Are You Willing to be a Rebel for Resurrection Hope?

Today I attended Spring Convocation at LTSG, which made a big splash having as key speaker, journalist and author, Chris Hedges, who has written extensively across media, including books such as The Empire of Illusion and The World as It Is. Hedges’ appearance was a part of the convocation theme, “We Tell to Love the Story,” a day which included an outstanding presentation on the scripts of Scripture by Rev. Dr. Marty Stevens and on story brokering by Rev. Kathy Vitalis Hoffman. I wish that the crowd in attendance for Hedges had been present for the other two presentations, because without it I suggest the story left an incomplete picture. And while much of what Hedges gives voice to resonates with my sensibilities and with the message across the canon of Scripture in prophetic witness, Hedges himself is not big on lifting up the life and work of the church. This is not only true because this isn’t his role (though he has an M.Div. from Harvard Divinity) but also in part of his own acerbic sentiment toward the church as institution born of his lived religious experience as the son of a Presbyterian pastor whose prophetic voice met with cataclysmic opposition over issues still on the horizon today- oppression, poverty, gay rights, the military-industrial complex. From my brief conversation with him, I understand opposition to his father’s witness culminated in drumming out of his father over his voice of resistance. I’m attempting to take in Hedges’ compelling words which at times one might suspect were intended to function as an emetic administered to the listener. I note that I am neither an acolyte nor a “hater.”
“I have walked through the barren remains of Babylon,” he began. No one can doubt the profound scope of what Hedges has witnessed in his global journeying as a journalist. Anyone who has read even some of his work quickly realizes the gravamen of the accretion of events he confronted as bystander to warfare and aggression, despoiling of environment and seeming callousness of those who are the perpetrators. Amidst the din of this, Hedges began his address with words of Percy Bysshe Shelly- about the feeling of standing amidst the ruin of Egyptian pharaohs: And on the pedestal these words appear: “My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings: Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!' Nothing beside remains. Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, The lone and level sands stretch far away.” Akin to Ezekiel, Hedges launches into a full tilt assault on the “increasingly rapacious elite” and “a world where ideals no longer correspond to reality, where the frightened retreat into isolated compounds and enclaves of wealth and priviledge. Those in power extract wealth upward with greater ferocity until the hollowed out edifice collapses.” As was the fate of Rome, the Mayans, the Babylonians, so too we see the fate of those in the Middle East, Africa, Europe and ultimately here at home. I full well expected him to say, “Thus says the Lord YHWH.” As the canary in the coal mine protesting more wars, grander monuments, and increasing debts foisted on the backs of the poor, he continued lifting up historic parallels across time of “elitists who become extremists squeezing the last drops out of humanity before they ossify and die, destroying what they claim to be about.” As Hedges offered a summation of sorts for the notion that humans seem destined to be cursed to repeating the cycles of exploitation and collapse at the hands of ignorance and hubris, I found myself writing and underscoring a single word: SIN. I wish I could even remotely approach the skill of writing and oration Hedges possesses yet the word SIN never was uttered. Which is too bad, because he is spot on and that is what it is. We should name it as such. The world we claim to be ever more adept at controlling and engineering like all of those other refined civilizations is still captive to the force of sin. Hold that thought.
Hedges then turned his sights upon illuminating the failure of those who put themselves forth as proponents and indeed proclaimers of the Christian faith are often co-opted by those who not only are OK with systems of power, oppression and death, they would prefer them to remain in place. Hedges takes the framework of religious institutions and the liberal class to task for naively placating these forces, “inviting the wolf in” as he puts it. Not only that but he frames leaders of the “liberal” end of the political spectrum as only looking like liberals while selling their souls to the corporate world, turning the American dream into a cruel hoax. “Tolerating the intolerant leads to destruction of the tolerant.” Hedges sees the end result in this country (not only elsewhere) as reconfiguring our world into “neo-feudalism.”
But back to the church – Hedges tosses more fuel on the fire alleging that the church has forgotten that heretics exist, excoriating evangelicals (and others) for re-connecting with Newt Gingrich and others who “mock the core teachings of Christ” and who “stand by mutely as others betray and exploit the gospel of Christ with bigotry, hatred and greed.” As I was again thinking of Ezekiel taking on those who claimed to speak for YHWH that “all is well when all is not well” he moved in for the kill. “What was the point of ordination is you think you never have to fight for the message of the gospel?” It really doesn’t matter whether Hedges is speaking as one with or without faith, inside or outside the church- these words matter. We serving and aspiring leaders could ask ourselves- what will we risk for the sake of the gospel? I was reminded of the scene in the “Luther” movie when Luther is being cleaned up and prepared for his meeting with officials from Rome. He’s being counseled to back off and hold his tongue. With absolute clarity of purpose he pushes back against this with “when you so boldly sent me out to change the world, did you think there wouldn’t be a cost?” While there’s a point where Hedges’ polemic and I will part company, I cannot quibble with the claim that the longer we are tricked into investing faith in power systems we will be tricked into paths that lead to death-I think I heard this a time or two in Scripture. He speaks of what many would call “kingdom urgency” though never allowing such words to pass his lips. When do we decide we are too busy critiquing our critics or the process to actually take a stand on issues of peace, ecological destruction, injustice? They are in our own backyard. When he says we must be willing to accept the discomfort of action- was it not but a short time ago we wondered if we would deny Christ?
Where I ultimately believe Hedges’ vision is incomplete is that he seems to suggest that resistance, being a rebel and standing with the oppressed as a moral commitment are an end unto themselves. He quotes Augustine, the author of the notion that “hope has two beautiful daughters- anger at the way things are and courage to see that it doesn’t remain so.” He adjures that external reality around us cannot be a yardstick by which to measure life. As he ended his presentation he noted that the words we heard are not his, but his father’s – the Presbyterian pastor who stance ended his career- and noted:“And in Christian faith we call this resurrection.” These words brought tears to my eyes- but then I had to ask- what does the word “resurrection” mean? Redemption, vindication? Is this a buzzword for the God-people at LTSG or is it something more uttered by one scarred but still living that definition of “hope?” I don’t know- but this is why everyone who missed the talk before and the talk after- the ones who came for Hedges alone-missed the “rest of the story.”

Being a rebel means living and telling a story whose narrative is over against all of the other voices. Your strand might look different than mine but in the end the refrain is one that says for Christians that the voice we listen to (or endeavor to listen to) is the voice of a risen Christ. And it’s the voice of God who across time is not bound by the limited narratives of those who seek to co-opt. It’s still a story worth sharing in all the hurting places. It’s a story we cannot share but for a faith that takes more than we have to give. It’s a story we build with others-not as rebels alone. And it’s a story we tell to love because God’s word and not ours is the last and triumphant one that gives us strength to try again. I would never dream to suggest that everything that leads people to hurting places should be just smoothed over. Instead I would love to tell them about a God who offers and calls us to more because of the true and ultimate meaning of resurrection. To Hedges I would say that though nothing erases pain, the other word missing is GRACE- what we need, what we get, what we are called to tell and to live. Each of us.
As I got up to leave the chapel I noticed that off to the side was the large wooden cross that had featured writ large in Holy Week, now looking a little left behind- perhaps waiting to be put away. Maybe that’s the point-would we really tire if we looked at the rough hewn cross in the midst of the beautiful chapel, or would we prefer to not be reminded of the cost? Maybe even when we don’t intend to, this subtle actions of ours remind us we have much to contemplate even when it comes from voices beyond our place of sanctuary. Think of how much richer the story we share will be when we do. How Christ's narrative might speak louder than cacaphony of doom. It's risky- Are you willing to be a rebel for resurrection hope in our world?

Traveling at the Speed of Light

Where have the last two years gone? Two years ago I was stressing about whether I could learn Greek and whether I could master the "going back to school" thing. Two years ago I was preparing for my entrance interview. And I had discovered a fellow blogger Prepare Ye who was also headed to LTSG.
Two years ago I was finishing up most of a law practice and contemplating how I would coordinate everything so the commuter seminarian/wife/mother/lawyer thing would be managed with precision.
Two years ago seems like yesterday.
It does not seem possible that I would have now completed teaching parish, CPE, the speed-dating of internship matching, and now team building with my supervisor the last couple of days, having the most affirming and enriching time, wondering why my start date is two months away (knowing I should enjoy this time of waiting).
Two years ago I had no idea I would learn to drive so frequently on auto-pilot, or that I would set up and tear down a room for one night, 27 times, or drive about 11 hours each week.
Two years ago, if you told me I would learn to skim enormous books and then write a 15 page paper in short order, discuss the difference between orthodoxy and orthopraxy, and have about 200 books more than I did before, I would not have believed you.
Two years ago, if you told me that at the end of team building I would be eating lunch with a potential commuter student and discussing the value of taking Greek first because of the rich nuances it would open up for preaching, professing that I still do the translation first,I would have laughed loud and long. Though for the benefit of any Greek instructors lurking on this blog (VH), I extol the virtues of Bibleworks with BDAG- also not on my horizon two years ago.
Two years ago, I weighed a little less, and my hair was a little less gray. But two years ago, I had not met some of the most amazing and amusing people, with whom we have all laughed, cried, gritted our teeth and ranted. And now we are the latest Lutheran diaspora- cast to the winds to inflict our burgeoning pastoral identities on unsuspecting congregations.
And as I looked around these last couple days, I think each vicar-to-be was transformed a little more before my eyes and I have a sense of promise for the future of the church. And I know that time will continue to fly and I will continue to be amazed about the things I thought I would never do.
And the truth is I could never do them.
There is no way that this journey could have happened in all its scary-ness and amazingness but for the work of the Spirit who early on showed me that every time I think I am managing this process, God laughs a belly-whopping laugh. We leave for journeys to learn if the gifts we think we have been given are affirmed, to receive new gifts needed- given in time and context- some will be easy and some will be hard gifts.
And we will return transformed.
So while we continue to travel at the speed of light, may the Light of Christ ever be with us.

Journey Back from the Wilderness

It has been almost two months since I last posted anything. Not because I had nothing to say, but because there was too much. And I confess that as I had started to learn who was reading my blog, I started to think about transparency (yes,I know that has become a new buzzword in politics, sorry). How much self-disclosure does one engage in? And I was slogging my way through a record number of credits in seminary with Psalter, Theology of Stewardship, Religion in America, Pastoral Theology of Cancer, Preaching the Gospel of Mark and an independent study on chaplaincy as ministry of healing. And driving back and forth to LTSG five days of the week, staying overnight one of them, I learned how quickly to set up and tear down a room, and at times it seemed that all that was missing was the manna.
And in the midst of all of that, two other things happened. I rejoiced as we discovered that our older daughter had developed enough coping strategies to stop taking her Concerta which improved her overall mood- the Concerta was triggering her depression. But then...
Our younger daughter developed panic attacks, that quickly escalated to include some obsessive tendencies and phobias. Thus began the vortex of doctor visits, cognitive behavioral therapy visits, and medication management. And every day waiting for the other shoe to drop. I became the person who could not turn off the cell phone during the day, ever. Realizing first hand what it means to remember self-care when the world is a maelstrom. And knowing that one of the triggers seems to be difficulty adjusting to the fact this "call" thing is becoming more real as I prepare for internship. Yet I am the person to whom she turns. And becoming keenly aware of the woefully inadequate coverage for mental health issues. I experienced my own Lenten journey living through good days, or hours, and those heart-wrenching troughs where my daughter is crying and shaking, and telling me she can't take it,yet through her tears telling me she longs to be better.
My own need to constantly "return to the Lord your God" even while I felt like the Israelites wandering in circles. My own need to confront the hidden-ness of God and to conclude that Luther is right- "asking why" will drive you mad. Look for Christ in the suffering of the cross. And to look for God in the miniscule. To take comfort in the things often overlooked in the rush of the busy-ness of life.
To learn to visualize handing over my daughter to God.
To seek out my friends and learn to be a better recipient of kindness.
But out of this feeling of wandering in the wilderness, has not only come this more poignant sense of daily living, but also in the midst of this the serenity that my calling is secure.
I have never felt that the answer to all of this would be to stop going to seminary, or delay internship, or to think that maybe this is a sign that I should not continue this journey even as my daughter told me that she thinks that there is a God, but God is not loving. That a loving God would not be able to allow the planet to be degraded, and people to suffer. That I therefore must be "crazy" to give up a perfectly good career as a lawyer for this.
And how dare I?
And I have done a lot of listening, to a 14 year old who is probably a better theologian than I. And by listening and not chastising, but discussing not "fixing" we continue this journey with her knowing that I am not changing the journey, but do not need her to embrace it. That I am here to help her deal with her stress, but am not captive to it.
But I give thanks that this is not just "my" issue. As a family we all have been engaged in the ways that we as a family share in helping each other, and share in responsibility for our home together. While the direction of the path is uncertain, whether this is short-term or the "rest of our lives," I give thanks that God is in our midst and active, especially in my husband and older daughter.
I give thanks that God has gifted our younger daughter with the ability to write and draw and create music, all of which are helping her. I give thanks that she trusts us enough to be honest, to talk and to still want that goodnight kiss.
And in the midst of all of this, where I truly had to decide what is important and what is not, God gave me the grace and strength to get through the "too busy" semester while learning a lesson about not doing that again. When you have as many as three appointments a week, and should carve out some self care as well, I can see how overfunctioning is the road to ruin. A learning which will come in handy as I head to internship.
And with the preaching/text discussion every other week, I got to feel what it is like to preach when exhausted (too many nights of 3-4 hours of sleep) and to preach the good news when it doesn't feel like there is much. And to preach about the person afflicted with demons, and picture one's own and to pray that it is God's will to release someone from something. I must admit I was not looking for any more character building experiences, but can see that everything I have been experiencing allows me to more fully appreciate the journey of others I will encounter.
And I know that the only way I have come this far is by the hand of God active in the lives of those who surround me.
Yesterday I watched another class at LTSG graduate and head out into the world, and realized that as all who would be leaving the Ridge should stand and be a part of the Farewell and Godspeed, that included me and my fellow interns, it is hard to believe that the journey has come this far. And no matter what...
"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."

Pulpit in the Sky with Diamonds

Way too many things as usual in our world. I now know where I will be for my internship year- a church whose official name is- The Evangelical Lutheran Church of The Holy Trinity, more commonly just called "Trinity, Lancaster." For a full view of my internship world click here. There are many exciting and challenging things to consider and I am eager to begin, albeit a little nervous.
The pastors and staff have been a joy to meet. It is exhilirating to know that though the congregation has never had an intern, they are "thrilled" to have me there. And in my interaction with the various staff and volunteers, the excitement is indeed palpable. Having now had the tour of the sanctuary and the separate parish building, I am sure I will get lost a least once a day for awhile.
But I also believe that everyone there will simply smile and help me get oriented... again. The work of the church is extensive both locally and globally. There is much to see and to learn.

The church has been around since the early 1700's, and a Muhlenberg is involved, so truly there is a cloud of witnesses. There is actually a letter to the "pastor of the congregation" from Muhlenberg which is shared with each new pastor. The picture above depicts the view from the organ in the balcony to the pulpit which, when one stands in it, is almost level with the balcony. Behind the pulpit is a 16 foot mural of the Resurrected Christ. The congregation is used to a 25 minute sermon and the congregation library holds 3600 books which are theological- in other words, there is not a " DaVinci Code" in sight.
And as I stood in this pulpit, knowing the first date I will preach as the first vicar, gazing at the massive Bible in the pulpit, looking at the windows, one of which is by Louis Comfort Tiffany, I wonder- what does the cloud of witnesses think? Will the 16 foot Jesus come alive during my sermon and step down to say,"That's not what I meant!" when I am preaching?
So I think of the words I shared with a potential commuter student just a couple weeks ago. She asked, " How will I make this all happen?" I encouraged her to ponder instead, " How will God work through me to bring me to this new place?"
With a little creative license from the medical profession, perhaps I need to hear-
"Preacher, hear thyself!"

While I sort that out I confess to singing the old Beatles song with a new twist...

And After Internship Matching..the Wait

Ready for Speed Dating

Today and tomorrow are times of concentrated effort as our middler class spends time interviewing with congregations from across the country who are graciously willing to have an intern for the coming year. In this year in particular gearing up has taken an added strenuous times as the economy has in some instances decimated the ability of parishes to support interns. And it has become more challenging for interns to contemplate who to have some level of viability in the year on internship. Given the ages of my children, with LC#1 being a high school senior next year, I am not free to travel just anywhere. Yet, I feel blessed to have six possible locations for my learning experience. Though some see our region as being fairly homeogenous and monolithic, in fact each of these flocks is vastly different from the other, and a few are in very transitional times. From my perspective this translates into my feeling that there are many exciting and challenging opportunities in which I may be stretched and formed in new ways. In the good old days, our internship matching process has been called "the meat market" though I prefer the updated phrase " speed dating."
I have read the profiles, and looked over whatever else the congregation provided as a glimpse into their world, and I have visited websites, talked to old interns and acquaintances of supervisors.
In short, I have done everything I can do. Which is I think the main point. So much of this process is not up to me, and not even up to the supervisors or field education team, but is, I hope and believe, the work of the Spirit in our midst.
Some of my classmates are dealing with great anxiety as they sort out their situations in relationship to the notion of being ready to "mobilize."
I am again reminded of the story in the Gospel of Mark in our recent lectionary of the calling of the first disciples. "Come and follow me on the way" What are the nets we find it hard to cast down? Are we so preoccupied with them that Jesus needs to yell to get our attention?
Jesus says come and FOLLOW me. Even in ministry it is hard to remember that we are called to follow God's lead, not to try to lead God where we want to go. To prepare myself for the way I was blessed to spend two hours with Taize and contemplative prayer and walking the labyrinth by candlelight with some friends in our chapel in the evening. And now, it is time to listen to where God is calling. Veni Sancte Spiritus.

Between the Firsts and the Lasts

As this past year drew to a close and I am now halfway through my J-term class, I am halfway through my coursework at LTSG. A semester until internship, and the knowledge that the time after internship will fly. And at this halfway point, lots of things have begun to crystallize in new ways, and perhaps this is my epiphany. This time last year, I like some of the juniors I talked to this year, had that sense of brief relief, having survived that first semester, and discovering that coming back to school was, in some ways, a relief- to be with people who understand this whole "becoming a pastor thing." Yet this year, I am ready to head out to internship, because after the summer at the hopsital "doing," I am itchy to get out where this whole "pastor thing" happens, not just talk about it. And after starting seminary feeling like it was all swirling wildly, knowing that the swirl has a Director. As I listen to those who are in the junior class, I hear them saying the very things my peers and I said last year, knowing that the seniors can say the same about us middlers. There is a certain joy in being able to see where one was, with one foot into the future unknown, when it is framed in discernment in the community here.
But as sure as I say that, I am, I daresay, impatient. Yet, I know that this year is in so many ways a gift. A gift of time to luxuriate in learning. To know that I have traveled from that first day of Greek to probably the last class with a professor who has been a mainstay in my seminary learning, and to bask in that one moment of praise. A time to draw my family close in ways that will not always be possible. A time to enjoy the sparkle of the face of LC#1 and her boy. I gaze upon the Adorable Couple, knowing that this first real "romance" is also a marker of the time which will be the last of high school, far sooner than I expected it. To watch as LC#2 is even more quickly hurtling toward that same direction, or at least it seems that warp speed has been activated.
A time to move closer toward that goodbye to my home parish. And to stand in the tension of finally having preached to the home flock for the first time,and to soak up their welcome, but also to know that I have probably sung my last Christmas Eve with them; my last Christmas Eve solo. Yet, to feel a peace in this new status after many months of angst over it.
And indeed to prepare the inlaws for the reality that we will not be with them next Christmas Eve, and to incur the blast of wrath for "taking them away just because of something you think you have to do." To be shopping with my mother who is still trying to buy me things I will not wear, in the time when there are only so many days outside of clerics. To hear her say she still cannot get that through her head, but to gently tell both women in my family that in fact over the next year, this change will come.
And finally ending the last vestige of my active legal practice- having now articulated when the last work will be for the two communities I represent, which happens to coincide with when my good friend and town manager is retiring, so we will "ride off into the sunset" at the same time, having had what will probably be the last business lunch before we each leave this community in different ways.
Between now and internship, and all of those classes, I continue working several times a month as a chaplain, and to this there is one more first and last. I have gone from the first day of CPE when the facility and all it entailed seemed impossible to fathom, to completing CPE. But now as I did this fall, again this week, I will be helping to train one of the new interns in a shadowing process and to recall where I have been in new ways.
While I am beginning to think about where God may place me for internship, I give thanks for the Spirit's showing that this pattern of firsts and lasts is not one we experience in isolation, but in prayer and contemplation, and in the community with all of those who are placed here in our midst as instruments to that purpose.

A Mixed Bag of Musings

I haven't been blogging much, perhaps because I am trying to adjust to the new school year for three of the four of us. Trying to juggle six classes, five of which take up 18 hours in 2 days. Giving thanks for the one online. Trying to adjust to being away from home each Tuesday night in my "crash" room. Realizing that I don;t quite have the right packing system yet. Invariably there is something I need, or think I need. When I am grumpy about what is not clicking I make myself take a big gigantic reality check.
For one thing, the items I did not have/bring, I have at home, or I could have gone to the store to get. And yes, I would have been really tired and not wanted to, but I had a car, and money and choices. And I was only responsible for myself, not a family. And I have a safe, dry, climate controlled place with nice neighbors.
And I have the freedom to be educated, to choose my religion, anad to choose my attitude.
So yes, I do have a "TV stand" made of milk crates, and I have a camp chair in my "living room" and a classmate let me borrow her spare TV. Spare TV, for how many people is that a foreign concept. Yes, I am using hotel shampoo and soap from my trip to Minnesota this summer, but I have them and clean water.
This list could go on, and indeed when I was done, I really felt kind of puny about my momentary grumpies.
But perhaps the best part about it all, is that after the 18 hours of class in two days, I get in my car and come home for the next five. Home to a place that is not at all about my stuff, but my family.
Some may know that I have blogged here about my girls from time to time, my Lutheran Chicks who text me each day when I am gone, and call each night. LC#2's birthday is September 11th. This year, my track running, trombone and guitar playing, Japanese culture freak is 14. I got her a red calligraphy yukata to wear and this weekend will be sushi. She can't decide between marine biology and being an ESL teacher. Every day a new adventure. And in another few weeks she will be confirmed on All Saint's Day, the same day she was baptized fourteen years ago. So in honor of her, here is a re-post from last year that reminds me just how inconsequential the rant above is:

This week people across the nation marked the 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.

I Hope You Dance

Now that our family's issues are under control for now...I confess I love the start of a school year- I always have. This year I am only on campus two days, but am slammed in classes for as many hours as class is offered. So I am staying away from home on Tuesday nights, and coming home late Wednesdays. I tried that this week and have learned how I must live into what this means for my family and for me. By the grace of God it will work just as I got through last spring when I drove every day, six days a week. The Lord provides in so many ways.
Back in the day there used to be the new school clothes and all of the trappings that were necessary to make the "first day of school" splash. The last vestige of that was scoring binders that are different colors inside and out with six pockets
(take that,Scott!)And a new label maker. But as this school year begins, my two new binders are not what has me feeling content.
Instead it is the joy of seeing people who have become my buds, some of whom blog or lurk on mine, as we return for another year, and catching up on the last couple months. The kids are bigger, the experiences have been many, our lives are the same and yet..
The collective nervous energy of the junior year is gone. We have, after all, survived, and perhaps even thrived. Many of us have discerned more about our callings. There are new wives, or fiancees, and a sense that this year will bring new adventures. As I hear of their stories, I am so glad to see how the Spirit moves in their lives! I think for many of us, though I only speak for myself, there is a sense of living into our callings more fully. To share a laugh, a hug, a word of encouragement, a prayer. And to share war stories. I sense that retaining this comraderie in our lives beyond here will sustain us just like those Epistles and letters.
To see professors again who have become a part of the joy and the feeding of my soul in ways they may not even know. To hear how each of us have touched the lives of others, in intentional ministry and in the ways we were sent by the Spirit that we may not even have comprehended.
And there are new faces- the incoming juniors, and those returning from internships or here for their Lutheran year. Many stories to hear and embrace.
A year ago I blogged about the cloud of witnesses. They are still here, but this year, I was inspired by our Dean as she spoke of living the dance, or maybe living into the dance. Her talk was much more emboldening than my writing here, but she spoke of all it could mean to dance as people of the Spirit. In a world of possibility and the gaining of wisdom, of experiencing what it means to live in the here and now. So I leave you with one of my favorite songs, which she referenced in her remarks... The first time I found this song was to inspire a young woman who was a confirmand I mentored.
Comming to seminary can be more than a little life altering, but a year later, I cannot imagine being anywhere else. Wherever life takes you, if you get the chance to sit it out or dance, I Hope You Dance!

Gaining Wisdom

This post is the reflection I offered at chapel Thursday at LTSG. It is based upon the daily lectionary reading of I Cor. 6: 1-11 which you really need to read in all of its detail before you read this reflection. For me a lesson to read the lesson for the day you are signing up for before you say “yes.”
To quote Dr. Oldenburg, “ Do you Really want to say ‘Thanks Be to God’ for this text?” We will spend some time reflecting upon it in a moment, but we will not be discussing any of the labels.
To the Summer Greek –ers: You’ve almost made it halfway through in your quest for Greek knowledge. The fact you see me here is proof you can do it. For all of us we are beginning another time of learning. All of this knowledge will help you dazzle parishioners, and peers. And lest you think learning Greek is in vain, I can tell you that in my time as a summer chaplain intern I did have a patient ask me about aorist tense verbs in Greek- no lie! Dr. Carlson did not pay me to say this.
This time last year, I was sitting where you are now, and I was starting to feel like things were not so bad. I had made it through the first week without running away. Turns out that Dr Carlson was pretty OK too. I thought maybe I had figured it out after all. And then, WHAM! I hit my Greek wall. I found out I had to learn 24 ways to say the word “the.” A simple three letter word- 24 ways! And I found myself in need of a helping hand. I remember going to Jason my tutor, handing him my translations and saying, “ If they are right, I don’t know why, and if they are wrong, I don’t know how to fix it.” He was very patient. Thank you Jason, though you may be wondering if you should have helped me. When I hit my wall, I began to ask myself if I was really called, should I really be here, can I really do this? I gave up a “perfectly good job” to be here- I wonder if I can get it back? It all came crashing down, but my friends here helped me, not just to learn the words, but to get me over the stress and to remember it would all be OK. Summer Greek can be that time of bonding in the face of common adversity, but here at Seminary there will also be times where your personal adversities will clash, times when being in close proximity to each other, or having to navigate a group project gone wrong, or that big test on Friday, will create disputes and test the limits of your patience. Community has its challenges, and some day so too will a congregation to which you are sent.
Being here at Seminary is as much about the gaining of wisdom as it is knowledge. So how do we make it? By the grace of God to be sure, but more specifically by being engaged in community with others. Not by judging others, or comparing ourselves and our wisdom or worthiness, but by seeing each other how God sees us- sinners who are washed, sanctified and justified by God through Christ.
In our lesson from Corinthians today, Paul is chastising the Corinthians for their faulty and inflated view of their wisdom. He has been telling them: just as Israel was to purge itself of abominations, so also the church must purge itself of ways of conduct inappropriate to the kingdom of God. Earlier in this letter, he has lost his patience when he asks if he should come at them with a stick in discipline, or a spirit of gentleness. Note to Dr Carlson, please don’t get out the stick. Paul criticizes how they are resolving disputes among themselves. His rejecting of the courts stems from the belief that disputes should be handled within the community of faith. To go to beyond it is to breach the unity of the church. He asks, "Can it be that there is no wisdom among you?” This is bitingly ironic in view of the Corinthians' claim to possess a special wisdom and ability to judge others. Paul calls them on it and says that if they are going to judge the world, surely they should be able to judge trivial matters among themselves. True wisdom we are told is to be found only in conduct that sustains and builds up the community. Rather than live in judgment of one another, Paul urges- remember we are all the same- washed, sanctified and justified and now for you, called to this place.
Here at Seminary, the true wisdom I hope to share with you is that last year we got farther in our time in Summer Greek, and the first year in seminary when we remembered to see our fellow Christians as a part of the community where we all experience joys and struggles in our quest to know God and ourselves better and more deeply. We called it “No Seminarian Left Behind.” So I encourage each of you, to seek the wisdom- that comes in community here in this place. Amen.

Godspeed Golden Girl

This morning I sent Lutheran Chick#1 and my Beloved off to Minnesota to Lutheran Summer Music Academy. For the next month she will be at Gustavus Adolphus for flute and voice. Wearing her LTSG Tshirt and a smile. May the days ahead be bright and full of adventure. So for LC#1 and all of the other bright eyed youth who are the church of today, a little Natasha Bedingfield...missing you but can't wait to hear how this chapter of your life will be written.

Running the Gauntlet

My fellow seminarian calls this time running the gauntlet. I have a Systematic theology paper (done); a paper on two of Luther's works (done); a complete exegetical analysis of a Matthew text, including narrative, form, redaction, text, sociohistorical criticism of my tranlation with sermon (done). Preaching this coming Sunday in Teaching parish ( sermon done).
This week I am stressing about our group project on Wednesday to enact an entire service with an infant baptism, bilingual, in a traditional congregation with an east wall altar, which includes Communion. I am the presider.
But I still have a paper for my Worship class, a paper for a preaching class on Matthew's Christology, a final paper about my teaching parish, another sermon for my preaching class, and an integrative project for my Gospels class. And these need be done by April 28th. Then I get two take home exams due the following week for Reformations and Systematic Theology.
Plenty to do. But I can still laugh and especially at myself. I was leading morning prayer at the seminary and I intended to say a prayer that begin with..
"Lord, wherever two or three of us are gathered.."
But in my mind, I converted to the way this phrase reads in the Bible, so it came out-
"Lord, wherever two or three of YOU are gathered."
No good way to fix it, so I just kept moving.
But I am not, for the record, polytheistic.
Instead of being embarassed, I wanted to laugh at myself in the service.
I wonder if this ever happens to others?
I hope God, ( and all the other gods;) ) laugh too.

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.

St Nicholas Day

In fourth-century Turkey there was a generous bishop by the name of St. Nicholas, now considered to be the patron saint, or protector, of children. St Nicholas was born in 280 AD, in Patara, a city of Lycia, in Asia Minor. He became the gift giver of Myra. His gifts were given late at night, so that the gift giver's identity would remain a secret. St Nicholas was eventually named the patron saint of children. Early in the Advent season some celebrate a feast that has been popular for centuries in Christian countries, especially in Northern Europe. In our over-commercialized society, this holiday gives us a good "teaching moment" to remind children that Jolly Santa Claus, is, in fact, Saint Nicholas, a fourth century bishop of the city of Myra in what is now Turkey.


     Saint Nicholas was renowned for his great kindness and his generous aid to those in distress. Traditional celebrations of Saint Nicholas Day in Northern Europe included gifts left in children's shoes (the origin of our American Christmas stockings). Good children receive treats - candies, cookies, apples and nuts, while naughty children receive lumps of coal. Sometimes coins were left in the shoes, reminiscent of the life-saving dowries the saint provided. Today - especially in families of German extraction - children still put a shoe outside their bedroom doors on the eve of Saint Nicholas Day, and expect to find candy and coins or small gifts in their shoe on December 6th.

    In the spirit of St Nicholas, we honored the day by observing the tradition. Childrens' shoes were placed outside their doors before they went to bed. St Nicholas stopped by before dawn to leave a gift. May we encourage our children to follow the example of St Nicholas and make gifts for the special people in their lives or to give them whatever help they need.

Just as we can await the arrival of "Saint Nick", may we be ready to receive Christ, when he comes in glory and to share in the banquet of heaven, where he lives and reigns with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

Friday Flick- Chapel windows

( Thanks again to the wonderful LTSG Communications and Admissions Offices for pics)


In reading the lesson from Ephesians, I also came across what I find to be fitting for this slide show which is Chapter 2:19-22:

"So then you are no longer strangers and sojourners, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the chief cornerstone, in whom the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you also are built into it; for a dwelling place of God in the Spirit. "

May we not simply be inspired within this place, but may we look out of these windows beyond this place into tomorrows yet unknown.

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.

The Journey Begins..

So many of my junior class are here for the thrills of the Summer Greek adventure at LTSG. One quiz down,6 quizzes and 2 exams to go, but who's counting? During our first day together there was a opportunity for each person to share where they were from, a little bit about their journey thus far. Pipeliners, and some of us not, fro all across the country, men and women, different faith backgrounds. Many of us running from getting here for quite awhile; others who always knew, heard and obeyed. Learned a new phrase "genetic Lutheran" which I guess has replaced "cradle Lutheran."
There were a couple of common threads. Everyone clearly is moved and energized by serving God's church- no one is here because it was something to do. Everyone sensed that once he or she decided to embark upon this journey, obstacles fell away, doors opened, the path was made clear. Having the opportunity to hear alot of the same thoughts and experiences that have been kicking around in my head and world was frankly a relief. And a blessing.
While we are and will be diverse when it comes to approaches and opinions, and we will be scattered across the country like seeds in the wind, I hope that the faces we meet here will be lasting connections and a collective resource for all of us.
In the meantime, it will be back to Greek and getting ready for the fall term.
And I sense that there will be times of introspection, challenge and refining.
Each morning I use For All the Saints as my resource for morning prayer. Today's prayer seems apt for the coming week:

This week we may be given challenges instead of ease,
courage instead of contentment,
opportunities instead of rest,
But we have a Savior who brings
strength out of service,
faith out of struggle, and
victory out of defeat.

Go then, fear nothing,
sure that in everything we are held secure
in the Master's steadfast love.
Amen.

E. Lee Phillips

After the Fire

So I am here at LTSG for Summer Greek and I must be ready to go because the hour drive ( which will be my commute when Greek is done) flew by. I think I unpacked all of my things in record time. I know this is hard for me to be away from my beloved and the Lutheran Chicks. They go away for camp and trips and I stay put. Same separation. Same time frame as when they go away. But it is me who is not there. So I have a picture of the family on my desk. A candle from my kitchen, the throw pillow from LC #1's bed. Something LC#2 made for me. The cross from my sunroom. Well, you get the idea. I have been out for a great walk from Seminary Ridge out Confederate Avenue past the Eisenhower Farm. The setting sun and the conversing birds.
I have made my dinner, gone over what I am supposed to know for the first day quiz. Listened to some great music. Stopped over to visit friends who just got in from Alaska earlier this week- the really big move.
And it feels right to be here. This spring and summer felt discordant because I was walking between two different worlds- the career that is ending, and the process of doing that, and the new journey of which will take directions that can only be imagined..
As I have allowed God to mold me I have seen a transformative process at work that has been both jarring and amazing. Through this I am reminded that the Holy Spirit at work is not exclusively a "warm fuzzy". The fire of the Spirit can be discomforting, can be a catalyst. Can be confrontational- putting before us what we need to be about or need to face. Several of you, have been blogging about Luke and Jeremiah and the lessons for 12th Sunday after Pentecost. Unlikely Conversation and Heart of a Pastor come to mind.
From where I am sitting today, it is not just about "the" church but about each of us seeing our part in it. For me, that part means getting totally out of three comfort zones.
One, I had pretty much figured out the lay of the land in practicing law. Talking in Court-easy. Preaching- not so sure.
Two, I am out of my home turf. After moving my whole life, I stayed put ( and liked it) - one place since 1989. Totally new landscapes to navigate.
Finally, I have come back to academics for the first time in 19 years. More than a little daunting to me.
And at a point where feeling upended is more than a little change. I have said before that I feel like the rock that got tumbled in the "Gemfinder" and came out a semi-precious stone, but forged in the foundry may be more like it. And just like the blacksmith keeps putting the iron back in the heat to work a little more, so I suspect it will be.
So the analogy of what grows after the fire is feeling pretty apt to me. But for once I am not going to engage in the controlling nature of containing the fire. Because I think this is the time to see what the Spirit will plant next.
And now I just really want to get started.