of Chicago. There is yet another saint in the story…the brother of Frau Dohnanyi, one of the men who shared that imprisonment with Hans.
His name was Dietrich Bonhoeffer.
Bonhoeffer was a Lutheran minister and already a highly regarded theologian before he was imprisoned. He had been in the United States a few years earlier, studying with Reinhold Niebuhr at Union Theological Seminary, and was deeply impressed with the kind of muscular Christianity practiced at Abyssinian Baptist Church up in Harlem. He saw the power of a Gospel of Social Justice and the necessity for the church to speak in the world against evil and injustice. He returned to Germany in 1931 to be ordained and to take a post teaching theology at the University of Berlin, but his career was cut short by the coming to power of the Nazis, with Hitler as their Fuhrer. He gave a sermon on the radio decrying what he saw as an idolatrous cult of Der Fueher…and that was the beginning of his long walk to his death. He opposed a pro-Nazi Christian movement called the German Christians, many of whom won high posts in the Nazi regime, and allied himself with what was eventually to become the Confessing Church, a group of church leaders who opposed Nazism.A schism in the German church between those who thought that Hitler was right and those who cried out against Hitler’s racism. Bonhoeffer went to London to take a post in the German speaking church there in 1933, amidst an outcry from others in the Confessing Church, who thought he was running away. He wanted to use the message of the Confessing Church to drum up ecumenical support for its views, to oppose Hitler and Nazism. He returned to Germany to found some underground seminaries, not beholden to Hitler, and then went back to Union Theoloigcal Seminary in New York in the late 30’s. He decided, though, he had to return to Germany, to continue to fight for the true Gospel and against the Nazi’s racist policies. His words to Neibuhr: "I have come to the conclusion that I made a mistake in coming to America. I must live through this difficult period in our national history with the people of Germany. I will have no right to participate in the reconstruction of Christian life in Germany after the war if I do not share the trials of this time with my people...Christians in Germany will have to face the terrible alternative of either willing the defeat of their nation in order that Christian civilization may survive or willing the victory of their nation and thereby destroying civilization. I know which of these alternatives I must choose but I cannot make that choice from security."
It was, of course, a death sentence. He had begun working years before with his brother in law, Hans von Dohnanyi, and another small group plotting Hitler’s overthrow. He was arrested in 1943, and taken to Tegel prison. Later, he was put into Buchenwald, and then to Flossenburg, where he was hung. Some of his writings were smuggled out of prison, and later published as “Letters from Prison.”
Bonhoeffer argued that Christians should not retreat from the world, but have a duty to act within it. He believed that as faithful people, we were required to do two things: to fight for the implementation of justice and to accept divine suffering. He insisted that the church, like the Christians, "had to share in the sufferings of God at the hands of a godless world" if it were to be a true church of Christ.
A saint? No question about it. He is honored as such by the Lutherans and the Anglicans. But as powerful as Bonhoeffer’s story is, as extraordinary as his acts were, there are other saints in the story as well. The saints whose names are not known, perhaps a prison guard who had a hand in smuggling out Bonhoeffer’s writings, perhaps an Abwehr official who snuck Bonhoeffer out of prison briefly to meet with leaders of churches from England and America, to tell them what was really happening and what they must do, perhaps even the doctor who attended Bonhoeffer’s hanging, who wrote: “I saw Pastor Bonhoeffer ... kneeling on the floor praying fervently to God. I was most deeply moved by the way this lovable man prayed, so devout and so certain that God heard his prayer. At the place of execution, he again said a short prayer and then climbed the few steps to the gallows, brave and composed. His death ensued after a few seconds. In the almost fifty years that I worked as a doctor, I have hardly ever seen a man die so entirely submissive to the will of God.” And of course, Frau Dohnanyi, who saw her brother and husband killed in the service of what Christ had taught.
All of these other saints, the ones whose faces are not carved into stone in the great cathedrals, the ones whose names are not known to us, they share the same promise spoken of in Revelation, living in the holy city on the hill, the new Jerusalem, with God among them.
So part of our work today as we honor all the saints is to remember the invisible saints before us and among us. You know the saints in your lives – the grandmother to whom you ran for comfort when your parents chastised you, the teacher who encouraged you to keep working on your math, the crossing guard who smiles at your children every day, the cashier in the supermarket who always has a smile.
Sainthood isn’t always a matter of martyrdom. It isn’t always dramatic. It doesn’t always encompass an entire lifetime’s work.
Sometimes it is just a few words, witnessing to power of the Gospel in a simple way, speaking for someone who has no one to speak for him, doing what the Gospel teaches. Saints are all around us, giving us a glimpse into that heavenly kingdom, the new Jerusalem, and a seat with God right alongside us.
Let God, and all the saints, be praised!
Amen.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
A Question on Funerals/Memorial Services/Celebrations of Life
I attended the memorial service of a friend today. She was marvelous, and the service was an apt remembrance of why we all loved her so much. Lots of music, some lovely reminiscences, the beautiful liturgy, many friends from different parts of her life. And good food at a reception afterwards.
The only slightly off note was a remembrance from a friend from her younger days, who went on and on and on and on. Unprepared, rambling, longer than most sermons...I could see the homilist getting nervous and wondering how he might gracefully bring the very long speech to an end. The other two remembrances were wonderful: poignant, loving, even theological, well prepared and delivered with brevity and grace.
And tomorrow I will be presiding at such a service, and I know there will be three remembrances from friends of the dearly departed. The widower has asked them to speak briefly. I wonder if I should have spoken to them, too...but I also wonder what I might have said to help ensure that they will be like the two remembrances that were so lovely today, rather than the one that made everyone squirmy. My liturgics prof said to avoid these eulogies at all costs, but that's easier said than done.
So, clergy pals out there, how do you address this?
The only slightly off note was a remembrance from a friend from her younger days, who went on and on and on and on. Unprepared, rambling, longer than most sermons...I could see the homilist getting nervous and wondering how he might gracefully bring the very long speech to an end. The other two remembrances were wonderful: poignant, loving, even theological, well prepared and delivered with brevity and grace.
And tomorrow I will be presiding at such a service, and I know there will be three remembrances from friends of the dearly departed. The widower has asked them to speak briefly. I wonder if I should have spoken to them, too...but I also wonder what I might have said to help ensure that they will be like the two remembrances that were so lovely today, rather than the one that made everyone squirmy. My liturgics prof said to avoid these eulogies at all costs, but that's easier said than done.
So, clergy pals out there, how do you address this?
Friday, October 30, 2009
Cloudy with a Chance of Blehs
It is Friday, and cool and gray. I have worked my way through a mountain of work, of writing, of house stuff, and should feel very accomplished.
It all is for naught, because I am in Wait State. I don't do Wait State well, and PH is away until Sunday afternoon, so I am imitating a hermit, sorta. I am actually exercising daily, and cooking myself healthy food rather than simply turning into a heap o' carbs, so I'm sure that all helps.
The good news is that I'll be going to a birthday party for a dear friend tonight, whom I admire more than words can say. (If we finally pass a health care reform bill, it will largely be due to his advocacy work.) The bad news is that my tolerance for large crowds is limited when I am in Wait State, so we shall see how long I last at the party before I say "enough!" After the twelfth person says "have you heard yet from ....?" I about want to slap 'em, which isn't approved-of behavior.
Tomorrow is the funeral of dear friend R, so I'll go to a pre-funeral lunch at K's house, then go to church. Haven't decided if I will sing with the choir...music at funerals always gets to me, and this one will be a hard one. Might be easier to simply sit in the pew for this one. No icon - writing, which I could really use this week. When I get back home, I think I will work on the tracing of the Saint Nicholas that I'll be writing next...a good way to spend a rainy Halloween afternoon, before the wee goblins come to fetch candy.
And Sunday will be a very long day, indeed. At some point in my ministry, I may get over the tension that precedes presiding at memorial services, but for now, it is part and parcel of the work. May the service be a comfort to all who come, and may I not get in the way of God's work among them.
It all is for naught, because I am in Wait State. I don't do Wait State well, and PH is away until Sunday afternoon, so I am imitating a hermit, sorta. I am actually exercising daily, and cooking myself healthy food rather than simply turning into a heap o' carbs, so I'm sure that all helps.
The good news is that I'll be going to a birthday party for a dear friend tonight, whom I admire more than words can say. (If we finally pass a health care reform bill, it will largely be due to his advocacy work.) The bad news is that my tolerance for large crowds is limited when I am in Wait State, so we shall see how long I last at the party before I say "enough!" After the twelfth person says "have you heard yet from ....?" I about want to slap 'em, which isn't approved-of behavior.
Tomorrow is the funeral of dear friend R, so I'll go to a pre-funeral lunch at K's house, then go to church. Haven't decided if I will sing with the choir...music at funerals always gets to me, and this one will be a hard one. Might be easier to simply sit in the pew for this one. No icon - writing, which I could really use this week. When I get back home, I think I will work on the tracing of the Saint Nicholas that I'll be writing next...a good way to spend a rainy Halloween afternoon, before the wee goblins come to fetch candy.
And Sunday will be a very long day, indeed. At some point in my ministry, I may get over the tension that precedes presiding at memorial services, but for now, it is part and parcel of the work. May the service be a comfort to all who come, and may I not get in the way of God's work among them.
Friday Five: Lifesaver Division
KathrynNZ writes:
"In honor of BE Three I thought I'd offer up a Friday Five of lifesavers. I'm going on our cruise (are you?) because I am excited about meeting up with my blogging buddies again, I am interested in the speaker and because when I went on the first one my life was saved (okay, that may be a little over-dramatized but if you saw me getting on the boat and then the difference when getting off the boat you would know of what I speak).
I don't expect - or need - another life saving moment but I want to support the conference.Of course lifesavers can come in all sizes and with far less drama. I would readily admit that I have considered a person (children's sermon substitute), the location of a bathroom, and a beverage (the last diet coke in the back of the fridge - score!) all to be lifesavers at one point or another.
And so today I ask you - dramatic or fairly common - what have been/are your lifesavers:"
1) Your lifesaving food/beverage.
Chocolate, of most any kind, but esp. that in Leonidas' Belgian Pralines. Drink? Gosling's Black Seal Dark Rum (as in Dark'n'Stormys). But also pasta, the go-to comfort food, and a crisp glass of Sancerre on a hot day.
2) Your lifesaving article of clothing.
Spanx. Enough said.
3) Your lifesaving movie/book/tv show/music.
I do love "Truly, Madly, Deeply"/Ron Hansen's "Mariette in Ecstasy"/"Glee", with "House" running a close second, and "Mystery!" on PBS a close third/Music by Phillip Glass or John Taverner or Arvo Part or Bach or Mozart or Brahms...well, that list is way too long.
4) Your lifesaving friend.
Two: she who will tell it to me like it is, give me a hug or a glass of wine when I need it, applaud me...and PH, who truly saved my life when I didn't even know how much it needed saving.
5) Your lifesaving moment.
When the ex told me he was leaving me for another, and my mother said "don't ever let anyone be able to say that he got the better of you." Never p!ss off a mother who served in the Army in WWII...she gave me some steel in my spine when I most desperately needed it. She knew the pain I was experiencing viscerally and also knew she couldn't protect me from it; all she could do was be my buckler and shield.
"In honor of BE Three I thought I'd offer up a Friday Five of lifesavers. I'm going on our cruise (are you?) because I am excited about meeting up with my blogging buddies again, I am interested in the speaker and because when I went on the first one my life was saved (okay, that may be a little over-dramatized but if you saw me getting on the boat and then the difference when getting off the boat you would know of what I speak).
I don't expect - or need - another life saving moment but I want to support the conference.Of course lifesavers can come in all sizes and with far less drama. I would readily admit that I have considered a person (children's sermon substitute), the location of a bathroom, and a beverage (the last diet coke in the back of the fridge - score!) all to be lifesavers at one point or another.
And so today I ask you - dramatic or fairly common - what have been/are your lifesavers:"
1) Your lifesaving food/beverage.
Chocolate, of most any kind, but esp. that in Leonidas' Belgian Pralines. Drink? Gosling's Black Seal Dark Rum (as in Dark'n'Stormys). But also pasta, the go-to comfort food, and a crisp glass of Sancerre on a hot day.
2) Your lifesaving article of clothing.
Spanx. Enough said.
3) Your lifesaving movie/book/tv show/music.
I do love "Truly, Madly, Deeply"/Ron Hansen's "Mariette in Ecstasy"/"Glee", with "House" running a close second, and "Mystery!" on PBS a close third/Music by Phillip Glass or John Taverner or Arvo Part or Bach or Mozart or Brahms...well, that list is way too long.
4) Your lifesaving friend.
Two: she who will tell it to me like it is, give me a hug or a glass of wine when I need it, applaud me...and PH, who truly saved my life when I didn't even know how much it needed saving.
5) Your lifesaving moment.
When the ex told me he was leaving me for another, and my mother said "don't ever let anyone be able to say that he got the better of you." Never p!ss off a mother who served in the Army in WWII...she gave me some steel in my spine when I most desperately needed it. She knew the pain I was experiencing viscerally and also knew she couldn't protect me from it; all she could do was be my buckler and shield.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Mondays, Busy Mondays
Things that have gotten done thus far today:
Had my physical this morning. New doctor, very sharp and funny Indian woman - I miss my beloved Dr P, who had ably gotten me through some difficult medical issues, but she does not participate as a PCP in my new insurance. Grrrr. C'mon, single-payer system! Yes, I know, but a girl can dream. Got everything done except the mammosquish and the bone-density test, which will be next week. I'm hoping/expecting the various blood tests all look good.
Did my survey for the Second Three Years program (a continuing program of education, support and mentoring for those of us who just graduated from seminary)...so how do you calculate what percentage of your average week is spent being a role model? I kid you not, that was one of the questions.
Did my expense report for the trip up to the Garden State last week. It's remarkable how much just driving up there and back costs, what with tolls and all. Almost $20 in each direction for the various tolls, even with EZPass. Thanks be to God that the good people there are paying for it.
Did my suggestion list for the ordination ceremony (shhhh! we're not supposed to say the words out loud until the Standing Committee approves us.)
Sent out a bunch of emails about a whole different raft of things.
Mailed off the prescription refills and a thank-you note to the Bishop from up north.
Made a loaf of Jim Lahey's No-Knead Bread. It is now cooling on a rack. It smells wickedly good. MUST.NOT.EAT.IT. (yet)
Things left to do:
Start the two sermons for Sunday (regular service, funeral).
Start the Adult Forum - lectio divina as a form of contemplative prayer.
Do a load of laundry (bless PH, who did most of the laundry this weekend).
Swap out winter and summer clothes, making a pile of that which will never fit again for Goodwill.
Finish planning prayer service for the next Fresh Start meeting (all done except the music piece).
Make order out of the chaotic piles of books and papers in the living room.
Figure out what's happening with StrongOpinions' student loan balance, which is lost in the ozone somewhere.
Make a batch of lasagna (half to go in the freezer) for dinner tonight and another night to be determined later.
Find someplace in the area which has the injectable H1N1 vaccine for me.
Update: started the laundry, made an apple pie (a form of procrastination), dealt with some bills. I think it's time to sit down and do nothing for a half hour.
I am praying for the repose of the soul of my dear friend R...still sad that she got sick and died before I even knew she was ill. A big generous heart, and a big beautiful mezzo voice, and a big prairie-wide smile. I miss her.
Had my physical this morning. New doctor, very sharp and funny Indian woman - I miss my beloved Dr P, who had ably gotten me through some difficult medical issues, but she does not participate as a PCP in my new insurance. Grrrr. C'mon, single-payer system! Yes, I know, but a girl can dream. Got everything done except the mammosquish and the bone-density test, which will be next week. I'm hoping/expecting the various blood tests all look good.
Did my survey for the Second Three Years program (a continuing program of education, support and mentoring for those of us who just graduated from seminary)...so how do you calculate what percentage of your average week is spent being a role model? I kid you not, that was one of the questions.
Did my expense report for the trip up to the Garden State last week. It's remarkable how much just driving up there and back costs, what with tolls and all. Almost $20 in each direction for the various tolls, even with EZPass. Thanks be to God that the good people there are paying for it.
Did my suggestion list for the ordination ceremony (shhhh! we're not supposed to say the words out loud until the Standing Committee approves us.)
Sent out a bunch of emails about a whole different raft of things.
Mailed off the prescription refills and a thank-you note to the Bishop from up north.
Made a loaf of Jim Lahey's No-Knead Bread. It is now cooling on a rack. It smells wickedly good. MUST.NOT.EAT.IT. (yet)
Things left to do:
Start the two sermons for Sunday (regular service, funeral).
Start the Adult Forum - lectio divina as a form of contemplative prayer.
Do a load of laundry (bless PH, who did most of the laundry this weekend).
Swap out winter and summer clothes, making a pile of that which will never fit again for Goodwill.
Finish planning prayer service for the next Fresh Start meeting (all done except the music piece).
Make order out of the chaotic piles of books and papers in the living room.
Figure out what's happening with StrongOpinions' student loan balance, which is lost in the ozone somewhere.
Make a batch of lasagna (half to go in the freezer) for dinner tonight and another night to be determined later.
Find someplace in the area which has the injectable H1N1 vaccine for me.
Update: started the laundry, made an apple pie (a form of procrastination), dealt with some bills. I think it's time to sit down and do nothing for a half hour.
I am praying for the repose of the soul of my dear friend R...still sad that she got sick and died before I even knew she was ill. A big generous heart, and a big beautiful mezzo voice, and a big prairie-wide smile. I miss her.
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