Tell Me Your Story....

I actually have something to think about that has taken my mind off the wedding, and what's been even more consuming, the getting of the last details together for that trip to Texas for a little bit. Who knew that was even possible at this point! But it's true. My clergy friend D with whom I had all the great Millennium Development Goal adventures in "my year of living Di" as I like to think of it now, has been in touch recently. Seems our new Bishop has asked her to do some teaching on Public Narrative at our clergy conference next week. And she is turn is calling upon some of us who have involved with her in this process in our parish MDG projects to help "demo" by giving our own public narratives, being coached and then coaching others in small groups. "Oh, would you, Kate?" she asks...and of course, I said yes. Well what I said was (with some tongue in cheek) "it's not enough that I'm coming to clergy conference the week before the wedding, now I have to work too!"


So I have been working on my public narrative....which is basically a story in three parts, and goes something like this....
Part I Story of Self: I am calling you (my audience) to this challenge because of this about me....
Part II Story of Us: We have faced and overcome this similar challenge in this way.....
Part III Story of Now: NOW is the urgent moment we need to act on this challenge because....
And the best part....it all happens in six minutes!


So as part of my prep for this, I've been going back through some of the things I wrote during that year...and remembering. That was quite the time. There is no doubt that we did good work. We raised significant money for our project, which was important all by itself. But beyond that, I think for a time there I believed that we were going to transform something in a BIG way....the church, our parish, our individual selves maybe..... And while perhaps that did not happen quite the way I envisioned it, I think we did do some transformative work. The process changed me. I claimed myself as a writer because I participated in this. And I knew myself to be part of something larger in a new way. And I know it changed others, too. One of my congregants who participated as part of our team foun his own voice as a result of telling his story. Another, sad to say, found a well of anger in herself and decided to walk away from us. But that too is a part of growth and transformation. The fire burns both ways sometimes as it transforms us. It was quite a time as times of change are. Heady and wild, deep and full of the Spirit running among us. I remember at the training we had with the folks from the Kennedy Center. As we were drawing our diagrams and doing our brainstorming we declared so confidently that we were setting out to "DO the Gospel." And for a little time there, it seemed that we did. Missional church, right here, right now, burning among us. The fires have banked a bit, and I'm feeling a bit of sad nostalgia for those hotter times right now. As ever, balance is so challenging. But who knows, maybe telling the storis again will bring something back to life again. Stories often do. Isn't that after all, why we tell them?

The First Funeral

It was one of those moments for which God brought me to this place. They were surprised to find a service booklet, a sermon, and, in the daughter's words, "a whole real service." A the end of the sermon, when I invited people to share memories of G, she spoke, honestly and from her heart about her mom, about both struggle and love, tears were shed. Her brother spoke as well, and was more humorous and lighthearted. Two friends also shared, one a friend of the daughter about how G had "mothered" her too in her teen years, and another about simple good times he had shared with G. In all of it there was no doubt in my mind we were on holy ground. When we went downstairs for the reception the daughter spoke to me again about her surprise that this service was so "special" and how much she appreciated that. She seemed amazed that it all came from the BCP and said, "I guess it really has been a long time since I've been in an Episcopal church." The acolyte, who is a really lovely man, and I shared a moment after the service. I always tell him how much I appreciate it when he acolytes as I feel as if I am in good hands up there. He is a cradle Episcopalian and knows what I'm doing liturgically better than I do! He gave me the thumbs up after for a "first time well done" and I told him that from him that really meant a lot. He said we were a good team....I teared up.

I know your prayers once again carried me. As I float off to bed in my liturgical afterglow, I thank you all from the bottom of my heart.


...And now that it is morning of the next day and I am back at the office....here is the sermon from the funeral based on Romans 8:14-19,34-35,37-39 John 11:21-27

Whenever someone dies, for those left behind there is a time of a kind of confusion and shock, a time of pain and grief as we adjust to life without the presence of our loved one in our lives. We miss their earthly presence. Not being able to see and speak with them, to share the daily ups and downs of life, to do the things we have always done together. We may also be left with feelings of things unfinished. Things we wished we had done or said, or things we did not get to bring to some conclusion in our often complicated relationships with our loved ones. They of course are now at peace and are beyond such concerns, though we may continue to struggle with such feelings, because such is way of our human selves.

Of course we will grieve and mourn. We all go through that process in all its parts however it may manifest itself for us when we lose a loved one. It is part of the way we honor our humanity and our connections with one another. Jesus the Incarnate One, fully human among us, himself wept at the news of the death of his friend Lazarus.

But while we go through this very human process of letting go of and missing G in her earthy life, we can also take some great comfort in the promises of our faith. As Jesus told Martha as she grieved the loss of her brother, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” As Christians we believe that by dying and rising again Jesus has conquered death and that it truly is not an end of life, but only as life as we know it. G, as all of those who have gone on before us, live on in a great community of saints. And we believe that we will all rise again in glory together.

And we can also take comfort in another promise that God has made us in Jesus. And that is the one we hear in Romans, the one that nothing can separate us from God’s love. While we are grieving, or suffering pain, or asking difficult questions, this God who loved us enough to become one of us and is close enough to be called “ abba, father” gathers us up, joins with us in our struggles to offer comfort to us and to let us know we are never, never alone. Our God is with us to carry us through and we can call on God to comfort us as we grieve the loss of G.

Another way that we take comfort as humans is through memory. As long as we carry the memories of our loved ones in our hearts they are never very far from us. While I did not know G personally here at St. James I have been told that she added so much to our dinners here through her wonderful cooking, and that both of your parents were vital members of this community through their love of music and involvement with church and community programs. Everyone I have talked to about her has emphasized her zest for life, and more than one person has use the word "character" to describe her. At this point I would like to offer you some time to come and share with us all some of your memories of G. To tell all of us how she touched your life, so that we all might share in those and find comfort in that this evening.

Incoming.....

It's another bullet week. But somehow this one stealthed me....I misjudged, under-estimated and miscalculated. If I am optimally productive every single minute of my waking hours for the next eight days I might, just might, make the finish line. The to-do list includes:

• Reading and grading twenty eight student journals yet today


• Sermon-writing and service prep for Sunday. I volunteered (!) to also do the bulletin this week as the usual person is in every bit as dire straights as I am. My heart is still able to be moved!


• Getting the two lectures ready for class next week (Descartes on Tuesday, Goethe, Kierkegaard, Nietzsche on Thursday, just fluff)


• Getting a food license and volunteers lined up for a the hot dog sale MDG fund-raiser for Homecoming on October 6 (person who was doing it backed out)


• Getting the "stuff" together to decorate the truck for the parade for same homecoming parade and getting the decorating team moving to do the deed


• Making sure everyone gets (and PAYS me) for the t-shirts for the same event (Must say I am happy with how they look, at least on screen and anxious to see them in person)


• Conducting regular service on Sunday and then tagging along to the jail service in the afternoon to see how its done because "our turn" is next month and I've never been there


• Giving the two lectures (which of course includes fighting with the library over the AV equipment as well as my own sporadic anxiety that still floats up with the teaching now and again)
  
• The actual Homecoming Parade and hotdog event. I get to drive the TRUCK!

All squeezed around the day job and life in general. Haven't done laundry since before I traveled so it's getting pretty serious on that front. Have to do that or buy basics! Need a haircut, but there is no time for such frivolity. And somehow I got talked into three social events this weekend and a dinner out tonight to meet a clergy relative of one of my congregants who is passing through town. I did say no to one meeting in the midst of all this in favor of attending Taize at SD's church. I am giving myself huge credit for that!

So if you don't hear much from me in the next week, that's why. Maybe the sermon will speak for me. I want to be here. I'm getting behind here, too, and I miss the connections with you all. Well at least I'm consistent! Your prayers for my endurance and patience will be appreciated!

Where I Was on Saturday.....

MINNESOTA: MDG Training Summit draws national leaders, offers practical training
By Joe Bjordal, September 20, 2007
[Episcopal News Service] More than two hundred adults, youth and children participated in a day-long training summit at Church of St. John the Evangelist in St. Paul, Minnesota, September 15 to equip individuals and congregations to support the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs).
"What's Your Point 2007? -- A Millennium Development Goals Training Summit" was sponsored by the MDGs Task Force of the Episcopal Diocese of Minnesota.

The training summit is one component of an overall advocacy and education strategy about the MDGs that has also included direct donations to international relief and development agencies, such as Episcopal Relief and Development and Bread for the World, and grants to congregations as seed money to launch projects in support of the MDGs.

The Rev. Devon Anderson, chair of Minnesota's MDG Task Force, said the training summit was a big success for many reasons, including that fact that there was a broad diversity represented in the participants.

"We were able to pull together, during a very busy time of the year, over 200 people from around our diocese who have a passion for global mission and reconciliation," said Anderson. "There were people from rural areas, Total Ministry clusters, Indian missions and big program parishes. There were young children, youth, adults and elders. We had geographical, cultural, and generational diversity represented -- people from all walks of life and means coming together around the MDGs. It was the kingdom of God and it was holy and beautiful."

From the Baptismal Covenant: A Call to Mission
The keynote address for the training summit was delivered by Dr. Bonnie Anderson, president of the House of Deputies of the Episcopal Church and mother of the Rev. Devon Anderson. She told summit participants that the promises we make in the Baptismal Covenant are foundations and motivations for doing God's mission in the world.

"The mission of reconciliation in the world belongs to God and we are God's vehicles for that, charged by our baptismal covenant, according to the gifts given us, to carry on Christ's work of reconciliation in the world," said Bonnie Anderson, who movingly recounted her experience attending the Towards Effective Anglican Mission (TEAM) Conference in Boksburg, South Africa earlier this year, as photographs of conference participants were projected onto a large video screen.

"These are people, from all over the world who are living out their baptismal covenants. They are working every day to make sure their neighbors are loved as they love themselves," she said.

"When we think about our call to mission -- what it is that each of us is uniquely called to do -- we need to remember first that this is God's mission, not ours. And, inherent in our mission call is relationship. It is not about us, the rich Americans, saving the unchurched, poverty-stricken world. It is about us, the people of God, learning from and sharing with other people of God. There are many, many ways and contexts for mission."

Anderson concluded her remarks by saying "We have our marching orders -- laity, clergy, bishops -- according to the gifts we have been given: Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself? Will you strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being?"

The 'Three-Legged Stool' of the MDGs
Minnesota's MDG Training Summit brought together representatives of the three main national organizations in the Episcopal MDG movement. A summit segment called "The Three-Legged Stool of the MDGs: Development, Relationship, Advocacy," featured representatives of Episcopal Relief and Development (ERD), Episcopalians for Global Reconciliation (EGR) and the Episcopal Church's Office of Government Relations, a part of the Presiding Bishop's staff in Washington that is responsible for representing the Church's positions on public policy to Congress and the White House and equipping the advocacy of Episcopalians around the country.
Participants in the first-ever public, joint panel discussion were the Rev. Lynn Sanders, director of church relations for ERD, the Rev. Mike Kinman, executive director of EGR, and Alexander Baumgarten, international policy analyst for the Episcopal Church's Office of Government Relations. Bonnie Anderson moderated the discussion.

Individual presentations and the fielding of questions made it clear that "each leg of the stool" is necessary for a comprehensive approach to supporting the MDGs.

In response to a question about "what you would like to see from each other to better carry out your work," the presenters were frank in agreeing that the work of their individual organizations is sometimes seen as competing. They agreed there has been tension, but there is a new attitude of cooperation and a growing willingness to work together.

Kinman summed up the feeling of the group when he said that all kinds of systems, organizations and approaches are going to be necessary in the future to successfully support the MDGs.

"We should not be afraid of the tension," said Kinman, "rather milk it for all the creativity it has."

Practical Training
The Training Summit also offered series of small-group workshops, repeated twice during the day, which offered practical training in support of the MDGs. Topics included: "What are the MDGs: An Introduction" by the Rev. Mike Kinman; "Thinking Globally, Organizing Locally: Episcopal Global Mission in Historical Context" by Dr. Michael McNally; "The MDGs and Worship" by the Rev. LeeAnne Watkins; "The Willing Heart: the Psychology of Asking" by the Rev. Barbara Mraz; "From Violence to Wholeness: Nonviolence and the MDGs" by the Rev. Jackie Lynn and the Rev. Rex McKee; "It's All About Relationships: Organizing a Mission Project 101" by Laurie Beckman Yetzer; and "Reading the Times: Using Everyday Life to Inspire MDG Commitment" by Dr. Lisa Kimbal.

A 'Template' to be Shared
Devon Anderson noted that there had been inquiries from several other Episcopal dioceses as plans for the workshop were being developed.

"One of the things I'm most proud of is that our training summit can be used as a template for other dioceses who are trying to figure out 'the next step' in their own MDG work. We'll gladly share what we have created for the common good of the whole church," she said.

Anderson noted that part of what was developed was a day-long learning experience for children which allowed them to interact with each of the eight Millennium Development Goals. The examination of each goal included a visual connection, a Bible story, a game, a hands-on activity, a connection to the Book of Common Prayer, and something that each child can do about that goal after the event. The children's program was developed by MerLynne Byrne, director of Faith Formation at St. Stephen's Church, Edina.

Anointed for Service
Minnesota's first MDG Training Summit ended with a closing worship service with some powerful symbolism.

Earlier in the day, Kinman said "if you really want to get your congregation charged up about the MDGs, involve your youth and children -- they are already globally connected."

As the closing worship service concluded, the participants in the children's program made their way through the congregation carrying containers of newly-blessed oil which was given to each person to anoint the hands of the person seated next to them.

Devon Anderson noted that the service -- and the entire day -- was celebratory and joyful, which "could only be explained by the Spirit in our midst."

"We were about to deepen the conversation about the MDGs and understand their complexity better," she said. "We provided a forum for people to network and join forces and we offered practical, utilitarian workshops that were armed with new ideas and strategies to take back to congregations and be God's agents of reconciliation in the world."

More information about the Diocese of Minnesota's support of the Millennium Development Goals is available by contacting the Rev. Devon Anderson at devonanderson1@gmail.com

I I thought I'd post the whole article. It explains what happened there so well. The reason I was there is because my tiny little church has an MDG project. We are supporting a community center that is being started in Rwanda. We knew we wanted to do a project after we attended our diocesan convention last year and got fired up about the MDGs. On Palm Sunday one of our congregants who, along with her late husband, had been active in worldwide work with genocide spoke to the congregation about her hopes to start this center in his memory. The collection that day brought in all we needed to qualify us to apply for a diocesan matching grant, which we were later awarded. So far we have raised most of the funds we need and are beginning to gather the school supplies and books we are sending to the center. It's an amazing thing to think that a little church on the prairie in Minnesota can impact the lives of people in this place far away who have endured things that we cannot even begin to fathom. And the other amazing thing is that it's changing our lives as well.

All of the people who were there were so fired up about what they were doing. I had lunch with a very interesting person named Laurie (who happened to be a Lutheran at this very Episcopal gathering) who does advocacy work for kids and had done one of the workshops. As we were chatting, we got to talking about where she went to church...no surprise on this amazing day of providences and Spirit moments that she is a member of Diane's congregation! And it further turns out that Laurie is planning to be coming out my way to do some congregational work for her organization, so hopefully I can help her make some connections.

At the beginning and end of the day we sang a song that went:
If not us, not them
If not now, then when
If not here, nor there, If not this world, then where?
The whole day was just so incredible. One thing after another. The closing worship was powerful. The singing, the annointing of our hands for mission with the kids passing the oil....it left me thoughtful and energized and really hopeful about the future of the church.

A Bullet Week

I don't know how it can possibly be Wednesday. I really need it not to be this late in the week since I need several more days to get everything done before I leave on Friday for my peripatetic adventures of the next several days. I want to write about the amazing speaker I heard last Friday. His name is Phil Steger and he talked here Friday about why we need to get out of Iraq and why this month is our best chance. But he deserves a whole post and there just isn't time. Because this week I am:

• Preparing my workshop for clergy conference. When I found out that the other person who had been tapped to present with me was unable to be there, I suggested turning it into a panel discussion, which is the good news....cuz nobody, including me, wants to hear me talk for ninety solid minutes! The downside of that has been that I've been inventing it on the fly over the last week, people have been being added as we go along and it's been kind of crazy. But now it's pretty much in final format, the players are set and we'll have a bit of rehearsal time the night before, so I can take a deep breath and let go on that one, and move on to.....
• Getting my First Big Lecture ready for my class for the day after I get back from conference. We have been doing context setting, library days, group discussions and such till now, but on the 20th its me, the Power Point, Aristotle and Plato. Class is 75 minutes. I usually preach for about 15. So this is what....five sermons? All at once. I won't talk the whole time of course. So four sermons then.....what, pray tell was I thinking? Well the Power Point looks snazzy anyway. Assuming it works. Have I mentioned that technology and I have been known to tangle in the past.....
• Reading Fritz Kunkel's Creation Continues with my fabulously awesome bible study group. Oh, to have nothing else to do but hang with Fritz!
• Also on the fun front, I have been having the best time writing interview questions. I am waiting patiently for a couple people's answers.
• Planning our "float" and hotdog stand fundraiser for the MDG's for Homecoming parade. Tonight somehow I found myself in charge of designing T-shirts for us to wear.
• Doing my day job
• Thanking God for an amazing first year as a priest. What a trip this year of post-ordination formation has been. Steep learning curve. Loving the ride!
• Trying to figure out what to pack for a seven day trip in changeable Minnesota September weather that includes: a church conference, a stint as a Renaissance Festival wench, a clergy conference, and DRUM ROLL PLEASE.....a Revgal meetup!!!!!!! Yes it's true Diane and I are planning brunch on Monday between my wench and clergy gigs. Photos to follow!!!!

Just Hanging Out in God's Country

After I finished my sermon last night I decided to take a break and Dear One and I went to see License to Wed. What a letdown. Aside from a couple of slapstick moments involving robot babies and body fluids there was nothing funny about this movie. And on a lot of levels I actually found it kind of disturbing. Apparently in "Rev. Frank's" (Williams') world, it is OK to be cruel, insensitive, smarmy, manipulative and even break the law to achieve your "godly" goals. And it's good to have a little sidekick "junior minister" there learning the ropes with you. Even his supposedly "redemptive act" involved doing something outside the law. So what's the message here? If you're doing it for a good cause (or think you are) all's well? Ummm....seems I've heard this somewhere before, "God told me to, so it's OK." I guess I expected better of Robin, my fellow Episcopalian! The good news is all it cost me was a box of popcorn as I had won the movie passes at a work party!

This morning the service was all ligthness and wonder, gift and grace. The sermon that seemed "ok" on paper felt better delivered. Feeding my people on word and sacrament I found myself loving them all over again. A blessed morning.

After church I took advantage of the great weather to get what will likely be my last sunburn of the season and attended the parade for our summer festival. I don't know if all small town parades are like this, but sandwiched between the bands and the drum lines, ours consists of a lot of the local business people, churches and service organizations driving decorated vehicles of all sorts and tossing stuff to the parade goers. Now most of the "stuff" in question is candy for the kids, and that is a show in itself watching them scramble for Tootsie rolls and Jolly Ranchers, and the occassional frisbee or nerf ball. But the merchants don't all cater to the kiddies. Today for example, I scored a mini-flashlight from the Pentecostals, a pair of cute pearl earrings from the new jewelry store, a 20% off coupon for the Maurice's, a rubber ducky from the mortuary (!), a magnet from the Catholics and a couple tootsie rolls I beat the kids to. I wore my "Episcopalian by the Grace of God" T- shirt as I often do to casual community events. It's been a conversation starter more than once. I noticed that most of my mainline brothers (and in this town it is most brothers) had a presence in the parade. Three Lutheran churches had floats, as did the Pentecostals who had a Christian rapper on their flatbed with a good loud sound system along with the flashlights they passed out. The new missionary alliance church planting folks were passing out tracts and candy, the Catholics had a float representing the church school and they were giving pencils and magnets. Many of them were playing catchy praise music. Got me thinking....the homecoming parade is not too far off. We are already planning to sell hot dogs for an MDG fundraiser. The street in front of church is on the parade route. Maybe we should be IN the parade as well. One of my congregants has a pickup, we could ride in the back, we could have a sign! What should an Episcopalian toss to the crowd? What music should we play? All suggestions will be considered.

It's been a long few weeks. Lots of intense emotion, time pressure, heavy stuff with clients. School starts Tuesday, and I know that things are going to get moving fast again in my life for awhile. But today for that hour or so in the sun in my post-worship languor I felt perfectly content to just be, remembering why it is I love small town life and practicing the Sabbath I preached.

Interfaith service at St. Mark’s Cathedral draws more than 1400 by Susan Barksdale

On August 1, the sudden collapse of the I-35W bridge over the Mississippi River brought the Twin Cities communities together in shock and disbelief. On the evening of August 5, a service at St. Mark’s Episcopal Cathedral in Minneapolis (just a few minutes from the bridge site) brought them together in prayer. More than 1400 people packed the nave, overflowing into the aisles, the narthex, and the side chapel for what was called “an interfaith service of healing.” The rear gallery was also jam-packed, but with reporters and camera operators, who were covering the service for local and national media.Like the tragedy that had drawn together so many diverse people, so did the service draw from many faith traditions. It was sponsored by the Minnesota Council of Churches, the [Roman Catholic] Archdiocese of St. Paul and Minneapolis, the [Minneapolis] Downtown Clergy association, the Hindu Society of Minnesota, the Jewish Community Relations Council, the Islamic Jurisprudence Council of Minnesota, and the Minneapolis Caucus of ISAIAH [a family service organization]. Readers and prayer leaders came from the Jewish, Christian, Islamic, Hindu, Native American, and Hispanic communities.

The music was diverse as well. A trio from the Minnesota Orchestra played before the service. Folk singer Ann Reed performed and led the congregation in song. The Bethesda Ensemble Choir, a gospel group, offered several selections during the collection, which was designated for distribution via the Minneapolis Foundation to victims and their families. Canon Musician Raymond Johnston ended the service with a Bach prelude and fugue on the cathedral organ.
The service reached out to all. In addition to faith leaders, city and state elected officials were also present. Minnesota Governor Tim Pawlenty and Minneapolis Mayor R. T. Rybak both spoke. Representatives of the police, fire department, and other emergency responders were invited to join the procession. Survivors, families, and many others affected by the tragedy also attended.“A spiritual mortar” for rebuilding“Sometimes words that are so comforting for us are said so often that they lose their meaning,” said Minneapolis mayor R. T. Rybak, a member of St. John the Baptist Episcopal Church in Minneapolis. Such is the case, he explained, with the words “Our prayers are with you.” Still, he added, it meant so much to hear those words from all over our country at this tragic time. “Prayer is what binds us, becoming a spiritual mortar,” Rybak said. “Will our prayers give us the faith we need to comfort someone, not just now, but in the days and weeks to come? Prayer has brought us together. I think we can always say in this community that prayers will be with us.”After these words, the stone walls of the cathedral almost shuddered as the voices of those assembled joined in the stirring hymn “O God, our help in ages past.”Most of Sunday’s speakers touched on the uniting of the community during the aftermath of the bridge collapse. “Our city has suddenly become small,” said Rabbi Sim Glaser of Temple Israel, Minneapolis. “When tragedy strikes, there is only one way to turn, and that is to each other, because [God] is in all of us.” Shashikant Sane of the Hindu Society noted that the prayers that began at the Hindu temple in Maple Grove early Thursday morning were still continuing. "If a bridge made of iron and steel and cement can fall down," said Hamdy El-Sawaf of the Islamic Jurisprudence Council," then a human bridge of faith, trust, confidence, and hope must be established." A commitment to patience — and a blessingThe Rev. Peg Chemberlin, Executive Director of the Minnesota Council of Churches, gave thanks for all who responded in minutes after the bridge collapse, as well as for “those who stayed behind to tend to the tragedies of our everyday life.” She asked all to commit themselves to a time of profound patience — patience in rebuilding and patience in healing.

Bishop James Jelinek of the Diocese of Minnesota offered this benediction to the congregation — survivors, grieving families, officials, responders, and all those who had simply wanted to come together on this night:

May the God who created the universe and all of us help you to build
bridges of faith and knit each other together in love.

May God, who has given us those who lead with courage and hope and
endurance, inspire you in your own lives to live well.

May God, who had given us those whose selflessness reveals to us the
commonwealth of Heaven, move you to work for the common good.

And may God, who did not make us for darkness and death, take you by the
hand and lead you to life, today and forever. Amen.

From the Weekly News of the Diocese of Minnesota, August 8, 2007

Yurt Journals August 5-7, 2007

The First Day -- Evening
Despite an inauspicious beginning, I have arrived and settled in to my beautiful yurt.* But for a while there tonight, I thought this whole thing might be turning into another one of those good ideas come to naught. While driving back from our trip to the Cities, the Dear One had developed some alarming health symptoms, which culminated in a trip to the ER upon our arrival back home. When it became clear that all would be well, I was dismissed to get on with the yurt trip and called a friend to take me home to get my car and get on the road. The drive up was gorgeous, with the first real sunshine all day, and at one point I decided I just had to stop, late for the yurt or not, and get some pictures of my beloved prairie light. It was then that I realized that that the camera had been left in the other car when we made the ER run! But, thanks to the miracle of cell phones, the camera fairy has been summoned, and the camera will arrive tomorrow and all will be well on the photo front.
Upon arrival at the farm, I was greeted by two barking dogs, cats of all denominations, a passel of goats and no discernible humans. After some wandering around the farm I did turn up one of the sisters, who it turns out, was home alone with the elderly parents while the other was off with The Only Remaining Intern putting back the swing sets that they had mistakenly believed they could remove along with the schoolhouse. They had, as I feared, forgotten I was coming and there was that one awkward moment of “who from where?” until it was “Oh yes! The intern’s mom’s priest!" And all was well.
This yurt is probably the cutest little thing I have ever seen. Imagine a round room with lattice and canvas walls decorated in Girl Scout camp meets Martha Stewart at VBS. It is light and airy and has the best and most sacred energy. The Only Remaining Intern has just brought a jug of fresh water (no inside plumbing, though we do have electricity) and some free trade coffee for morning, along with the grinder to grind it! In the “kitchen” there is a tiny little dorm frig, microwave, toaster oven, a fan and a heater. A huge shelf of books tempts from the other side. A skylight above lets in the stars and the crickets are singing in lovely chorus through the screen door. The “facilities” are down the path, though I’ve been told I’m welcome to use the real indoor ones in the sister’s house any time. One of the cats has already adopted me. I immediately unrolled my yoga mat and decided to live here forever. Or at least till Tuesday.
The Second Day -- Morning
Sometimes it appears that I manage to get myself actually in some kind of sync with God’s wavelength for my life. This morning’s reading from God Calling made me lose my breath:
Dwell Apart
Rest more with Me. If I, the Son of God needed those times of quiet communion with My Father, away, alone, from noise, from activity – then surely you need them too. Refilling with the Spirit is a need. That dwelling apart, that shutting yourself away in the very secret place of your being – away alone with Me. From these times you come forth in Power to bless and heal.
So I am away, in a place that while possessing a certain personal solitude is far from quiet. The rooster woke me at what passed for sunrise on this foggy morning. He was soon followed by calls and songs and all manner of vocalizing from every feathered thing for miles, one of which sounds like it is saying over and over, “Hey!” in a very imperious tone. The goats are now in the act, as is someone revving a tractor. Silence, may be golden, but it is also relative.
Early afternoon
The camera fairy came right before lunchtime. As did the rain. We need rain here on the prairie. Very badly, so I really can’t complain about the fact that in the early afternoon, having been well fed by the sisters on all sorts of good locally grown food, including a chicken who used to live here (but I tried not to think about that part), I am back in the yurt listening to rain on canvas, hard rain on canvas, that appears to have arrived for the duration. It may be a good thing there is well-stocked bookshelf as I could run through my own allotted two sooner than planned at this rate. There is only so much simply sitting in silence one can do in a yurt in the rain. The rain on the roof sounds like being inside a drum. Strangely comforting, soothing.
Evening
The day has passed. The rain stopped. The camera broke and has been replaced with a new one. I discovered that I meditate with a camera. It helps me focus on small and beautiful things, to look, to really see. This was a new learning recently and helped me make the decision to take the hour round trip to get a replacement camera. That was the shortest and most disciplined shopping trip I have ever taken. Into the little town with the big box store, into the camera department to find the one that is the closest to the one I have, buy it and out, back to the yurt! Here at the yurt it has not been hard to be quiet, though it has been hard to be still at times. What I miss most is being connected. Not TV or radio, no surprise, but my net access. I have a niggling sense I am not making “good enough” use of my time, whatever that might mean. I have read, walked, simply sat and did nothing, wrote a bit. I think the “not doing” part is engaging in more doing of prayer, but that refuses to be forced beyond a certain point. I can bring myself to this place and arrange all the pieces to be conducive; I can be willing and open, have intent and practice as far as the disciplines are concerned. But beyond that, there is no forcing of the emotional component. It is what it is.
The Third Day -- Morning
There was intention of Compline last night. It was over ruled by sleep, deep overpowering and sudden. I don’t recall it as a decision. I was reading on the couch, I was sleeping in the bed, there was no transition. The night after an initial period of something apparently resembling coma, was fitful, punctuated by dramatic dreams all themed around not being prepared for things and being invaded. A sharp contrast to the first night’s deep, peaceful and seemingly dreamless or dream forgotten sleep. I awoke feeling hung over and disoriented, beleaguered by the ghost of the last dream.
Afternoon
Note to self (as if I did not know this already): Forty hours, despite its biblical symbolism is too short for a retreat. I am getting into the rhythm of slow down now that it is almost time to pack and go. This morning was very fruitful once the cobwebs of the night were dispersed with good doses of the Book of Common Prayer, asana and caffeine. My reading for this retreat has been Graham Standish’s Humble Leadership. It was a good choice as there have been many “ahas.” Standish says: "Humility is the recognition that we are made of the same stuff as the rest of the universe. We are nothing but carbon molecules strung together in a human matrix. We are distinct and special not because of any qualities or abilities we ourselves possess. Our unique qualities are gifts from God that come from God’s Spirit breathed into us. This is the second part of understanding humility – that what makes us unique has nothing to do with our own power, but only what God has given us through the gift of the Holy Spirit..... Humans are endowed with a spirit that allows them to transcend their created nature. Transcendence is a gift from God and it alone sets us apart from the rest of creation. (pp. 12-13) Throughout the Gospels Jesus teaches others how to live in humility by loving others, especially enemies, giving generously, praying regularly, refusing to let anxiety rule their lives, respecting others rather than judging them, relying on God’s grace, seeking the narrow way of surrender to Christ."(p.14)
What really came together for me was the connection between shame and humility (or the struggle with it). I have always had difficulty with so many parts of what this humility stuff is about, as humility and humiliation got very mixed up (and I think messed up) by some people in my past, who may or may not have been well meaning, depending on my level of charity on any given day. But as I result of extreme Catholicity and alcoholic parenting, I came out, shall we say, a wee bit shame based. This has made it difficult to accept the shadow in me, as every time I try to go there, to say, as we all must for true humility, “yes I am flawed, I possess these characteristics that get in the way of true authenticity of holy union with God and others,” I would fall over the edge into some level of shame and find myself wanting to overcompensate in some way, to be, or at least try to act, as if I am more perfect, more holy…. a design flaw for any kind of spiritual life for sure! Ordination has made this in some ways more profound, more difficult, as the “accretions” of the past as Standish calls them, become more important than the realities, take on lives of their own and become barriers to the very thing I seek.
The good news, and I have to take a deep cleansing breath before writing this, is that I am doing a lot of things right. I am not perfect. And I don’t have to be. It is ok that I am a bit selfish at times , a wee bit histrionic, a little over-sensitive at times and tend to think it really is all about me. I feel like it is confession time, and once again I am not quite sure of absolution. Ah, but those are ghosts of the past. The truth is, despite the shame voice, perfection is not required, and those traits, according to Standish, can all find a place in ministry with the rest of our less than perfect but wonderful human selves! But it goes back to humility, not shame, not humiliation, but humility, which really is a virtue. Remembering, as I keep preaching (mostly to myself) who and Whose we are…. and yeah, that we are all made of the same stuff as the rest of the planet, adamah, hummus. Earth. We are all carbon strings that God, for some reason known only to God, transformed and infused by Spirit to be in God’s image. To be like God, as much as that is possible for the adamah we are. Oops, almost got myself lost there in lofty theology, but the point of this paragraph was, (another deep breath), that it appears that I seem to be doing something right . Standish points out that the things we need most to keep us from veering off the humility path are prayer, self-awareness and someone or ones whom we can trust to be honest with us about ourselves. Wow. Blessed again. On a good day it 's three for three. I can only say, it’s grace that’s bought me safe thus far…. amazing, amazing grace. God is good, all the time. And I have time for one more walk, one more look at the prairie I love before the yurt adventure (this time) ends.

* A Yurt, for those new to the neighborhood, is a round nomadic dwelling. There's a picture posted back on July 8 that I would link to if I knew how!

Sabbath Rest and Reflection

It is early afternoon on Sunday and I am gently bubbling in the liturgical afterglow. We were summer scant today, seven in the pews, and many gone who normally fill the Sunday tasks. So I was priest, preacher and acolyte to myself, and altar guild after service. Took communion to my healing shut-in, who, praise be, thinks she will be among us again soon. So now all is tended and tucked away, the worshippers fed on word and sacrament, coffee, cake and fellowship and sent out to be the church in the world. I am a bit weary. Sermon-writing Saturdays after a full work-week take an energy toll, even when supported by spirited RevGals both blog-ly and physically present, to provide encouragement, inspiration, distraction and a good laugh. But if a long day of sermonizing is the price of admission to preach and celebrate the Eucharist I will pay it joyfully. For the Spirit had my back today. The 1752 words of the sermon became more than they were on paper, came alive, took flight. Not of my doing. I allowed, enjoyed and marveled at it all. Twenty-two minutes, the person whom I asked to time it told me. Worth every minute, she said. Unsolicited. And when we got to the Lord's prayer in the service, I thought I just might levitate, the prayer was so immediate and vibrant and real.

My healing shut-in person has been struggling, we have been praying. She tells me just this week, she not only feels better physically but has this sense of Presence-with-her that she has been missing for a long time. She says that just this week she needed comfort and felt drawn to the Lord's Prayer "for some odd reason." I got to hold the baby I baptized on Easter, who is her youngest granddaughter, and to preach an impromptu children's sermon to the baby's big sister "almost five" who asked what my OneEpiscopalian bracelet meant.

Here I have been looking for bread and eggs and fish, but God has given me God's indwelling Spirit. Imagine that.

What I'm Pondering Today

9 The First Song of Isaiah Ecce, Deus
Isaiah 12:2?6

Surely, it is God who saves me; *
I will trust in him and not be afraid.
For the Lord is my stronghold and my sure defense, *
and he will be my Savior.
Therefore you shall draw water with rejoicing *
from the springs of salvation.
And on that day you shall say, *
Give thanks to the Lord and call upon his Name;
Make his deeds known among the peoples; *
see that they remember that his Name is exalted.
Sing the praises of the Lord, for he has done great things, *
and this is known in all the world.
Cry aloud, inhabitants of Zion, ring out your joy, *
for the great one in the midst of you is the Holy One of Israel.
Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit: *
as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be for ever. Amen.
From Morning Prayer, Rite II, BCP

Some things are just such anchors. This canticle is one of them. Through the ups and downs of the last several months it has been my daily companion and reminder. Sometimes when I am flying along, getting a little too big for myself, it is the reminder I need that it is GOD who saves me, a reminder to be grateful for all these good gifts that seem to be landing on my head, for just how fine I seem to be doing. Sometimes I am drawing water with rejoicing, and in the next breath I am drowning and it is my life preserver, and I am crying "God save me!" in the midst of whatever I have gotten myself into. There have been those stretches that have been all about the joy, singing praises and exhalting, and just as surely,there come those times when I feel like I am hiding in the shadows with God as my only defense and stronghold. In those times it can be hard to generate my own prayer, and I feel mute and wordless before God. It's one of the things I am grateful for in Scripture. That others have gone before me, have found the words, and I can simply pray along with them.

A Litany of Thanksgiving

On July 15, 2007 the Bishop will confirm or receive six new members into our beautiful little church. For a place with an average Sunday attendance of about 15, six is a lot. They are a wonderful group. I met with the "confirmation class" tonight. They are two of the greatest guys you would ever want to know. C came to us on a long journey. Mental illness, abuse, a sense of being different and alone in the world have left him feeling ostracized and isolated at times. But he tells me has felt welcomed here. He says has felt that this is a place where he might be not only welcomed as a member, but as a minister to others. Blessed be God.

N too has a story to tell. Raised in dual traditions, he tells of being scared to attend church as a child because of the hellfire with which he was threatened. He also tells of his uncle, a faithful minister for many years, who, falsely accused of child abuse, with his wife, turned on the car one day in the garage and died of shame. He too comes to us because he feels that he is welcome here, all that he is, all that he brings. Blessed be God.

The rest of the newcomers group also tell us they are so happy to be with us and remind us of all the things that we are doing right and doing well. It is good to be reminded of this now and again. We thank God for new voices and new life among us. Blessed be God.

And there are other joys that remind me that God is good. My spiritual director is celebrating today. Off in her home church she is rejoicing as she celebrates her anniversary of ordained ministry of word and sacrament. I am blessed to know her, as are so many. Blessed be God.

There exists in this funny strange world of cyberspace a supportive community of women (and pals) who minister to one another, using technology in marvelous ways to preach the Gospel, witnessing to one another, holding one another up and bearing one another's burdens, sharing wisdom, tears and laughter. Blessed be God.

Through pain and rants, and even tantrums I know myself to be held and loved and kept in the arms of the One who will not let me go. Blessed be God.

The Pb

I just finished watching Bill Moyers interview with Presiding Bishop Katharine. As always when I see her, I was totally impressed. There is just something about the woman! Obviously bright, articulate, poised, of course. But more than that. She speaks from that deep calm center of faith that appears to be simply unshakeable.
One of the other priests on our team sent out the link (http://www.pbs.org/ moyers/journal/06082007/watch2.html) to our whole congregation. We've had a couple responses from our newcomers that have been very positive about her ability to articulate our present dilemmas as a church in ways that both helped them understand the situation better, and as one person said, "love this church even more." In many ways this is a hard time for us in the Episcopal church as we struggle so publicly with one another. And yet there are gifts in this church like Pb Katharine that give me hope that whatever happens, all will be well.

A Different Kind of Sabbath

I found myself tearing up in church today. That used to be a pretty regular occurrence, especially in those first days at St.M’s back in the Big City when I had found my way back, found my way home, had such an Epiphany. I would cry almost every Sunday then. Tears of joy and wonder that there could be such a place, that I had been taken in by them, and more importantly, by God. Those tears were transforming, the beginnings of the soul-turn that brought me to this place, that opened my heart to finally be able to hear and respond to God’s call. Lately, tears have come in church at those moments of strong feeling...ordinations, mine and others, leave-takings, but not so often during ordinary times. One guess about this I would make is that I so rarely have the time to merely “be” at a service, that to sink far enough into what I am feeling to even access tears is rare. But today, I had nothing to do. No roles to play, I was not the priest, there was no choir, all was taken care of by the capable others and I was able, for once to “let it be.” This has been a struggle for me sometimes. I seem to need to “do” when I am in church. And as I observed the tears beginning to well today, seemingly all of their own accord, I couldn't help but wonder about the role of all that doing in holding at bay the feelings.

There is so much here that is grace and blessing, wonder and miracle. As I hear the history of the years that the “faithful remnant” struggled to keep the doors open with a supply priest now and again, doing morning prayer, hanging in with one another, I am grateful and amazed for their faith and tenacity. When I remember how long the original team was willing to hang in with mentor after mentor, not really sure of when or if the day would come when they would be launched, my own impatience with systems and processes is silenced and humbled. And when I look around and see new faces, remember that we are receiving and confirming six new people in just two weeks, I feel great joy and wonder at the work God is doing among us. But we are human. And we are in change. And we are not always graceful with each other in this. We do harm sometimes. We bruise one another, sometimes unwittingly, and sometimes, sadly, with at least some intent to silence or push back someone we think is hurting or threatening us. Sometimes we forget who and whose we are. And our history too haunts us sometimes. There are those among us who carry wounds from the past. And then there are those that are simply gone from us whom we cannot heal, but about whom I have now been told, and whose ghosts sit among us, mute witnesses in our pews to the times we were not Christ to one another in some very big ways.

It’s been a little bumpy. Growing pains, I think, a lot of it. We are doing a new thing. It makes us anxious and edgy. It makes us forget. What we know. Who we are. Whose we are. How to be with and for each other. As I sat today with nothing to do but be, I saw these people around me whom I love and struggle with. God has given us to each other to be church together, given us the task of working it out together in this place, but not just for this place. So today I was grateful to have nothing to do but bring myself here, to be really ok with a few tears, to let go of the need to push it back with doing and let others minister while I simply sit.

Blessings on Blessings

It began at the processional. Funny term actually on this summer morning when we were running scant. No choir, no crucifer to follow. The procession of me! But it began there, with the first notes of the opening hymn. Falling into the Godspace. All else slid away. The long, long week. The struggles, the overbooked schedules, the meetings and worries left in their wake. Even the little frission of nerves that still comes with preaching. Especially THAT sermon. The longest day one. The one that I had at last decided was mostly okay, good in parts, with a pretty strong ending. But all of that was gone as if it had never even been. There was only the joy, the peace. The knowing that whatever had been, whatever was to be, it was all coming up there to the altar to be offered and celebrated, and it would all be well. And it was. All offered. All celebrated. All well.

The Longest Day

At ten this morning I was actually smug about it. I thought, sure, no problem, I will be out of here by one, two at the latest. I was already pretty confident on Thursday that this one was going to flow. I have no idea what happened. At noon I was on false start number five and by one fifteen we were in the coffee shop laughing over the worst and most boring exegesis ever, as well as the false start follwing that one, which even held a tiny bit of promise at the time. One more hour, I'd promised then. Sure. No problem. Two and a half hours later, defeated, I went home. Ruminated through a quick grocery shopping trip, an e-mail or two, a trip over to RGBP, a few side blog visits, but by seven I was back. Slogging. One. Painful. Word. At. A. Time. At 10:30 I hit print. And......No ink. Off to the Big Box All Night Store for a cartridge. What do you know, they had one! One. That was all goodness and blessings. Got some mango sorbet, too. It's the least I can do for myself at this point. Cartridge in, print again, and ta-da....we have something on paper that I am only mildly embarassed to deliver to my people in the morning. I am perplexed and not yet edified by this. Perhaps if I sleep on it.

Grace in the Morning

I was whining to my spiritual director about the messiness of church life once. Those interpersonal corners we all find ourselves in now and again. And she said, “Why did God have to make all these confusing, annoying people to have to deal with? Oh wait- I am one of the confusing annoying people.” I go back to that quote now and again when I get frustrated and discouraged when church life gets messy. I am back there today. Because I am in one of those corners. Again. And it doesn’t matter if I painted myself there or if someone else did. If I, or they, did it with intent and malice or out of sheer humanity. Though I am aware that there is a part of me that wants to make that matter, and wants to make that matter very much. The payoff? Running with it means I can have the satisfaction (fleeting though it is) of having my tantrum of righteous indignation, stirring things up good, tripping on the sheer adrenaline, getting that ol' chaos rush that some part of me still gets off on now and again. It is, I admit, a little tempting. But only a little. I don’t really want to go there. Or anywhere, really. What I want to do is nothing. Be still. Pray. Wait on God. Let it be. This, I think, can only be grace.

Nine Months Today

I was ordained nine months ago today. If it had been a conception, we’d be having a delivery. Makes me appreciate even more the miracle of life that can create a fully developed new human in that amount of time. For certainly in this time we have not achieved a fully developed new priest! Far from it! But there was a new being conceived on that beautiful September day. One who in many ways had no clue about the many wonders God had in store (and I’m sure still does not). I have said that I was seduced by God into ministry by the liturgical priesthood, and with a rather limited view even of that. It was an idea of priest that had, I must admit, a lot to do with singular mystical moments between God and myself. A narrow, if romantic view of things, heavily influenced by my partially pre-Vatican, exceedingly Roman Catholic upbringing. But God wooed me well, and I have no doubt I am where I belong. And now I can continue to grow into it, understanding that this is but one small aspect to be serving God in this way, to be living out my baptismal vows in this particular fashion at this moment in time.

What I Did on My Summer Vacation

Last week I went to Summer Seminary way out in the Black Hills of South Dakota. It’s at a lovely old church camp out in the Hills. It's in a thin place. You can feel the Spirit there. And also the spirits of the Native peoples that have walked that land for centuries. The trees never stop whispering. The sky is large. It snows in June. It's a land that keeps you wondering.

And on top of the place the program itself is topnotch. This was my second year there, part two of The History of the Episcopal Church. Both years were taught by the Rev. Dr. Don Armentraut of the School of Theology at the University of the South at Sewanee. Last summer, we had covered the history of the church in England and this year, the topic was the history of the church in America.

Early in the week Dr. Armentraut made the comment that one of the reasons that it is important to understand history is to get perspective, to have a big picture. I kept thinking of that through the week, as we learned about all of the times through the years when the church came dangerously close to slipping out of existence, then suddenly, fired by the Sprit, through some wonderful prophetic voice or amazing circumstance, it would come alive again. Or when we learned about how during the Civil War, when of necessity, we had to separate into two churches, North and South, we were able to come together again with grace because the center held. I loved hearing the story about the Northern Bishops simply marking the Southern churches “absent” for the General Convention that occurred during the war years. Then when the war was over, and two of the Southern Bishops came north for the next GC, they were met and warmly welcomed back. Or when we learned that we integrated our seminaries because it was the right thing to do, not because the law said we had to. So many times last week, I felt this sense of pride in “us” that we have so often done the right thing, the generous thing, the inclusive thing. I felt like, as I did last summer, I really “got it” in terms of why we are who we are as a church. . . . That the Via Media comes from somewhere, that we are congruent and make sense in our theology and identity. The other piece of what Dr. Armentraut does that really made this course so meaningful for me is the way he connects history to theology and Christology. We spent almost an entire afternoon talking about Incarnational theology. He puts it so beautifully as he says that, “Jesus was the great both/and, showing us both who God is and who we can be.” I’d say that will preach!

Another thing Dr. Armentraut said really resonated for me. He talked about how important it is that we be able to articulate our theology, to be able to talk about why it is that we draw the circle wide, that it is not about being wishy-washy but about making a path that can draw in rather than exclude, that can make it possible to have conversations with as many people as possible around the table. And without some sense of history this is not possible. Of course we talked about the current situation in the church. As an historian, he has a perspective that is refreshing. He sees this as one more situation that we will survive as we have all the others in our hundreds of years of church life. He explained for us the understanding of scripture and of polity that informs the African Primates’ worldview. This helps take some of the “stridency” out of my own reactions to them, which I hope I can in turn communicate to some of my congregants who are struggling to make sense of what is going on in the Communion.

And beyond the classroom, there was the fellowship of my classmates. Not having been to seminary, this is my taste of that community. Learning, praying, laughing and sharing together for a week is so restorative and wonderful. The folks in my “day job” wonder about me when I tell them this is how I spent my vacation. But then, they wonder about me anyway, this strange hybrid many-hatted bivocational person among them. And it’s my idea of a good time!

I am back at church today. Back celebrating and preaching and feeling so content and blessed that it is so. I have been ordained eight months now, and I’m sure there are some who would say I am in some honeymoon period, and that my starry-eyed wonder over some of this will wear off with time. To them I would reply that I hope and pray not. Some days as we begin the procession up the aisle behind the crucifer, I have a wild moment of wondering where the priest is before I remember that it is I! Other Sundays, as I sit listening to the readings, or stand waiting for the gifts to be brought up, I have these moments of total holy wonder, having almost to pinch myself to assure myself that, yes, it is real, I am here, doing this incredible thing in this place. I am a priest at last and forever. I will admit, sometimes it has been a steep learning curve. In this eight months of “post-ordination formation” the Spirit has been leading me on a merry chase. There is so much to do, so much to learn, so much to love. So many “firsts” to remember. The whole mad whirl of each of the liturgical seasons and festivals, Advent and Christmas, Lent and Easter. Celebrating the late Christmas service….such joy that was as it was always the highlight and mainstay of Christmas to go to midnight Mass. And now to have the privilege of being the celebrant at this very special and beautiful service was so amazing! And on Easter, baptizing my first baby. She was an angel and slept through the whole thing! Every day there is a new challenge. Every day there is a new grace realized. Functioning as part of a ministry team that has three priests and three lay ministers, with five of us, including the three clergy having full time jobs outside the church leads to some interesting times. It gets wild and crazy trying to keep the schedule going and the communication happening. Thanks be to God for e-mail! And a patient congregation who loves and accept us as we are! I am counting blessings and they number many!