Fire Can Suck the Oxygen from a Room But Not the Life From the Church

Fire will suck the oxygen out of a room.


Hearing of a devastating fire at my former teaching parish had the same effect on me as a profound sadness settled in like the weight of all that water soaked ash.
So many thoughts flooded my mind as I imagined the faces of those I know well and of their new pastor who was just installed this past Sunday. Built in 1894, a country parish still affectionately known as "Filey's Parish" though its formal name is Christ Lutheran Church. I remember tales of when the church did not have indoor plumbing, and of the spring that runs through the basement of the house the next field over. Of generations of seminarians who have been trained there, perhaps some now part of the cloud of witnesses of the church. Of those I know who preceded me. I was the last teaching parish student.

Some years ago, the parish proudly had finished an addition of offices and class and gathering space. Sturdy. I ponder all of the records that now may be lost, and reminisce of how they patiently worked with me to teach me the right way to ring the bell, including how not to lose the rope up the belfry. What amusement I provided as I struggled to pull hard enough to ring without double ringing. The Easter Sunrise breakfast, complete with pickled tongue.

The first pulpit I ever preached in. The nervous graciousness of the altar guild lady who plied me with water when I had bronchitis so I could get through the sermon. The way you could tell the passage of time by the various styles of architecture in the sanctuary all lovingly given out of someone's vision of the promise.
I think of all of the baptisms, weddings, confirmations and funerals that filled the space where God laughed and cried and rejoiced with them. But on this day when lightning has leveled their world, how the lectionary for this coming Sunday and it's baptism of fire must sound. How the description of those who lived not fully seeing the promise, or worse, those who experienced great pain and loss and suffering must feel. How to imagine the persistence needed amidst the shock, the numbness and the dark shadows where once there was light.
And yet, in all of this, the fire cannot destroy the faith and hope of the cross, the promise made sure in Christ, and the cloud of witnesses and community in the here and now. So it is for each of us. Our lives are a series of beginnings when all seems bright and hopeful in our vision. But amidst the blessings are those times when a painful reality bursts in, in the devastating times of our lives when it feels that all is stripped away. Still there is the promise that is the reality of cross of Christ.

So tonite as I head to the prayer vigil, I am thinking of a new song I have heard by Andrew Peterson. Though the song is about marriage, the words ring true. As I reel with them in their loss, I am reminded that the building is not the church- Christ in our midst will triumph.



And we went dancin’ in the mine fields. We went sailin’ in the storms
And it was harder than we dreamed, but I believe that’s what the promise is for…
The only way to find your “life” is to lay your own “life” down and
I believe it’s an easy price for the life that we have found
We dancin’ in the minefields, and we’re sailin’ in the storms and
It’s harder than we dreamed but I believe that’s what the promise is for
Don’t give up. Don’t give up on me. Don’t give up.
So when I lose my way, find me
When I loose love’s chains, bind me
At the end of all my faith, to the end of all my days,
When I forget my name, remind me.
Cause we bear the light of the Son of Man, so there’s nothin’ left to fear.
So, I’ll walk with you in the shadow lands, ‘til the shadows disappear.
He promised not leave us and his promises are true,
So in the face of all this chaos, maybe I can dance with you.
So let’s go dancing in the minefields
Let’s go sailin’ in the storms
Let’s go dancin’ in the minefields and kickin’ down the doors. This is harder than we dreamed but I believe that’s what the promise is for.

Taking it on the Road

Tomorrow I preach for the last time in the Country Parish. They are still stuck between those who want to preserve a kind of special club and those who want to reach out. They have met about it. Including a meeting where someone said that maybe people would be more motivated if they could see how, based upon average giving, how many members would equal how many dollars. Sigh. I pray for them, for the pastor and the for future. But tomorrow I preach on John 14: 1-11. And in two weeks we will part ways.

I have a confession to make. I am directionally challenged. Give me somewhere new to go and I will probably get lost, even with a map. I am not even good at folding maps back up either. My husband will tell you that if left to my own devices, at an intersection where I have to decide which way to go, my first instinct is .. probably wrong. Even with directions. The best example of this is told in my first trip from Pittsburgh to Michael’s family home in Palmyra. He gave me directions, but I did not listen fully, or at least I didn’t get the significance of what he told me. SO when I got to Hershey, the road splits into 322 or 422. I remembered there would be a split. I knew what I would see after the split. But which road?
So I took 322, which after the Medical Center in those days was pretty much field after field. I drove for a pretty long time I thought and I didn’t see what I was looking for soon enough. I must have it wrong. So.. I drove back to the split. I tried 422 which took me through Palmdale, and then Hershey, but where was Palmyra? Eventually I thought maybe I had it wrong again. So I drove back to the split and got on 322 again decided I just needed to keep driving. I was looking for Forge Road. So I drove and drove and finally got to a cluster of houses and a Gulf gas station in a village called Leeds Corner. I decided I needed help. I pulled in, went inside and said I was looking for “Forge Road in Palmyra.”
Imagine the amusement of the man who politely comes out and without much effort pointed about a block’s distance away- “It’s right there.” Just to make this even more amusing, I had missed the entire town of Palmyra (thousands of people) and ended up in Leed’s Corner, population 22. If only I had paid more attention and then had trust and belief in what I was told. It was right there, in front of me. I sure am glad someone showed me the way.
In today’s lesson the disciples are having some trouble with directions and belief too. Jesus is saying goodbyes and tying up loose ends, speaking of going to prepare a place for them, and how great it will be. I half expect he will then ride off into the sunset, and the movie credits will start to roll.
Which is why I love Thomas and Phillip in this story. They ask the questions we want to ask. “How can we know the way?” “Can’t you just give us a sign?” They too were struggling to read the map and understand the directions. Maybe Jesus assumed his closest followers got it by now, but their faith is stuck in neutral. They still don’t see that he is not just “from” God, He is God.
I am sure they felt awkward. But then, Jesus shifts gears and begins to give the disciples a pep talk, to build up their confidence and faith. “Do not be troubled” really doesn’t quite fully express what Jesus is saying. “Don’t stress out” “Do not be in turmoil” “Don’t fall into a state of confusion” are more like it. Jesus knows the disciples will face anxiety, doubt, and fears that are real and fear of the unknown. Sound familiar?
And they will be without his physical presence- they will feel isolated. They will feel that their faith, so easy to express in the abstract, is suddenly much more complicated in a time of testing. We’ve all faced these moments- moments far more trying than getting lost in Leed’s Corner. Maybe even times when it seems like it will all unravel, or it actually has, not just as individuals, but as a community of believers. When with Thomas and Phillip we say, “How can we know the way? Just show me a sign.”
Jesus says- “I am the way.” The way to salvation, because Jesus walked the way of the cross. But this story is not just about the great hereafter, but the way for us in this life as well. Jesus is the way of truth and life. The way of understanding- Understanding how to live in relationship with God and with each other. The gospel is for us-here and now.
We are probably all here today because someone showed us the way, not with the map or the GPS, but that this way of life is the key to life. Maybe it was our parents, or a friend or a co-worker. For each of us, someone was that man at the gas station who could tell us that what we needed was RIGHT HERE.
But after that, why have we stayed? Perhaps after those first experiences, our belief has deepened. We became more in tune with God’s message. Perhaps for some of us, the road has wound through crisis that has shaped us. Times where we asked again- how will I find the way? Show me a sign. And God was revealed to us, in the Word, in the sacraments, maybe a service of healing. But also in the deeds of the fellow travelers here who asked how we were, prayed for us and with us. Who have rejoiced and cried, celebrated and supported, who remind us to believe. This is THE LIFE- the life Jesus talks about for the here and now before we are reunited with all of the saints.
When I first came here over seven months ago, I was pretty nervous, although, thanks to Norbert, I did not get lost. But I didn’t know any of you. I didn’t even know my way in the building. Jean, you showed me. Over time I came to get to know pretty many of you pretty well. To learn how proud you are of this place- the preschool, the addition, your history and your wonderful fellowship. That last part is the reason I need to go on a diet. And many of you have shared your stories and your lives. But in my time here you all showed me another step in the way- the way of a believer. Even though I wasn’t “from here” we each have learned some things from each other. This is the LIFE.

But today we hear not just of our own lives and call to belief. This is important, but it’s just the first step. Jesus also say believers ( that’s us) will do miraculous deeds. Even greater than Jesus did. How can this be? Without stealing all of the thunder of Pentecost, Jesus is here foretelling that day. The time of the coming of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit who will fill the disciples. And these same confused disciples will, by the power of the Spirit bring more people to believe in that one day than in all of Jesus’ ministry. But this was just the start.
These “greater deeds” are a continuing vision, and in fact a call for all of the believers. The imperfect and reluctant believers were and are the ones chosen to carry on the mission. The mission of evangelism.
But how will we do this? In addition to the Scriptures, Jesus tells us how we can in fact do these great deeds. “ Whatever you ask in my name, I will do.” We will do this by the power of prayer.
Maybe we need guidance- ask
Maybe we need understanding for people not like us- ask
Maybe we need the energy to do one more thing in our busy world-ask.
Whatever you ask for the work of God’s kingdom, your prayers WILL be answered.
But then we must take one more step and do. Jesus says, “Believe in me.” We need to take our plan out of these doors and back onto the road. Maybe this sounds hard. But remember that all of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection says something even greater- “I BELIEVE IN YOU. And I call you to help others. Don’t be afraid. Believe.”
This is our calling, for all of us who make up Luther’s “ministry of all believers.” We all know people out there on the road of life who don’t know the way, or who have gotten lost. Whose lives are full of the turmoil and crisis we know Jesus can calm. People seeking some grain of truth, looking for a sign, hoping for life. Who can be not just fellow members, but fellow disciples.
We know the way, the truth and the life. God has spoken and through each of us, God is speaking still. So .. what are we waiting for? The key is in the ignition and the tank is full. We’ve got a map and message that can’t be beat. ( Hold up Bible) . It’s time to take the story on the road! Amen

Building Our House

I spoke with my parents yesterday who asked how much church service was. Service- singular. One of the vestiges of a change in existence. Service? Try 8 services between Passion Sunday, Triduum, and Easter. Followed by the hour trek to the inlaws and then home to regroup. But of course today I was up to preach in my preaching Matthew class. And back to the grind of daily commuting and academics. A day of rest would be cool. But in truth, I enjoyed the preaching last week, the services of Holy Week and the three on Easter. It was not too cold in the cemetery, it was not windy and the sunrise among the beloved was great. So was the Easter Breakfast, although I passed on the pickled tongue. And oddly my sermon text for today is for Pentecost 3. Yet, as I spent this past week steeped in the traditions of a flock who struggle to envision the future, I ponder my sermon about identity. And I wonder about their future. Easter is a day that makes me ponder time. In another few weeks, my time in their midst will be done. So though it is early, here is the sermon I will not be preaching in their midst, but could:
Matthew 7:21-29
One of the amusing stories in Russian history is about the ambition of a man named Grigory Potemkin, an adviser to Empress Catherine the Great in Russia in the 18th century, who was angling for a “closer” working relationship with her, if you know what I mean. Catherine and an entourage of foreign ambassadors were going on a cruise down the River on holiday, along the riverbanks of land she had conquered. Potemkin hatched a great idea to spruce up the drab, impoverished land of peasants. He had elaborate villages constructed along the river that would be seen from the boat- elaborate, but fake. Hollow facades complete with glowing fires in the evening, and flocks of sheep seen grazing. Painted screens of happy, robust peasants looked pretty real from out in the river. Everyone would be impressed and he could say, “ Look what I did for you.”
But, it was all one-dimensional. The same flock of sheep were moved from place to place down river, and a strong storm would have toppled it all. There was no “there” there. Simply boards propped up on the ground without a foundation. Appearances can be deceiving. No one wanted to see the plight of real people behind the facades, struggling to merely survive. Those in power looked on from afar, applauding themselves for their own good fortune.
As our lesson opens, Jesus has been teaching. There on the mountain, revealing God’s will. This time, those who listen are meeting God as He reveals the foundations of faithful living, contrasting the teaching and piety of the authorities with his own. Teaching that we need to build the right house- to live out God’s will.
There listening are those at the foot of the mountain hearing the teaching in real time, but also, those who first received this teaching in the written gospel of Matthew, sometime in the first century. A time of crisis about identity. The temple in Jerusalem has been destroyed. People are asking, “How do we worship now?” “Where is God?” Tensions in churches started early. Jesus’ followers have split from the mainstream over these issues, and over the question of what it means to live a life in relationship to God.
The scribes have been the authorized teachers. Teaching structured, complex demands for purity, sacrifice and holiness which must be fully complied with to be in good standing. To better understand the scribes, we need to realize that they not just religious men, but also work together with Rome, to control the people and perpetuate mutual interests at the expense of the people, with traditions of sacrifice interpreted in ways bolstering the elite and teaching oriented toward personal gain for some, in the name of God. For the poor, the demands are impossible tasks; for the elite, it has become a show, an easy way to be righteous. “Look at me, I am giving money to this poor beggar.” “See me praying” “Did I mention I am fasting?” BUT “Pay no attention to what I do the rest of the time.” Deeds of self- promotion. Their synagogue probably looks great, and they sit with the right people, and they feel blessed in their prosperity and importance. They have what seems to be a “dream house.”
How do we worship? Where is God? What does it mean to live in relationship with God? Jesus uses the analogy of building a house. Jesus’ teaching serves as a blueprint to build the foundation for our own personal houses, and our house together as a community of believers. How do we build such a house? We are in Jesus’ audience- We ourselves ponder these questions still.
Jesus tells us “Don’t just focus on the house above ground and its appearance. Don’t just focus on looking like it is all “just right” or on “we’ve always done it this way.” Don’t just show up and tell me about all of your ‘God-work’ to feel good.” While we all can get caught up in this, it is deceptive. The truth is, if all you have is appearance, when life’s storms hit you, you will fall as flat as the propped up board of the fake village, or that house on the sand. There will be no shelter there. If this is our only focus we have failed to comprehend living in faith.
Jesus’ teaching was and continues to be radically different. The scribes are “do as I say, not as I do” people. All around them people are weathering storms and they do not see beyond their personal piety schedule and self-interest. Jesus reorients us to living out the faith. So what is in Jesus’ blueprint? If we remember that this lesson comes as a conclusion to Jesus teaching, a good start is to look back at what we discussed last week in the Sermon on the Mount.
With this in mind, What will our house look like? Like a place where:
We will care for the poor, Got it. Volunteer at soup kitchen.
We will remember the widow. OK, visit shut-in.
We will keep our commitments, OK- even the ones we wish we hadn’t made- OH
We will be honest with each other and reconcile differences. Hmm
We will practice forgiveness, stop judging others, love and pray for our enemies…
This is what it means. And Jesus isn’t saying to us “Hear and walk on.” but “Listen and DO.” Maybe it would be easier to go back to our holiness and righteousness check lists. But if we are honest, the things Jesus asks us to do are the very things we seek for ourselves.
With a little creative license, maybe instead of a “house,” we should think, a “home.” I think about my own home of the last twenty years. My husband and I have celebrated all our of married life there- times of joys, and of testing; celebrating births, mourning deaths; passing milestones and balancing needs, wants and challenges. Our home is more than just a pile of sticks or a basic unit of society. It is a place where teaching happens, where people share a meal, and it’s a shelter. We love each other even when we would rather not. It’s a place where we don’t have to keep up appearances to be loved. Where faith sustains us. Where we think about ourselves together not as just individuals. But it isn’t easy- in fact it can be really hard work. Sometimes our homes don’t feel like this, but we sure wish we could find somewhere where it did.
If you take our home, it, together with a lot of others represents this congregation. Take our congregation and add it to the other Lutheran congregations, and the other places of worship around the world, and.. maybe we start to see that we are really just larger and larger clusters of God’s people not just in our little houses, but in God’s really big house- the kingdom. Places where people hope to be loved, and cared for, not judged. Places where we worship, where we seek God, and hopefully, where mission is revealed and mercy is encountered. Places that are shelters from the storms of life.
Jesus tells us God is not focused upon mere appearances. Not how you look, or how others look. Not what you do and whether it is more than or better than others. And it’s not about looking good at the expense of others. While we want to hear this for ourselves, we need to remember that we also need to hear it in our view of others. Others who also desperately hope that they really don’t have it all together to live in God’s house or who desperately need a hand in the storm.
We all know that life can give us all kinds of times where the ride is more than a little bumpy. Times when the pace on the hamster wheel is faster than we think we can stand. Times we are pulled between the needs of children and aging parents, mortgages and medications, work and family. Times it may seem like we will get swept away. And in our congregation, we struggle with the budget, with competing ideas about what it means to be faithful, about how we worship God rightly. Times we question, where is God? Times where we seek calm from the storm in this house- a sanctuary.
Today’s lesson is not seeking to convince us that we cannot succeed in building our houses, but that we can. Jesus says, “I tell you how to live because I want you here with me, all of you, today and always.” Jesus walked among us to reveal God, demonstrating that it is through Him that we encounter God’s saving presence.
It starts in the foundation of our hearts. Living not by seeking human approval, but with our new blueprint in mind. In houses where we seek to carry out Jesus’ commission; where as one writer suggests, the past and present are not the sum total of God, but where the door is open to God’s future. Houses open to all, not where some pick and choose who should be here. It will not always be easy, or popular. We will disagree about what it means to build and live in this house. There will be renovations and additions. God knows we will struggle. But with God’s help we can build houses-HOMES of love and integrity and faithful living in our lives and in this place.

Friday Five: What Are You Doing For Lent?

Friday, February 08, 2008
Friday Five: What Are You Doing For Lent?

Ready or not, Lent is upon us!

1. Did you celebrate Mardi Gras and/or Ash Wednesday this week? How?
I observed Ash Wednesday at Eucharist at Seminary, singing Return to the Lord Your God with the choir, and receiving ashes. Then I went to my teaching parish, The Country Church where I was cantor and assisted, and imposed ashes with my pastor. Both sides of the equation.

2. What was your most memorable Mardi Gras/Ash Wednesday/Lent?
The year my older daughter, who was probably two years old had to be taken out of church shrieking after she saw the Pastor's large black thumb headed for her forehead, and she freaked out.

3. Did you/your church/your family celebrate Lent as a child? If not, when and how did you discover it? I grew up Presbyterian and we did not really celebrate Lent, other than Ash Wednesday. Many of my friends were Catholic or Lutheran and I heard of their practices. And the Catholic Church was next door to mine, so on Wednesdays and Fridays it was obvious there was a lot going on.

4. Are you more in the give-up camp, or the take-on camp, or somewhere in between?
It is a mixed bag.
5. How do you plan to keep Lent this year?
I am reading Bread and Wine. I have a Lenten discipline partner at Seminary. We participated in a blessing service where about 30 of us haved paired up to discuss and keep each other accountable as we journey in Lent. She gave up Coca Cola products because their factories create water shortages in the countries where they mass produce. I gave up making excuses - for things like why I did not eat healthy, did not exercise, did not make that phone call.. If the choice is to do it or not, and you cannot justify the action, one of two things will be the focus, discipline and forgiveness. It is good to embrace and accept both.

Sing a New Song to the Lord

This week is the first week of the "spring term." There is, however, a smattering of snow on the ground, left from the last weather event. ( I wonder what the weather is like at Southern?). This semester I am trying to serve too many masters- the master of taking the courses you need, the master of trying to not have any evening classes, the master of my family needs me too, and the master of the gas tank. The first three masters won, and so I am officially earning my new self-proclaimed moniker of asphalt warrior, driving five days a week. The good news is I have no Monday or Tuesday morning classes. I have no Friday afternoon classes, but.. I am driving five days a week. Today I thought I was personally fulfilling the old postal service motto of " Neither rain, nor snow, nor dark of night will keep us from our appointed rounds." It was still a little dark when I left. And it was lightly raining. As I got closer to getting on the PA Turnpike I must have crossed a zone on the weather map ( like in someone's world I am in the snowglobe and it just got shaken). It got really windy, the temperature dropped ten degrees and I really thought I would get blown right off of that bridge over the Susquehanna River. Then I looked ahead and saw a ladder laying in the road ( apparently it blew off of a contractor's truck because he was backing up along the shoulder). Missed that one. And then the snow started. Then I drove out of that into bright clear morning sun
( the blinding kind) - why did I leave my sunglasses at home? Coming into the home stretch, I know with relief that the next exit is mine off of the highway that leads me into Gettysburg. Putting my mind on auto pilot, I narrowly missed the tree that has fallen in the road. But I did.
Now, normally my drive is much more sanguine than all of that. But I hope it is not a portent of things to come. Unless I am tired and need really zippy music, once I get past the need for the traffax report, I use the time to listen to some form of "religious music"- it could be a children's chorale, a Christian rock band, chant, gospel - I am kind of eclectic. But I find that this has helped me "weather" the drive and feel that sense of "you are not alone."
On campus, it has been great to see everyone who is back, and hear their tales. And of course we are looking forward to when our classmate Brian is back in a week or two after his Dad's funeral. But after a month away, it feels good and right to be back, and for some of us much has happened in our time apart that has made rekindling the connections a real joy.
Back in the seminary choir, which has been a great way to refine how I sing, and a great way to fill the music part of me. One of my friends said it best, when identifying why this is so important- music in worship is in essence a component of how she prays. That without singing, she is not as conversational with God- she just gets kind of stuck. I had never thought of it that way, but I think she may be onto something. As I left my home church and choir, part of the separation anxiety was that I had just jettisoned a big part of my faith expression. It wasn't gone for good, I just needed to live into a new way of my life. Kind of like praying a new prayer. One is not better, one is not a substitute, it is just a different way of talking with God. The seminary choir is not my hometown choir, and neither is the group I call " the ladies that sing" but each of these is a distinct and valuable part of who I am and what my relationship with God is. To deny that opportunity for each to be that aspect would be to tell God there is nothing new to say.
This Sunday I will be back in the Country Parish. Over the break, I unexpectedly received a card signed by about 15 of them, thanking me for my time with them in the fall, wishing me well and telling me they look forward to my return. This week I think I have gotten four emails about coming back, and the song the ladies want to sing on Sunday, and feedback on the second service that they have added. Long after I am not there, I know that when I drive past the road I take off of the highway to get to the Country Parish ( which I pass every time I drive to LTSG) I will say a prayer for them as I do now.
On Wednesdays ( except Lent) my home church holds a service on the campus of the college in our town, attended by the Lutherans on campus. I usually try to go when I can. One of the girls who is a senior, has just started the candidacy process. She hopes to go to LTSS ( despite our efforts to get her to go the Gettysburg). As I have watched her have anxiety over the process, I can see where I was this time last year. Being able to be supportive rather than just saying "it will be fine" has felt good. She too will begin a new journey.
Meanwhile, my journey continues and I know I will continue to discover new songs to sing.

Happy New Year!

Well, today is the first Sunday of Advent and we are getting ready to do our at-home Advent devotions. The wreath is ready and so are our Divine Chocolate Advent Calendars. In my teaching parish, today, I distributed these advent calendars during the children's sermon. Behind each window is a part of the story of the birth of Jesus and a yummy Divine chocolate heart. We spent a moment talking about how the chocolate was one way that families can earn the money they should for the crops they grow. Several of the adults were trying to be "kids" just to get a calendar.
Today was also my last Sunday in the parish until February because of finals and a January term project. I just finished my reflection on the core convictions of the congregation and their theology for my Teaching Parish seminar.
These are good people, but they are a stuck people. Change is not just a challenge, it is almost insurmountable. There is a lot that is lifeless and methodical.It can feel like a seminar about God rather than a place where God is. There is not energy for ministry or mission here. Stuck in time.I have contemplated how the historic tensions have affected the view today and how the group is in many ways closed off. Wonderful people who have somehow lost their way.I have prayed about them, that something might be stirred.
So last week, as Fellowship was drawing to a close, there were about 8 members who were still sitting and chatting with me- all people who did not grow up in this parish; people who have come here within the last 5 to 20 years. They were chatting about the upcoming annual congregation meeting, worried about the fact that the budget for the year has not been met. They worried about attracting more members and more families. I was asked if my home parish struggled with these issues. For the next 35 minutes we had a candid sharing about being a welcoming place, discipleship and the various reasons why many parishes struggle with these issues. We talked about the difficulties in encouraging growth in stewardship and in drawing others to the congregation and the faith. We talked about the gifts different members might have and how often people struggle with identity. Each shared that when the congregation was in transition, people rolled up sleeves and did what needed to be done; how they did a building project “without a pastor”; how there had been energy, but now that there was a pastor, people just kind of left the work to the pastor.
They commented on how hard is to do the work of the church without a lot of help. And a comment I have heard before- "We used to sing, but we don't now- I don't know why. I think we should know why." I asked if they had considered that a pastor could feel the same way.
We discussed how congregations can share struggles, but also ideas- we are not alone in this. Not only there eight people who feel a tug to seek more, there is the presence of the Spirit to guide and sustain this work. Dialogue led to “more questions than answers, ” but also a desire to explore further. Anthony Robinson indicates in the closing lines of his book, What's Theology Got to Do With It?, states“ … teaching will be in the midst of the life of the congregation and its people. This does not mean always having the answers; indeed it may mean having the question. It does mean putting the little dramas of life in community and our lives individually into the context of the great story of God’s redeeming and relentless love and purpose. It means taking connections between God’s story and our stories, because in reality they are not two different stories, but one story.” Perhaps this is an opportunity in response to prayer that will bear fruit.
So I spent a couple of minutes during parish announcements today thanking all of them for welcoming me into their midst and for sharing with me what it means to be God's people here in this place and time. After a little humor and telling them I will continue to hold them in prayer and blessings for them, it seemed important to leave something else to think about. I encouraged them in this "new" year of the church to ponder anew. What does it mean to know God's message of grace, mercy and forgiveness and how can I share that message with someone who desperately needs to hear it?
We all know people who yearn for this news- how can we in our own ways tell the story?
These questions are universal for all of us. May we toss them around in our heads, ponder them in our hearts, listen for God.
The church was packed today. There was a buzz in the air. Many people were wearing their advent blue. Fellowship and the Advent craft were aglow with cheerful souls today. There were lots of hugs and best wishes for my exams, and genuine expressions of how I will be missed by them. There is an eagerness for me to return. Give my family their best wishes ( easier since last Sunday I brought the whole family to worship).
Amidst all of the festivity of the day was the common refrain- they really liked what I had to say about telling the story. They know they need to hear this and do this and they want to I look forward to coming back in February to continuing the journey with them.
I leave you today with the ELCA World Hunger Calendar thought for the day, and a prayer from our Seminary devotions by Dr. Mark Vitalis-Hoffman.

Each day collect change for World Hunger. Do you have an Advent wreath? If so, give 25 cents; if not, give 50 cents.

Gracious Lord, grant us to walk in your light! Teach us to know your ways and walk in your paths. Guide us so that we make right judgments that reflect your will for us and for all peoples. Help us especially to know and pursue the ways that make for peace. Gracious Lord, grant us to walk in your light! Amen

Change of Seasons

After a long spate of unseasonable warm weather farther into what I consider fall, it is now officially and definitively, autumnal. And as usual, we are overdue for taking in all of the porch things for the winter because "you just never know" it could still be nice another day. As much as I love fall, I am always a little wistful about the end of summer because the combination of "the school year" and being inside more, and not being able to pad around the property barefoot is an adjustment to the system.
This year, with the advent of my seminary education, the change of seasons has meant something even more pronounced. This morning, as I lumbered around the kitchen waiting for the coffee to kick in, my Beloved came in hoping that today was the day I would make pancakes. He is the perky morning person that I am not. ( I actually have a coffee mug that says "Attention morning people, be perky at your peril." )
I was actually not thinking of making pancakes, after another late night of high school football. ( The good news is that we have made the playoffs; the bad news is it is now cold, and last night rainy).
But here is the eager pancake person, and what was the last thing I did that reflected more than just trying to get through the balance of the week of school, teaching parish, marching band, and music lessons? When did my seasons change?
So, as I made the pancakes, I remembered that I used to make baked goods each week for our church fellowship- baking has a therapeutic quality for me. And I notice that my baking powder is now past its date, and there is a fine layer of dust on the stand mixer. And the bread machine? Lonely and untouched since August. I have shelves of cookbooks and always collected recipes to try, jamming them into the leaves of other cookbooks so that when you open the book, they flitter out like butterflies as they head to the floor. I used to be that person.
And I while I could blame the load of schoolwork, and family and parishas the exclusive reason for this change, the truth is it is more about transition.
As I continue to make the switch from prior vocation and focus to the present, there is more on the side of the scales that is "new and unknown" and less on the side of "same as it ever was." Recently Gannet Girl blogged about her health woes and the balancing act of returning to school.
For me the woe is that of redefining parts of self while desperately trying to hold on to others. I still want to be sitting on the porch in my barefeet... and yet, while this is beginning to sound like a pity party, in the midst of this, there are indescribably wonderful moments in the parish I am serving, and in school. I've been asked to do a session on the seminary radio program and I was told I presented a striking thesis in a paper on the Didache, which I view as instructive to the church as we address seekers in our midst. How to instruct others in the faith in new and engaged ways, while retaining core beliefs. Change of seasons.
Last Sunday I spent Sunday dinner in an 1800's farmhouse and learned not only all about the parish, and when the modern electrics and indoor plumbing was installed from lovely octogenarians, but about the struggles of the members and their commitment for decades to teaching the seminarians. Unless however, this parish is prepared to change seasons and invite the new, their time is limited. As I recently read in What's Theology Got To Do With It?, the failure to accept change denies God the ongoing nature of creation.
Something to ponder. God does not seek to keep the season unchanging, either outdoors, or in our lives. Stated another way, God is active in our lives bringing forth creative and redeeming work. So while I will continue to struggle with what of the old me can survive, the seasons are changing and I should give thanks for the new and challenging things I am blessed to explore.

Persistence

As most of us know, the Gospel text for yesterday was about the unjust judge and the persistent widow. This post is about the living example of the persistent one in my teaching parish. There is a man who is not a member of the parish. Over the years he has been a contractor of sorts, and has done some odd jobs-type work at the parish because he knows one the members pretty well. On Thursday, I was meeting with my supervising pastor and we see this man enter the building. He is looking for the pastor, and she greets him, not recalling who he is at first- it has been a couple of years since she has seen him. He has labored breathing, and he is almost totally deaf, so their conversation is more than a little challenging.
He relates that he used to come to the parish for worship but his health makes it hard for him to attend our only service on Sunday which is at 9 am. Mornings are a struggle for him. He really wants to receive communion. He is a baptized Christian.
She tells him she does not administer communion outside of the service usually but if he can come to next Tuesday's morning prayer which is at 10 she will give him communion then. She tells him she is in the middle of a meeting now. I feel bad- there must be more to the story, but we do not hear it that day because the meeting has ended.
On Sunday, our parish has a 9 am service, followed by fellowship and Sunday school. It is now about 11:30 a.m. All of the lights are out, all of the communion ware put away. We are getting ready to leave- I have a lunch meeting with a Council member. And here is the man again.
Still laboring to breathe. He seems a little stressed out. He tried to make it to church but his lung "locked up" - is he too late for communion? I pause, wondering what will happen next- I say a prayer in my heart.
The pastor tells him to go have a seat in the sanctuary and sends her husband to turn on the lights. She decides we will commune him. We get out the elements. She consults on what aspects of the service we will say- the Creed, the Lord's Prayer and Great Thanksgiving and Words of Institution. We go into the sanctuary where he is sitting in the front pew in prayer.
I light all of the candles. We sit with him in the pew and look at him to recite the service so he can read lips and see where we are, following along in a service bulletin that I marked up so he would know.
We administer communion and we "send" him.
Then she asks him how he is doing. He is going in for surgery to remove his thyroid- it has nodules but they are not sure if they are cancerous or not. There are risks- he could suffer vocal chord damage. And he only has one lung.
Then we hear about the car accident 27 years ago where he lost a lung, his spleen and needed a new aorta. The vocal chords on one side were paralyzed. This is why he has a raspy voice. The thyroid is on the other side- he could be mute after surgery.
And he only has the other lung- after years of construction work, it is not fully functional from all of the dust people inhaled before we knew what we do today about occupational safety.
And there is the hearing issue. After the accident, and after the surgery, while he was still in the hospital, he got an infection. Because of his injuries he had three different doctors- they each prescribed antibiotics to battle the infection- he was triple dosed. The side effect of the toxicity was that he lost his hearing but he is glad the kidney failure was not permanent.
And he has the most wonderful vocabulary and manner about him, between gasps. He recounts growing up on the church and asks some questions, and it is clear that he was bright enough to have been many other things, but here in this rural community, he worked with his hands. And in spite of all of his adversity, he is still happily married and hopeful.
Earlier cochlear implants were not ideal and now he has been almost totally deaf for so long he has "accepted it." He is not angry anymore. He jokes that the secret to his marriage is that he cannot hear his wife.
But the surgery that should be 2 hours long for the thyroid is scheduled for 5 hours. But he must have the surgery. And being in church is a comfort and tears come when he is communed. And he had gotten up early that day and rejoiced that maybe, just maybe he would make it to church at 9 but his lung "locked up." He makes no permanent plans because he just never knows.
Persistence. "Hear me."
And how much more will God do than we?
And when he returns will he find faith?

Persistence

Lives of the Saints

Today I survived another Sunday without taking out Jesus. In seriousness, today was our Sunday for Laying on of Hands and Anointing. In my home parish I am not sure how many people would get out of their pews and come forward. In this parish, I think it was everyone. Coming forward for a laying on of hands and anointing with oil , the sign of the cross in the name of our Lord. And it was clearly very moving for people to hear a word of forgiveness and healing. And very moving for me to serve in this way.

And I said I would stay for a choir practice. There were 6 of us. Unlike in my home church where we have a library of anthems, here we are singing a two verse hymn in With One Voice. And it would happen that this is originally a Hispanic hymn. And it would happen that I know some Spanish. Could I sing in Spanish so people can hear it?

So next Sunday they will sing a verse and I will sing it in Spanish. And then we will so the same for the second verse. Everyone knows they will have no idea if I say correctly, but in their way this is becoming aware of others. Many churches with anthem libraries would not do as much.

And today the children put dimes, nickels and pennies into ELCA Hunger Appeal envelopes during the childrens sermon on the poor man. And I know a church with an anthem library that did nothing to make the message become action.

They may be small and they may have limited resources, but these people are a flock that is trying.

After church I had some time before the corn maze outing. I went out into the very large cemetery. It has been there since the 1800's and one can learn much about a people there. I found a couple Civil War veterans. One died of thyphoid fever in a Civil War hospital. Of the several World War veterans, one died in combat that I saw. Then I came across a large obelisk of a family. One two sides were the names of 5 children who had either died at birth or within the first year or so. On another side was the name of the wife, Susannah. She died at 34. Then I started doing the math. The youngest child died after her. But when? By two months. Child number 6 - she died in childbirth and the child two months after. No children survived.

When we think of the lives of the faithful, and put it into the context of the parent who has just gotten that knock on the door or telegram from the Defense Department,"We regret to inform you..." or the family of one who died alone in a hospital and news came by letter much later, or the husband who has buried six children and his bride, how much they must have endured and yet remained here in the faith.

Today I see men and women whose spouses struggle with illness, whose children labor with adversity. Yet here they are, wanting to understand the larger world, and put their change in envelopes for change. And they come forward believing in God's saving grace, forgiveness and promises. Come Holy Spirit.

What if...

I spent my first "real" Sunday in my teaching parish, the church on the country road. Having been told I would fill in where the needs were, I knew I would be serving as lay minister, intoning the Kyrie, and the psalm, leading the Prayers of the Church and assisting with Communion. This was my first opportunity to wear my new alb which I had ordered "Qwik-Ship". It came on Saturday ( which of course is better than Monday after the day it was needed). I received comments on how "nice" my alb was. Which for a moment made me chuckle since one rule some women follow is not to wear the same nice dress to more than one occasion, I am engaging in exactly the opposite practice. But it did feel thrilling to be wearing my own alb. For the last many years of serving in my home parish, we all share a collection of albs available for that purpose. Some better than others.

And I was wearing the pectoral cross I got this summer from the Moravian shop nearby which my Mom bought for me. And this felt more than a little ironic since she has not been supportive of this journey of mine. When I saw the cross while we were together this summer, she offerred to buy it for me, not knowing what its purpose would be- to be worn in worship doing the thing she can't believe I gave up a perfectly good legal career for. What if I can't pull this off?

In my teaching parish the altar space is very different to me, and then there is the credence table. The home for all things to be placed on the altar before they are, in a kind of setting of the table. In 18 years I have never had to learn or carry out this practice of "setting the table" because my home parish does not have such a place. What if I make a mess of it, or worse, what if I drop something, or it flies out of my hand. Behind the altar is a framed piece of stained glass, internally lit depicting Jesus on his knees in prayer. What if, in a Monty Python-esque scene, something flies out of my hand and crashes into Jesus?

What if fear strikes me and I canNOT sing the kyrie, or ..

And then I am also to lead the Sunday school class which is made up of only middle school boys whose typical preteen behavior I saw last week. And with the pastor out of the room, they will surely give me a run for my money. What if...

I am sure God gets tired of my "What if I stumble, what if I fall" routine.
It all turned out just fine. In fact there must be grace sufficient because it turned out better than I had hoped. Even the teaching middle school boys part.

This Sunday I am assisting again, and there is a service for healing and laying on of hands. Something else that will be new for me. And something that feels humbling.
Like hearing in homiletics that we are God speaking. We are God healing. I thought I was scared before- that is truly amazing.

Did I think about this before? Yes and no. It is a lot to wrap your mind around.
Thrilling, terrifying. And hard to imagine being anywhere else.

As for the mountain of schoolwork it is there- a looming presence. And there is the new wrinkle of 13 year old angst. She does not want me around, but now that I am not ( i.e. on Sundays while she is still in our home parish for confirmation)- she feels like things are amiss. And we are jockeying for computer time.

This will keep me humble.

SO tomorrow I am off to the parish and then their youth group is going to a corn maze. LC#2 is invited come along and I hope she will.

The country parish

Welcome to my new parish to which I have been assigned for "Teaching Parish." Behind these doors lies a country parish built on land from someone's farm. There is probably only one farmer left now. Life has changed. To the right, if I had used a wider angle, you would see the sprawling cemetery for the saints triumphant which is still actively used.

Behind the building is a new addition that houses class space, the pastor's office, restrooms, and downstairs, the social room and kitchen. Since the parking lot is around back as well, many people do not come in the "front door" anymore which says "Welcome", they come in the back or side doors which do not say anything.

The congregation worships on average 80 people at one service. Many folks are "from here" although that has started to change. Many people used to come from neighboring farms to this parish, but now they come from developments or home scattered throughout the community. The town actually has three Lutheran churches.

Our parish on a winding country road, off of the beaten path. Some very large new homes have been built nearby but the people in these homes want a church that looks like their home, new, and contemporary. Which may be too bad. For people who will miss out on a great experience here, and for those who wonder what the future will hold here if folks do not come.

Amidst this are people who take awhile to warm up to a new face. Once I was introduced and "installed" many people wanted to meet me at the door, at the sharing of the peace, and during fellowship. Before that I was a face they did not know. Alone. I experimented with their reaction to a total stranger. One person said "Hello" in the parking lot and asked me if I was visiting.

Not one other person said a word. I tried making eye contact, and smiled. I said,
" hello" to people who kind of smiled and kept on. No one sat in my pew even though I sat in the midst of the congregation. Not until it was clear that I was someone they will be seeing and it was clear why I was there. I had the chance to worship in a new place without family ( they were at our home parish) and to be new and "single."

This group of people is pleasant once they connect with me. There is a list of people signed up to take me out to lunch, or home for lunch as the case may be, now that they know who I am. I guess I passed the test, in fact I was even asked what I like to eat.But if they wish to thrive into tomorrow, they will need to grow a little into connecting with the random visitor if they want to continue on. I know they can, and I hope they will. Evangelism is scary.

I sat in on the middle school Sunday school/confirmation- three boys.I confess that while I found teaching 20 middle school students a challenge in the past, three seems...like a different challenge. The class is taught by a high school student and the pastor. Next week I will be teaching with the pastor as the high school student is away.

I will be assistant in worship in a new setting and with new worship practices ( as in this is not how "my church " does it), and intoning the liturgy, but for all of this I will not have a single familiar face. And so the presence of a friendly supervising pastor and the sustaining power of God will have to carry me through. For the first time in my entire life, I am embarking on a journey without a single familiar face, not one connection to prop me up. It's just me and God. I am sure God is up for it. In fact, it sounds really foolish for me to limit God by saying "just God." I am the only one with limitations in this equation.

I think there are many stories to hear and to share. I think that aside from my fears about " getting it right " which is just about me, I suspect that the people here have fears as well. Fears about letting people in who might "change things" or about losing identity, or about what others might think who come here. Maybe a little defensive. Thoughts about what will happen to "my/our church" and maybe if we keep it all the same it will feel right.

But this is surely not the message of Christ for them or for me. This church needs to reach out not just to those who are "like them" but those who are decidedly not. And to eat with the "sinners" whatever that may conjure up. After all aren't we all just a little self-righteous from time to time when we see someone who looks or acts in a way we think is not "right"? And do we not then need to see Christ in those we meet and cast our fears upon God and be about God's mission?

And if this conversation is to happen, it will not be because I or any other person "tells it like it is." If it is to happen, it is because we make connections, build relationships, and understand how each of us got to this place and time. And I look forward to hearing theirs hopes, joys, fears and concerns and pray that they will discern, as I will, where the future will take each of us from the crossroads in our lives. And I am eager to take this journey with them and grateful they have been willing to receive me.

A Change in the Scenery

One of the courses for the fall is "Teaching Parish with Integrative Seminar" which is a heavy phrase for being assigned to work in a parish and getting together to talk about ministry. We were asked to fill out a form which was just basic information ( name, address, age, contact info) and prior employment and involvement within the Lutheran church ( if you are ELCA). We were asked to identify any other considerations that we felt might be important.
My home parish has been the Church of the Really Big Deal which has two pastors, a music director, a full time office administrator, 15 members of the Church Council, two services, Sunday school classes for all ages including 3 each Sunday for adults, five choirs, two bell choirs, Wed programming for youth, two weekly Bible studies, and we are the home for multiple support groups extending outside our parish. We own real estate in town and outside of town where we have a place in the woods that has pavilion with a full kitchen and full bath facilities. We have about 335 active members.
My candidacy committee indicated that since this was my reality for the last 17 years, it would be beneficial for me to experience a smaller church setting. So I indicated this on my form.
Yesterday's class was kind of like a blind date. You are waiting to meet the person who has been matched to you. I do not know how sophisticated the process is, but as I watched other people leaving with their matches, and especially since I knew some of these pastors, I could see it looked like a good fit.
Finally, it was my turn, and I have been matched with a vibrant pastor who I have been told is a "hoot." And my parish worships about 80 a Sunday at one service. I have checked out to see that they have a website, and a long history dating back to 1800. They are a rural location and it looks like, as with many churches, there was a heyday, but a few years ago, the rolls were adjusted like many parishes have done.
It looks like after that there was a downturn and now growth is beginning anew.
I am sure that there are stories to be learned. While it might be easy to get out my rose-colored glasses and begin to envision quaint people and surroundings, I suspect that I will find, just as in my own congregation, there are core workers, others who just show up, hopes and dreams, petty slights and disaappointments. In fact one thing that has amazed me in my home parish is when I would hear about some disagreement between members where the end result was that someone continued to come to church mad for years ( as opposed to going somewhere else).
So this Sunday I will be introduced and "installed." And next Sunday I will robe up and roll up my sleeves to work and learn.
I hope I remember to talk less and listen more, and to be slow to reach conclusions, and to see Christ in each person I meet.
Those of you in smaller parishes, if there is any pearl of wisdom you can share I would be grateful.