Today's Sermon John 2:1-11 “An Intimate Relationship”

In our relationships with each other we get a glimpse of our relationship with God. In our relationships, as imperfect and wonderful and transitory as they may be, we have precious moments that show us what our relationship with God can be, and how that relationship with God can help us perfect our relationships with each other.

So it makes sense that Jesus performs his first miracle, his first sign of who he is and what he is to do, at a family wedding.

Family weddings are all about relationships, after all, for good and for bad.

You know there is always going to be some drama at family weddings.

Whether it is the bride who accidently gets red lipstick on her dress ten minutes before the ceremony, the guest who shows up loud and late in – how shall I put it? – an altered state of consciousness, the bridesmaid who reveals a bit more than we cared to see when she does the limbo at the reception, the recognition that you haven’t seen one of the groomsmen since the night you bailed him out of jail six years before….all of these are true stories, and I’ll bet that each of you has stories at least as exciting as this list. Drama happens at family weddings, much as there is drama in all relationships.

Even the most perfect weddings strain the seams of the family in some way.

Think, for instance, about cost.

We talk about our weddings being extravagant – the average cost of a wedding in northern Virginia is between $40 and 60 K, and that doesn’t include the engagement ring or the honeymoon. You may have been to weddings that cost much, much more than that, what with the little mementos that are at the table, the drinks, the musicians, the flowers, the food…weddings are a big business today. It seems that at least three times a month, the advice columnists in the newspaper are addressing questions about who gets to control the costs of a wedding, who pays, what it all means – relationships are strained by these questions.

We tend to moan and say how awful it is that these weddings seem so excessive, but in Jesus’ day, they may have actually have cost more. In those days, weddings were a week-long celebration of eating and drinking, dancing and singing. We think in terms of a couple cases of champagne for one party of a few hours – the idea of six man-sized amphorae filled with wine for just one of the days of the celebration was not out of order back then, so the cost of such a wedding feast might well have come close to bankrupting a family. One of the most important things for a host at such a wedding feast was to have so much food and drink that no one went hungry. The corollary to that, of course, was that running out of food or drink was a source of terrible embarrassment. Even today, celebrations in the Middle East include such abundant food and beverages that there are usually large platters leftover…anything is better than running out, and having someone think you are either too cheap or too poor to provide for your guests.

When we hear in today’s Gospel that the story is about a family wedding, we know how the story is going to go. We know something is going to happen. Something uncomfortable. Something stressful. Something that reveals a truth about the family in the story.

Mary has brought Jesus along with her to a wedding. It was probably one of her relatives who issued the invitation. It does not take a lot of imagination to picture Jesus going somewhat grudgingly. After all, it is only a few days after the beginning of his active ministry. He clearly has things to do, and here he is, a good Jewish son, being dragged by his mother to a family wedding! The disciples had been invited as well, but we don’t know much about their participation except their reaction to what happens.

You know the story – the unthinkable happens – the host of the reception runs out of wine. Mary, ever the observant one, sees what is happening, and feels pity for the host, who might be her cousin. She goes to her son, that son whom she knows can do anything. But will he do something? Just because he can does not mean he will. She tells him the problem. His immediate reaction is not good. Perhaps he hadn’t anticipated that this first sign of his power would be fixing a family problem at a wedding. Perhaps he’s still annoyed at being interrupted in his work and he has other plans. Yet when she mentions the problem to him, not nagging, just observing, even though he thinks this departs from his plan of action, he responds, in a very quiet and not very visible way. His relationship with his mother, and her relationship to the host, trumps his original plan.

This is no grand miracle with angels singing, with the voice of God ringing through the room and doves coming down in front of a big crowd…it is nothing like last week’s baptism in the Jordan. It is an intimate act, witnessed only by the servants and the disciples. The chief steward has no idea what has happened, only that there is suddenly a supply of very good wine that wasn’t there at the beginning of the feast.

No, there is no extravagant miracle, just a sign, visible only to a few, the servants and the disciples. And this is appropriate, this intimate divine act. It is a wedding, after all. And isn’t a wedding really an intimate act of relationship?

Think about it: the sacrament of marriage is one where the bride and groom marry each other. The priest is there to preside and offer prayers, but he or she doesn’t marry the couple – they marry each other. An intimate act. Even though it may be performed in front of a couple of hundred people, it is an intimate act of relationship between two people before God.

There is a delicate balance between intimacy and community in a wedding…but that is true of all of our worship. We gather together, we sing, we pray, we line up and receive the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ in the Holy Eucharist, but at its heart, it is the intimacy of relationship between each one of us and our God even as we stand as part of a larger community that transforms us.

We need that intimate relationship with God, because without it, we have a hard time with all the other relationships we have in our lives.

In a few minutes, we will witness V and S as they renew their commitment to each other. I suspect that when V and S were married some 36 years ago, there was a moment, a sacred moment, when they sensed that God was with them, blessing their union. It might well have happened 18 years ago, the last time they renewed their vows…it might have happened many times in the course of their lives together. Intimate moments of relationship with God and with each other. A glimpse into the divine through the gift of relationship with each other. In the best moments of our relationships, we see God through our relationship with each other. In the times when we struggle, we try to take some of our relationship with God into the human one, to improve it, to make it and us more as God would wish us to be.

So, a family wedding. A gift, a response to relationship, that happened to serve as a sign for Jesus’ disciples. A sign that affirmed Jesus’ power and authority – his divinity. That brief glimpse of divinity – we find it in our relationships, and we are blessed by it.

It is not enough, though, to simply revel in that glimpse, in the pleasure of the relationship. Jesus may have started out with a small and intimate gesture, turning water into wine, but the breadth of his ministry expanded after that to encircle a larger and larger group of people who heard and believed. Our prayer today, for V and S and for all of us who are blessed with relationships that fill our lives with joy and challenge and meaning, is that the glimpse of God, first seen in the briefest shimmer of divine light with each other, can broaden to enlighten our relationships with our neighbors, whether they live on the same cul-de-sac or in Port-au-Prince or in Riyadh.

As we sing with joy to honor a particular relationship, let our song ring out to celebrate all our relationships in God’s good creation, and let that song invite others to celebrate the One who has given us to each other to love and to cherish, whether we know each others’ names or not.

Amen.

Some Days

Some days
I am a midwife,
tugging and pulling a gangling thread of hope out of a despairing soul.

Some days
I am Mother Fixit,
repairing old damages, hinges hanging on by a bent screw, ties that have frayed to a single thread.

Some days
I am a vessel
into which people pour their grief and anger

and as they are emptied, I am filled with choler and melancholy, a spoilt and poisonous brew.

And all I can do is to pour myself out on the altar

and let God change the swirling oily ichor into something pure...

water, perhaps, or even Cana wine. Something that

cleanses
soothes
feeds
renews.

Stewing Over It

Over on SpaceHook, I've gotten in the habit of posting my dinner menus every night that I cook. It's something of a mental health activity after a busy day. It's fun to share the things I make, and to see the responses. Some folks list their own menus, some want to come over for dinner, some tease that I can't really be making those things. And when I don't post the menus for a few days, I get inquiries: are you ill? are you traveling? have you forgotten to tell us what you're cooking?

The challenge of this, in the midst of a life where evening events are occurring with greater frequency, is what to do when I can't cook something fresh that evening.

That's where stews come in.

They're reasonably inexpensive, easy to stretch with some more veggies, something that exists in a variety of ethnic cuisines, they generally freeze well...

So last night, as I finished up prep for dinner, a salade Nicoise serving as a touch of Mediterranean summer in the middle of January, there was a stew slowly cooking in the oven. Stews can be the promise for another day.

What was simmering away was an Indian beef stew, one that I've made for years. A pound and a half of stew meat would make at least four, maybe five servings, with a rice pilaf and something vegetable (perhaps ginger/turmeric/cumin seed cabbage cooked in ghee, perhaps saag paneer with spinach and Indian cheese). A stew with complex flavors.

It's a variant on a Julie Sahni recipe that has morphed based upon my impatience and the availability of ingredients. My children have eaten it since they were toddlers, so you know it's not overly spicy. You could put some cooked cauliflower in it when reheating it if you wanted, to stretch it a bit.

Ah, reheating - that's the ticket. When I first read the recipe, I was overjoyed to see the endnote that said it was even better reheated. So I've gotten in the habit of cooking it in a large batch and then freezing half of it for later use.

On the nights when I'm out at a meeting or away at a conference, PH can enjoy the warmth of a home-cooked favorite. On the nights when I come home too tired to whip something up from scratch, I can just pull it out of the freezer. That's true comfort food: it pats you on the head and says "there, there, here's something good and warming and easy for you tonight. Enjoy!"

Indian Beef Stew (after Julie Sahni) - 4-5 servings, depending on how many side dishes you serve.

0. Preheat the oven to 325 deg F.

1. In a food processor or blender, whizz up 1 cup of canned, crushed tomatoes, 4 garlic cloves, 2 Tbsp of grated fresh ginger, and a half cup of Greek plain yogurt. Put to the side.

2. Chop up a large sweet onion (I prefer WallaWallas to Vidalias, but this will even work with regular yellow onions).

3. In a large Dutch oven - got to love the Le Creuset for this kind of cooking - saute 1 1/2 pounds of stew meat - chuck is good for this - in 2 Tbsp canola oil over medium high heat. Don't overcrowd the beef; you will need to do this in a couple of batches so the meat properly sautees. You want the meat to brown, not steam! As the meat is browned, take it out of the pan and put it into a bowl.

4. Once all the meat is browned, turn down the heat under the pan to low-medium and add the chopped onions. Sahni wants you to cook the onions verrrrry slowly, for 15 or 20 minutes. Yes, this is lovely, but I go a bit quicker, maybe 6-10 minutes, and the onions are soft and have picked up all the caramelized bits of brown fromt he bottom of the pan. Stir them every now and then while they are cooking.

5. Now add 8 green cardamom pods, 8 whole cloves, 2 tsp turmeric, a dash of cayenne (hot food fanatics can add more cayenne), and 1 1/2 tsp of Kosher salt. Stir it as the spices get warm and warm up, maybe for a minute, and then add that yogurt-tomato mix you made in step 1. The heat is still set for low-medium. Stir it around once or twice, then let it cook for a few minutes, until it starts to bubble a bit. Add 1 1/2 c hot water, stir it again, and put the meat back into the pot. Make sure the liquid covers the meat - add a little more if necessary - cover the pot with aluminum foil and then the pot lid so it is well and truly sealed.

6. Put the pot into the preheated oven for about two hours. Take it out, and let it cool for an hour before you transfer the stew to storage containers for the frig or the freezer. If you're going to serve it right away, taste for salt, add some toasted cumin seeds and chopped cilantro and you're good to go. If you've stored it away, you'll add the cumin and cilantro when you reheat it.

Julie is right. It is better reheated, and it's a whole lot better than a Swansons frozen whatever.

Tonight, by the way, we aren't eating in. We're taking advantage of DC Restaurant Week to try a rather pricey restaurant we wouldn't normally go to The stew will be waiting patiently for us, though. As I said, the promise of another day.

Cold and Tired but Good

Random dots of today:

• small congregation, due to the cold and post-holiday fatigue, I think but some returning new folks, which is lovely
• great response to the sermon, probably better than it deserved, but I am grateful it spoke to some folks
• great response to the first in the epiphany adult ed series. Sometimes you get on a roll, you know?
• dash over to the Mother Ship for a meeting with the wonderful family that is donating land upon which Saint Middle School will eventually build a church building
• a 2 1/2 hour meeting full of prayer and laughter and a few tears and many sacred moments, and having a lawyer in the room who has a deep spiritual core helped move us across some slippery icy spots with grace
• a too-fast drive home to take StrongOpinions to the bus stop downtown to head back to the Big Apple....
• which would have been perfect had said bus not driven right past the appointed bus stop
• dinner with SO and PH at home, thrown together quickly because I had just run out of gas with no Sunday afternoon nap.

She will leave tomorrow morning. It will not be the bus that takes her to within three blocks of her apartment - that only comes once a day. She will have to take the three subways to get home from midtown, but will survive.

I think most of tomorrow (after I get SO to the bus stop) will be consumed with sleep and gentle reading. And I think I shall head upstairs and put on the pajamas and pretend to read three pages while I doze off.

God is good.

Today's Sermon: Luke 3:15-17, 21-22 "Surprised"

The late Irish poet and philosopher John O’Donahue told a story a few years ago:

He went from his home in Connemara to visit his brother in County Clare. His brother worked the family farm there. In the evening, after supper, he noticed his brother seemed a bit preoccupied, and asked what was the matter. It turned out that there was a cow that was due to calf soon, and he thought he should go out and help the cow deliver. John offered to go and help.They put on their rubber boots and warm coats and headed out into the night.

Now, calving is hard work. Often the cow needs help from the farmer, who will grab the calf’s legs and pull to deliver the calf.

So John and his brother went out in the cold, dark night, with only the stars and a half-moon lighting the way over the mountaintop. They found that the cow had already calved. The newborn was on the ground, still in its birth sac, as John said, "a sodden lump of calfness." They knew the cow would get the calf up and suckling soon, so they walked back to the farmhouse. A few hours later, they went back out to check on the calf. Its mother had licked off the birth sac, cleaned it up, and it had nursed. It was standing up, close to its mother.

John thought, “I wonder if this little calf, born in the dead of night, has any idea what is going to happen in a few hours?” What would go on in that calf’s little brain when the dawn came?

A remarkable thought – what happens when something so wonderful, so unexpected, so transformative comes and shines a light into our lives?

In the gospel today, we have leapt from the story of Jesus’ beginnings on Christmas to the story of his recognition when he was taken to the temple for his circumcision on January 1st, to the visit of wise men from the East on Wednesday for the Feast of the Epiphany. All these stories at the start of Jesus’ life, but suddenly, today, the first Sunday after Epiphany, we hear the story of the beginning of his active ministry, as an adult, when he is baptized by John.

In Luke’s version of the story, it is clear that John knows someone special is coming – he tells the people that he – John – is not the Messiah, but that someone is coming after him who will baptize with the Holy Spirit and with fire.

Then, quickly, the story mentions that everybody is being baptized by John, and Jesus also. It doesn’t include the part that we hear in Matthew, about John questioning why Jesus wants to be baptized. No, it is taken as a given here, that Jesus would also be baptized. And then Jesus prays.
It is important to the story as Luke tells it that Jesus prays. He responds to John baptizing him by praying to his heavenly father.

And then his heavenly father responds back, the Holy Spirit coming down on him in the “bodily form of a dove” and a loud voice saying “You are my son, the beloved; with you I am well pleased.” God ordains Jesus as the Messiah in those words.

Now John may have anticipated Jesus coming, that Jesus was the Messiah they all had been waiting for. I doubt, though, that he could have anticipated the holy dove coming down, and the voice making the proclamation.

That’s the interesting thing about how God interacts with us: no matter how much we think we can look ahead and figure out God’s plan for us, God always has something bigger in mind. We cannot anticipate it. We’re like the calf – we don’t know there is such a thing as sunrise, and when it happens, we’re utterly blown away by it. And when it happens, it is God ordaining us, telling us we are beloved, telling us he is proud of us.

And it happens in two ways. The first is in baptism. It is no mistake that Jesus gets baptized, even though he is without sin, and it is no mistake that it is the start of Jesus’ ministry. When Jesus is so named, it affirms his role in the great flow of human history. God’s words affirm Jesus’ role and give him the strength to face the work ahead. Those words establish Jesus’authority to do what he came to do. They also are a mark of love and caring. Clarence Jordan, in the Cotton Patch Gospel, paraphrases God’s words as “You are my dear son; I’m proud of you.” How better to step into a new ministry than to be so blessed by one’s father!

But it is equally telling that it happens as Jesus prays. All God asks of us is to love him and believe in him…and praying is the way that we show God that. Praying – a conversation with God, nothing more and nothing less. Here’s the thing about prayer: just as in baptism we are affirmed and named as beloved of God, in prayer we affirm back our relationship with God and we tell God that we love him. It is the perfectly logical response to that which God has given us when we were baptized. Jesus is modeling the behavior we all should do, praying words of love and gratitude.

So what does this have to do with surprises? Is there going to be some sort of magical, incredibly surprising event in our lives, a grand show with a holy dove and a loud voice from above?

Perhaps…and perhaps not. But the surprises happen in little ways every day.

I’m thinking of the multiple kidney transplants that occurred this summer at Johns Hopkins. These so-called domino kidney transplants occur when several people who need transplants have friends or relatives who are willing to donate organs but aren't compatible. A chain of surgeries is arranged in which each donor is matched with a transplant candidate they don't know but who is compatible with the kidney being donated. Chain transplants typically also involve an altruistic donor, who is willing to donate a kidney to anyone and is located through a database.

Who could imagine that such a phenomenon could occur, as surprising as the first sunrise you’ve ever seen? The affirmation of the skill of the doctors, the prayers to find a donor, the timing of those who register and are tested for possible donations….yes, it’s science, but it’s God, too, showing his love, responding to prayers.

Sometimes it is so much smaller, a teacher telling a student who has been the butt of teasing that she is wonderful, and that the teacher is so proud of her for standing up to the bullies. Yes, it’s the teacher, but it is God working through that teacher, giving her the perception to see what was going on and how this student needed a kind word, and it is the prayer of that student that someone, anyone, could understand what she is going through.

Sometimes it’s just a momentary feeling of being not alone in the midst of hard times. It may be a sense that there is one who hears your prayers, even if there are no easy answers.

So it is when John baptizes Jesus. It is a small moment, a phrase that seems almost an afterthought in the story this morning: “…all the people were baptized, and … Jesus also was baptized and was praying…” It is in that small moment that the surprise comes, one that John the Baptist couldn’t have predicted, one that may also have been a little bit surprising to Jesus himself…a blessing of the Messiah and of his prayers, an affirmation of his work.

The small moments sometimes carry the deepest truths about who we are, and how we are shaped in our relationship with our heavenly father. So we keep our ears open, our hearts at the ready, and our voices ever lifted in prayer, even in the small moments. God is there in those small moments, and works in them in large ways.

Amen.

Friday Recipe

If you want a snack that's heart-healthy and relatively low-carb, try these sweet and spicy nuts:

2 egg whites
3/4 cup Splenda
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp ginger
1 tsp curry powder
1/2 tsp chile powder (I like Penzey's ancho chile powder)
1/2 tsp cloves
1/2 tsp nutmeg
24 ounces of nuts (I usually do an equal mix of pecans, almonds, and walnuts)
Coarse salt

Preheat the oven to 325 deg.
Beat the egg whites until soft peaks form. Add a pinch of salt, the Splenda, and the spices. Beat until thoroughly mixed. Fold in the nuts, stirring until all the nuts have some of the egg-spice coating on them.
Spread the mixture on a cookie sheet on which you've put parchment paper or a Silpat liner. Sprinkle with a little more Splenda if you like, and a little coarse salt.

Bake for 5-6 minutes, then stir around a bit, and bake for another 7 minutes. Let cool.

These make the house smell wonderful and they taste delicious. It's hard to eat just a few!

Addictions

I know from addictions - I grew up among them. I've been diligent in avoiding that kind of self-destructive behavior, except for food when I'm on steroids - then all bets are off.

That said, there remains one kind of addictive behavior that I'm helpless to fight...

...yarns and patterns for my knitting stash.

It makes no difference that I have three different projects going at once right now.

It makes no difference that I have two or three others waiting in the wings.

It makes no difference that this stuff costs money that I shouldn't spend right now.

When I see something like this, I really, really want to buy it:

This is a kit from Sweden, and it costs a bunch of euros, and it is only with the most DILIGENT SELF-CONTROL that I have avoided ordering it. However, if I get a call to a permanent position, I may well celebrate by getting it. Heaven only knows when it will get done, if I do get it. But dang, isn't it gorgeous?

Back to the Real World

The retreat was brief but lovely. The picture above is the newly constructed chapel, built to honor our recently retired bishop. Exquisitely done. I covet it for my little mission parish, once we finally get the land issues sorted out. It's too small for us - it's currently set up to seat 80 - but the design is so spare but uplifting, and being able to see out into the world, where Christ calls us to be his hands and feet, is a good thing. If we could have this design, about half again as large, it would be so great. We'll see what God has in mind for our little place.














Leaving the retreat center, I trekked north from the Capital of the Confederacy. After a meander around the neighborhood of a parish where I interviewed last week, I got on the road, and decided to hop off Rt 95 and get on meandering Rt 1 for part of it. It is always so interesting to do that - to see where new homes are being built and the market they are targeting, to see different ethnic markets along the way juxtaposed with the ubiquitous Mickey D's and Burger Ding. A little frustrating with all the traffic lights, but still interesting, and probably less likely to kill me than competing with the 85 mph semis and souped up cars on the highway.

Anyway, back to the real world. I finally got my H1N1 vaccination, didsome grocery shopping, and came home to sort through a zillion emails and cook supper. Life is good. A retreat really is a good thing.

A Place Apart

I'm off at the diocesan retreat center for a couple of days. A few dear friends are here as well - we stayed up way too late last night talking and sharing a bottle of wine. It is a delight to be somewhere quiet and undemanding. My schedule today has been to get up for breakfast, go work out, shower, go to 10:30 a.m. Eucharist at the newly built chapel here (just beautiful!), knit in front of the fire and think a bit, lunch with my friends plus some new friends, now back to the room to read and meditate, and maybe take a nap. Dinner and compline tonight, more reading and resting.

Our diocese offers time here for clergy - a couple of days for free - twice a year. What a gift! It has taken me a full day to step away from the feeling of obligation to do work stuff and just be present to God. It's reminding me once again how important this kind of respite is.

Eighth Day of Christmas...

and my love didn't give me much of anything today, but that's just fine. We had icon-writing today and St Nicholas of Myra is progressing. Worked on his (admittedly thin) hair. He will be very nice when he is done.

PH and I are going out for date night tonight...probably Indian food, since we haven't had that for a while and it is so cold that very spicy food would be pure pleasure.

We saw "Invictus" last night - wonderful beyond words. I'm not much of a sports person, and the movie revolves around the rugby world cup series, but it is a great telling of the story of Mandela when he first becomes president of South Africa and his wisdom in leadership. It blew me away, and when the crowd sang "Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika" PH and I were both wiping our eyes (PH grew up in Africa). Definitely a must see.

Tomorrow will be the Christmas Pageant at Saint Middle School - adorable kids in adorable costumes, singing familiar carols. This event was postponed because of the Snowpocalypse on Dec 20th, and this gives me a great opportunity to teach about the twelve days of Christmas, focusing the celebration on the time between Christmas and Epiphany. Should be fun. Afterwards I'll be driving down to the diocesan conference center for a couple of days of retreat with some of my clergy chick friends.

I can't tell you how ready I am for a brief break for prayer and quiet reading. It's been a busy few weeks, and there are lots of things cooking right now, and time to get some perspective will be very helpful.

PH will spend the next week teaching a DMin class at a seminary nearby...good to see him doing something he does well and doesn't get much chance to do anymore. And I've left him with enough frozen food that he certainly won't starve to death while I'm away.

TTYL.

Happy New Year!

A quiet day around here - PH had no clients and I did not have any particular responsibilities. I did some exercising (weights) and reading the newspaper and doing Sudoku and the crossword, then went out for a nice long walk with PH in the freezing rain. On such a day, PolarTec is a good thing. So is a delightful conversationalist as a walking companion.

A bit of cooking: spiced nuts (a legal and very satisfying treat) and apple-cranberry chutney, to accompany chicken and pork and other such things later in the week. Time spent reading and relaxing.

Dinner around here will be broiled lobster tails, baked asparagus with olive oil and parmegiano, a green salad with beets and oranges and red onions, and some sort of rice pilaf. Champagne, of course, since it is New Years' Eve. We will not go out - we are not big-crowd people and this night brings out the less pleasant aspects of some folks - but will stay cocooned in the house, watching "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button," assuming we can stay awake that long.

If we are still awake at midnight, we will say "rabbit, rabbit," as my children tell me we must do for luck, share a kiss, and then sleep soundly. Goodbye, 2009. It was a year with many blessings and many challenges. No reason to think that 2010 will be any different, and that's just fine with me.

Happy New Year! May your year be full of the sweetness and piquancy that makes life rich.

The Eve of the Eve

It's been a busy day.

One meeting with a parishioner in discernment, another with a couple who will renew their wedding vows in two weeks.

Work with Fabulous Parish Administrator to finalize Sunday's bulletin and announcements.

A jaunt over to Costco, where I spent an inordinate amount of money stocking up on staples, on the theory that if I get ten pounds worth of oatmeal, I will immediately get called to a position far away and it will seem ridiculous to transport the oatmeal. Like the "carrying an umbrella prevents rain" theory.

A quick stop to the Temple of Food, to see if they had any more nifty little bags of clementines. In the past, we have bought those wooden crates of them (in violation of our promise to eat locally as much as possible) because they are so very, very delicious, but we can never get through the whole box before they start to spoil. Thus, the arrival of the bags, which hold about half as many, was a boon. It's bad enough to feel guilty about buying a product which travels very far to get to us, but it's even worse when one ends up tossing a third of the box. Anything to reduce the guilt, you know. But no little bags, only the boxes, so I guess that's it for us for clementines for the year.

Home again, after a detour to the library to stock up on reading material.

Some people go to the supermarket to stock up on milk and bread and such when a storm is headed their way (we have some icy rain coming tomorrow morning). Some people do the same when a holiday is coming up and they fear they won't have access to a store.

I go to the library. Priorities, you know.

Movin' On Down the Road

Yesterday was a busy day. StrongOpinions was headed out west to visit friends and I was headed south for an interview with a search committee. The interview was scheduled for 6:30 pm, and it was about 95 miles south of here. I dropped StrongOpinions at the airport at 3 p.m., thinking "three and a half hours is plenty of time to get to the interview."

After all, 95 miles, almost all of which was on a superhighway, is not that far, and should only take two hours.

I was wrong.

It was a crawl, a literal crawl, from about 7 miles south of my starting point for another 40 miles. The first 20 miles took two hours. The next twenty took another hour.

Suffice to say I was not on time. Four hours on the road, much of it riding the clutch, in first gear - yes, my car has a standard transmission. Normally, four hours would get me from Washington to New York, and normally this drive would take just under two hours. Fortunately, I was able to touch base with the head of the committee with whom I was meeting and let her know I'd be a tad late, and the group was gracious about it.

It was a good meeting, and we will see where it will lead. Friendly and faithful people looking forward to what God has in mind for them, asking challenging questions of the candidates for the position and asking questions of themselves as well. A lovely church campus, in an interesting neighborhood.

Yes, we shall see what the road is ahead. I do hope, however, that it isn't four hours in stop and go traffic.

One of the Best Parts of the Season

Grandchildren...too adorable!

Ahhhhh

We are all duly fed, both with venison and vegetarian fare. Gifts were opened to much laughter and appreciation - we tend toward the gifts that amuse rather than amaze - and phone calls with family who could not be here with us were a delight.

The apple frangipane tart was a success, and I indulged in a small piece, it being Christmas.

StrongOpinions got a Christmas present from Big Apple Ivy - a significant scholarship towards her tuition. This is a help that is much appreciated.

There was a time, many moons ago, that I had a lot of money. Christmases then were marked by piles of gifts under a very large tree...and the children descended on the piles and tore through them in what seemed like seconds.

Now our Christmases are marked by the right recognition that the gifts are athird tier pleasure of the day...the first is the celebration of the Incarnation, and the second is the pleasure of being together. The piles of gifts are more like little mounds.

But the smiles, the joy, the appreciation...it all seems so much greater now. Perspective on what love really is and from whence it comes - it changes things for the better. I don't miss the big piles of presents, not one whit.

Merry Christmas, all.

A Different Sort of Christmas

Things are very quiet right now Chez Mibi. StrongOpinions will get here around 9 tonight, if the pending rainstorm doesn't delay her train. The morning has been the most blissful sort of gift.

Last night I presided at the 5 pm Christmas Even service of Carols, Candlelight and Communion at Saint Middle School. Lovely turnout - the auditorium was quite full - with many new families there. I hope some of them will return in the coming weeks.

I was blessed with the beautiful white and gold chasuble and stole (see below) the parish commissioned for me, from our parishioner Gifted Seamstress, who has her own small business/ministry in vestments and paraments. The Children's Sermon featured Jacob the shepherd boy, played by a young boy with that name who hammed it up delightfully. The adult sermon is below...on days like Christmas, I like to do a story sermon in the tradition (though without the great gifts) of Frederick Buechner,and this one followed that model.














We had a fairly tight schedule after that service to go to PH's church's 10 pm service of Lessons and Carols. So we stopped to grab a quick bite (I had had grand plans of making us a picnic basket to consume in the 35 mile drive from one place to the other, but that didn't happen). Perhaps our new tradition may be Christmas Eve...

..wait for it...

SUSHI!

Perfect! Protein, light, didn't get in the way of the need to be able to sing for the late service, and the wasabi cleared the sinuses a bit.

PH's little church had maybe 40 attending. Very intimate, very lovely in its way. I had been asked to sing "O Holy Night" - a delight to be able to sing a solo now that I'm ordained and serving elsewhere. It was over by 11:30, and we got home again in time to share a midnight Christmas kiss and fall soundly asleep.

So this morning (Saint Middle School doesn't have a Christmas morning service), PH and I slept in until 8 a.m., almost high noon in our world, then enjoyed a cup of coffee and tea, respectively, and went for a long walk through the still-snow-covered neighborhood. PH made us some bacon and eggs, and now we just are relaxing. We've decided to hold off on opening presents until StrongOpinions gets here.

But we have ever-present gifts that we enjoy - children who are doing well, each in their own way, relatively good health, work that we both love, extended family who are a joy, two neurotic cats who provide us much entertainment, books, food, a roof overhead...we are blessed.

Blessed most of all, of course, in the gift of the One whose birth we celebrate today, in his saving grace and love for us because of and despite of who and how we are.

Anything under the tree, lovely as it might be, is secondary to that.

Sermon for Christmas Eve, 2009 Luke 2:1-20 “Enough”

The town was packed with people. The smart ones had come early in the day, knowing what the crowds would be like. They made their way to Bethlehem by noon, found lodgings, took a nap in the afternoon heat, settled in, preparing for the long lines that would await them when they went to register for the census.

But Joseph and Mary were late. The donkey was old and couldn’t move very quickly, and that was just as well, because Mary was so great with child and so uncomfortable that the jouncing if the beast had been able to go fast would have made the trip unbearable. So by the time they got to Bethlehem, it was dark, and the heat of the day was gone. Desert countries are quite cool at night, you know. Mary shivered, wanting nothing more than to rest after the trip. They had gone 80 miles from Nazareth to Bethlehem, a long distance for someone like her, the longest distance she had ever traveled.

And now, here they were, in the town, trudging from lodging place to lodging place – there were only a few in a town the size of Bethlehem, and it seemed they had sold out all the rooms much earlier in the day. They were getting desperate, because it was getting even colder in the night, and the donkey was tired, and Mary was aching deep in her bones, and Joseph was getting more angry with himself for not leaving earlier….we’ve all been on road trips like that, haven’t we, where it hasn’t worked out as planned and the whole family is feeling the strain of wrong decisions?

And so, there they were, on the edge of town, at the very last lodging house, and once again, the innkeeper said, “I’m sorry, we’re all full up. No more rooms.”

And something in Joseph snapped. He got angry, this normally gentle man with the big woodworker’s hands. He said, “Man, can’t you see that she is great with child? No room! No room! Won’t anyone take pity on this woman and give her a place to rest?”

The innkeeper was tired, too. The crowds of people in town were a boon to him – he needed the money they paid – but they were hard work too. Demanding more straw for the pallets, more water, more food…everyone was on edge, it happened whenever the Romans pushed the people around, and a census like this was just one more way the Romans showed they had all the power. The Romans snapped their fingers and everyone had to go to their ancestral town to be counted. So those with inns in Bethlehem struggled with a clientele that wasn’t happy – this wasn’t a pleasurable trip, it was a government order – and now here was this last in a long string of angry men at his door. Well, it wasn’t HIS fault. He wasn’t the emperor, was he? It wasn’t his fault that this fellow got here so late. It certainly wasn’t his fault that this woman, no more than a girl, really, was so big with child that it looked like she could give birth any moment?

He took a second look at the girl. Such a calm face. Tired, yes, but peaceful and beautiful in that peace…the innkeeper thought she must be exhausted by the long trip but she said nothing, just sitting on the donkey, a small smile playing around the edges of her lips.

Well, he had no rooms, but maybe there was something…the cave nearby, where the animals were kept. It was rough, but at least in a cave there would be some shelter from the cold night air. Yes, there were animals there, but that would provide more warmth, wouldn’t it? And maybe tomorrow they might find a room somewhere else in town…yes, for tonight it would have to be enough for them, the best he could do under the circumstances, you know.

So he stepped out of the doorway and said “Go over to the foot of the mountains over there – it’s not far, just a hundred meters or so – and there is a cave there. It’s where we keep the animals. Yes, I know, it’s not a room, but it will have to do – I really don’t have anything else. At least you’ll be out of the night winds, and she can rest…there will be fresh straw there for her to lie down on, my boy mucked it out this morning, so it’s pretty clean…”

Joseph looked for a moment as if he was going to say something harsh – put my wife in a cave with animals? – but he stopped himself. He took a deep breath, and simply said “thank you, thank you for helping us.” And he led the donkey over to that cave, away from the bustle of the town to a quiet place where his wife could rest, and he told himself that it was better than a noisy inn where the straw pallets probably had bedbugs and the noise from out-of-towners would have kept them awake, even dog-tired as they were.

The stars were beautiful and the moon was bright, and when they got into the cave it was surprisingly warm and inviting and smelled only a bit like the animals, from their warm breath. It would do, for tonight…maybe tomorrow they’d find better accommodations while they registered for this stupid census.

These two very human, very tired people, doing what the law required, trying to be faithful to their God at the same time, with the strange and wondrous knowledge of what this pregnancy meant for them and for the world…and yet they didn’t say to the innkeeper “Give us a room, because Mary is carrying the Son of God!” Such a demand would have brought unwanted attention from the authorities – little did they know that Herod would hear of the child’s birth from Eastern wise men – and attention from the authorities was never a good thing.

No, they took the gift of that little cave with the manger as enough. It was warm and dry, the animals were not too malodorous, it was quiet. It was enough.

This season of gifts and giving sometimes starts to feel like a celebration of “never enough.” Got to get a bigger tree, got to buy more presents, got to have fancier clothes, got to, got to, got to….

So tonight we take a moment to reflect on the ultimate gift of this night, under the starry sky, this little baby who will save us, redeem us. It is enough. He is enough. And the only question we need answer is this: are WE enough for him? That is our Christmas hope this night, in the cold night air, under the stars, with just the briefest scent of warm animal breath and fresh straw in our nostrils, and the sweet sound of a newborn child cooing in his mother’s arms. May we be enough, in our love of him, in our service to him, in our care for each other.

Amen.

Simply because it's time for some giggles...

If I Were Having a Christmas Party...

...this is what I'd make for it.

Croquembouche. A Christmas tree of little bitty cream puffs, filled with luscious pastry cream. Attached to a paper cone with chocolate.

Damn, that looks good.

(Can you tell that the low-carb diet is wearing on me a bit?)

Checking Off the List

Sermons - done.

Bulletins - done.

Gifts - bought and wrapped.

Paperwork with Senior Warden on various things - done.

Grocery shopping - done.

Cooking - begun.

Wegman's (the Temple of Food) was packed today, but I did get to share a Christmas hug with a parishioner who works there. I didn't even try to go into Marshall's to find another set of the plush microfiber sheets - polartec sheets - brilliant! The line of cars circling the parking lot was too intimidating.

I was out at The Mother Ship today, finishing up things with Wonderful Parish Administrator, dealing with making sure the school where our parish meets is plowed out for Thursday evening, having the final fitting on the amazingly beautiful white chasuble and stole that Saint Middle School commissioned the Gifted Seamstress to make for me. (PH: "why do you need a fitting for something that's essentially a poncho?" Low-church heathen, he is. I'm short, dammit. Regular length chasubles swim on me. She needed to get the right hem length and arm length.)

Please say a prayer for two dear persons who are struggling with difficult and life-threatening diagnoses. The coming months will be hard for each of them, and for those who love them.

A friend told me about Blue Christmas services, for those who are facing Christmas after a death of someone they love, or in the midst of depression or medical travail, or some other deep sadness...I wish I had heard of this earlier. I may do that next year. They are tied to the Longest Night of the Year, and provide a liturgy to provide comfort in the midst of darkness, when it seems hard to see the light that is to come. A good bit of pastoral theology, I think.

StrongOpinions had her last exam up at Big Apple Ivy this afternoon - it was the one she most feared, and she came away from it feeling like she did reasonably well. She will head up to her eldest stepbrother's for Christmas Eve, and then will be down with us for a few days starting on Christmas Day. We will do all the silly things that are part of our celebration of Christmas, like making cookies out of cornflakes and marshmallows and copious amounts of green food coloring, shaped like wreaths, and maybe even a buche de noel, even though I'm trying to avoid eating that kind of stuff, and a pilgrimage to the cheese boutique - bliss!

Sunday will be Lessons and Carols with Holy Eucharist, and the following Sunday will be the postponed Children's Pageant.

That's the news that's fit to print around here. Are you ready for the coming of the Light of the World?

Carb Coma

We have sort of dug ourselves out of the snow. The clean walk at left is the result of PH's hard work, not the management company, which seems to have done virtually no sidewalk cleaning at all. The side roads are rutty and icy, but main thoroughfares are clean as a whistle, thank goodness. I went out to run some errands this morning, and the supermarket was open but not very well-stocked. The library was not open, drat.

The afternoon was a delight. Twice a year, several friends from seminary meet for tea at the Ritz Carlton adjacent to a major shopping mall hard by Your Nation's Capital. Today was that day. One of our number was celebrating a birthday, which made it that much more festive. We had champagne, a number of little savory sandwiches, a scone, and several little extraordinarily rich sweet things. Plus tea, of course. Since I have been adhering to a diet centered on lots of veggies, some fruit, and some proteins, this was seriously off the diet, but what the heck. I'll fast tomorrow, or something.

The only challenge of the afternoon was the traffic. Gazillions of people had no work today because of the blizzard (AKA Snowpocalypse) and were going shopping to make up for the lost time over the weekend. Just taking the ramp off the highway took about a half hour, and finding a parking spot in the garage took some patience as well. I'm glad I budgeted some extra time, to find a little giftie for Wonderful Parish Administrator and a card for PH. I went into Sephora after tea and it was like the Filene's Basement Bridal Dress Sale - incredibly crowded, people elbowing each other as if the eyeshadow was 22 cents instead of 22 dollars. I had plans for the stocking stuffers, and managed to get them, but it was just a little crazy-wild there. Glad all the shopping is done now!

We were supposed to have staff luncheon tomorrow, but it will be postponed until after the holidays - several other more pressing things got in the way. I am feeling festive and glad that the prep work for the various services coming up is all done and my wonderful team of lay volunteers have much of the details under control. Praying for no further snow for a bit...we've had enough. Life is good, though - we are employed, health is holding, roof overhead, food in the frig, presents under the tree - and God has interesting things ahead for us in the coming year.

Now if only the cats weren't quite so interested in the ornaments on the Christmas tree...

Proven Wrong - Not the First Time and Not the Last

Yesterday I said it was unlikely we'd have 18 inches of snow. We are now well over that, and still getting snow. My guess is that we'll end up with somewhere in the vicinity of 22-24 inches. No newspaper delivery, no mail delivery, not much activity around the townhouse complex. The Metrobus and Metro train system are shut down, and there is virtually no air traffic overhead.

We cancelled church for tomorrow, as did most of the churches in the greater DC area. One clergyperson opined as to how we were not living into our vocations as priests by cancelling our services. Easy to say if you've got your own church building, and a rectory right next store. Saint Middle School's public school venue is completely snowed in. They won't be plowing - they've cancelled classes for next week. The custodian isn't going in and so we couldn't even get into the building. Then, of course, there is the 40 mile commute for me to get out there. Somehow, I can't get terribly worried about whether I am fulfilling my call appropriately in this situation. Better that our parishioners stay home and safe while the professionals go about the work of clearing the roads, and may they all say a pray for those folks and the others who must work in this blizzard.

We will reconvene on Christmas Eve, and I will be glad none of them (including me) risked life and limb on Sunday morning.

Semi-frantic Friday

Not me, so much. Everything is queued up that can be queued up for Sunday and for Christmas Eve. Gifts are all mailed, food shopping is done. Mostly the house is clean and we've done all decorating that we're going to do for this year.

No, the problem is that there is a winter storm bearing down on Your Nation's Capital, due to begin after midnight tonight, and that brings out the crazy in the populace around here. Particularly when the weather forecasters talk anywhere from 8 to over 12 inches of accumulation.

I had an appointment first thing this morning. I swung by the supermarket to get some salt for our front step, since the management company isn't particularly efficient at cleaning walks and such. Long line of folks getting bread, milk, eggs, and toilet paper (diapers, too, if they have little ones). I went to the drugstore to pick up something for PH, and there were many folks there, as well, stocking up on everything under the sun.

Realistically, even if we had 18 inches of snow (pretty unlikely), the most we would all be stuck in our little cubbies would be maybe 36 hours.

That doesn't mean that we need to go all cowboy about this, though. I was supposed to drive down to the Capital of the Confederacy tomorrow morning for a job interview. The chair of the committee and I decided that it would be foolhardy to make a 95 mile drive down and then back again in the midst of what will be a bad snowstorm. I fully expect to make it out the 40 miles to Saint Middle School on Sunday morning, since the snow will stop late on Saturday, unless the custodian can't make it out to the school to open it up for us. Wouldn't that be ironic?

So the house is nice and warm, the snowboots have been located, the ice-melt stuff is by the front door, and there is ample food in the fridge.

I don't think they'll have to send out the St Bernards, do you?

Uff Dah

That lovely general and tender expletive from the Norse fits the way I feel. It's been a long day. A good day, but a long one.

• A wonderful and intense meeting with someone who is discerning God's call.
• Picking up a parishioner who cannot drive for medical reasons, bringing her to noon Eucharist, running a long list of errands with her, and lunching with her before taking cards with our Christmas activity calendar with a candy cane attached and pasting them on garage doors through her neighborhood.
• Going back to the office to proof two different bulletins and the Sunday announcement insert. Thank the Lord for the Volunteer Guy who does the first draft, the Fabulous Parish Administrator who does the second draft, and the software to modify things fairly easily.
• Dealing with the miserable traffic on the Beltway going home. Seriously, it took me 40 minutes to go the 30 or so miles from church to the Beltway, another 40 minutes to go 5 miles on the Beltway to my exit, then another 15 for the last three to get home. Would that there was a more efficient alternative, but it's just the normal traffic and the surface roads are as bad if not worse. Yes, I've whined about this before, and I probably should come up with a clever acronym for the experience (TBS=The Beltway Sux, maybe?) to save you having to read this over and over. Sorry.

I had plans for getting a few other things done today, but at this point in my parish's life, attention to pastoral matters and getting the bulletins done are the best and highest use of my time. I wish I didn't have to commute so far to get it done, but that's the lot of an interim.

At least most all the shopping and shipping is done.

Tuesdays are NOT the new Mondays

Usually, Monday is a Sabbath around here, with teensy bits of work intruding on the peace. Yesterday was a full, rock'em-sock'em day, ending with a Vestry meeting than ran pretty late into the evening (followed by a 50 minute commute back home). I love my Vestry, and this was an extraordinary meeting on many levels, but I was toast by the time I rolled in to Chez Mibi.

I had hoped today would be a bit more calm, but it seems not to be so, and the list of That Which Must Be Dealt With grows by the hour. This is, of course, the way of this time of the year. Extra activities, planning for the administrative part of year's end and for the year to come, people in the midst of personal challenges getting overwrought, usually for very good reasons.

So I'm looking forward to a couple of Sabbath moments in the coming weeks: spiritual direction on Wednesday, high tea with some friends next Monday, a 2 and a half day retreat with some dear ClergyChick friends right after 2 Christmas, some quiet time with PH in the car othis Saturday while we drive down to the Capital of the Confederacy for an interview (prayers welcomed).

For some folks, the extroverts, Sabbath is the renewal gained by being with a bunch of folks doing non-work stuff. For those of us who are introverts, Sabbath must be quieter to do its healing work. I'm grateful for those moments...and am reminding myself that I must make them happen.

So I'm reminded of the instructions for meditation by St John of the Cross, the final step of which is this: "Loving and attentive repose in God, to make sure we are fully prepared for that moments when the intelligence opens itself up to God's illumination."

Without the repose, how can one apprehend the illumination?

A Prayer for Ablutions with Purell

This comes from the Rev. Mike Kinman, Dean of Christ Church Cathedral in St. Louis, via the Rev. Scott Gunn...too good not to share!

Holy God, creator of all things in heaven and on earth, we give you thanks for the gift of this Purell, for ethyl alcohol, it’s active ingredient and for Isopropyl Myristate, Tocopheryl Acetate, Aminoethl Proponal and other inactive ingredients whose purpose is known only to you and in files that cannot be released by the Food and Drug Administration until 2079. We humbly ask that your love and care for all creation not extend to the microbes we hope to eradicate through our sometimes fanatical and paranoid cleansing and that you guard and protect us from all superviruses we might be unleashing on the world through the same. We also beg your protection and indemnification for ourselves, Johnson and Johnson, Gojo industries and all other subsidiaries from liability and physical or spiritual damage from the use of this sanitizer. Finally, may the chemical cleansing of our hands be a an outward and visible sign of the cleansing of our hearts, and may the pungent and alcohol-laden scent waft heavenward as incense in your presence. In the name of your son, Jesus Christ, who, like Purell, comes as fire and burns away all that is not worthy of surviving in your presence.
Let the church say … AMEN.

I thought I left that life behind me...

...when I followed my call to ordained ministry. You know...the life I had when I was a lobbyist for a very large financial institution, working in "Gucci Gulch" in downtown DC where all the cool lobbyists have their office. I spent an inordinate amount of time working with lawyers (I was the rare lobbyist who wasn't a lawyer), parsing incredibly dense language, while armwrestling with people on Capitol Hill and elsewhere.

So what did I just spend some time on (in between bulletins and planning the service for the Vestry meeting tonight, etc, etc)? Talking with a lawyer about the land that St Middle School is to be gifted. Land that will one day be the home of our church. Joy!

It is a joy, and a generous gift. But the deal is not yet done. This has been dribbling on for a couple of years. Now we are going back and forth with the donor of the land on the precise language that controls our use of it (no, we won't put in a liquor store, but we might put in a day care center at some point, so the language of the covenants for use are important). I am determined to get it buttoned down before this parish calls a permanent vicar. So I've put my quasi-legal hat back on again, working with the wonderful pro bono attorney who is helping us with this, and have girded my loins.

I guess this means that I am using the things I learned in my past life for the benefit of God's church, and that's a good thing, but titrating the percentage of pastoral presence versus hard-ass negotiator in this situation is an interesting challenge. I think I'll let the lawyer take care of the hard-ass stuff, and I'll just be my warm and loving self. (No, don't you dare snicker!)

Lord I Thank You For This Most Amazing Day

Today I was privileged to celebrate Holy Eucharist for the first time at St Middle School. All went remarkably well on this beautiful, albeit damp and cold, Gaudete Sunday. After the service, we had a celebratory brunch - everyone brought delicious food to share, and the Senior Warden brought an insanely large cake. The children of the parish presented me with a stole they had made (with a little adult help) and the parish has arranged for Gifted Maker of Vestments and Paraments to make me my very own white chasuble and stole in time (how can this be?) for Christmas Eve.

Amng the many wonderful folks there was a dear friend from my sponsoring parish, the husband of one of our choristers who hasn't been there for many a moon, lots of great people large and small, and PH, taking a few pictures:

Above, cool rose-colored vestments and paraments, modeled as we set up for our service this morning, made by the Gifted Maker of Vestments and Paraments.

Below, the excellent stole made by our children, modeled by yours truly assisted by one of the gifted artisans.

And the cake of all cakes, complete with the Episcopal logo and our parish logo.

I am blessed to be a part of this wonderful parish family. Wherever I end up, these folks will always have a special place in my heart.

Sermon for Sunday, December 13, 2009 : Luke 3:7-18 and Zeph 3:14-20: “Hard Reset”

You may have noticed the pink vestments today – I’m not wearing pink because it’s my color, although I certainly do like pink. These pink vestments, actually rose-colored, are in honor of a special Sunday in this season of Advent, a Sunday called “Gaudete Sunday” – Rejoice Sunday. Even as we know that the Advent season is one of solemn preparation for the birth of Christ, we cannot help rejoicing because we know the time is drawing near. So we break our sequence of using purple or deep blue vestments and paraments, and shine a little light by wearing the rose. We show our rejoicing not only in words from scripture “Rejoice, and again I say Rejoice always” but in the very color of our garments.

So here we are in the midst of Advent, looking ahead with joyful anticipation to our celebration of the birth of Christ, and what do we get? John the Baptist excoriating the very crowds who came out to be baptized by him, for repentance of their sins. “You brood of vipers!” Not what’s recommended these days in all the church growth literature as a way to win new converts to Christ!

Of course, we could simply say that John was cranky after too much locusts and honey and his back was hurting from sleeping in caves or on the rough ground in the cold night, but his mission was deliberately designed not to be easy to listen to. He was a prophet, after all, and prophets generally talk about how God’s people have gone astray, not how everything’s going to be all right.

John does seem a bit of a killjoy, with all this talk of fire and winnowing forks and axes and stuff, but the scholar John C Morris suggests something different: "underneath the holy fire is holy joy. If the Baptizer can be described as a killjoy, it is because the joy that he kills is the false joy of manufactured sentimentality and superficial jolliness. Underneath John's stern message is the good news that a better world is possible by the grace and power of God."

There is a tendency in the world, particularly this time of year, to pretend that bad things don’t exist, that people aren’t mean to each other, that everyone is good and happy and the world is alright because it’s the holidays…we put red and gold and green glossy wrapping paper over everything to hide the things we wish weren’t there. It’s the holidays, and we’re supposed to be happy, right?

That may be a false kind of happiness, as Morris says. And it is worth the effort and perhaps a little bit of pain to look underneath the glossy paper to the reality beneath, and do some work on fixing that, because therein is the gift that might bring true happiness.

In a way, it’s a little bit like my laptop computer. Every now and again, it locks up on me. I can’t get it to do anything, or, worse, I get the dreaded “blue screen of death.” Something is corrupted, some process confused, and it simply gives up. Ctl-alt-delete isn’t enough. I have to do a hard reset. I unplug the thing. I detach the battery pack. Then I put it all back together again and restart it, and usually it fixes things. It's what's called a "hard reset."

What John is talking about here is a hard reset. In preparing to welcome the newborn Jesus, we’ve got to do more than simply papering over the bad parts, the things that are corrupted in our souls…we’ve got to look at ourselves honestly and clearly and do the necessary repair work – the cleansing of our hearts and souls.

The hard reset is about fixing ourselves, because in fixing ourselves we start to fix this broken world. And that is what truly brings rejoicing. John is not simply condemning the people who come to see him on the banks of the Jordan, he is giving them direction on how to live better lives in the future. Share with each other. Don’t take more than is your due. Don’t extort or threaten. Live within your means. Pretty good advice in these days of widespread unemployment, of Lehmann Brothers, of ARM balloon mortgages, of fake Patek Phillippe watches…John says, “Do a hard reset on your life. Get rid of the things that make it harder for you to hear what Jesus is saying. Don’t be like the ones who only value their lives in terms of this world, of money and power and privilege. Be for god and for each other.” A transformed world view. A hard reset.

That’s what the prophet Zephaniah is talking about today. Rejoicing, singing and dancing, because God has forgiven our past sins and is our defender against those who are against us,

That’s what Paul is saying in his letter to the church at Philippi. Rejoice always, again and again, and be gentle with each other, trusting God and knowing he will be at our side.

When I do a hard reset on the laptop, it usually takes a bit longer to restart. I may be ascribing more humanity to the thing than is appropriate, but I think it is reordering itself in some fundamental way, finding new ways of making all the internal connections necessary to work properly. We might do that, too.

What John prescribes, and what Zephaniah and Paul celebrate, is the restoration of wiser, purer connections, of the joy of being refreshed in our relationship with God. This season of preparation is also a season of rejoicing, not just because of presents and wrapping paper and Christmas trees, but because once again we know that we can perfect ourselves, with God’s help. When the baby comes, we will be ready, and all the angels will rejoice with us.

Reset, refreshed, rejoicing.

Amen.

Friday - Whew!

A busy week in the wake of all last weekend's excitement. Pastoral calls, prep for Vestry, Fresh Start meeting (which eats up a whole day), some gift shopping, planning for the January Vestry Retreat, practicing the Liturgy of the Table for Sunday. The sermon is not yet done, but I've got most of it in my head - just have to type it out.

Today was spent doing various errands and wrapping and packing gifts. With the exception of Litigator, from whom I am still waiting for a gift list (he wants books), and PH, it is all done. A few stocking stuffers and I'll be able to breathe easy.

PH and I have gotten in the habit of giving ourselves a joint present. Last year, it was a package deal on massages. Maybe this year it will be some sort of vacation. We are trying to avoid gifts of "things" - it's much more fun to get/give consumables of some sort.

When he comes home, we'll go get a tree and a wreath for the front door - there is something about the smell of the house with fresh greens that is just heavenly.

A Couple More Pictures from the Ordination

Top picture is fairly early on in the ceremony. Six of us were priested. I am at the extreme right. Bottom picture is afterwards with my dear friend L - we made each other's red stoles so this was an extra fun picture.

Gray but Shiny

It may be cold outside, and there may be talk of a miserable storm coming this way, but I'm shining on the inside as I work on the bulletin for Sunday's service, with the full Eucharist. After these months of the Deacon's Mass, it will be wonderful to do the whole Liturgy of the Table. I think I'm going to like being a priest!

What's Wrong With This Picture?

On Saturday, the Episcopal Diocese of Los Angeles elected Mary Glasspool to be suffragan bishop. Bp-elect Glasspool is a lesbian.

The Archbishop of Canterbury issued a brief statement wringing his hands about the implications of this election in the midst of tensions in the Anglican Communion. We may strain the bonds of affection, he says.

Would that he would wring his hands as visibly about the law condemning homosexuals in Uganda to life imprisonment and in some cases death, a law that is supported by the leaders of the Church of Uganda. He has been silent. No worry about the bonds of affection in play here?

What has happened to him?

Wow

Yes, I get it now.

The feel of hands on my head and shoulders, the words, the ancient rite.

I do feel changed in a very fundamental and wondrous way. I still haven't a clue where I will end up permanently, but it doesn't really seem to matter.

And in the meantime, I get to serve as pastor, preacher and teacher to wonderful people like this at Saint Middle School:

Picture taken at the reception after my priestly ordination with some of the wonderful folks from Saint Middle School who attended the ordination. Some sang, some presented, some served as banner bearers and oblationers, some knelt and prayed. For all of them, and for all those who have affirmed my call to the priesthood for lo these may years, I give thanks.

Today's Sermon: Malachi 3:1-4 and Luke 3:1-6 “Nesting Instinct”

A couple of decades ago, at about this time of year, I was tottering on a stepladder pasting a wallpaper border around our second bedroom. It was pretty close to the last thing on a very long to-do list that had started with the Mother of all Housecleanings. Forget about refiner’s fire and fuller’s soap, those cleaning methods mentioned in the reading from Malachi that Amanda read….this house was scrubbed to within an inch of its life using all the cleaning products I could find at Home Depot. Windex, Clorox, Ajax, Borax…I used them all.

Standing on the stepladder was a dicey proposition…I was two weeks away from delivering my first child, and I was BIG. Some short people are cute when they’re pregnant. – they stay skinny with a teensy little basketball out front. Not me. When I wore my black velour maternity outfit – the only thing I could fit into in the last two weeks – I looked like nothing so much as a fuzzy bowling ball.

Was it ridiculous to be doing this? Of course! What madness possessed me to try and get up on the ladder in my delicate condition and hang wallpaper?

You guessed it – the nesting instinct, that primal urge to get things clean and organized before you give birth. That kind of preparation is not just a human instinct – animals do it too.

Hamsters pile up the woodchips in their boxes. Cats and dogs find a quiet spot – usually in your closet, and settle in. Even birds are said to “go broody” when the desire to prepare the nest becomes overwhelming.

We need to prepare when something is coming. And in Advent, the something that is coming is extraordinary indeed, so the preparation must also be extraordinary.

My little story of the wallpaper makes us laugh, but not all preparation is joyful. The work your dentist does to prepare filling a cavity is not much fun, but necessary. The work a demolitions expert does prior to blowing up an old building is rather frightening and requires special care.

A few years ago, I went with a team to Pascagoula, Mississippi to help in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Even though the hurricane had hit in late August and this was the following February, our work in the homes to which we were assigned was preparatory. We were mucking out debris, and doing demolition work. All this had to be done before any rebuilding could happen. The old moldy woodwork and soggy drywall, the rotten things in pantries and refrigerators, broken appliances, sagging ceilings…it all had to go, and everything that remained needed to be sprayed with a bleach solution to combat the return of the mold and mildew. Not a 2x4, not a sheet of drywall, not piece of flooring could be brought into the house until the old mess was removed. Preparation work is often unpleasant, smelly, dirty, even dangerous work, but it is necessary before something new can come.

The preparation described in our reading from the prophet Malachi certainly falls into that category. The messenger who is coming is a source of amazement, but also fear. “For he is like a refiner’s fire and like fuller’s soap; he will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he will purify the descendents of Levi…until they present offerings to the Lord in righteousness.” Like a silversmith purifying the raw ore by melting away the impurities in the fire, like someone who washes with soap made with harsh lye, this messenger is cleaning house in an even more demanding way than I did when I was pregnant. His task is to clean away unrighteousness…in his time, the unrighteousness of priests who were not true to the covenant. Before the Lord of Hosts can come, Malachi says, this preparation, this difficult and thorough preparation, must be complete.

And John the Baptist, too, warns that we must prepare. John was known as the forerunner, the one who would tell people that the Messiah was coming. In today’s Gospel, he wanders around the wilderness, this strange man with the camel’s hair garment and the dreadlocks, telling anyone who came to hear him that they needed to be washed clean of their sins in the Jordan.

The evangelist Luke reminds his audience that John is doing what Isaiah had prophesied: "The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: 'Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.” Before the Lord can come, work must be done. Preparation is necessary. We must make ourselves ready.

In Jesus’ time, bathing to cleanse yourself of sins was not unusual – the ritual bath, or mikvah, was prescribed for all observant Jews, a ritual act to remove that which was unclean. Why does Luke care that John is doing this?

Well, a big clue is in the set-up that Luke gives us. He starts out with a detailed explanation of the political and religious leadership in place. All those names, some of which are familiar to us…Tiberius, Pontius Pilate, Annas and Caiaphas, Herod…all the big guns who run things. They run things, of course, in the cities, in the seats of power. Not only the political leaders, but the religious leaders, are in the cities. John isn’t there…he is out in the wilderness, in a place those leaders don’t go. And people are coming out to see John, to be baptized by him, not only from the countryside but from the cities as well. The people who are not in power can sense their need for a thorough cleansing of the soul…and Luke is hinting to us that the leaders in the cities ignore that feeling, and that’s bad news for them, since they are the most unclean of all.
We get that feeling, that urge to clean or be cleaned. We feel it in our souls, and it’s an irresistible urge. We know that change is coming, that Jesus is coming, and we feel the need to prepare.

It is not just for decorative purposes that we decorate our houses, with ornaments on the tree, a wreath on the door, a crèche on the mantel. No, we know we need to prepare for the coming of the King. We sense the need for a cleaning and a changing in anticipation of what is to come.
But it is not enough to hang the lights on the eaves and put out the Christmas candles in the windows…we’ve got some interior preparation to do. And that might not be as jolly or as quick.

Look deep inside your soul. What needs cleaning?
Are you harboring anger toward someone, not letting go of what you see as righteous rage?
Are you sure that you don’t deserve anything because God couldn’t possibly love you?
Are you feeling jealousy that others seem to have more things than you? Are you struggling with a hopelessness that leaves no room for hope in God?

This Advent season, this time of preparation, provides a chance to follow your nesting instinct and clean house in your soul, to ask for God’s forgiveness for your sins, to ask for God’s help to hope anew, to ask for God’s wisdom to puzzle through the things that make no sense. It requires no stepstool, no cleaning products, just honesty and quiet moments with God in prayer. It may feel like refiners’ fire, or a scrubbing with fuller’s soap, or it may feel surprisingly refreshing, like putting down that bag of garbage you’ve been toting over your tired shoulder for a long time.

Whatever it feels like, it will open your heart to the light that is to come, the baby King who saves us all. And I guarantee it will be better than wallpaper.

Amen.

Ordination Eve: Retreat within the Quotidian

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I haven't had the ability to get away for a pre-ordination retreat. That doesn't mean that I haven't had my time of quiet and meditation. My sisters-in-law are in town, so we had a little dinner get-together with two other couples. I had great fun cooking the feast, and had pleasure simply being alone and doing prep work while PH and his sisters visited museums amid the snow downtown.

As Brother Lawrence found a deep spirituality in the quotidian work of the kitchen, so too do I find quiet pleasure and communion there. Chopping, measuring, preparing, stirring, cleaning, it all soothes me and gives me room to bask in the glow of the love of God. I can pray in the silence, with the feel of of running water over my hands.

Tomorrow will be a good day. Not silent, like this afternoon in the kitchen, but the repetition of ancient words will feel like the repetition of the tasks of the meal. Not in solitude, but the feel of hands on my head and on my shoulders will remind me of the singularity of my call in the midst of the blessed communion of those who have followed a similar call. Not quotidian, like the baking of a loaf of good crusty bread, but sanctified by the daily-ness of the work to come, in the repeated rituals and words and acts.

It is all good. Thank you, God, for this day and this call and this light in my heart.

Thursday Rolling, Rolling, Rolling

I'm catching my breath now. It's been a long day thus far. I drove out to Horse Country for Clericus. Good group of people, very interesting conversation. I wish it were a little more focused, but good work gets done in spite of our meanderings.

(This blogpost will now be interrupted for an annoying whine. If you want to go elsewhere for the next few lines, the management will understand.)

The drive back home was miserable. Stimulus dollars are funding much road work in this area, and the roads I need to take are being "improved." Well, they may be improved when they are done, but navigating them now certainly isn't improved, and the alternate routes are all just as bad. So it took an hour and a half to get back from the meeting.

(Whine break is now over. You may resume your normal reading.)

Several phone calls and emails to tend to pastoral matters. A trip to the grocery store. Home to clean the bathroom, iron the curtains (now minus the cat hair on them - they are on a window where the cats like to perch), straighten up other places. A long phone call with StrongOpinions, who is going through a depressive phase. The tiny moment of blissful quiet in the afternoon was a pedicure (red toenails, of course, since that's the color vestments we wear at ordination).

Wise folks take a few days away for a retreat prior to their ordination. I probably should have done that, but it doesn't seem possible given the stuff going on in the parish and elsewhere. The good news is that I will be taking a three day retreat with some of my Clergy Chick pals right after the 1st of the year. I can hardly wait! I need to learn that even as the only priest in a parish, I must make time for this for my sanity and spiritual health.

Remind me of that when I waver on doing that, will you?

P.S. I am going to be radical for the ordination and wear a cream clergy blouse, cream wool jacket, and a red skirt and red shoes. It will all be under the alb for the service anyway, but it's my little bit of protest against the notion that all clergywomen have to look like ads from the Women's Department of Brooks Brothers, plus the dog collar. And the red shoes make me smile.

Processing

A lot of unbloggable pastoral stuff going on. Pray for those who suffer and suffer again. Some unbloggable other stuff going on. Veni, Sancte Spiritus.

In a fit of excess energy, I finished Sunday's sermon this afternoon. Some of you know I am OCD about getting sermons done relatively early in the week. Of late, I hadn't been doing that - I usually got them done on Fridays. Today, it just flowed. A good thing, since the week is busy. Clericus way out in horse country tomorrow (please, Lord, let the rains end by then) and lecturing on Friday at Big Old Seminary on keeping sane through General Ordination Exams, while finishing the cleaning for the houseguests (can't wait to see you, C&L&A) and prepping for the Saturday night dinner party.

Menu for the dinner is roast pork loin stuffed with dried fruit, curry potatoes, and red cabbage. I'm thinking a tarte tatin for dessert, but I haven't completely settled on that yet. Cheese straws while we drink something aperitif-y. I don't think any Christmas decorating will be done, as much as I wish it were so. Just not enough hours in the day.

The funny part of all this doing of stuff is that it fed the sermon, all about the nesting instinct and preparation (both fun and not-so-fun) before something BIG happens. Not conscious at the time, but it sure does fit.

Some days it feels like we preach what we need to preach, y'know?

December!

Yes, it is a new month, and I may not post every day as I did last month, but I'll keep you posted periodically.

I'm getting excited about the ordination on Sunday. There was another list of errands to be completed today, all of which went smoothly. Was it a function of the sunny day, as yesterday's litany of disasters might have been a function of rain, damp, gray, cold? Who knows?

I had a delightful time this afternoon with the small clergy group I belong to that does theological reflection on happenings in our ministries. Well, maybe delightful isn't the right word, since we usually bring challenges to talk about...maybe the word might be thoughtful, meaningful, helpful. This is such a wonderful group of friends and colleagues, and I learn every time I'm with them.

Tonight I finished preparing the prep session I'm doing on Friday for this year's seniors at Big Old Seminary - they will be taking their General Ordination Exams in January. They are, as we were, stressed and nervous and wondering what will happen. I am hoping to be helpful and calm them down a bit. They will do fine, I am sure.

Still chewing on the sermon for the coming Sunday and thanking God that one of my brilliant parishioners will be leading Adult Ed for the Advent season. Right now I'm swamped.

I'm grateful, though, for the work, and the family, and the friends, and the gift of vocation.

Net score today=1000.