Blessed are the Peacemakers for They Shall Inherit the Earth

This week people across the nation marked the sixth anniversary of the tragedies which unfolded on September 11, 2001. September 11th holds another importance to me- my younger daughter was born on September 11th and was an elementary school student in 2001 when the world seemed like it was falling apart.

It was, in the tradition of the school, her day to be the line leader and the snack person. And it all started out like any other great day. And it is almost always clear and sunny on her birthday, as it was that day.

She had been dropped off with her cupcakes and dressed in red, her favorite color. Her older sister was also at school and my husband and I were at work. The way it worked out, my secretary was on a family trip ( about a mile from where the plane went down in PA). So I had public radio on and I was vaguely listening as I waited for a client to come for an appointment.

As the appointment began there was a report that a plane had crashed into the Trade Center but the assumption was it was a small plane. Hmm. The client came and we met. When I finished, I called our lawfirm’s main office and people were frantic. Get to a TV, they cried.

So, still wondering, I walked down the street to the coffeehouse and on the TV, the now infamous plane clips that are etched into our collective memory were rolling. I got a coffee and as people were wandering in and sitting down to watch numbly, the first tower collapsed. I watched it as though it was a surreal vision, but it had really happened.

They announced that the last plane was unaccounted for, but was over Pennsylvania. I felt like Chicken Little; the sky was falling. I frantically called my husband, and found out his government office near the school was in lockdown.

The school called and I was on my way to pick up the kids. Driving on a sort of auto -pilot. As it seemed was everyone else. My kids got in the car and it was as I saw the tear-stained face of my young child, I realized that for her this was as much about her day as anything else.

How much do you share with 7 and 9 year olds? They had heard the whispers of a few things. We talked briefly about what I could say, planes had crashed and people were not sure what had happened but that it looked like someone made them crash on purpose.

When we came home, my birthday girl was wondering why anyone would do such a thing. At the time none of us knew who was behind the attacks or why. But it seemed to come from somewhere in the Middle East. I struggled to find a way to explain why any person would embrace death in this way.

I started by saying that people do not always agree about where other people should be able to live, or what religion they can believe, or what people can say and who is in charge. I used the playground as an analogy for who gets to pick the game, or who gets to be on the swings first, or who solves a problem when there is a fight. And I admit that even though grownups tell kids not to act out, and to get along and share, we do not always do what we tell them to do. And so we argue and we fight, even though we shouldn’t. And we try to settle things the way we want and we do not take turns. And we push and shove.

Heads are nodding and I think I have made a connection. Perhaps a little too well. Because then the birthday girl points out that the difference between kids on a playground and adults is that “ when adults fight, the way they settle things is to kill.”

My eyes welled up with tears as I heard the truth of what she so boldly said- yes, sometimes this IS what adults do. And now.. what to say? To my saddened, disappointed bitter child who at age 7 knows us as we can be?

I tell her she is right, and that when people do this, it is wrong, and that it makes God sad. She laments that this is how things are. And suddenly I find a moment of good news. I ask her to think about the fact she is not the only person born on this day. That there are too many to count. And that if she and every other person born on this day says, “ I have had enough!” They can become the peacemakers. They can help to bring the change our world needs. They can work for peace, not just because it is right, but because they know how awful not having peace is. And all around the world, change starts because one person stops saying “there is nothing I can do” and starts saying, “ I can do something.”


So every year when we get to her birthday, we place flowers in church to honor the peacemakers in the world. And as the events of the past become further into history, the best hope we have of honoring memories is to work, pray and hope for peace. And when you remember September 11th, just as it evokes sadness, remember that there is life and hope and God’s promise.

Blessed are the peacemakers.

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.

Windows at LTSG

I was able to get these images from the extremely helpful communications office at LTSG. I hope to maybe take others. But in the meantime, please enjoy this window. If you click on it, you can see it in a larger scale.

From LC#1- Enjoy!

Found a new site to check out thanks to Lutheran Chick #1!

Being Present- Shelter from the Storm

I missed posting a Friday flick because after class it was a fast dash to get home and get the Chicks to the football field for the band prep and pregame show and I was working the concession stand. It was already a busy evening. Made busier by the text from the Chicks that D, one of LC#2's friends had come home from school with my girls and we were taking her to the game also. And our home congregation was having its first Fifth Quarter party after the game. All of our kids at church were bringing their friends for pizza and wings for about an hour. LC#1 informed me that she had invited two friends who may or may not be sleeping over after all of this and who would all need rides to 5th quarter if they did not walk as a group, and definitely rides home.
So off we go to the football field with 2 chicks and D. After the game, I learn from my wide-eyed younger daughter that D REALLY wants to spend the night. Her mom, who is divorced, and lives with a boyfriend who is the father of D's little brother, is at work. Mom and boyfriend had been fighting the day before and that morning. D gets caught in the middle and says that the boyfriend is " a mean drunk" and she does not want to go home. I suspect there is even more to this story but it is not shared. We track down Mom who says she is just getting home but a sleepover is fine. We arrange to stop by and pick up a few things. I send my beloved just in case.
Meanwhile, LC#1 has two friends, AC and AK who are having home issues as well. One had just had her mom leave this summer for another man, leaving Dad and the kids behind. Lots of ugly confrontations. The other tells me that her mom and stepdad have been fighting. He left for a day but is back. Her mom lost her drivers license some years ago for a series of DUI's. The girl thinks her mom is now eligible to get her license back, but her stepdad will not pay the fees necessary, because " then my Mom could leave. This is how he keeps her trapped and controls our lives." And both of these women have low paying jobs, and kids to care for and are dependent upon situations that perhaps they would rather not be in, but there is no way out. And these girls are smart enough to see that this is not healthy. I pray for them that they get the chance for different futures.
So lots of running around and lots of being there for these teenage girls who just need an adult without issues who lets them vent.
And we got home after 11 last night and some people were sleeping over and needed to be redistributed today. And in the midst of all of this, my girls made me proud, not just for being there for their friends, but for inviting one of the "outcast" boys in band to the party as well. And his mother rejoiced with me that he and she were thrilled that he got an "invite."
So I am tired, and all of my schoolwork is calling my name, but once again, being present for others, not to fix their world but to give them a haven, seemed like where we needed to be.

The cloud of witnesses

This week is the "official" start of classes, although for us summer Greek-ers, it feels like we have been around forever. All jesting aside, today was THE convocation to open classes. Now I know that some people find all of the hoopla a little tedious or excessive. To the contrary, I actually found this very moving. I always liked academia in the "traditional" symbolic processional milestone moments. And then of course we are in the chapel, known as the Church of the Abiding Presence. I went there to pray after the Greek final and in the solitude give thanks I was still alive. The name suits a place I find sustaining. As an aside, I love to sit in the empty church without all the lights alone with God and to envision the spirit not only of God's abiding presence, but as a history buff, to envision the saints who have gone before in this place, as an ode to the eternal and sustaining message of God's glory, and grace.
The stained glass windows are like none I have ever seen. They are actually not the usual leaded glass variety, but rather are an opaque window with engraved images of the historic figures of the Reformation, the Church and our fine seminary. I wish I had a good picture. In the Church of the Abiding Presence, the chapel of the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Gettysburg, the stained glass windows depict scenes from the Bible and Church history. The window closest to the pulpit depicts the crucifixion of Jesus. Just below the foot of the cross, and a little to the right, the first Christian martyr, St. Stephen, kneels in adoration and suffering. A little further down, and to Stephen's left, St. Francis is shown receiving in his own body the marks of the crucifixion. This window is symbolic of Lutheran recognition of St. Francis of Assisi as one who truly surrendered himself in humble submission to the shame of the cross.
Not only are we there to open the class year for our time here, we are part of an unending march of saints/sinners who, answering God's call have come here to this place and time. And while, after summer Greek I know much about some of my classmates that could fall into the TMI category, I was also glad to see people I can now begin to say I know, when I came back to campus after the brief hiatus following Greek. We are community here, in all the good and less than outstanding that any moment can encompass.
But we are also community in the larger sense within the holy catholic and apostolic church. And we are but a current manifestation of a ragtag band that goes back a really long time.
So as I watch the current and future leaders of the church amidst the backdrop of the past, and after a couple of weeks of conjuring up the core of what begins to give me new and different glimpses into belief, I cannot help but feel that the saints in the windows are a part of that great cloud of witnesses.
And during worship this week we were asked to take a moment and contemplate our family and friends who helped us and continue to help us be here; the pastors and other leaders who encouraged and taught, and all of those people throughout time who have influenced our thought and faith.
And there again was not only the memory of a beloved pastor now deceased, who I wish was here with me now, but that cloud of witnesses again, whose life and witness, successes and struggles, joys and sorrows in the faith have convened here with us now. Our motto here is " At the Crossroads of History and Hope." Not merely a trite expression as I contemplate where the Spirit may lead me during my time as a part of the community here.
And while I am terrified at the notion of preaching, wonder what I will mess up, I end this reflection with wisdom shared today by our Dean of a statement she learned in her internship, to pray that God bless what has been done for the good of God's kingdom, and forgiveness for the rest. She added that on any given day she is never really sure which may be which in God's eyes. I suspect the cloud of witnesses would concur.
Once again, I am reminded that I must surrender my notion of being in control, allow God to fill and mold me, as many have before me. And Lord, please forgive the rest, Amen.

It is finished! It is just beginning

Summer Greek ended Friday and I have now come home, introduced myself to my family again, and caught up on my sleep, my laundry and my snail mail. But rejoice with me- I made it! Prepare Ye and I were both convinced that we had pretty much messed up on the final ( which of course is closed book). The practical 43 year old in me sarcastically wondered when there would ever be a theological emergency requiring me to immediately translate in Greek from memory in order to save the day. And of course for those of you who have experienced the Croy book, I think he is need of serious pharmacotherapy. Sentences involving dead children, dead holy sisters and evil sinners start to get a little unsettling after a while. Joking aside, I LOVE translating Greek and envision conjuring up the spirit of the time when the texts were written that make up our New Testament. The subtle nuances are fascinating. Learning how to detect the true emphasis of a passage, which is sometimes different than I might have thought is thrilling. It feels vital.
If you are not familiar with the Croy book, say thanks to God and I do not recommend it for light reading.
On a lighter note, the intensity of the summer Greek two week class that jams what other longer classes would cover into a tiny stretch of time is a great way to bond in common adversity with others. We are all in this together is the thought, and, as the Marines put it, we will leave no man behind.
Indeed, we did all make it, and were sorted into two classes for fall. Much to my surprise and to the surprise of Prepare Ye, we placed into the advanced class.
Each day at the opening of class one of the students was chosen to lead prayer. On the day of the big test when we met for the review of the test, one of my classmates, after offering the prayer, closed with leading us all in the prayer Jesus taught us. It brought tears to my eyes as I listened to the instant sense of peace come across the room.
When I came to campus for Greek, I was more than a little stressed about being away from my family for two weeks. As I have said, every one else comes and goes on trips, but I am always the one at home ready to receive them back. To have this role switched was unsettling. Having my husband email to say that he never realized how many little things I do that he never realized was gratifying but bittersweet.
I texted the Chicks and emailed the family while I was away, but while this was somewhat of a respite, you know you just cannot hug an electronic device ( at least not safely).
I often believe that the things in life we experience are a chance to see what we have not seen before and give us tools for the future. This experience allowed me to greater appreciate how people who travel away from family for work regularly must feel in the absences. My father was one of these people, yet when he came home after sometimes weeks on the road, there was always some little trinket he had picked up, and even spending the day with him running errands was time I cherished as a child. I never felt that he was absent from my life. He once had a flight canceled because of snow and he rented the last rental car to drive 12 hours in bad weather to get home for Christmas Eve. I know he must have been anguished and exhausted. But by God's grace he made it to be with us.
And, minus the 13 hours in snow, so it was for me, as I packed my car before the final so I could leave right after class. I had gone to the bookstore and picked up trinkets. And I pulled into the driveway in time to get to the first fall football game where the Lutheran Chicks are in the band. I caught the pregame show. With tears in my eyes I was glad to be home.
My parents have just left to go home to FLA, and we went to church to hear LC#1 cantor, and it is 18 years ago that my beloved and I walked down the aisle together. Last night we celebrated LC#2's birthday 10 days early so we could do it as a family with my parents. A friend of mine has an old Lincoln Towncar stretch limo complete with steer horns on the hood which I decorated and drove us in to go out for Chinese- her favorite food. A spontaneous idea I had that was a great surprise for everyone else.
So this weekend has been kind of a watershed time. I found myself looking back across the years that my sweetie and I have traveled together. The ups and downs, the highs and lows.
We have received great blessings. We have each other, in all of our quirky humor, sharing a love of civil war history, the British Isles and Atlantic Canada. We have been blessed to travel to these places and share wonderful moments ( both before kids and with kids). We share a love of the comic strip "Get Fuzzy" and he will make sure every day that I get to see it. We enjoy books, and music and reading the personal ads in the London Review of Books.
I have learned to cook the things he likes including Chicken Paprikash, even with very potent paprika a co-worker brought us from Hungary. It does not require the same amount in a recipe. I learned this when proudly serving it to our interim pastor, and watching his face immediately turn red, and as he drank about three glasses of water I wondered if it might be too spicy. Miraculously the pastor lived. And my hubby has learned to eat things he would never have eaten growing up.
We share a love of the same music ( most of the time)and the milkcrate of albums he brought into the marriage is still upstairs. Along with the posters of the band "Rush" which are ( to his dismay) not displayed in the house. We have each been the one to bring home a dog who needed a home and you will find us telling stories about them almost as much as we talk about the kids.
But we have also walked the road of a terminally ill parent ( his father)whose service I planned and whose eulogy I delivered because I was the only one who knew his wishes. We have walked the road of getting a call that a parent is in the ER with heart issues ( his mom and my dad), we have walked the road of almost losing LC #1 at birth and diagnosing her learning issues, we have a child whose birthday is September 11th, which in 2001 was hard to deal with. We have walked the road of my uncle taking his life and me packing up my mother to travel a long distance to a funeral that was incomprehensible.
But through all of these things, God has blessed us with each other, and with more than we truly need. And as I have woven my way through discernment to now, he has been my biggest supporter and encourager, often telling me what I need to hear.
And all of this from the man who was not joining a church, just going to humor me.
I came home from Greek to find pizza on the counter, a glass of wine at the ready and flowers in my kitchen window. It doesn't get much better than that.
A time for endings and beginnings. A time to give thanks for the gift of family. And later today, a time to do my Greek homework.