Today is the day after Christmas. It is a holiday, since Christmas fell on a Sunday this year. It is interesting to see the world slowing down a bit--after the frantic commercialism and glitter in the weeks precedeing Christmas, the media is taking a deep breath. Granted, people are taking advantage of the gift cards they recieved for Christmas, but it seems like a lot of that is happening online. Even without the climax of the "big day" being over, you can only operate on adrenaline for so long, and then you need to rest. That is what the days after Christmas are for...to rest, to celebrate rebirth, and to make plans for the new year. No matter how much dicipline one exerts to experience a holy Advent, it is very hard to escape the pressures that the outside world exerts. I was less cynical this year, throughout the entire season, than I have been in recent years. In my last blog entry, which was the day after Thanksgiving, I laid out how I thought things might be different this year in the context of thankfulness. My predictions turned out to be true.
Looking backwards now, the "holiday season" (which really is Thanksgiving-Chanukah-Solstice-end of year-economic belwether-birth of Christ-Christmas-St Nicholas Day-Boxing Day-Kwanzaa-New Year's-Epiphany)is a very complex time. It is filled with themes of culture and counterculture, expectation and disappointment, joy and grief, peace and conflict, Gabriel and Michael, John and Jesus, The Wise Men and Herod. The people who proclaim "Jesus is the reason for the Season" don't understand. Jesus is being reborn in our hearts all the time, every time we repent and turn to Him. He does not need a season, which is probably historically inaccurate anyway. Even those who are not of the belief system which confesses Christ as Savior, Man and God;celebrate the season, if even just on a secular level. The themes of the season which are about God's incarnation in our midst, of peace and joy, of repentence, of love; those are things we need to be mindful of all the time.
On this peaceful day in this season of light breaking into the darkness, I pray that we may always hold on to that precious and esoteric thing called hope which overcomes every adversity, and that God's present may be his presence in our midst today and every day.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Friday, November 25, 2011
Thankfulness
Today is the day after Thanksgiving. This has historically been a difficult time of year for me, but somehow this year things are better. What is different? I'm not sure, but I think it has to do with having an attitude of thankfulness. My birthday is one week before Thanksgiving approximately--during that time of the year when the trees are losing their last leaves, and the weather is getting colder, and the days are getting shorter, and anxieties are turning towards the end of the year and the materialism of the holidays. Well, ok, those are the downers but here are the uppers--there really is so much for me to be thankful for. For starters, being born in the first place. My mother and I both almost died on that November day many years ago, so it is a triumph that I even have a birthday to celebrate every year. That should be reason enough to give thanks. And leading on from there, there is a certain beauty and dignity to the trees becoming dormant, metaphorically turning inwards for a season of rest and regrouping. Colder weather means all the seasonal allergies go away, and getting oneself warm when the weather is cold creates true coziness. Shorter days and less sunlight are counteracted by a full spectrum light box, which I am thankful for every day. The holidays are what you make of them, and there are plenty of themes of peace and joy so that with a little discipline one can counteract the evils of overconsumption and greed.
It is hard to be unhappy when one is thankful. As I write this is dawns on me that perhaps God's greatest gift to us is that of giving us the capacity to be thankful for all the other gifts we have been given. In kabbalah that would be the "will to receive"--to be grateful for God's "will to bestow". In Christianity, our thanksgiving is embodied (literally) in the Eucharist--our thanksgiving for God's gift of God's Son, who made the ultimate sacrifice for us.
Being truly thankful--to God and to each other--puts a positive spin on things that gives us the drive to make things better. Far from covering up the messiness and struggle of life it gives us the energy to carry on. One of the exersizes given to people suffering from depression is to think of those things one is grateful for. When one's life is at its lowest point is the time when it is most critical to be thankful.
As the season advances into that delightfully countercultural time of Advent and Christmas and finally Epiphany I pray that I can continue my thankfulness.
It is hard to be unhappy when one is thankful. As I write this is dawns on me that perhaps God's greatest gift to us is that of giving us the capacity to be thankful for all the other gifts we have been given. In kabbalah that would be the "will to receive"--to be grateful for God's "will to bestow". In Christianity, our thanksgiving is embodied (literally) in the Eucharist--our thanksgiving for God's gift of God's Son, who made the ultimate sacrifice for us.
Being truly thankful--to God and to each other--puts a positive spin on things that gives us the drive to make things better. Far from covering up the messiness and struggle of life it gives us the energy to carry on. One of the exersizes given to people suffering from depression is to think of those things one is grateful for. When one's life is at its lowest point is the time when it is most critical to be thankful.
As the season advances into that delightfully countercultural time of Advent and Christmas and finally Epiphany I pray that I can continue my thankfulness.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
End of the World Part II
On May 28 I blogged about the fact that May 21 was supposed to be the end of the world. And it wasn't. And that I didn't think that the world would end on the postponed date of Oct 21. Guess what? Today is Oct 30 and the world is very much with us. The world is five months older, and more stuff has happened, but no question that the world is still here.
It seems like when a lot of uncomfortable things are happening that predictions start flying around that the world will end. Maybe that is just human nature. The Oct 21 end date didn't get as much publicity as the May 21 date. Maybe we had better things to do this time around.
I think the appointed hour on May 21 was 6:30PM. At 6:30 PM on Oct 21 I was watching a beautiful sunset on the beach in Cape May New Jersey. As the sun played hide and seek with the clouds I wasn't thinking so much about the world and its ending as of the daily miracle that is the sun rising and setting.
Maybe this silliness about the world ending will end, and we can get on with the business of repairing the damage done to it in the here and now. That is, until someone at a future date gets uncomfortable with how things are going and decides to set another one.
It seems like when a lot of uncomfortable things are happening that predictions start flying around that the world will end. Maybe that is just human nature. The Oct 21 end date didn't get as much publicity as the May 21 date. Maybe we had better things to do this time around.
I think the appointed hour on May 21 was 6:30PM. At 6:30 PM on Oct 21 I was watching a beautiful sunset on the beach in Cape May New Jersey. As the sun played hide and seek with the clouds I wasn't thinking so much about the world and its ending as of the daily miracle that is the sun rising and setting.
Maybe this silliness about the world ending will end, and we can get on with the business of repairing the damage done to it in the here and now. That is, until someone at a future date gets uncomfortable with how things are going and decides to set another one.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Old Age and Change
I recently was chatting with a 20-something year old priest who made the comment that "old people don't like change". Ten years ago I probably would have agreed with him. Twenty or thirty years ago I probably said basically the same thing. But at this point in my life, I begged to differ.
It seems like we make a lot of proclamations about what old people like and don't like. The thing about old age is that those of younger ages have not experienced it yet. True, old people can make proclamations about young people that are off, because they have not grown up in the same socio-economic-cultural climate or they may have misremembered their own misspent youth. But old people have a context--they have been there. Young people have not been old.
Let me give you my credentials before I proceed with my argument that this usually empathic and very wise young priest is mistaken. I by no means have the perspective of someone who is in their '80s or '90s. But I am of an age where my friends are becoming grandparents and I am no longer the youngest person in a class or in a meeting at work. Sometimes I'm even the oldest person in a group. So I have experienced that sense of "you guys are making generalizations about people my age and you have not been there. And you are wrong".
This is why I don't believe that old people don't like change. What I have experienced is that as you get older, you have a higher investment in things the way they are. To make a change from those things requires some careful study of the pros and cons of that change. Old people definitely have experience with going through change--much more than someone in their 20's. They have most likely lost someone or ones dear to them to death, which is a huge change. When you get to be 90 there is not much chance that your parents will still be around. There is also a chance that you have lost a spouse, either to death or divorce. Sometimes after fifty + years of marriage. Think about someone who is 95 years old who was the youngest sibling in a large family, and all siblings are gone. Whether that person likes it or not, he or she has experienced and adapted to change.
Let's take a look at this word "like". As in "prefer". Often when we talk about old people being RESISTANT to change, it is a change that is being forced on them. Think about being asked if you want to move out of the home and community where you have lived most of your life. Think about being asked if you want to buy something very expensive when you are on a fixed income. Think about being asked if you want to give up driving. Now think being being asked if you want to find a new way to do a hobby that interests you. Think about being offered a chance to look your best.
The context for the conversation with the young priest was the question of changing a church service to a contemporary format. Now, church is an area that some old people find gives comfort, support, and meaning in their lives. The liturgy, the hymns, even the coffee hour after the service can be anchors in an otherwise forced change world. But what about if an old person were given a CHOICE--might they, like a younger person, be inclined to consider their options? Might they possibly try out the contemporary service and then make an informed decision which service they would prefer?
The young priest in question is the future of the church. The church focuses on young people a lot these days, and well it should, but not to the exclusion of old people. Maybe old people need a little more time to think through changes. But think through change is not the same as not like change. Do old people like change? Some do, some don't. Do young people like change? Some do, some don't.
I think the young preist should try out the contemparary format to see what everyone in the congregation thinks. Some will like it, some won't, but there's more than one church service in a Saturday or Sunday. My experience of contemporary services is that they attract an age range from sub one year old to ninety plus years old. I also think that the young priest should look hard at the untrue beliefs that he holds about old people, and prayerfully consider what Jesus might do. I wish I had done so when I was younger.
It seems like we make a lot of proclamations about what old people like and don't like. The thing about old age is that those of younger ages have not experienced it yet. True, old people can make proclamations about young people that are off, because they have not grown up in the same socio-economic-cultural climate or they may have misremembered their own misspent youth. But old people have a context--they have been there. Young people have not been old.
Let me give you my credentials before I proceed with my argument that this usually empathic and very wise young priest is mistaken. I by no means have the perspective of someone who is in their '80s or '90s. But I am of an age where my friends are becoming grandparents and I am no longer the youngest person in a class or in a meeting at work. Sometimes I'm even the oldest person in a group. So I have experienced that sense of "you guys are making generalizations about people my age and you have not been there. And you are wrong".
This is why I don't believe that old people don't like change. What I have experienced is that as you get older, you have a higher investment in things the way they are. To make a change from those things requires some careful study of the pros and cons of that change. Old people definitely have experience with going through change--much more than someone in their 20's. They have most likely lost someone or ones dear to them to death, which is a huge change. When you get to be 90 there is not much chance that your parents will still be around. There is also a chance that you have lost a spouse, either to death or divorce. Sometimes after fifty + years of marriage. Think about someone who is 95 years old who was the youngest sibling in a large family, and all siblings are gone. Whether that person likes it or not, he or she has experienced and adapted to change.
Let's take a look at this word "like". As in "prefer". Often when we talk about old people being RESISTANT to change, it is a change that is being forced on them. Think about being asked if you want to move out of the home and community where you have lived most of your life. Think about being asked if you want to buy something very expensive when you are on a fixed income. Think about being asked if you want to give up driving. Now think being being asked if you want to find a new way to do a hobby that interests you. Think about being offered a chance to look your best.
The context for the conversation with the young priest was the question of changing a church service to a contemporary format. Now, church is an area that some old people find gives comfort, support, and meaning in their lives. The liturgy, the hymns, even the coffee hour after the service can be anchors in an otherwise forced change world. But what about if an old person were given a CHOICE--might they, like a younger person, be inclined to consider their options? Might they possibly try out the contemporary service and then make an informed decision which service they would prefer?
The young priest in question is the future of the church. The church focuses on young people a lot these days, and well it should, but not to the exclusion of old people. Maybe old people need a little more time to think through changes. But think through change is not the same as not like change. Do old people like change? Some do, some don't. Do young people like change? Some do, some don't.
I think the young preist should try out the contemparary format to see what everyone in the congregation thinks. Some will like it, some won't, but there's more than one church service in a Saturday or Sunday. My experience of contemporary services is that they attract an age range from sub one year old to ninety plus years old. I also think that the young priest should look hard at the untrue beliefs that he holds about old people, and prayerfully consider what Jesus might do. I wish I had done so when I was younger.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Earthquakes and Hurricanes
What a week it has been. On Tues August 23 at approximately 2PM, the east coast of the United States was hit with an earthquake, the first one in one hundred and fourteen years, and the epicenter was 83 miles away from here. Apparently no one was killed, and the damage has been relatively minimal given what a vast area it covered and that it was a 5.8. One notable victim, though, is the Washington National Cathedral, where repairs will take millions of dollars and many years to complete.
Right now, as I write this, "weather conditions are deteriorating", as the weatherman says, as Hurricane Irene makes her way through the area, affecting many of the people who were jolted by the earthquake this past Tuesday. (landfall in NC working her way up the coast to beyond Boston, they project). We here west of Washington DC will most likely get the outer bands of it, but we'll have high winds and rain for the next 8 hours or so.
I have held the belief for a long time that disaster conditions make for the best "teachable moments"--and this belief is holding true this week. Never have I seen people as attentive to emergency preparedness. This is a good thing. The reality is that we just don't know what this hurricane will do, but we do know that it is one huge hurricane and it is moving very slowly. People are taking it seriously, in a way that rarely ever happens. And many references are back to the earthquake. We got to see in the earthquake what its like to not have cell phone service. We had never considered that possibility before.
Disaster preparedness is one thing, but a certain amount of flexibility is another. We have become so dependent on electricity that we can't imagine life without it. Now I hope our power does not go out, (in Reston we have underground power lines, decreasing the possibility) but if it does we will deal. We, like everyone else on the eastern seaboard, have stocked up on batteries and canned food, my blackberry is charging, and we have enough bottled water to fill a good sized swimming pool. We've removed wind influenced potentially flying objects from outside, and the tree surgeon tells us our maple tree is sound. The thing about losing power, or having a tree topple on your house, or having flood damage, is that you have to cope with it the best you can at that moment. Yes, things are going to be different, and probably quite uncomfortable, but with the right attitude things don't have to be the worst they can be.
One way to cope is to pray, not to tell God to make the damage go away, but for comfort and strength to deal with it, and whatever insight God deems appropriate. I was praying last Tuesday at 2P as it sounded and felt like the horsemen of the appocalypse were trotting across the roof where I work. With the hurricane force winds' howling getting louder I think maybe I'll sign off and try prayer again.
Right now, as I write this, "weather conditions are deteriorating", as the weatherman says, as Hurricane Irene makes her way through the area, affecting many of the people who were jolted by the earthquake this past Tuesday. (landfall in NC working her way up the coast to beyond Boston, they project). We here west of Washington DC will most likely get the outer bands of it, but we'll have high winds and rain for the next 8 hours or so.
I have held the belief for a long time that disaster conditions make for the best "teachable moments"--and this belief is holding true this week. Never have I seen people as attentive to emergency preparedness. This is a good thing. The reality is that we just don't know what this hurricane will do, but we do know that it is one huge hurricane and it is moving very slowly. People are taking it seriously, in a way that rarely ever happens. And many references are back to the earthquake. We got to see in the earthquake what its like to not have cell phone service. We had never considered that possibility before.
Disaster preparedness is one thing, but a certain amount of flexibility is another. We have become so dependent on electricity that we can't imagine life without it. Now I hope our power does not go out, (in Reston we have underground power lines, decreasing the possibility) but if it does we will deal. We, like everyone else on the eastern seaboard, have stocked up on batteries and canned food, my blackberry is charging, and we have enough bottled water to fill a good sized swimming pool. We've removed wind influenced potentially flying objects from outside, and the tree surgeon tells us our maple tree is sound. The thing about losing power, or having a tree topple on your house, or having flood damage, is that you have to cope with it the best you can at that moment. Yes, things are going to be different, and probably quite uncomfortable, but with the right attitude things don't have to be the worst they can be.
One way to cope is to pray, not to tell God to make the damage go away, but for comfort and strength to deal with it, and whatever insight God deems appropriate. I was praying last Tuesday at 2P as it sounded and felt like the horsemen of the appocalypse were trotting across the roof where I work. With the hurricane force winds' howling getting louder I think maybe I'll sign off and try prayer again.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Twentieth Wedding Anniversary
In another few weeks Michael and I will celebrate our twentieth wedding anniversary. It seems like just yesterday that we were busily tending to the last minute details of cake tasteings, and out of town guest lodgeings, and everything else that went into the biggest celebration of our lives. It may seem like just yesterday, but in reality a lot has happened and in actuality that day was long ago. The most obvious thing that has happened is that we are both twenty years older. In the human life span, twenty years is a chunk of time. We are both in a different life stage now. We have aches and pains and chronic health issues that drain our collective wallet and our collective energy. And I guess you could say we are wiser...about some things at least.
What hasn't changed is the deep love between us. It has probably mellowed some, like us; it has had its aches and pains, like us; it has stayed quite healthy, unlike us; and there is no question that it is wiser about ALL things.
Michael and I have started talking about renewing our wedding vows. We have some differing views on the topic. How very different we are was something that was pointed out by the priest who married us in his homily twenty years ago. He truly did not believe that the mariage would last. I see him at annual council every year, and the first words out of my mouth are "yes, I'm still married to him." This priest did not count on how strong love is. Love conquers everything. And because our love conquers all our differences, Michael and I will reach a compromise on our reaffirmation of vows (whenever we get around to it)--we will stay within our budget AND it will be spontaneous and fun. The homily will be given by a dear friend of ours who is the Presbyterian equivalent of a priest, now that is something we totally agree on. This celebration is shaping up to be as profound, if a good bit simpler, as the wedding in 1991.
Anniversaries are important, whether its the anniversary of a marriage, or a job, or an importnt national event. It is a chance to reflect backwards and look forwards. God willing, Michael and I will be reflecting backwards and looking forwards for many years to come.
What hasn't changed is the deep love between us. It has probably mellowed some, like us; it has had its aches and pains, like us; it has stayed quite healthy, unlike us; and there is no question that it is wiser about ALL things.
Michael and I have started talking about renewing our wedding vows. We have some differing views on the topic. How very different we are was something that was pointed out by the priest who married us in his homily twenty years ago. He truly did not believe that the mariage would last. I see him at annual council every year, and the first words out of my mouth are "yes, I'm still married to him." This priest did not count on how strong love is. Love conquers everything. And because our love conquers all our differences, Michael and I will reach a compromise on our reaffirmation of vows (whenever we get around to it)--we will stay within our budget AND it will be spontaneous and fun. The homily will be given by a dear friend of ours who is the Presbyterian equivalent of a priest, now that is something we totally agree on. This celebration is shaping up to be as profound, if a good bit simpler, as the wedding in 1991.
Anniversaries are important, whether its the anniversary of a marriage, or a job, or an importnt national event. It is a chance to reflect backwards and look forwards. God willing, Michael and I will be reflecting backwards and looking forwards for many years to come.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Trinity as Emmanuel: God With Us
Today is Trinity Sunday. It always comes the Sunday after Pentecost, the day we celebrate the Holy Spirit. We are straight on who God the father is, we've always been straight on who Jesus is, and we've brought some attention on the Holy Spirit. So now we are ready to bring the three together into one, the one in three and three in one. Wha...? How does that makes sense?
People struggle with Trinitarianism. I think it is because it is a doctrine, and we tend to try to deal with it with our heads. But it is a mystery, and mysteries belong in the heart. We are uncomfortable with mysteries because we can't reach out and touch them, but sometimes metaphors are helpful. Augustine of Hippo had one about a tree that is roots, trunk, and branches. Then there's one about three streams of water coming together. As I was thinking about this today I came up with a bus with God the father as the driver, Jesus as a passenger who got off for awhile and hopped back on, and Holy Spirit as the attendant who is constantly on and off. So, whatever is helpful to you, that is what metaphors are for.
Sermons are where we get our most helpful information on Trinity Sunday. Today's advanced the idea of the Trinity as Emmanuel: God with us. How very true! As Christians we can readily relate to Jesus because after all, he lived among us, and experienced the same frustrations and joys that we experienced. But Jesus as a historical figure isn't who dwells in our hearts. In our hearts it is the Living Christ, who was and is and will be forever. And who makes that possible? Why little Holy Spirit, who stays in the shadows and comes to us as the wind, the breath, the peace. God the father who created us is vast. But as the Trinity, God the Father God the Son and God the Holy Spirit, God IS Emmanuel: God With US.
People struggle with Trinitarianism. I think it is because it is a doctrine, and we tend to try to deal with it with our heads. But it is a mystery, and mysteries belong in the heart. We are uncomfortable with mysteries because we can't reach out and touch them, but sometimes metaphors are helpful. Augustine of Hippo had one about a tree that is roots, trunk, and branches. Then there's one about three streams of water coming together. As I was thinking about this today I came up with a bus with God the father as the driver, Jesus as a passenger who got off for awhile and hopped back on, and Holy Spirit as the attendant who is constantly on and off. So, whatever is helpful to you, that is what metaphors are for.
Sermons are where we get our most helpful information on Trinity Sunday. Today's advanced the idea of the Trinity as Emmanuel: God with us. How very true! As Christians we can readily relate to Jesus because after all, he lived among us, and experienced the same frustrations and joys that we experienced. But Jesus as a historical figure isn't who dwells in our hearts. In our hearts it is the Living Christ, who was and is and will be forever. And who makes that possible? Why little Holy Spirit, who stays in the shadows and comes to us as the wind, the breath, the peace. God the father who created us is vast. But as the Trinity, God the Father God the Son and God the Holy Spirit, God IS Emmanuel: God With US.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Happy Birthday to the Church
This coming Sunday is Pentecost, the official anniversary of the birth of the Church, which makes it the church's birthday. It is always celebrated exactly 50 days after Easter. It is the second most important celebration in the church (Easter being the first), and probably the most misunderstood and most overlooked. Understandably--Pentecost comes at a time of year when the weather is getting warm (this year, make that sweltering hot) the days are getting long, and kids are getting tired of being in school. There are weddings, graduations, family reunions, and trips to the beach. Baseball, laying out by the pool, and working in the garden. No wonder we are so distracted that the Church's special day gets shortchanged!
But its a spectacular day if you only go to the trouble to celebrate it. It is the one day of the year that we take the Holy Spirit out of shadows and let her spread her wings. She was promised to us and now here she is. In many churches it is traditional to wear red, and to read scripture in many languages at once (symbolizing the giving of the Holy Spirit in all languages at the same time). Often there are streamers in red and gold being flown around and the dove, symbol of the Holy Spirit, being much in evidence. The vestments and altar colors are red--a vibrant color that is only used on special occasions like ordinations and patron saint's days. The day is filled with symbols and mysticism, and the charge to the Church is to get out there for another year and spread the Good News of the Gospel in thought, word, and deed.
I wonder if the Church minds at all that her birthday often is ignored. My birthday also comes at an awkward time of year (one week before Thanksgiving) when everyone including me is distracted by other things, like the days getting shorter, and preparing for the Christmas holidays. But like the church, as I have gotten older, I have learned the value of forgiveness, and have a number of other things on my mind that are frankly more important than getting older. But it IS nice to hear a friendly "happy birthday" once in awhile.
And so how will YOU say Happy Birthday to the Church this year? I bet what the Church would appreciate the most would be a nice vow on your part to throughout the next year show the love of Chirst through your actions, and in this way spread the Gospel. That's what I intend to do.
But its a spectacular day if you only go to the trouble to celebrate it. It is the one day of the year that we take the Holy Spirit out of shadows and let her spread her wings. She was promised to us and now here she is. In many churches it is traditional to wear red, and to read scripture in many languages at once (symbolizing the giving of the Holy Spirit in all languages at the same time). Often there are streamers in red and gold being flown around and the dove, symbol of the Holy Spirit, being much in evidence. The vestments and altar colors are red--a vibrant color that is only used on special occasions like ordinations and patron saint's days. The day is filled with symbols and mysticism, and the charge to the Church is to get out there for another year and spread the Good News of the Gospel in thought, word, and deed.
I wonder if the Church minds at all that her birthday often is ignored. My birthday also comes at an awkward time of year (one week before Thanksgiving) when everyone including me is distracted by other things, like the days getting shorter, and preparing for the Christmas holidays. But like the church, as I have gotten older, I have learned the value of forgiveness, and have a number of other things on my mind that are frankly more important than getting older. But it IS nice to hear a friendly "happy birthday" once in awhile.
And so how will YOU say Happy Birthday to the Church this year? I bet what the Church would appreciate the most would be a nice vow on your part to throughout the next year show the love of Chirst through your actions, and in this way spread the Gospel. That's what I intend to do.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
The end of the world
The world was supposed to end, according to some guy out in California, a little over a week ago, on May 21, 2011 at 6 PM. It didn't. I read in today's Washington Post that he is now saying that was the end of the SPIRITUAL world, that the end of the PHYSICAL world will be October 21, 2011--on that day the righteous will be taken up into heaven and the rest of us, or rest of you as the case may be, will be left to perish in a not pleasant way. It won't. Or at least I don't think it will. Why? Well, I don't think God is that predictable, and at several junctures God has told us that we can't predict the day or hour. Living righteously isn't something we are to do in the hope of being taken out of the world in a big cloud. We live righeously because we are striving to love God with everything we have and are and hope for, as well as manifesting that love in those around us. If we are Christians, as I am, we believe that Jesus Christ came into our world as being God and Human to serve among other things as an example of how we are to be.
The world ends and the world begins many many times in our lifetimes. The people in Joplin MO watched the end of their world as the deadliest tornadoes in US history ripped apart their homes. And yet, it was only a few days before they were rebuilding again. A divorce, a job loss, the death of a loved one, a financial setback, a psychotic break--all of these things signal the end of one world and the beginning of another. It is love that gets us from death to life.
On May 21, 2011 at 6PM I was planting rosebushes, oblivious to the notion that I might not be around to admire them. I imagine on October 21, 2011 at whatever the appointed hour is I will be doing something equally mundane, but hopefully as personally fulfilling.
My advice? Live your life as if today is your last and your first and everything in between. Don't worry about when the world will end, or whether you will be taken up or left behind. Love the best you can, and everything will be fine.
The world ends and the world begins many many times in our lifetimes. The people in Joplin MO watched the end of their world as the deadliest tornadoes in US history ripped apart their homes. And yet, it was only a few days before they were rebuilding again. A divorce, a job loss, the death of a loved one, a financial setback, a psychotic break--all of these things signal the end of one world and the beginning of another. It is love that gets us from death to life.
On May 21, 2011 at 6PM I was planting rosebushes, oblivious to the notion that I might not be around to admire them. I imagine on October 21, 2011 at whatever the appointed hour is I will be doing something equally mundane, but hopefully as personally fulfilling.
My advice? Live your life as if today is your last and your first and everything in between. Don't worry about when the world will end, or whether you will be taken up or left behind. Love the best you can, and everything will be fine.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
New Office, New Month
Beginning tomorrow, May 2, I will be in a new office space. I'm still in Reston, still actually at the same address, but on the other side of the building. This move was by no means sudden, we have been hearing about it for six months or so. And I still have the same cubicle up in Linthicum, that I occupy a couple times a month. And two of my colleagues from the old office will be in the next two cubes over, with a few other colleagues scattered about. So it won't be radically different.
But it will be somewhat different. The end of March, my colleagues were laid off of their contract, and one week later the one colleague who was on my contract moved out of the area. So suffice it to say that a room filled with 20 cubibles dwindled from being almost completely full in October 2009 down to seven people by the end of this April. That room started to feel like a big cavern. Deadly quiet most of the time. In the new space I and my two colleagues will be surrounded by other workers, constantly on the phone. Did I mention there's a window and natural light? In the old place it was windowless.
Usually I don't like moving, particularly when I don't choose to move. But this time is different. I am looking forward to settleing into my new digs. The old office just wasn't the same when my colleagues, who had become friends, were no longer there. Every time I walked in and sat down at my desk I would miss not having Carolyn and Tanya right in back of me. The thing that made the old office so special was the relationships. But now it is time for a new physical environment and new relationships.
The new month, the month of May, is much like my office move, the physical environment is different, but the season is much the same, with plants growing and blooming beautifully. New environment, new relationships, but with important anchors in the past. Maybe it is no coincedence that we celebrate Easter and the resurrection every year sometime between the end of March and the end of April. By the time May rolls around we are ready to move on. So for me this year it is a new office and along with it a new month, a new playing out of the aftermath of the recurrection.
But it will be somewhat different. The end of March, my colleagues were laid off of their contract, and one week later the one colleague who was on my contract moved out of the area. So suffice it to say that a room filled with 20 cubibles dwindled from being almost completely full in October 2009 down to seven people by the end of this April. That room started to feel like a big cavern. Deadly quiet most of the time. In the new space I and my two colleagues will be surrounded by other workers, constantly on the phone. Did I mention there's a window and natural light? In the old place it was windowless.
Usually I don't like moving, particularly when I don't choose to move. But this time is different. I am looking forward to settleing into my new digs. The old office just wasn't the same when my colleagues, who had become friends, were no longer there. Every time I walked in and sat down at my desk I would miss not having Carolyn and Tanya right in back of me. The thing that made the old office so special was the relationships. But now it is time for a new physical environment and new relationships.
The new month, the month of May, is much like my office move, the physical environment is different, but the season is much the same, with plants growing and blooming beautifully. New environment, new relationships, but with important anchors in the past. Maybe it is no coincedence that we celebrate Easter and the resurrection every year sometime between the end of March and the end of April. By the time May rolls around we are ready to move on. So for me this year it is a new office and along with it a new month, a new playing out of the aftermath of the recurrection.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Holy Week
Holy week officially started yesterday, with Palm Sunday. For Christians, it is the most solomn, intense week of the year. The previous 35 days of Lent (excluding Sundays) have been the preparation for it. It starts with the procession with palms commemorating Jesus' triumpahnt arrival in Jerusalem, traces the events of his last week of life on earth and his untimely (in human terms) death, and concludes with the central mystery of the Christian faith, his resurrection. We all know how the story will end each year, and that becomes the metaphor of our hope.
Holy Week is meant to be a struggle. In our lives in the here and now during this week we confront everything that is dark, that is sinful, that is wrong, always knowing that we will be making a new beginning at Easter.
I personally am very on edge throughout Holy Week each year. It starts with Palm Sunday. When the book of Common Prayer was revised in 1979 its revisers decided that we needed to hear the story of the Passion (the arrest, trial and crucifixtion) on Palm Sunday because not enough people show up to hear it on Good Friday. Well, I always show up on Good Friday, so I've stopped coming to church on Palm Sunday. Except that I needed to be at church yesterday for something else and arrived just in time for the Passion story, missing the triumphant procession with palms into the church from outside. It feels like I missed out on something important. Memo to self: show up next Palm Sunday.
Speaking of missing out, I changed churches almost four years ago, and my former church did Holy Week in a big way. I love my current church family dearly, but this particular week of the year I miss the old one terribly. To do up Holy Week with flair and pagentry you have to be of a size and culture that St Thomas is not. It will never be, and that's really ok. But this longing and sadness becomes a focus for me--always knowing that the week will end with Easter, and then life will start anew and everything will be ok.
And so, I will somehow make it through this week--Tenebrae at my former Church on Wed, labyrinth at another church on Good Friday (we will eventually have one of those at St Thomas), and the great vigil of Easter at 5:30 AM on Sunday at a church in Arlington. And I will say that St Thomas does have lovely services on Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday (but not a vigil, they expect you to go to the cathedral for that...if you want to go) and of course Easter day.
Next year I will come top St Thomas for Palm Sunday. That is something beautiful that my current church does do, even if it means hearing the passion story twice in the same week. As the years go by, the darkness of Holy Week will take new meanings and forms. But the conclusion will always be the joyous same: He Is Risen. Alleluia!
Holy Week is meant to be a struggle. In our lives in the here and now during this week we confront everything that is dark, that is sinful, that is wrong, always knowing that we will be making a new beginning at Easter.
I personally am very on edge throughout Holy Week each year. It starts with Palm Sunday. When the book of Common Prayer was revised in 1979 its revisers decided that we needed to hear the story of the Passion (the arrest, trial and crucifixtion) on Palm Sunday because not enough people show up to hear it on Good Friday. Well, I always show up on Good Friday, so I've stopped coming to church on Palm Sunday. Except that I needed to be at church yesterday for something else and arrived just in time for the Passion story, missing the triumphant procession with palms into the church from outside. It feels like I missed out on something important. Memo to self: show up next Palm Sunday.
Speaking of missing out, I changed churches almost four years ago, and my former church did Holy Week in a big way. I love my current church family dearly, but this particular week of the year I miss the old one terribly. To do up Holy Week with flair and pagentry you have to be of a size and culture that St Thomas is not. It will never be, and that's really ok. But this longing and sadness becomes a focus for me--always knowing that the week will end with Easter, and then life will start anew and everything will be ok.
And so, I will somehow make it through this week--Tenebrae at my former Church on Wed, labyrinth at another church on Good Friday (we will eventually have one of those at St Thomas), and the great vigil of Easter at 5:30 AM on Sunday at a church in Arlington. And I will say that St Thomas does have lovely services on Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday (but not a vigil, they expect you to go to the cathedral for that...if you want to go) and of course Easter day.
Next year I will come top St Thomas for Palm Sunday. That is something beautiful that my current church does do, even if it means hearing the passion story twice in the same week. As the years go by, the darkness of Holy Week will take new meanings and forms. But the conclusion will always be the joyous same: He Is Risen. Alleluia!
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
I just read the email. I am stunned. The nirvana that was my work environment is about to change. We knew that changes were coming, but we didn't think it was going to be this radical. I sit at a computer all day in a cubicle that is open on two sides. In the year and a half that I have had this arrangement I have been surrounded by three wonderful women with other workers scattered further away in the room. There isn't much privacy. And we deal with people over the phone who have some pretty intense problems. You tend to get close to your co-workers. That's what happened to us.
Come Monday March 28, most of the cubicles in the room will be empty. In my little area, only one other person will remain. This is hard for me to wrap my head around. I am very fond of this person, but both of us are going to be lonely without our other two buddies.
Change happens. Often, change is good. I happen to know that one of my friends who isn't coming back is moving on to some wonderful adventures including a new grandchild very soon. Maybe those of us who are left will form new bonds and relationships. But change is hard. Before I invest in these new relationships I need to mourn the loss of the old ones.
These women--my friends--have seen me through some very difficult times. When I first came to occupy my cubicle I was a temporary employee, and I had never done this kind of work before. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that I would be hired into a permanent position. As I struggled to learn the software application, and later the call center, my friends were there for me.
Oh sure, nothing at the moment is happening on my particular contract. The one other person on this contract who works out of Reston is still there, as are all of my team up at headquarters in Linthicum. There will be a wonderful sameness to authorizing case management, mobile treatment, and psych testing always waiting for that beep in my telephone headset signaling an incoming call center call. A few of my fellow Restonites will still be around, working on various things. But it will be different.
I'll be ok.
Come Monday March 28, most of the cubicles in the room will be empty. In my little area, only one other person will remain. This is hard for me to wrap my head around. I am very fond of this person, but both of us are going to be lonely without our other two buddies.
Change happens. Often, change is good. I happen to know that one of my friends who isn't coming back is moving on to some wonderful adventures including a new grandchild very soon. Maybe those of us who are left will form new bonds and relationships. But change is hard. Before I invest in these new relationships I need to mourn the loss of the old ones.
These women--my friends--have seen me through some very difficult times. When I first came to occupy my cubicle I was a temporary employee, and I had never done this kind of work before. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that I would be hired into a permanent position. As I struggled to learn the software application, and later the call center, my friends were there for me.
Oh sure, nothing at the moment is happening on my particular contract. The one other person on this contract who works out of Reston is still there, as are all of my team up at headquarters in Linthicum. There will be a wonderful sameness to authorizing case management, mobile treatment, and psych testing always waiting for that beep in my telephone headset signaling an incoming call center call. A few of my fellow Restonites will still be around, working on various things. But it will be different.
I'll be ok.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
March madness
What is it about the month of March??? I am pondering this on my use-it-or-lose-it-leave day when I am supposed to be getting my taxes in order but oh well, there are two more use-it-or-lose-it leave days this month. March seems to promote this kind of procrastination madness (axis 4: rated severe for ability to get things done on time). Maybe it's partly the weather, which today is a typically dreary rainy cold March day, which could just as easily be sunny and warm, or snowy with temperatures below freezing. Maybe its the longer days. Maybe its the bulbs lovingly planted last fall just beginning to poke their little green noses up through the soil, to potentially be zapped by a frost. Then of course there's the aforementioned preparation for tax day, the threats of a government shutdown, and the anxiety that the first quarter of the year is almost over and things aren't looking so good for the economy. And least we forget, by definition at least a portion of March falls during Lent every year. For Christians, Lent is that part of the year especially set aside for us to contemplate everything we're doing that separates us from God's love and what we are going to do to restore our relationship with Him. Her. Whomever.
So much for the environmental factors, and I use that term to encompass the political, spiritual and enconomic as well as the natural. For me personally, March does not have much to recommend it. It probably started in 1964, although maybe I just don't remember back before then. In March of 1964 I was sent for what seemed like an eternity but was probably just the month of March to live with my Godmother's family. They were incredibly nice people, and I was well care for, but I was an only child used to living a very solitary and sheltered existance and my grandfather was dying in a far away place and the whole experience brings back negative memories every March. Those memories got reinforced by my grandmother, a farmer and master gardener in the true sense, coming to live with us and getting horribly homesick every March for her budding garden far away.
In recent years, March 2007 to be exact, a tiny snowball (probably on one of those snowy below freezing days) at the top of the mountain that is my career started to form. It slowly rolled down until it picked up speed in 2009 and became an avalanche that buried me in August of that same year. Having unburied myself by March of 2010 in a process by which I was blessed to be in a temp job that I grew to love I painfully started climbing back up that mountain by another route. At my age I will probably never reach the summit again, but I'm totally enjoying the climb at the moment. The weather is definitely better over on this side of the mountain.
This takes us up to the present day, March 10, 2011. There are some potential changes coming in my job which may affect my lifestyle. There's a best case scenario and a worst case scenario, and everything in between, and a lot of friends that are in a far scarier position than I am.
What is it about March?? Well, maybe it is something like Christ's passion, which we commemorate on Good Friday (Good Friday often falls in March although not this year). The thing about Good Friday--and the month of March--is that it is followed by a new birth, a second chance. What sustains us is hope...because we know that resurrection---and spring--are right around the corner.
Maybe I will make it back to the summit of my career after all.
So much for the environmental factors, and I use that term to encompass the political, spiritual and enconomic as well as the natural. For me personally, March does not have much to recommend it. It probably started in 1964, although maybe I just don't remember back before then. In March of 1964 I was sent for what seemed like an eternity but was probably just the month of March to live with my Godmother's family. They were incredibly nice people, and I was well care for, but I was an only child used to living a very solitary and sheltered existance and my grandfather was dying in a far away place and the whole experience brings back negative memories every March. Those memories got reinforced by my grandmother, a farmer and master gardener in the true sense, coming to live with us and getting horribly homesick every March for her budding garden far away.
In recent years, March 2007 to be exact, a tiny snowball (probably on one of those snowy below freezing days) at the top of the mountain that is my career started to form. It slowly rolled down until it picked up speed in 2009 and became an avalanche that buried me in August of that same year. Having unburied myself by March of 2010 in a process by which I was blessed to be in a temp job that I grew to love I painfully started climbing back up that mountain by another route. At my age I will probably never reach the summit again, but I'm totally enjoying the climb at the moment. The weather is definitely better over on this side of the mountain.
This takes us up to the present day, March 10, 2011. There are some potential changes coming in my job which may affect my lifestyle. There's a best case scenario and a worst case scenario, and everything in between, and a lot of friends that are in a far scarier position than I am.
What is it about March?? Well, maybe it is something like Christ's passion, which we commemorate on Good Friday (Good Friday often falls in March although not this year). The thing about Good Friday--and the month of March--is that it is followed by a new birth, a second chance. What sustains us is hope...because we know that resurrection---and spring--are right around the corner.
Maybe I will make it back to the summit of my career after all.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Valentine's Day
Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. It is my favorite holiday. Why? Well, maybe because it celebrates love. Romantic love, to be sure, but it also celebrates that kind of love that is friendship. I also have a fondness for all the liitle things about Valentine's Day--the cards, the hearts, the chocolates, the red roses, the diamonds. I mean, what's not to like???
To be sure, it helps to have a sweetheart, someone to share that love with. The Valentine's Day after losing a sweetheart (whether to the carpiciousness of life or to the clutches of death) can be quite painful. I have been blessed to not have experienced that pain for many years. Maybe that is where the love of friends comes in.
Out of curiousity, I did some reading about the history of Valentine's Day, and it has quite a history. Not suprisingly, the SAINT in St Valentine's was an attempt to Christianize beloved customs that had a much older past. Nothing wrong with that, I guess, if you keep the universal theme of love in perspective. Perhaps the most charming story of Valentine's Day's origins was that once upon a time in the Roman world the powers that be decided that men made better soldiers if they were not married. Well, there was this subversive priest named Valentine who secretly married young lovers. He was inevitably found out, and thrown in jail. He befriended his jailer's daughter, and he sent her a letter signed "from your Valentine". Cool, huh? Especially since it has that whole friendship thing in there. At least, it would fit nicely with my mythology...if it was more than friendship...well...we know what happens to subversive priests who fool around with jailer's daughters. They don't live happily ever after. Who knows if the story is true, but it makes a nice story, regardless of the ending. Today, Valentine's Day has been hijacked by the same commercial interests that have hijacked Christmas, and Mother's Day, and Grandparent's Day. They didn't exactly hijack the last one, they created it, as though you couldn't honor your grandparents on their gender specific parental day. But back to Valentines--there was a time when people handmade their own. Many Sunday School classes still do. Maybe they are on to something.
One of my favorite Valentine's Days was the year that Micahel and I attended a performance of Romeo and Juliet put on by the Synetic Theatre, where everything is done in pantomine. This year, we are delaying the gratification of our theatre going desires to March 26, when we will go to see Synetic Theatre's new production of King Lear. Even if it isn't on the exact day, its our little celebration. We haven't gone to the theatre in several years. And anyway, after twenty years of marriage, what's another month?? While we're waiting we'll make do with something chocolate for dessert on the actual Valentine's Day. Maybe Michael will bring me flowers, he does things like that.
This Valentine's Day I hope you experience love, whether it's love with your sweetheart, or the love of your friends, or preferably both.
To be sure, it helps to have a sweetheart, someone to share that love with. The Valentine's Day after losing a sweetheart (whether to the carpiciousness of life or to the clutches of death) can be quite painful. I have been blessed to not have experienced that pain for many years. Maybe that is where the love of friends comes in.
Out of curiousity, I did some reading about the history of Valentine's Day, and it has quite a history. Not suprisingly, the SAINT in St Valentine's was an attempt to Christianize beloved customs that had a much older past. Nothing wrong with that, I guess, if you keep the universal theme of love in perspective. Perhaps the most charming story of Valentine's Day's origins was that once upon a time in the Roman world the powers that be decided that men made better soldiers if they were not married. Well, there was this subversive priest named Valentine who secretly married young lovers. He was inevitably found out, and thrown in jail. He befriended his jailer's daughter, and he sent her a letter signed "from your Valentine". Cool, huh? Especially since it has that whole friendship thing in there. At least, it would fit nicely with my mythology...if it was more than friendship...well...we know what happens to subversive priests who fool around with jailer's daughters. They don't live happily ever after. Who knows if the story is true, but it makes a nice story, regardless of the ending. Today, Valentine's Day has been hijacked by the same commercial interests that have hijacked Christmas, and Mother's Day, and Grandparent's Day. They didn't exactly hijack the last one, they created it, as though you couldn't honor your grandparents on their gender specific parental day. But back to Valentines--there was a time when people handmade their own. Many Sunday School classes still do. Maybe they are on to something.
One of my favorite Valentine's Days was the year that Micahel and I attended a performance of Romeo and Juliet put on by the Synetic Theatre, where everything is done in pantomine. This year, we are delaying the gratification of our theatre going desires to March 26, when we will go to see Synetic Theatre's new production of King Lear. Even if it isn't on the exact day, its our little celebration. We haven't gone to the theatre in several years. And anyway, after twenty years of marriage, what's another month?? While we're waiting we'll make do with something chocolate for dessert on the actual Valentine's Day. Maybe Michael will bring me flowers, he does things like that.
This Valentine's Day I hope you experience love, whether it's love with your sweetheart, or the love of your friends, or preferably both.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Deacons
Yesterday I attended the first Ordination to the Sacred Order of (Vocational) Deacons that has been held in the Diocese of Virginia in anybody's memory. In the Episcopal Church, there are two types of Deacons--Deacons who will, God willing, go on to be Priests, known as Transitional Deacons, and Deacons who are called to this particular ministry of serventhood, known as Vocational or Perpetual Deacons. As Bishop Shannon pointed out, this Ordination was a historic event. What will these Vocational Deacons be doing? Well, that's something that Episcopalians in the Diocese of Virginia will be puzzleing out in the weeks, months, and years to come. By definition a Vocational Deacon is a member of the clergy who does not get paid by the church, so they either hold jobs to make a living, or they have some independent means of financial suppport. Deacons go out into the world and identify where the hurts and the needs are, and then they come back into the church and get the rest of us moving to heal that which is broken. To hear Bishop Shannon tell it, they aren't our proxies. They are our conscience. But a conscience with a good bit of tact and political savvy. That's how things get done in the Episcopal Church. Definitiely that's how things get done in the Diocese of Virginia.
I attended the Ordination for two reasons. The first and most obvious one was that I was invited by one of the five Ordinands, Marty Hager. Marty did his internship with my church for the last eight months, and the Bishop has now assigned him to be with us for the next two years. Marty, like his fellow Ordinands, has proven himself to be a deeply spiritual person, highly invested in his ministry in the world (also called a "bridge ministry"), quite capable of tact and political savvy. The committee that selected these pioneer members of the first Deaconate Class of the Diocese of Virginia chose well. I wanted to support him.
But there was another reason as well. I am curious. I want to watch the Vocational Deaconate grow and develop in the Diocese of Virginia, and I was not about to miss an historic event of the magnitude of the first Ordination. The first exposure that I got to the whole concept was when I met another of the newly Ordained Deacons, Mary Beth Emerson, back in 2004 when we were both taking classes at the Servant Leadership School in Adams-Morgan. Back then, a Vocational Deaconate in this Diocese was but a topic to consider.
People have been asking me if I am discerning a call to the Vocational Deaconate. Far be it for me to have figured out totally what God wants for me, but I'm pretty sure it isn't the Vocational Deaconate. Oh sure, I love to volunteer to do stuff to fix the world's brokeness, and I am a Social Worker by profession. I am a deeply spiritual person and I am quite involved in my church. But I don't have that tact and political savvy thing down quite yet. And probably more imporantly I don't have the qualities of humility that all five of these newly Ordained Deacons appear to have. So rather than considering these questions I get about my discernment process as God's noodge, I take them as a creative opportunity to explore more deeply what my ministry as a lay person needs to be.
When the Diocese of Virginia last elected a Bishop, an opporutnity was made to interview the candidates. My questions were about the Vocational Deaconate. I liked then-Candidate Shannon's answers very well. He talked about the importance of the Vocational Deaconate and what he would like to establish if elected to our Diocese. I suspect that the presence of Vocational Deacons will reshape the way we view Transitional Deacons as well. No longer will Transitional Deacons be biding their time until their Preistly Ordination. They will be out there bringing the needs of the world to our attention--with tact and political savvy to be sure.
And so what am I expecting going forward from this historical event, this first ever twenty-first century Ordination of Vocational Deacons in the Diocese of Virginia? I am looking to be inspired. I am looking to see a church becoming more responsive to the needs of the least of God's children. I am looking to be held accountable. In short, I am looking for glimmers of the Kingdom of God in our midst.
I attended the Ordination for two reasons. The first and most obvious one was that I was invited by one of the five Ordinands, Marty Hager. Marty did his internship with my church for the last eight months, and the Bishop has now assigned him to be with us for the next two years. Marty, like his fellow Ordinands, has proven himself to be a deeply spiritual person, highly invested in his ministry in the world (also called a "bridge ministry"), quite capable of tact and political savvy. The committee that selected these pioneer members of the first Deaconate Class of the Diocese of Virginia chose well. I wanted to support him.
But there was another reason as well. I am curious. I want to watch the Vocational Deaconate grow and develop in the Diocese of Virginia, and I was not about to miss an historic event of the magnitude of the first Ordination. The first exposure that I got to the whole concept was when I met another of the newly Ordained Deacons, Mary Beth Emerson, back in 2004 when we were both taking classes at the Servant Leadership School in Adams-Morgan. Back then, a Vocational Deaconate in this Diocese was but a topic to consider.
People have been asking me if I am discerning a call to the Vocational Deaconate. Far be it for me to have figured out totally what God wants for me, but I'm pretty sure it isn't the Vocational Deaconate. Oh sure, I love to volunteer to do stuff to fix the world's brokeness, and I am a Social Worker by profession. I am a deeply spiritual person and I am quite involved in my church. But I don't have that tact and political savvy thing down quite yet. And probably more imporantly I don't have the qualities of humility that all five of these newly Ordained Deacons appear to have. So rather than considering these questions I get about my discernment process as God's noodge, I take them as a creative opportunity to explore more deeply what my ministry as a lay person needs to be.
When the Diocese of Virginia last elected a Bishop, an opporutnity was made to interview the candidates. My questions were about the Vocational Deaconate. I liked then-Candidate Shannon's answers very well. He talked about the importance of the Vocational Deaconate and what he would like to establish if elected to our Diocese. I suspect that the presence of Vocational Deacons will reshape the way we view Transitional Deacons as well. No longer will Transitional Deacons be biding their time until their Preistly Ordination. They will be out there bringing the needs of the world to our attention--with tact and political savvy to be sure.
And so what am I expecting going forward from this historical event, this first ever twenty-first century Ordination of Vocational Deacons in the Diocese of Virginia? I am looking to be inspired. I am looking to see a church becoming more responsive to the needs of the least of God's children. I am looking to be held accountable. In short, I am looking for glimmers of the Kingdom of God in our midst.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Epiphanies
It has been a difficult week. I had intended to post about Epiphany a week ago, at the Feast of the Epiphany, but it isn’t in the nature of Epiphanies to be able to plan ahead. At the Epiphany which we celebrated Jan 6 it wasn’t in the thought process of the three wise men that they would be encountering a baby in a manger—if it had they would have perhaps brought pampers, a car seat (for the journey to Egypt) and a few onesies instead of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
My own journey this past week started at 7 AM Saturday when Michael and I set out for a weekend getaway to Richmond, the excuse being Diocese of Virginia pre-council meetings. Our plan had been to drop Michael off at a hotel so he could nap while I attended the meeting. Well, we got lost in Richmond when our GPS failed us, so we got to St Stephen’s just in time for the meeting. We were greeted at the door by Lindsay Ryland of the Diocesan staff, who turned out to be our guardian angel—she helped us locate an easy to get to hotel and packed up Michael and took him there. After the pre-council meeting I made my way to the hotel—not following a star or GPS but Lindsay’s excellent directions. Michael and I had just pulled out our Richmond guidebooks as the news about the tragic shooting in Tucson broke, and so like most Americans we stayed glued to the TV as more and conflicting reports came out. When evening rolled around we did the only thing that had actually been in our original plans, we went out to dinner at a charming restaurant in the Fan District. The thing about the Fan, the streets have been there longer than modern cars, and they are narrow. There were cars parked on both sides of the street and our car connected with an oncoming one on the passenger sides with quite an impact. No one was physically injured, thank God, although the other driver was pretty freaked out. She was able to drive away but we were not— at 10 PM we returned to our home in Reston by “another way”—in a tow truck.
Sunday was relatively tame--for us anyway. We rested. A good thing, as news of weekend phenomena got worse and worse. Monday brought an email bearing sad news: Jack Corkey, a kind and gentle spirit and mainstay of the Reston/Herndon Community, had passed away Sunday, suddenly and unexpectedly. Then there was an article in the Washington Post about an elderly couple who had become lost driving home from their daughter’s, also on Sunday, and who were found frozen to death near their car, apparently trying to find help.
What was it about last weekend?? Maybe bad things happen every weekend, but last weekend seemed to be filled with them. Which brings us back to epiphanies.
An Epiphany is an “aha” moment, when a new realization makes its way into our lives. For the Three Wise Men, it was “God with us”. For the Reston/Herndon Community it is that life is lived in the present moment and that even a decent, healthy, robust individual can die as Jack did, after a morning jog while preparing to work the Sunday crossword puzzle. For the family of the couple who froze to death, it was that the cost of lovingly according your parents the dignity and respect of independence is knowing that you may lose them under such tragic circumstances. For the American people it is that the manner of our public debate brings the kind of consequences that we saw in Tucson.
For me, I think it is that “God with us” plays out through those around us—as I was standing in the middle of Strawberry Street last Saturday night, police lights flashing and the other driver crying, I called my friend Tanya, who comforted me and stood ready at a moment’s notice to come rescue us in Richmond (which fortunately wasn’t necessary). My mechanic has been offering me the use of a loaner car all week (also not necessary). My sorority sisters and co-workers patiently listened as I told my story while in PTSD mode. My Bishop sent me a kind note after I emailed him to commend our guardian angel Lindsay Ryland. All are the body of Christ, “God with us”.
Yes indeed, it has been a difficult week. But then, once the wise men got back to their own country, and after they had fed the camels, they probably said the same thing. And hopefully they rested.
My own journey this past week started at 7 AM Saturday when Michael and I set out for a weekend getaway to Richmond, the excuse being Diocese of Virginia pre-council meetings. Our plan had been to drop Michael off at a hotel so he could nap while I attended the meeting. Well, we got lost in Richmond when our GPS failed us, so we got to St Stephen’s just in time for the meeting. We were greeted at the door by Lindsay Ryland of the Diocesan staff, who turned out to be our guardian angel—she helped us locate an easy to get to hotel and packed up Michael and took him there. After the pre-council meeting I made my way to the hotel—not following a star or GPS but Lindsay’s excellent directions. Michael and I had just pulled out our Richmond guidebooks as the news about the tragic shooting in Tucson broke, and so like most Americans we stayed glued to the TV as more and conflicting reports came out. When evening rolled around we did the only thing that had actually been in our original plans, we went out to dinner at a charming restaurant in the Fan District. The thing about the Fan, the streets have been there longer than modern cars, and they are narrow. There were cars parked on both sides of the street and our car connected with an oncoming one on the passenger sides with quite an impact. No one was physically injured, thank God, although the other driver was pretty freaked out. She was able to drive away but we were not— at 10 PM we returned to our home in Reston by “another way”—in a tow truck.
Sunday was relatively tame--for us anyway. We rested. A good thing, as news of weekend phenomena got worse and worse. Monday brought an email bearing sad news: Jack Corkey, a kind and gentle spirit and mainstay of the Reston/Herndon Community, had passed away Sunday, suddenly and unexpectedly. Then there was an article in the Washington Post about an elderly couple who had become lost driving home from their daughter’s, also on Sunday, and who were found frozen to death near their car, apparently trying to find help.
What was it about last weekend?? Maybe bad things happen every weekend, but last weekend seemed to be filled with them. Which brings us back to epiphanies.
An Epiphany is an “aha” moment, when a new realization makes its way into our lives. For the Three Wise Men, it was “God with us”. For the Reston/Herndon Community it is that life is lived in the present moment and that even a decent, healthy, robust individual can die as Jack did, after a morning jog while preparing to work the Sunday crossword puzzle. For the family of the couple who froze to death, it was that the cost of lovingly according your parents the dignity and respect of independence is knowing that you may lose them under such tragic circumstances. For the American people it is that the manner of our public debate brings the kind of consequences that we saw in Tucson.
For me, I think it is that “God with us” plays out through those around us—as I was standing in the middle of Strawberry Street last Saturday night, police lights flashing and the other driver crying, I called my friend Tanya, who comforted me and stood ready at a moment’s notice to come rescue us in Richmond (which fortunately wasn’t necessary). My mechanic has been offering me the use of a loaner car all week (also not necessary). My sorority sisters and co-workers patiently listened as I told my story while in PTSD mode. My Bishop sent me a kind note after I emailed him to commend our guardian angel Lindsay Ryland. All are the body of Christ, “God with us”.
Yes indeed, it has been a difficult week. But then, once the wise men got back to their own country, and after they had fed the camels, they probably said the same thing. And hopefully they rested.
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