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.