Living word by word

with joy

 I'm fighting off a virus, my kitchen flooded in the deluge on Wednesday, and I'm sooooo ready for vacation.

 But I go with joy, because today my church voted to recognize the intimate ("monogamous, chaste and lifelong") relationships that bring joy to the lives of my  gay and lesbian colleagues. For the first time in my ministry, I don't feel quite so bad about the privilege that my marriage and my ordination indicate.

There is still a lot of reconciling to do, but I am proud to be a Lutheran today -- not only for the decision but for the respectful, prayerful way the discussion was conducted.

And now, I head to enjoy God's cathedral of sabbath for a while. Be back in September.

   

The Middle Place

    Just finished The Middle Place, by Kelly Corrigan. It's been a while since a memoir really grabbed me, but this one did. Her story is partly about the dual battles with cancer that she and her father fought, but more about that "middle place" many of us find ourselves in at this stage of adulthood -- both a daughter and a mother at the same time. One could say it's about discovering that we are the grown-ups now.

   It's particularly affecting to me because of the number of peers I have dealing with cancer now, and because Corrigan and I became mothers in exactly the same year. But Corrigan's humor and ability to capture some of the realities of growing up when we did in the 80's is wonderful. Anybody remember the status of Guess jeans in high school?

There's a tricky balance between the utterly honest confessional voice that we associate with Anne Lamott and pure self-absorption that gets whiny and irritating. I couldn't finish Eat, Pray Love because I felt like Elizabeth Gilbert couldn't get over herself. Corrigan, maybe because she is so consumed with love for her family, made me care much more about her emotional journey. Take and read, my friends!

Blessing for compost

   Our middle schoolers took the initiative and -- finally -- we're composting organic material here at the church with a bin built by one of our members.

We formally dedicated the bin on Sunday. I know of no formal blessing for compost (try googling that one!), so I wrote one:

Blessed are you, O Lord our God, for you have made the earth on which we stand, the soil from which our sustenance comes, and the ground to which all living things return.

 

We praise you for the cycles of life and death, for your precious ways in which no good thing is lost. Make this compost bin a sign of your goodness, a reminder to us of death and resurrection, and a signal to remember all your creation as we live and eat and move upon this earth. Amen.

 

 

it's not guilt. . .

The beer-at-the-White-House has already been overanalyzed, but I'm still struck by the way in which this conversation shows some wisdom on Obama's part.

This was, from a public perspective, a no-win for all parties. The sergeant had based part of his cop identity on being diversity-friendly. The professor based his identity on being a Black man who had made it in the intellectual world. The President has framed his whole political career on bringing opposites together. So to assign blame, to say that anyone was "wrong," was beside the point.  Guilt, the assigning of right or wrong to particular actions, would get you nowhere to reconciliation.

This was, in short a potential situation of public shaming for everyone involved. And shame, not guilt, is what drives most Americans to this day. As much as we Lutherans still try to act as though everyone operates on a guilt-righteousness axis, the truth is we're much more concerned about honor and shame -- and in a hyper-fast media age, this is more true, not less.

Honor and shame are why people disappear from church when their lives are on the rocks. It's not that they necessarily feel guilty about their divorce or job loss or addiction. They may even believe that God's grace is absolutely available to them. They are not wracked by guilt. They are dealing with shame.  It's their identity that is at risk.

So how do you bring people together who all stand to see a situation as publicly shaming? You sidestep the entire question of guilt. (For the record, I cannot get around that Gates was being arrested for BEING IN HIS OWN HOME, but that's not my point here. .. ).

How do you restore honor? You sidestep the question of who was right or wrong.  Instead you honor them-- you invite them to the White House. You have a conversation, assuming that all parties are honorable -- and by conferring the honor, you prove they are.

for West Wing fans

 We're kidless for another day or so before the little ones return from Camp Grandma, so we're watching movies and eating out like newlyweds again. Great fun!

Last night, because we could get it instantly instead of ordering ahead: A Few Good Men. We had both forgotten that Aaron Sorkin wrote it, and OMG, the writing is unmistakable -- just like our old standby West Wing, only in a military courtroom. And the cast! Whoa! Noah Wyle, Cuba Gooding, even Joshua Malina -- all before they were really famous.

And the fact that the whole thing starts with bad behavior in Gitmo seems oddly prescient, just as many of the early episodes of West Wing were. Who knew that and 80's movie would seem so contemporary.

Trying oh so very hard

  I just returned from a week taking our high school youth to the ELCA Youth Gathering in New Orleans. For a girl who hates both crowds and heat, it was remarkably tolerable. I was alternately proud of my church and a wee bit embarrassed that we are trying Oh-so-hard to be hip.

  On the subject of trying too hard, I loved the honesty of Cheesehead's post on excuses given for not coming to church. (Those of you who are not clergy, do not be offended. We would never say these things to someone's face -- and you can't blame us for thinking them).

  But her conclusion: right on. It's not about you. I will say this -- this may be one youth event that successfully got that message across, which is really a giant leap forward.

Lectionary Blog: Lectionary 16B

    I don't often preach more than one text, but this week I can't resist:

    I've been reading Barbara Brown Taylor's An Altar in the World, and she has a lovely chapter on 'getting lost,' so I'm pondering how much we made need to be more lost than we usually are.

     In the Gospel a few weeks ago Jesus was in his hometown, among people who thought they knew all too well who he was. They had Jesus stashed away  in their

"Nazareth

box" – we know his family, we know his vocation – and they would not let him out.

    And Mark tells us, he could do no work of power there

 

            But in today’s Gospel amidst all this moving around and crowds following Jesus even though he’s tired and just trying to rest, he heals and heals and heals.

            Here, amidst all these hurting people, who are like sheep without a shepherd, he heals them even if they touch the hem of his garment.

 

        Jesus’ power is amazing – but maybe it needs us to be a little lost. It works best in the cracked and broken places in our lives.

         If, as Ephesians says, God has broken down walls and is building a new dwelling place, it's no wonder the church is messy and full of debris. Maybe it needs the spaces within us and between us to let it in.

 

        Maybe the cracks in our economy are exactly what God needs right now. Maybe the broken places in your  life – whether  your retirement plans, your career, even your health – maybe those are exactly the places where Jesus can do some water damage – so before you go sealing it up, ask yourself if that wall belongs there in the first place.

 

    Ephesians says that the Spirit is creating a dwelling place in us – not just in me, but in us – in the space between us – this is the the spiritual dwelling place.  Perhaps it’s exactly in these cracks that God comes to dwell.

it's not about the weather

 As a California transplant to Minnesota, I frequently hear from friends and relatives about how hard it must be to stay active in the winter.  Implied, often, is the idea that we couldn't possibly value the outdoors as much as they do in a place where it hovers between 50 and 70 all year round.

Well, this month the national rankings on childhood obesity came out, and it's clear that weather has nothing to do with it. The worst states are those that typically rate the worst for education and child poverty levels as well: Mississippi, Alabama, Arkansas. The sunshine states out West fare well, but not as well as Minnesota. How can this be?

Obviously, getting outside and exercising is a good thing to prevent obesity, especially in kids. And I'm sure there are many families that do not enjoy winter sports as fully as ours does. But still. Minnesotans  -- especially children -- would not rank this well if we were simply eating our vegetables and going to the gym for seven months of the year.

We get out. We savor sunshine, even when it's below freezing (we also get more of it than many other northern states. . .). We savor the lakes even when they are frozen.  And -- most importantly --  we invest in public parks, public schools and public recreation facilities that are available to everyone, not just those who can purchase a membership at a club.

I'm not one of those people who think we'll solve childhood obesity by preaching. Most of us would get fat if the options for food (junk) and activity (TV) available to us are limited, as is usually the case for people living in poverty. Public investment that makes healthy lifestyle EASIER is critical.

long time no blog

I've been working full-time, preaching off-lectionary, planning a kitchen renovation,  and continuing to try and stay in half-marathon shape -- all of which hasn't added up to a lot of energy for blogging.  Never fear, I'm sure I'll return, maybe even next week when I'm back to lectionary preaching.

I'm also working on two writing assignments for Advent and Christmas resources -- which is beyond bizarre to be thinking of just after summer solstice.  As pastors, we're always thinking a little bit "off-season," but this is just weird.

a world of hurt

  On the anniversary of Columbine,  Newsweek had a poignant article about two pastors who were serving in the area at the time, and the toll that event took on their congregation's and their lives.  Pastor Marxhausen, a Lutheran minister who presided at Dylan Kliebold's funeral, said  "I learned how fear can take hold of a community. You have to be prepared to hurt when you go into the ministry. But I never thought it would hurt that much."

A few weeks ago I met a woman who was a youth minister at another local Lutheran church at the time of Columbine. When the crisis team from Lutheran Social Services came in to talk with her and other church leaders, they said bluntly, "Most of you will no longer be on staff here in two years." Their experience was that these events take an enormous toll on leaders, even if they are not the ones directly grieving the dead. All the anniversary reporting I've read confirms their prediction was true.

I thought of this this week when I learned that a gifted pastor I know is now senior pastor at Reformation Lutheran in Wichita, where Dr. Glenn Tiller was shot on Pentecost Sunday as he was ushering for his congregation. There are all kinds of ways in which the situation is not analogous, but the trauma is still profound. I'm praying for this congregation and its leaders that they can make it through the long road ahead.