A church welcome, done by another vicar...

The last line is the best...

The problem of evil

This from an article forwarded to me by Episcopal News Service:

"'If art is the language of the soul,' as Robert Redford said at the Sundance Film Festival this year, 'I look at the "souls" of most of the Academy Award nominees for best picture and see dead people.' ... All five nominees portray human capacity for evil and fallenness, and explore, in a way, whether there is reason for hope. With one exception, these films reveal a sense of inevitable doom and a pervasive pessimism about the human condition."

I remember noticing that during the Oscars this year. All the top pictures were about deep dark evil, with very little redemption or hope. It is somewhat worrisome, in a world where public killings (Columbine, Virginia Tech, NIU, and random shopping malls) are becoming more and more common. I haven't seen "Juno" yet, but it sounds like a good antidote to all that -- a counter to irresponsibility, selfishness, violence, and even nihilism. Funny that teen pregnancy could do that!

"If these films reveal the soul of today's filmmakers, it is clear that their souls are troubled with the pervasiveness of evil. None offers an easy way out; as a matter of fact, only 'Juno' really offers any way out at all.

They generally seem to have concluded that darkness has prevailed over light, good over evil, and this pattern is unbreakable.

Based on these films it would be fair to conclude that the human race needs good news."

Some more photos from Vancouver

A suspension bridge over a deep ravine, that I crossed with friends from Washington state, Victoria BC, and Manchester, England.

A group of Sikhs hiking alongside the skiers on Grouse Mountain.

A view of Grouse Mountain from the gondola that you have to take to get to the top (for $34! locals buy a seasonal pass for $47).

There are a lot of folks who commute, even daily, by seaplane! They take off and land regularly, filling the waterside park with the smell of plane fuel.

Start Up! Start Over! is a good program, but I've jumped right into another conference, here in the diocese of Chicago, with Kennon Callahan. He seems much more intuitive about church growth, where as SUSO is based more on research and statistics. Both are important, but it's interesting to observe the differences in their advice and values for church growth. Callahan is more positive about small churches, and even says they will be the places people gravitate this century -- there are so much immensity around us -- stadium seating, huge theaters, large corporations, globalization -- that people are drawn to places like Starbucks, with less than 50 seats a store. He says the same is true for small churches. I think that's interesting.

A few Vancouver photos

Waiting in line at the border -- we flew into Seattle and drove up from there.

An interesting sculpture in downtown Vancouver, near our hotel. Is an upsidedown church an elegant and beautiful thing? Disturbing? Whimsical? Dizzying? Disrespectful?

Mountain views behind the stoplights -- not something we see much of in Chicago.

Most of the Chicago posse... three priests, five laypeople!

More soon!

P.S. I didn't get all braggy about being a priest on the plane -- I was right and fatigue settled in soon enough, and all punchiness dissolved into knitting, reading, and napping.

Off to Vancouver!

I'm going to a conference about small churches and growth called "Start Up! Start Over!" in Vancouver today. We're flying to Seattle, then driving across the border. What a journey.

For some reason, I'm feeling punchy about potential airplane conversations... you know, if someone asks me what I do, I just might tell them. Young, blond woman -- "that's right, I'm a PRIEST. I have my oil stock* right here -- do you need to be anointed? Confession? Advice on your marriage? Theological interpretation?" On the other hand, it's 5:48am and I'm always punchy this early in the morning. In a few hours, I will probably come to my senses (and my body will realize it's exhausted) and just tell people I'm a dental hygienist.

I'm hoping to have internet there, so look for photos and updates this week...

*oil stock: Episcopal word for a little brass contained of chrism, or blessed oil.

Earth Hour

This is the opera house and a bridge in Sydney, Australia... in the lower photo, any unnecessary lights have been turned off. This was taken last night, from 8-9pm local time. Check out Earth Hour's website for more.

I think this is a cool idea. Not only because our world has so much light pollution that no one can see the stars anymore -- or has any faith in their ability to see in the dark (insert spiritual metaphor here) -- but because we use a lot of energy.

Usually, I don't get into this big "sweep across the world" movements, or on FaceBook, "1 million for xyz cause." I'm an activist sceptic. But seeing a whole city choose to turn its lights off, even just for an hour, makes a powerful statement.

Even Google is joining in.

And I'm a big fan of nighttime darkness -- so turn off your lights from 8-9pm tonight. Think about energy use. Maybe next year, some US cities will turn some big lights off too...

Spring sunshine ain't pretty

The forest preserves aren't especially attractive this time of year.
(That's a little viewing deck in the middle distance.)

Adam and I thought this sign was pretty funny... I mean, the place looks like a wasteland. But then, this is March is the upper Midwest. Not a pretty sight, anyway you look at it. But the power lines just add a special touch to the whole "restoration" idea. (These are the same power lines that run past my apartment -- the world IS connected, by power lines if nothing else.)

This one I took earlier in March. Yes, sunshine is nice;
but snow covers up some of the ugliness.

One of my parishioners, Peg, said something to me a week or two ago about the angst and danger inherent in spring (correct me, here, Peg, please): that it's about emerging from the grip of death.

Sunshine uncovers all the dead things hiding under the snow. This ain't pretty. Spring is a painful time, in these climes. Even fall, when everything is dying, has beauty; changing leaves, many shades of brown and beige, the late harvest of pumpkins, turnips, kale... But spring = raw and mud and all that's been rotting and fading under the snow and ice, all winter. Still, spring is necessary, obviously. The revealing of death, to make the transition again to new life! (Anyone recognize the resurrection here?)

Maybe this is also true in human life: sunshine (friendship? sharing our secrets? exercise? prayer?) uncovers some of the ugliness in us -- melts away the defenses we use to hide our wounds. It may get ugly for a while, but over time, sunshine is better. Dries out wounds and opens them to the air. Warms the soil of our hearts for new growth. Seek it out, people -- inside and out!

Report on Easter and Holy Week

I find it hard to blog about significant worship experiences. They're usually so profound that they're difficult to put effectively into words. But I will try.

Holy Week and Easter were great. They were not without stress for me, certainly: this is my first Holy Week as a priest, and believe me, all my perfectionist tendencies came out in full force! However, by Friday night, I had pretty much spent all my stress. I plumb ran out of anxiety, like an empty gumball machine.

Maundy Thursday was quiet and lovely. (Although at times, I thought it was a little slow. But I probably have A.D.D. -- others have told me it was great.)

Good Friday was contemplative and haunting. (Lots of amazing silence, and I did a sermon of images and scripture via a digital projector which I hope to get up here or on the St. Benedict's website sometime soon.)

Holy Saturday was pretty relaxed (since my anxiety was all spent). I worked. I did a quiet, spoken liturgy with the lovely folks who fill our sanctuary with flowers. I took a long walk. I wrote my Easter sermon.

Easter was joyous. We had incense, sprinkling with holy water ("asperging" in Episcopalese), champagne at Eucharist, the heady small of all those flowers, fantabulous music, and it was the first year St. B's had an Easter Brunch -- and it was packed! The energy of PEOPLE is the most important ingredient of good worship... and it was full and strong on Sunday.

Hallelujah!

(Those photos were taken by one of my parishioners, Bob Ostravecky. Thanks, Bob!)

Shopping with Mom

Mom and I went shopping for her mother-of-the-bride/groom dress today. We started locally, at the Promenade in Bolingbrook. I've found lots of great stuff there, at J.Jill, Ann Taylor Loft, and H&M, mostly. But J.Jill was a little too casual, Mom's size is one larger than what Ann Taylor Loft carries (argh), and H&M is almost too young for me, much less my dear mother. We ended up driving all the way to Oak Brook, because we just weren't seeing anything. But still, we had a terrible time finding anything: Talbots, Coldwater Creek, Brooks Brothers (!), and at Macy's: Anne Klein, Charter Club... and all their clothes were just so bright, nautical, and preppy looking. We kept saying to each other, "These look like clothes you're supposed to wear on a yacht."

The ONLY thing we saw that we liked was a nice pants/fancy blouse combo at Eileen Fisher. We could've waited and kept shopping over these next five months, but I think we're both of the school, in shopping, "Why shop tomorrow for what you can buy today?" Anyway, Eileen Fisher it was! I didn't want Mom to wear black and white (colors she likes!), but we ended up with black and ecru. Oh well. It's a beautiful outfit, nonetheless. I didn't get a picture. You'll just have to wait for the wedding photos.

...Adam has been encouraging me to take more photos in places where there are people. I tend to photograph objects or places. So, I started on Mom today. She laughingly observed, "So, you're taking a picture of your mother spending money?" She was buying a few things at the Clinique counter. (Isn't she cute?)

Headlines

Living in the suburbs is growing on me. I take walks every other day or so, in the forest preserves around here (watch for posts to come!). I shop easily and at will (for better or worse). There's always a place to park. I like the wide-open space.

However, some things about the suburbs still feel like culture shock. Including these two headlines, seen next to each other outside a local restaurant this morning:


On the left is the Chicago Sun-Times: "GRANDMOTHER GUNNED DOWN."
On the right is the Naperville Sun: "SAFE AND HOUND: STOLEN PUPPY SAFELY RETURNED; SUSPECT AT LARGE."

Easter snow and fog

The second earliest possible Easter of the year, and of course, in Chicago, that means cold, snow, rain, fog, you name it. When I was little, my mom took me to Marshall Field's every year to buy an Easter dress and hat, usually with an elastic band that would go under my chin (ouch), probably until I was 7 or 8. Easter hats and dresses always seem a little out of place in Chicago. I've thought about buying some pastel skirt to wear with my collar shirt this year, but somehow, I just can't picture it.

But I suppose that's what Easter is all about. Wearing your pastels when the sleet is coming down. With boots and long underwear, of course. A little glimpse of the kingdom of God.

One more monologue sermon

This one is by my friend Ian Twiss, who I knew at Seabury. He's one of my inspirations for writing a monologue sermon (the other is my friend, More Cows, her sermon is here and was mentioned in this blog here.) This one is Lazarus' journal, after Jesus raises him from the dead. Ian is rector of Lutheran-Episcopal church in Michigan - Holy Faith Church.

Day 1
It was a muffled sound. A call or a cry. By the time I recognized it, I knew that I had been listening to it for some time. I also remember rock under my back, a stink of rot cutting through perfumed ointments, gauzy light as if from behind curtains. I got up and stumbled toward the call, and then fingers were pulling linen from my eyes and my limbs tingled with the new pulse of blood. I blinked. Immediately I saw the one whose voice had stirred me out of that place. His eyes were wet with tears, and I had the immediate and odd intuition that he would not live long.
I’m not sure what happened next. My memory is still fuzzy. We went back home a while later, I know. I passed into the hut in which I had lived my former life. In my room was a bed, two wool tunics, some pots and jars, and my loom, the tool of my trade. It all seemed both profoundly beautiful and totally unimportant. I almost felt as if I could smell my old life in that room and the smell was as distant and unfamiliar to me as if it belonged to another person. In the hearth room I could hear Martha beginning to stoke the fire for the meal, Mary humming one of her distracted tunes. I sat down on my bed. I didn’t know what to do with myself.

Day 2
This morning I woke early when the light was still dusty and gentle. I slipped out of the house and followed the path up to the olive groves on the hill. I wandered for an hour or more, the fallen olives squishing beneath my feet.
On my way back I met a boy and I remembered who he was—one of the clearest memories I’ve had from my old life: the son of a Samaritan who lives up in the hills in a sort of cave. The boy was herding his sheep and didn’t meet my eyes. We don’t mix with Samaritans because they are not true Jews and the rabbis who study scripture say they make us unclean. But I remembered this boy because I once saw a grown man spit on him in the marketplace. The boy wanted to buy some dates the man was selling. He asked the man a question, and without a second’s pause to consider, the man spat. The boy could not have been more than eight. As the gob slid down his black hair towards his ear, the man turned away to serve someone else, a real Jew.
Anyway, when I got back from my walk in the olive groves, the sun was starting to hammer the cool out of the air. Martha was sweeping ashes from the oven.
“I got up to get you your breakfast,” she said. “Where’ve you been?”
“Walking,” I told her.
She raised an eyebrow. “Well that’s a new development.”

Day 5
At first I thought I might live out my days like a leper, rotting skin falling off of me, but my body seems to be quietly repairing itself. I can almost feel the fibers of my muscles growing firm. The smell of unction and dead flesh has faded some too, though every once in a while I still get a surprising whiff, often as I pass in through the doorway of my house.
The truth is that in my previous life, I spent a lot of time in there. Too much time, really. Long hours in my room. It wasn’t always so, but somewhere along the way I lost interest in going out much. For hours and hours I wove blankets and fabrics at the loom to support our household. None of us was married, so Martha and Mary were happy to have me around. I think I provided Martha with someone to focus on, truth be told, someone to mother and manage. Not that I’m complaining. She runs an orderly household and makes better bread than our own mother did.
But now, I don’t know, there’s just an urgency driving me away from all that. Each day I go out early into the new sunshine, as if I were looking for something. It’s not just that I was dead and am now alive. It’s that, even before that, I think I was asleep. So tragically asleep, while the beggars starved and the young spouses made love and figs ripened and the tenant farmers lost their land and the sweet rain fell or failed to fall. All the gifts and losses of the world! All the love to be shared, while I bent over that loom in my dogged unwillingness to wake up!

Day 8
I saw the Samaritan boy again today, over by the well in the heat when no one else was there. He was drawing up a bowl of water, and when he saw me he froze in place. I stood still and didn’t advance. The boy had bad skin, some kind of rash along his neck. He sucked on his upper teeth and watched me. Slowly I raised my hand in greeting. The boy dropped the bowl and backed away from the well, then turned and ran.

Day 9
Some details of the day of my miraculous return are still lost to me. There was a crowd there, that I know—some day laborers and children. I remember the Messiah’s cry, but not his words. What did he say to me? What was he calling out? All I can bring to mind is the quality of that voice, muted and urgent.
Before that, there is just a gap in my mind, a nothing.
Before that, the last moments of my previous life: how I had been turned on my side, how breathing felt like shoving rocks around in my lungs, how Martha passed in and out with wet rags and wine and liniments and candles, always hovering and fluttering, while Mary sat quietly at the foot of the bed. I grew dizzy toward the end. The room filled with a slow thudding sound. Martha was crying, wailing really, as she paced the floor, and I remember thinking “Too much, too much.”

Day 11
“You sure are spending a lot of time away from the house,” Martha said.
“Does it bother you?”
She shrugged. “I’m just saying. Up so early, gone so long.”
“Well, I guess mornings have a new meaning for me.”
Mary came into the room, doing some kind of little dance. We watched her twinkle across the hearth. Then Martha poured a measure of wheat grains in her bowl and began to grind them for flour, her pestle hammering its quick, practiced rhythm.
“What about the word ‘Samaritan,’” she said. “Does that have a new meaning for you too?”
“Ah,” I said. “The village rumor mill.”
“Lazarus, this is not a joke. Do you know how much trouble you’re going to cause us? The rabbi’s wife is giving me looks. What has happened to you anyway?”
“Well, I died. Remember? Then I was given a new life.”
Still jabbing at the wheat, Martha shook her head. “To think it’s what I was praying for.”
Then Mary stopped dancing and stood still. She just stood still.

Day 12
This morning there was a small warm breeze coming across the valley, and the smell of the olive groves thickened the air like oil. It was still dark out. I was awake even earlier than usual. All the things of my old life rose up like shadows around the room, and I couldn’t believe how many years I had shut myself up in there, just tending to my own business, just being the bachelor brother and the weaver and letting the rest of the world riot past my window. I rose quickly and went out, grabbing a pear on my way.
It was on my way back an hour later that I encountered the Samaritan boy, sitting under a scrub tree near the edge of town where the chief Pharisee lives. Several times I’ve passed the boy with his herd out on the hills during my morning walks, but we have still never spoken. Of course, we are both aware of the rules. I sat by the boy to remove a pebble from my sandal. He didn’t get up to leave. I could see that he was eyeing the pear, which I was still carrying and had put on the ground beside me. I rubbed it on my shirt and held it out to him. He hesitated. Then he took the fruit and ate, chewing and slurping hastily. We sat together there, in front of the Pharisee’s house of all places, watching the dawn creep over the world, daring someone to notice us.
And that was when I remembered the words that had called me into this new life. They came back to me, sudden and clear, reaching through all that linen, all that entombed air: Lazarus, come out!

Sermon: monologue by Lydia, the merchant of purple cloth

This is the sermon I preached this morning. It's based on the Passion narrative from Matthew (26:36 - 27:66) and Philippians 5:2-11. We used to sing the passage from Philippians as a canticle at Seabury -- in a beautiful chant setting based on a Greek Orthodox tone. I wanted to share the beauty of those words, which biblical scholars think was an early Christian hymn, and make real what the life and death of Jesus could mean to someone.

Though in the form of God, *

Christ Jesus did not cling to equality with God,

But emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, *

and was born in human likeness.

Being found in human form, he humbled himself *

and became obedient to death, even death on a cross.

Therefore, God has highly exalted him *

and given him the name above every name,

That at the name of Jesus, every knee shall bow, *

in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

And every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, *

to the glory of God the Father.

I did a word search for "Philippi" in the New Testament (Philippi was a city in Macedonia. Paul wrote a letter to the Christian community there that we now call "The Letter to the Philippians," or "Philippians," for short). And I stumbled back across the story of Lydia, in Acts 16, and discovered that she was converted at Philippi. That's how this monologue got started. It was fun -- I never thought I'd do something like this, but it was very powerful, and my parish was very moved by it. Although I think my singing suffered somewhat from the fact that my knees were shaking quite a bit.


(humming)
My name is Lydia. You may have heard of me.
I’m a merchant -- I sell purple cloth, most people in Macedonia have heard of me.
I’m a pretty important woman, but I didn’t know what life was about
until I met this bandy-legged man named Paul in Philippi.
He taught me, my children, and my slaves this hymn, when we were baptized in the river there:

(singing)
Though in the form of God, *
Christ Jesus did not cling to equality with God,

I was in Philippi on business –
I always sell a lot there, it’s a big town along the Roman Road, the Via Egnatia.
And he was talking to a bunch of women along the river. I thought, who is this ugly guy talking to all these women? Who does he think he is??? Some crazy teacher, I thought.
But then I saw his eyes, his face, and there was something about him.
He was a terrible dresser, and he had a unibrow, but I wanted to hear what he had to say.
And that’s when I first heard about the life and death of the man Jesus.

Now, I travel a lot, I’ve seen my share of messiahs (there are a lot of them around these days): teachers, magicians, and miracle workers, and if you’ve heard one you’ve heard them all.
But there was something different about Paul, something different about Jesus.
There was no flashiness, I didn’t feel like he was trying to sell me something.
He was just describing a way of life, not a bunch of magical mumbo jumbo,
...of living by faith and grace of loving my neighbors,
of seeing all people as my equals,
of sitting down around God’s table together, sharing the Eucharist of Jesus –
Jesus’ thanksgiving, as we would say in Greek, sitting together:
as men and women, Jews and Greeks, rich and poor, free people and slaves.

(singing)
But emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, *
and was born in human likeness.

In this man, everything about myself was transformed: all my ambitions for my work, my status as a woman, as a free Greek, but still as a woman, it was all transformed.
Those things weren’t taken away, they weren’t erased!
I mean, the men at the other market stalls didn’t stop making comments about me.
But I felt different. I saw God and human beings differently.
God came down to live like one of us.
And God died like one of us.

But he didn’t die a glorious death, like my brother, who died as a soldier in the northern territories.
And he didn’t die a quiet death at home, like my mother, sick and in bed.
There was something different about him.
He was taken by the police like prisoner, like a terrorist, like a barbarian!
(I guess they thought what he had to say was that dangerous.)

(singing)
Being found in human form, he humbled himself *
and became obedient to death, even death on a cross.
Therefore, God has highly exalted him *
and given him the name above every name,

Now what would a wealthy woman like me be doing singing about a poor Jewish rabbi off in the western territories?
All I know is that he spoke to me,
All I know is that the stories Paul told us about him,
how he fed people, how he taught anyone who came to him,
how he made sure people knew that God loved them, no matter who they were –
I mean, lepers, prostitutes, children, women, Roman soldiers, and my least favorite, to be honest with you – even the tax collectors!
He changed my life.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a cloth merchant. I’m still rich!
Everyone still knows who I am.
But they know something else about me, too.
I break bread with tax collectors and Jews.
I give away my money to buy food for the hungry.
I try to pray and I try to live honestly.
People in Macedonia know that I, Lydia, am a Christian.

My life isn’t just about purple cloth anymore.

(singing)
That at the name of Jesus, every knee shall bow, *
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

I live my life after a man who lived and died to show that all people are worth something.
Even though the life of the man Jesus appeared to be worth nothing – he was betrayed by his friends. he was sentenced to death in a court of law. he died among criminals.
he was buried in a tomb someone like me had to donate, because he had nothing.
He chose to go to the very darkest places humans can go.

And he is the most powerful teacher I know.
I believe, truly, this man was the Son of God.

(singing)
And every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, *
to the glory of God the Father.

Lenten discipline

I've given up meat for Lent, and Adam and I joined some of his friends for brunch at a diner in Hyde Park this morning, Salonica's. I was painfully aware that I could not have: eggs with sausage, an omelette with ham in it, a gyros sandwich, Greek-roasted chicken... sigh. It's a powerful thing to "go without."

We don't do it much in our society. It's not cool to deny yourself much of anything. "Splurge!" we say, "Indulge yourself!" We don't get much practice or affirmation for practicing self-control. And yes, I have fallen off the saddle with my meat discipline. Both instances had to do with things Adam ordered in restaurants that just looked too good not to ask for a taste of! (Prime rib and a chicken parmesan sandwich, if you must know!) Still, my whole body can tell we've given up something -- thinking about sausage and ham this morning was PAINFUL!

So, why do it? Why do anything that's so uncomfortable? I could go a lot of directions with that -- (1) desire and self-denial teaches me how dependent and needy I am (why is it so hard not to eat meat, after all? it's sort of wimpy); (2) every time I eat, I demonstrate that I've made a commitment to God by choosing what I eat; (3) there are a lot of hungry people in the world, and giving up meat makes me think about food more conscientiously, and feel grateful for the access to food that I have, and (4) God may not care whether I keep my Lenten discipline or not, but every time I say no to eating meat during Lent, I feel like I'm choosing to be aware of God's presenc and my power to choose to lead a life as a Christian.

Still, I'm excited for Easter. I do miss sausage. If I didn't, what would be the point of giving it up, right?

Working Preacher

I've found a great preaching website - workingpreacher.org. It's a Lutheran-sponsored site, but there are a couple Episcopal (Seabury!) professors on it, too.

These kinds of sites are helpful for preachers, but they can also be rich resources for non-preachers who want to think or pray over the readings, before or after Sunday worship. Workingpreacher combines historical and spiritual reflections on scripture quite artfully, too.

Middle names

My mother doesn't have a middle name. When I was little, I thought this was sad -- your middle name is sort of a secret mysterious thing -- special! But she was born in the early 1940s in Norway, during the German occupation, and middle names weren't traditional and probably would've seemed a bit frivolous. Why have three names, anyway? People rarely use their middle names. Many women I know dropped theirs when they took their husband's name. They aren't baptismal names.

Perhaps now it helps us distinguish ourselves from each other. With so many John Smiths in the world (actually This American Life is planning to do a show on John Smiths sometime soon), it helps to have a middle name to identify you. Although there are probably a lot of John David Smiths, for instance. And so we have social security numbers, zipcodes, and our mother's maiden name to help the world find us. Which has its own problems.

I was named "Heidi Ruth" after my paternal grandmother, who died of cancer before I was born, in her late fifties, just a few months after she was diagnosed. My youngest cousin has the same middle name. It's an old fashioned name, from the Hebrew Bible. And a friend has "tagged" me in a meme about middle names, so here we go:

The rules:
1. You have to post the rules before you give your answers.

2. You must list one fact about yourself beginning with each letter of your middle name. (If you don't have a middle name, use your maiden name or your mother's maiden name).

3. At the end of your blog post, you need to tag one person for each letter of your middle name. (Be sure to leave them a comment telling them they've been tagged.)

Hmm. I don't get all these rules; they seem a bit pushy. And I feel like I've revealed a lot already. So maybe I'll just let the meme stand. I'd rather think about my grandmother than little facts this morning (nothing personal, More Cows).

Maybe that's what middle names are for? Another reminder of where we came from, or what our parents wanted for us. The secret special thing.

If you would like to be tagged, consider it done!

Food prices

The price of corn is going up, according to NPR this morning. There are grain shortages and higher demand across the world. There's a significant drought in China. There are fewer poor people in China, India, and South America -- they're not just eating rice anymore; many of them can afford food just like we can now.

My dad always likes to pay the lowest price possible for food. But is what we pay for food really an accurate value = for what it takes to grow it, to transport it around the world, and how MUCH of it we have available to us here, in the US? And as there are more non-starving mouths to feed -- people who want more than beans and rice, who want choices and plenty of meat and grains -- AND higher gas prices...

What will that mean for trips to the grocery store as we know it?

The BBC says that wheat production is being pushed out by grains like corn, rapeseed, and sugarcane, which can be made into biofuel. See Why Are Wheat Prices Rising? and Rising World Food Prices. Ethanol is gaining popularity in the US, and so more corn is being used for fuel than for food, which hikes the price not only for producers of corn syrup and tortillas, but for farmers who raise beef and pork.

The BBC also remarka, "To put it bluntly, rich people eat more than poor people..."

Will food prices rise enough to make a difference in our eating patterns? It would be interesting if we couldn't afford to eat as complex a diet as we do now. My refrigerator is so full that I can't even see everything that's in there.

And I wonder what this might mean about Eucharist? A little bread, a little wine... this is what Jesus feeds us with. "And Father, we now present to you these gifts, from your creation." A little wheat and some pressed grapes aren't too big a deal in the world we live in now. And perhaps wheat prices will never rise enough to make a few dozen wafers or a couple rounds of pita bread very dear.

But these things come from fields and farms, too. What would it mean for us, ecologically and spiritually, if food was no longer cheap?

Monologue for John 9

My amazing pastor-friend, More Cows than People (her anonymous blog name) wrote this terrific monologue from the perspective of the Man Born Blind in John 9. I wanted to share it with you. It's after a few words she shared on some stuff happening in her life, in purple font.

The Man Born Blind

It makes me think about trying a monologue sermon myself sometime!

St. Leap Year

This title is taken from my friend Raisin's blog...

I've wondered a couple times -- "Gosh, it's a leap year. Should I do something special? Should we do something special at church?"

But why? It's just a calendar date anomaly. It's not even a secular holiday. There's no meaning behind it, no special significance or special stories or myths or history. And yet, it feels special somehow.

I think human beings need to make meaning out of things. Sometimes that casts a shadow over my own religious beliefs... is this just a need I have to be part of a larger story? To mark my days and years with meaning and rhythm? So that there are special days, special places, and special objects? What's the difference between Leap Year, Superbowl Sunday, and Easter?

But I think of something my old classmate Jim Hamilton said once, about being Christian and becoming a Episcopal priest, "Everyone lives their life according to some bullsh*t, and this is MY bullsh*t." We choose the story we set our lives to.

Twentieth-century theologian Richard Niebuhr said that everyone has a god -- it might be money, their children, football, or Jesus Christ. But we all need to have something bigger than we are, something that we can look to and believe in, something to set our lives against.
I realized a long time ago that "religion" doesn't speak to everyone (I resist calling it "organized religion," because as Kathleen Norris once wrote, if you're a regular churchgoer, religion seems like one of the most disorganized things around). Maybe we all need to experience God in different ways -- it makes for a richer world.

And I'd rather stay humble and mystified in my beliefs and about this world, than sure that I know who God is.

New car procrastination

I love my car. It's a 1999 VW Golf. It's tough and solid. I like the shape of it. It's like an old friend. But I should get a new car.

Or that's what Adam and my father keep telling me.

Some problems:

- an orange side light is broken out
- all 4 hubcaps were stolen 6 years ago, now I have plastic ones
- the bar detailing along the doors is coming unglued
- the cover for the rearview mirror on the driver's side fell off
- there's a hairline crack in my windshield
- and last June, two different mechanics told me I needed a new transmission... everything is still working fine, though!

I could buy a new Golf, but they're more sporty-slick than I like. I've looked at other cars... last summer, I had a big crush on the Toyota Matrix.

I still like the Matrix. And I like other hatchbacks, too -- the Honda Fit,

And the Nissan Versa,

But buying a car isn't a simple exercise. And I'm finding it hard to think about junking my Golf. I keep thinking, wouldn't it be cheaper just to fix all the bumbly parts of my old car? Insurance would stay cheap. And these other cars don't seem as solid and safe as my Golf. Sigh. Too, I've had so much other change in my life this year, maybe I just want my car to stay the same.

sunset in Bolingbrook

I came out of the church's glass doors this evening, and across the parking lot was bright white snow as far as you could see, there's lots of open land around our neighbors: the middle school, dentist office, new homes, and a clean, new warehouse with dozens of loading docks for the tractor trailers that come through. The sunset was dark pink.

Soon I will have a camera around again, so I can show you.

under construction

I'm messing around with a new look for the blog.

A communion kit

This is my new communion kit -- for celebrating the Eucharist with people in the hospital or at home. I'm totally excited about it, I'm afraid in part, because I feel like a little girl with a new tea set. But ALSO, because packing bread and wine in my attache hasn't really worked so well in the past (i.e., spills, not as special-looking).

I purchased it from a woman in Colorado who hand-makes them (or assembles them from handmade pieces made by other people) and gives the proceeds to charity. Many communion kits are made from mahogany, sterling silver, and crystal, and run $700-800. This one is ceramic and some kind of generic wood, and about $120. It's very simple and to be frank, a bit shoddy-looking. But maybe that's more like Jesus anyway. And it's sort of nice... you can tell everything was made by human beings.

Hand-burned cross on the front..

Little ceramic vessels, some with imperfections in the glaze. And the lid on the pyx doesn't exactly stay on, so all the wafers or bread would fall out I think. Maybe if I set it inside just right? Packed it in with the communion linens?

The candles sit on tiny pegs, and detach to go back inside the box.
(See first photo to see them lying inside the lid.) This detail is somewhat cheesey, and something I've never seen on "fancy" kits, but I like it. Makes the moment more liturgical, which is big stuff for us Episcopalians.

And aren't the tiny linens cute? (I know, I'm veering into tea set mode, here.)

The wine cruet (with the stopper) is also obviously going to be prone to spillage (and hard to clean). Sigh. But I also have a little glass jar included, with a screw-top, so that will be good. Hmm, seems I haven't avoided the spilling problem I have with my attache. Hmm.

Adam took these pictures with his fancy-pants camera and black background thing. Soon we're getting a Canon G9 that I will get to be custodian of, so more photos will return to the blog soon...

Another gorgeous mug

Ah yes, Adam takes such breath-taking photos of moi...

Lunar Eclipse

My friend Dave told me about the lunar eclipse tonight. I hadn't heard anything about it before this afternoon.

It began while I was working, late, at the office. A parishioner, Courtenay, came running down the hall from an adult class meeting at church tonight and told me to look out the window! The moon had just the beginning of a shadow-smudge across the bottom.

I went out again a few minutes ago, and it looked like the moon had gone to an Ash Wednesday service -- blurred and ashy. And yellowish.

It nice to be reminded to look out beyond my own world. I can get so stuck in things around me, to see things happening in the sky, so strange and so distant, puts things in perspective. Even though I listen to the news almost every day, for some reason, the eclipse got me out of my daily life in a way I haven't for a while. I feel sort of small -- there's a big world, a solar system, a whole universe.

It's a relief.

Sometimes I think it would be enough just to sit in wonder at the whole world, that's there's nothing else God asks of us.

Wedding tripe

I stood in front of the wedding section at Barnes and Noble today and just felt silly. There were shelves and shelves of books -- wedding planning, wedding etiquette, wedding flowers, destination weddings, weddings for dummies, and how-to guides for bridesmaids, grooms, groomsmen, mothers, and yes, even ringbearers!!!

I got two books, one of which I think I'm going to return. It's pink. It's supposed to be a planner, with pockets for business cards and receipts. But it's pink, and there are silly questionnaires and grids for planning table settings and I just can't bear it. I swear, these books could cause me more stress, even just as I read them in the store, than I can imagine they will save us over the next six months. But I like this one: Bridal Bargains: Secrets to throwing a fantastic wedding on a realistic budget.

And yet, I confess, obsessing over some of the details is fun, too. Presently, I'm obsessing over wedding cake. Adam and I actually don't even LIKE cake, and yet, I have always liked the idea of a coconut wedding cake. Maybe we could have coconut sheet cakes, since those are cheaper and match our picnic theme better than some towering sculpture of ganache and hazelnuts. But we might also just have pies. Or a dessert table... cupcakes, brownies, lemon bars, etc.

I have been noticing my own prejudice about wedding excess. But I'm having fun pondering over "how can we save?" "how could we get around that?" It feels like a game or a puzzle. And it's wonderful to get help from friends and family. My friend Monica is making our invitations, and Adam's extended family is catering the whole thing! Whew! My mother still can't believe this, but they do it all the time, apparently. Again, the picnic theme saves the day!

Stay tuned for further wedding ramblings as the months go by... oh, and we've set our date: August 30, 2008! Tick tick tick...

NIU

Yesterday afternoon, the copy guy was servicing our copier while I was working in my office. I came out to sign the paperwork and we started talking. He told me about the shooting at NIU, which is right up the road from us. I couldn't believe it. Another public shooting???

He was angry that anyone could think they could just shoot people to declare how depressed they were, to get famous before they shot themselves. And at first I thought he was being simplistic, because I remember feeling compassion for the Virginia Tech shooter. But now, I've gotten jaded. And I found myself agreeing with the copy guy. How can people think they can do this? What has happened in our culture that this has become a viable and popular (!) option?

After he left, I went into the sanctuary for a while. Played some hymns... in preparation for my Holy Week planning meeting with the music director, but they also became a prayer for NIU and all the victims and families.

As a Christian, I know I should have some compassion left, but I think there is also an expectation of responsibility in the words of the Bible. We are responsible for our own morality. We are responsible for each other.

cowboys herding cats

My friend Libby sent this to me, saying, "If you're in ministry, work with children, retail management, health and human services, property management, the army, manage a family or
food service this is your life." It's also just pretty darn funny.

Lent and Meat

You know what? It's really hard not to eat meat. I've been trying to do this as a Lenten discipline, after trying a couple other disciplines that weren't going anywhere those first few days. Giving up meat is my default discipline, and it never lets me down.

It's HARD. Meat is everywhere, it's so so easy to buy, eat, and cook. It tastes amazingly good. And vegetarian options at most restaurants aren't very good.

So, I find it's good for me to try this every year. And it does really feel like a deprivation... I miss it. I crave it. And I'm sure I look forward to Sundays, when you're allowed a feast day to help you maintain your fast. (Does Valentine's Day count as a feast? Adam and I are going to a Greek place, and not to eat lamb...?)

I should eat less meat anyway (so should all of us) -- for my health, and because it takes so much oil, pesticide, and factory farming to raise beef, pork, lamb, or chicken. I am eating fish, because otherwise it's just too hard. But Adam and I made red snapper the other night, and then I checked this "safe fish" guide from Shedd Aquarium, and not only is red snapper chronically overfished, it's likely to have unsafe levels of mercury in it!

Yeah, I realize no food is entirely safe or PC.

But you know, we eat so much meat and fish that it really isn't good for the world. People used to eat meat once a week, on Sundays. I'm not saying we should go back to cabbage and potatoes (which is what my ancestors would have eaten... well, cabbage, potatoes, and CHEESE, important difference!). But I'm going to stand on my high horse and say that we probably don't need to eat meat every day. Or twice a day. (Please tell me none of my readers eat meat three times a day?)

Ok, sermon over.

Winter is different

I used to love winter. This year, it's felt more bleak than usual.

This is strange, because my apartment overlooks a forest preserve, complete with the DuPage River, which floods and recedes as the weather changes, lots of trees with pretty red cardinals sitting in them, plenty of sky, and even a few rolling hills. There is winter beauty right outside my window!

I used to love snow. But this year, it just feels so very white. And so very icy. And so very hard to drive on.

This is my theory: previously, I used to walk everywhere. When I lived in Evanston, I walked (right across the parking lot!) to class, work, lunch, worship, etc. When I lived in Hyde Park, I walked a mile, two to six times a day, for classes, I walked to the grocery store, I walked to my parents' house, I walked to visit friends, I walked to go out for dinner. So, in the winter, I walked THROUGH the snow, I was OUT in the winter weather -- feeling the wind blow, smelling the snow, and acclimating to the whole deal. (Warm coats were key, here.)

In Bolingbrook, I'm rarely outside. It's something I've had to get used to with suburban living. I walk out to the apartment parking lot, get into my car, and I drive everywhere! I drive to another parking lot, and then walk right inside again.

I could walk around the forest preserve, but the snow is usually too deep. I could cross-country ski into the forest preserve, but I feel skittish about the steep hill I'd have to ski down to get there -- I mean, this hill has mini-switchbacks, it's so steep. (But I know, excuses, excuses!)

Living in a new place means getting used to a different sort of life. There are some gains (always having a parking place, for instance!) and some losses (the pleasure of walking). I'll have to develop some different habits to compensate. (And walking across parking lots just isn't quite going to do it.) But I do like Bolingbrook -- I'm getting attached to it (and I'm not just saying that for the benefit of my parishioners who read this blog!). I just miss walking to the grocery store, sometimes.

Baptism

We had a marvelous baptism at church on Sunday. The church was packed with people (102 vs. our usual 50-70!). And this baby was amazing... he was so mellow, which seems unusual to me for the tender age of 3 months. He looked at me as I poured the water over his head, as if to say, "Oh, ok; you're pouring water on my head." (It was warm water, which probably helped.) And he cried a little, but then, after I signed his forehead with the chrism and lifted him up so that everyone could see him, he just LOOKED at all of them. Just calmly surveyed all these people, who were clapping for him, like, "Wow, who are all those people? Are they clapping for ME? Huh."

And it is so moving to be a part of a family's journey in faith. This was their second son, and so they had the baptism gig down pretty well. We had great discussions in baptism prep classes together.

It was a fabulous day. Not one of my favorite sermons that I've ever preached, but the energy and beauty of the sacrament of baptism made up for it!

I've done one other baptism. It was when I was twenty-five, at the little church in Massachusetts where I was lay pastor for a year. That was fun, too -- but the ritual of an Episcopal baptism is so beautiful and so powerful. I just made up the liturgy in Monterey, but on Sunday, we said the same words that people say throughout the Episcopal Church when people are baptized -- powerful questions and statements and prayers with words like witness, evil powers, whole trust, deliver them, gift of water, new life of grace, and household of God. And my favorite: "give him an inquiring and discerning heart, the courage to will and to persevere, a spirit to know and to love you, and the gift of joy and wonder in all your works."

And it's powerful to hear myself saying the same words that I've heard said so many times before, as my professor John Dally told us at my ordination. The interesting part is that I feel less like "me, Heidi" than I feel like I am standing in for the whole community of my church -- or even the whole Church Universal. Because I think it's more that WE baptize, than that I baptize. I baptize in their name, because it is something that WE have to do, all together. Just like the Eucharist isn't complete until we all say AMEN! together.

The Friday Five

This post comes from the Friday Five from Rev Gal Blog Pals who asks: The Superbowl--love it or hate it? List 5 reasons why.

I actually don't love OR hate the SuperBowl. If I get invited to a party, I usually go and eat all that wonderful food - salsa, guacamole, chicken wings, things made with bacon and cream cheese... but if I don't, then I'm just as happy to sit at home and forget the whole thing's happening.

Generally, I find football very comforting -- which must sound odd. But listening to it in the background reminds me of the men in my family, either my dad watching on his own with a big bowl of popcorn (that he popped himself - NO microwave corn for him!) on his lap and a beer, or my dad, grandpa, and uncles hanging around over Thanksgiving or Christmas, talking, eating nuts, drinking beer, eating summer sausage, and laughing with each other. Hearing the announcer's voice, seeing all the men in helmets running on the green field: it makes me feel like all must be right in the world.

So, I don't have 5 reasons; just musings on food and family.

I don't know if I'll watch this year... unless Adam has made plans that I don't know about. This is going to be a crazy weekend -- I'm going to the consecration of our new bishop on Saturday, which should take up most of the day. Then I've decided to wait to write my sermon until AFTER the consecration, so that I can refer to it, so that will be Saturday night. Then we're baptizing a baby at St. Benedict's on Sunday morning, and I need to make sure I walk through that so I don't look up and realize that I don't know where to stand or which direction the baby should face.

But it will all be pretty fun, I think.

Oh yeah, and sometime I need to start planning this wedding thing.

I think I'm back-ish

Watch This Space.

I've started sharing my personal ministry experiences with close clergy friends -- I've had many powerful experiences that I just can't blog about. This sharing and proccesing is so important as you start a new ministry, I'm learning. And so now, my brain is feeling more free to blog about other things -- things that I can share in public. I'm hoping that means this blog is Back!

I'm not sure how many of you are still stopping by, but as my posts get more predictably regular, I'll send out a bulletin to those of you who left me your info.

What a year. Thanks for understanding all the chaos around the blog!

Missing my camera

Adam has been encouraging me to get another camera. My little digital Fuji gave out about a month ago, and I've felt like I've been missing an eye! I always kept it with me and kept an eye on everything around me, to see what looked interesting or strange.

I'm in a new place and flooded with new images, so that I find it hard to "see" things, because everything is unfamiliar. I've also been so overwhelmed with new activities that it's been hard to pay much attention to the visuals of things around me.

Sometime I will have a new camera. I've needed things like a new couch, clergy-wear, and other items-necessary-after-a-move that I can't think of right now. Not to speak of all the pictures, ordination certificates, diplomas, and photographs I should frame someday. Just think, if we ever finished our to-do lists, what would we ever have to look forward to?

I'm also trying to give more to charity, since I have money now. Although true confession: I received a $100 giftcard from Rent.com since I signed a lease after using their website to find my apartment. After some hesitation, I decided just to go ahead and spend it on something fun (7-8 CDs!). I thought about giving it away... especially since I've been fixated on the Rafah Crossing crisis in Gaza, and now I'm feeling queasy over the increasing violence in Kenya... Now that I have resources, I'd like to use them, thoughtfully, to help other people. It would be especially good to develop a relationship with a charity and really get to know their work -- maybe even go on a mission trip. That would probably improve my life more than 2 more Ann Taylor sweaters. But sometimes a CD and an Ann Taylor sweater is also a good thing.

Announcement!

Ok, so I have at least one more post to write.
Adam and I got engaged tonight!

I don't know if anyone is still reading, but I thought I'd better post this all the same. He proposed very simply -- we were making dinner together, and I was complaining that I wasn't sure I liked being a grown-up (I'd been paying bills). And he looked at me and said, "But there are SOME things that are nice about being a grown-up." And then he asked me to marry him. (He'd been planning to do this sometime during dinner, but I guess this moment was too good to pass up.)

So, we need to pick a date, to be influenced somewhat by the fact that my younger brother is getting married in late October. Two weddings in my immediate family in one year? Let's hope it will be more fun that chaos!

And since Adam is a photographer, we decided to take some engagement photos right away! I like this one because you can't quite tell if we're bantering about something or telling each other that we're crazy about each other. And you can kind of see my ring -- it's a yellow-gold band in an intricate metalwork design with some tiny diamonds set in it. I love it.

Oops

So, I have been alerted that folks haven't been able to leave comments. I guess they have to be showing for you to leave them...?

So, if you want to be on the Heidi's Blog Returns List, leave your email here (in encrypted form, if you like) or shoot them to me at heidiruthha c/o Gmail.

Blessings!

Hiatus

Hello everyone!

In this New Year, I find I need a hiatus from my blog. Since starting work as a parish priest, I've found it difficult to write and reflect about what's happening because it has so much to do with the lives of other people -- and this is not an anonymous blog! I haven't figured out yet how to reflect about all the changes in my life, or all the experiences I'm having, without compromising the privacy of my parishioners.

I may start blogging again after I adjust to this new life a bit more, and so if you'd like to be notified when I do that, please leave your email and if you like, your name, under "Comments." I've hidden all Comments so that your email won't be public to the whole of cyberspace.

Thank you for being part of Anglicamp with me, and this year of searching and transition! I'm so grateful that you've shared this with me, and I hope to be back again sometime.

God's Peace.
Heidi

Frozen locks

Christmas was great, but I'm not sure how to blog about it. Too big. Instead, I'm going to tell you a story about how easy it can be to make my day.

My car lock seems to freeze every time the temperature goes below freezing. And to make it even worse, my VW only has ONE lock, on the driver's side. There's no second choice of the passenger door -- or even the back hatch, since if you climb in through the back and try to start the car the VW car alarm goes off. I'm stuck with the driver's side lock or nothing. So, I'll stand out in the frigid cold, with the wind blowing up from the wide-open floodplain down the hill (it's a forest preserve, no houses to break the prairie wind), jiggling my key in and out of the lock, trying to melt the ice with friction. It usually takes 5-7 minutes. Awful.

Why don't I use lock de-icer, you may ask. I have, indeed, tried lock de-icer. However, I could never get the stuff (aka isopropyl alcohol) into the lock, because the spigot didn't fit in the keyhole. It would spray all over the place, but it never seemed to get into the lock. So, I would stand there pushing my key in and out, watching little grains of metal collect on the key and feeling worried that I was grinding my lock mechanism into oblivion. Every once in a while, I would spray some de-icer over the front of the lock and say a little prayer.

Then my old friend Monica came to visit after Christmas, and my life changed. Lo and behold, my lock froze just as we were on our way to IKEA (one of Bolingbrook's claims to fame!). Monica is endlessly practical and vetoed my friction method. So, we went across the street to Walgreen's to get some de-icer. She listened to my carefuly-crafted story of woe, that European cars have keyholes too narrow for American de-icer spigots. But she felt sure there was an answer other than helpless indignation, and she thought we might find it at Walgreen's.

Walgreen's only carried the ONE brand of de-icer, that I've tried before. But Monica inquisitively popped off the top, and showed me the red cap over the spigot. I thought it was just to protect the spigot, you know, like the little bit of foil under the cap in a ketchup bottle.

"See, it has an elongated tip, Heidi. We can just cut it off and I think it will fit in your lock!"

I stood, dumbfounded. And Monica even has a pocket-knife. The woman does, after all, work for the Girl Scouts.

And it WORKED! And my lock was unfrozen in like, three seconds.

And suddenly my winter seems so much more fun! A great new job AND a lock de-icer that WORKS! Life is good.

Sermoning at Caribou

I wanted to take a picture of this Caribou Coffee just for a visual of where I am, but I forgot the cable to upload photos onto my laptop. Suffice it to say that I can see a lot of rustic-looking, unpainted wood, a fireplace, and many objects with antlers. I have a beat-up leather chair and a stuffed bear footrest!

I have two sermons to write this weekend, and I'm praying for a deep enough well of the Spirit to find things to say that will actually mean something to people. Coffee is always good, and I wanted to get out of the house.

Down the street, a group of my parishioners are gathering up our church's collection of gifts and food for four needy local families. There's fog lying heavy near the ground. There's hardly anyone in the parking lot this morning -- people are probably sleeping or getting ready to go shopping at places other than Chipotle, Cartridge World, Aurelio's Pizza, and U.S. Cellular. The two girls in red tshirts behind the counter are staying busy doing little coffee tasks, and I'm sitting with my bible near the front window and thinking about Joseph, Ahaz, and Paul.

Then I'll need to find time to write a sermon about the birth of Jesus, to do our Sunday liturgy tomorrow, to practice with my thurifers (Episcopalese for incense-swinger), to practice singing parts of the liturgy, and to REST in between things. My parents are coming up on the 24th to hang out, cook dinner, come to our late service, and sleep over. I want to feel on top of things enough that I can really relax and spend time with them!

I hope you will make time for the things and people you love, too. (Especially all you my pastor-friends.)

Merry Christmas!

Ordination Pictures from Adam

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Ordination

I can't quite believe it, but I'm going to be ordained to the priesthood the day after tomorrow. A ton of family and friends are coming into town. Many carpools of people from St. Benedict's are coming. My first Eucharist is on Sunday. I'm overwhelmed and awed.

My vestments are already downtown, and now all I have to do is show up. Well, that and greet all the out-of-town folks who are coming in tomorrow. And get SOME sleep on Friday night (please God!). And make sure I know what I'm doing Sunday morning at the altar.

I think it's all just going to come in a big wave and I'm not going to know what hit me. I'm still not sure I know what ordination really means. (But I've always thought comprehension was overrated.) But then, I'll be doing this for the rest of my life, and over time it will become more and more natural. That's hard to imagine when so much of my life seems so very new and strange in so many ways... I've only lived in this apartment for four weeks! I've only been working at the church for a little more than two!

Anyway, I hope you will send thoughts and prayers my way this weekend. What a full season, and what a full Christmas, this will be! Spiritually, physically, emotionally... tiring and deeply rewarding. As long as I get sleep, I know I'll be fine.

Chewing on the bible

This is a quote from a friend's blog, "More Cows," a pastor in a very rural area, that I liked and wanted to share with you. They are from a guy who has just started reading the bible recently:

"Further, he shared last week that he had heard some radio evangelist saying that you can't get anything out of the Bible unless you have the Holy Spirit. So he wondered if all the times he didn't get anything out of the Bible if it was because he hadn't had the Holy Spirit. The evangelist said something like "Without the Holy Spirit, reading the Bible is like chewing on bark, but never getting to the wood."

It's hard to read the Bible. I've been amazed, recently, preaching, how much I've had to wrestle with these holy words to find something that seemed like God speaking to me. Maybe I need more of the Holy Spirit. But the evangelist is so right, the Bible isn't magical -- you can't just open it and find beautiful answers to all of life's inpenetrable questions. It IS like chewing on bark. (Although chewing on wood doesn't sound much better, in my opinion.) Maybe it's more like trying to eat a banana with the peel still on? (yuck). Or chewing on wood and never seeing the fruit on the tree? That's better!

I love the bible. But I find it hard to read. Reading Thomas Merton or Jane Austen or wikipedia is often more clear and inspiring. But maybe it's better that God's Word is something tough to chew on, painful sometimes, violent, unpleasant, confusing, and contradictory. That's life, after all.

Bumper sticker

When I worked on an organic farm after I graduated from college, back in 1998 (!), one of my fellow interns had a bumper sticker that really annoyed me. I saw it again the other day.

"In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act." - George Orwell

I just think that's the most conceited thing I've ever seen. Who has the "truth"? What's "universal deceit"? Human beings are polarized enough. Why set ourselves against one another with words like truth and deceit?

Christmas apathy?

I almost bought a Christmas tree today. But for some reason, I just didn't feel like it. I'm not ready!

Then I was at Trader Joe's, and they have the cutest little wreaths with juniper berries and walnuts on them. Adorable. But all my doors are made of metal so buying a wreath also means going out to look for an adhesive hook or one of those over-the-top-of-the-door hooks/racks. That seemed like work instead of something fun.

I do have a little string of lights and a star (that is actually a snowflake, but to me it's a star) on my balcony. I love them. Simple, beautiful, and lights in the dark!

I confess I'm feeling very anti-fuss this Christmas. (Actually, I think I feel that way most Christmases. I remember something I read in a book on how to simplify your life: "If it's too hard, don't do it." Now, in the case of things like civil rights or stopping at a red light, this doesn't work, but you know, all in the right context.)

Maybe working full-time as a pastor makes the season seem rich and full already? Maybe I'm too tired to enjoy decorating? Maybe all the snow here seems like plenty of decoration! And maybe in a new house, it doesn't seem ordinary enough yet to need anything to make it special for Christmas... just the newness is celebratory enough.

I'm also feeling uninterested in presents. I don't want to receive a bunch of stuff that I don't really need or want. My apartment is too small. And going out to look for gifts for other people also seems kind of like a drag. Food, music, a few decorations, and church (for me, anyway) are so much fun all by themselves. What would it be like to have just those things, and no presents? I'm not sure I need presents to enjoy Christmas.

Or what if we only gave each other little things? Just gifts for fun, and things you'd definitely use or eat -- chocolate, felt pens, socks... My dad always liked to put oranges, walnuts, and hard candy (ugh) in our stockings. We never ate any of it, but it was pretty and part of Christmas morning.

Anyway. I guess I'm feeling bored with presents. Or too busy to think about shopping for them. My family may just be getting socks this year.

I'll get a tree eventually, which I'll love. And I will buy presents, and probably have fun doing it! And I don't mean to sound grinchy. But I wish this holiday could be as wonderful and also be a little simpler.

The best thing

Best thing about ministry today? Making snow angels with 7-yr. old Matt in his front yard, after having dinner with him and his mom...

Slipped and slid home on the snowy streets, but all is well.

From my balcony

One of my primary views is of power lines.

If I stand out on my balcony, I can hear them making this purring, buzzing sound. It's weird. I have a pretty view, but sometimes it seems like I just have a view of power lines, and I worry about my health a little!

When I get up in the morning, I like to just sit and think or pray for a while -- it's a habit I've had since college. I look at the power lines, and TRY to look past them at the and trees, even though they're bare and brown. Thank God, we had sunshine today so I saw more in the sky than gray cloudcover. I even saw stars this morning, at 6:30, with these long nights we have.

My first week is going well -- the best part is forming relationships with people. I'm not sure there's a worst part, although it may be feeling overwhelmed with all there is for me to learn and all I *could* do, but just don't have time to. But all will come with time.

I'm finding that the church seems like a person itself, a sort of Being. It has a personality that I'm getting acquainted with, from being inside the building, listening the stories people tell about the past, finding the books other vicars have left behind on the shelves, the ways people describe their community and liturgy.

Back when I was in college, I spent a semester in Scotland and I visited a New Age community called The Findhorn Foundation. I thought it was awesome -- great vegetarian food, ecological houses, beautiful gardens, a spiritual sense of purpose, and these nifty ways of describing things. Instead of a president, chair, or leader, they had a community "focalizer." Instead of voting or coming to consensus, meeting of people would "attune" to the right decision, through meditation and discussion. And they believed each house, each room, and the community itself had its own "angel," to hold its spirit and look after it. The Angel of the Community Kitchen, the Angel of Blue Sky Cottage, the Angel of the Gardens, the Angel of the Findhorn Foundation itself. It's totally cheesey, but somehow it also sort of works. So, maybe the Church of St. Benedict has an angel, too?

From Findhorn's "angel cards."

Geez, what am I saying? Don't tell the bishop. Or my professors at the University of Chicago. Haverkamps are supposed to be sensible!!!

A Findhorn house... I want one!

First day

Today is my first day as Vicar at St. Benedict's. I'm amazed at how sort of normal it all feels. Of course, I'm still at home in my pajamas, so maybe that has something to do with it. (I have an evening meeting tonight, so I'm going into the office later in the morning, in case anyone is worried.) I had a good breakfast, prayed Morning Prayer, listened to NPR, prayed for my lay leaders and parishioners, emptied the dishwasher, and took the plastic wrap off my new ironing board. All good.

So, it feels very natural to be getting into this day. I have four meetings, I have a list of things to do, I'm going to take my secretary to lunch, I'm having coffee with someone, working on our Advent liturgy, and I'm meeting again with my search committee tonight. A good start.

If only I had more than 2 collar shirts. But more are coming in the mail soon...