Family Dynamics

It is my firm belief that one of the biggest challenges of pastoral ministry is caring for multiple generations of the same family.

First of all, every family (and sometimes every generation of a family) has its own culture of how much it's okay to share with outsiders. (And if those standards are high, a pastor usually remains an outsider for a long time.) So it's hard to know if you even truly know what's going on.

Then, there's the issue of parenting other people's children. This is an issue for everyone in a church. And for me personally, it becomes more difficult as the children get older, in situations where I feel the parents are sheltering their child in unhealthy ways. Because I have strong feelings about children's exposure to the world being important, it's very difficult for me to respect some parents' approach to that.

Then as children get even older, you have the issue of parents' adjustment to the children now being adults, with their own lives and ways of being in the world. It's hard to stay neutral.

Then, at the other end of the spectrum, there is the challenge of pastoring elderly people and their children. The children often want certain things, which sometimes conflict with the parent's wishes. It is hard sometimes to realize that we're treating our elderly parents like children, especially when we're doing it "for their own good." As parents lose their hearing and sometimes their capacity for tracking all the details (say, of their own health) we tend to infantilize them. As a pastor, I'm called to help protect their dignity. But most would probably call that meddling.

Families are a mess. Maybe you just can't win. Maybe a pastor should just stay out of it. But that's not what we're called to do, is it? It is a tricky calling to negotiate.

Legal but Inaccesible Isn't Much Different Than Illegal

I never thought that much before about whether or not federal funds could be used to pay for abortions. But now that the health care reform debate is heating up, it's becoming an issue.

Evidently, there is a precedent that federal funds not be used to pay for abortions. Sort of. Federal employees' insurance doesn't cover them. (That seems kind of unfair to me.) But then again, there is this tricky way of setting some policies (or subsidies?) up that says, "this money (the money from the feds) is paying for these things and this money over here (private money) is what is paying for the abortion." Abortion opponents, rightfully it seems to me, are pointing out that such an arrangement is sort of bogus.

But it's bogus because it'a a compromise. If something is legal but most people can't afford it, it's essentially not really an option anymore, is it? So we do this bogus, in-between thing that gives everyone's beliefs a symbolic nod of respect, but ends up still assisting people some people don't want to assist and costing women extra money to avail themselves of their rights.

It's a shame that so many people in government think they were elected to make hard situations that Americans are going through even harder. It's even sadder that they'll look for any little opening to do so.

A Poem to Mark the Too Fast Passage of Time (or "Some Poems Don't Deserve to Be Written")

There once was a month named October,
that arrived when September was over.
It's the month when the trees
lose their leaves in the breeze,
and the bunnies can't find any clover.

(Hey, give me a break! What can you rhyme with "October"?)

An Immodest Proposal

I was talking (and walking) with my Walking Buddy today, and the subject of Thanksgiving came up. It came up, incidently, because the Monday before is the day WB will be officially installed as the PERMANENT rector of her church! Which is awesome because it means I don't have to find a new walking buddy next month, which was the original, unfortunate plan.

But anyhow, Thanksgiving came up, and WB asked if I would be here. Which I will. Possibly alone, as my honey might go to PA to see our new grand-nephew. I don't like to travel at Thanksgiving most years, not because of the Thanksgiving holiday but because of the too-soon arrival of the next holy day, the First Sunday of Advent, which this year -- as in far too many years -- is the same weekend as Thanksgiving.

I am tired of this. It squishes things far too close together. It makes planning complicated and travel difficult. It decreases the impact of the arrival of Advent because we're all still in a tryptophan-induced food coma.

So, the way I see it, we have two choices. Either we can celebrate Thanksgiving when the Canadians do, in October, which is probably just not going to happen because it will still be too warm most places to feel right.

Or, we can do the sensible thing and move Christmas to December 29th, so that Advent never starts in November. Choice number two is obviously the better one, and yet, I'm guessing you're thinking it will never happen. May I remind you that the Ancient Romans once removed a month or two from their lives one year in order to get their calendar back in sync with the seasons? Is this really all that different?

Vote early and often! Christmas on the 29th! You heard it here first!

We Must Be Having Fun!

Just a bit ago, while perusing facebook, I read a status update in which someone was whining about September having disappeared. Ten minutes later, I now realize that when I read that, I was basing my reaction on the assumption that there was about a week and a half of September left.

Then, I realized that's not true. There are only 2 days of September left after today. I really can account for all of those days (though last week did sort of run together - Praise God!), but what explains my brain confusion that thought today must be something like the 21st?

October's an okay month too, right?

Of Nannies and Toilet Water

I don't mostly believe in judging other cultures, but this is simply so weird to me that I can't not comment.

Evidently, the rich in Indonesia go to hotels during Eid al-Fitr, the holiday that concludes Ramadan, rather than stay at home without the benefit of their nannies and drivers and other hired help, who are allowed to go home (often to their rural villages) to celebrate with their families.

This clearly isn't a difference in the way religion affects culture. It's fairly irrelevant which religion's holiday is causing so many family reunions.

The difference is in the way cultures deal with class. It's simply very, very foreign to me to read about how these wealthy people talk about their own lives and how their hired helpers fit into that. Clearly the structures of their economy are very different than ours. There is one reference to a woman who spent some time in L.A. who was using the weekend to prepare her children in case they ever had to live somewhere that live-in help was less affordable.

When I was in the Philippines, one of the families we stayed with had "helpers". In a strange (from my perspective) arrangement of priorities, the toilet I used didn't flush; but rather than getting it fixed, they kept a large (and I mean large) bucket of water and a smaller dipping bucket in the bathroom so that anyone using it could "manually" flush the toilet. All fine and well.

What was weird was that when the large bucket started getting low, the other girl sharing my room and I were basically helpless until we called upon the help. We didn't know where the water came from that filled up the bucket. We offered, once, to fill it ourselves, and it quickly became clear that was not appropriate.

It was a strange experience living with "help" like that for a while. We were aware of our cultural lenses. We actually did a skit about it during our de-briefing, in which we got home and had a weird dream about how the toilet at home started talking to us and telling about all the people involved in the (seemingly independent) act of flushing our American toilet. (There were references to presumed sewage treatment workers getting cancer, based entirely on supposition.) We had been let in on the fact that the jobs these "helpers" had in the household were really good jobs, and that the doctor who was the head of the household was doing a service by employing them. I believe that.

But it's still just so weird. And judging by the comments and behavior of some of the people in the article linked above, it can lead to some rather stark class distinctions. As Americans, I suppose it's not odd that we (I) find that jarring. We don't have class distinctions here in America, after all. (Like we don't have illiteracy or racism or limitations in general.) Anything we refuse to discuss must not exist. Ignoring things doesn't make them go away, but the American unease with bringing up class could possibly serve to make us more attuned to class prejudice when it's actually expressed, I guess.

I'm still not sure what it is about this article that strikes me as so strange. Maybe it's how helpless these rich people seem. Maybe it's how uninterested in raising their own children they seem. Maybe it's just the general idea of having servants, pardon me, helpers at all.

I'm kind of floundering here. Any thoughts? Please read the article and let me know what you think.

Happiness

Today was a beautiful day. After a period of indecisiveness this morning, the sun finally came out for good by the time church was over. But the best part was that the humidity finally broke. The air was soft and breezy and just nice, not dry, but nice.

When I finally got home from church (which went remarkably well considering the tension of the past week), it was so lovely I thought we should go for a walk. We didn't of course, as we never do. It was time to read the paper, after all.

But instead of holing up on my couch, where I usually read the paper and fall asleep. I went out to the porch (the screened-in front porch) and read the paper in my hammock. Later, my honey came out and we ate our late lunch/early supper and talked.

Once he came in, I called my mother and we chatted for a while. Then I went back to reading my book ("Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" by Barbara Kingsolver). At one point I came in to use the facilities, and for a moment considered getting on the computer. But then I realized that there wasn't much daylight left and decided to try to finish my chapter on the porch before it got to dark to read.

So I was back in my hammock, reading, and I suddenly had this moment when I noticed that not only was I completely happy doing what I was doing at that precise moment, but that I was also looking forward to doing the other things I would be doing later that evening (blogging, checking with facebook and watching a show with my honey).

I was looking forward to the rest of the evening almost enough to not want to be doing what I was doing, but not quite. It was just a moment of perfectly balanced contentment, with the now and the future.

It was quite lovely, if I do say so myself.

Another Disaster to Pray For

We've been having a lot of rain here in the Heart of Dixie. I whine about it a lot. People have died in flash flooding. It's bad.

But today, Tropical Storm Ketsana hit the Philippines with "a month's worth of rain in just 12 hours." At least 40 people are dead.

For me, this is an example of how relationship is the primary way to change the world. I care about the Philippines because I've been there. I have friends who are practically family there. I've seen its history illustrated in dance. I've flirted with its babies. I've experienced a complicated relationship with its food.

A tropical storm hitting the Philippines affects me differently than a storm hitting another Southeast Asian nation. I'm not proud of that, but it's true, and it's pretty normal I think.

What is scariest to me about this story is what I know about Manila. I know that there are slums there, where people live without any roofs to escape to when the water rises. Cardboard isn't known for it's water-proof qualities. I know that those slums have hundreds of children who will not be missed when official body counts are made.

Forty people is a made-up number. It is a reminder that we still live in a world where some people count (literally) and some don't. And the ones who count are the ones we can relate to in some way.

So what can we do to develop relationships with all the people around the world who currently aren't counted, whose disasters are just headlines to most of us, who are forgotten once the next crisis rolls around? Do you think that, maybe, if we could somehow hook each vulnerable population up with a group of people whose care could translate into useful assistance and advocacy, that we could create a better world?

Student exchange programs may seem fluffy, but I don't think they are if they're done well. I think we need more of them. But that won't be enough. Church exchanges, international pulpit exchanges, choir exchanges, executive exchanges, artist exchanges, politician exchanges... It's really too bad air travel is so bad for the environment. So all those engineer types can help out by getting busy on that part too.

In the meantime, I shall continue to pray for my brothers and sisters in the Philippines.

The Nature of Complaint

I don't ride in taxis much. We have them here, but I have a car and there's plenty of parking. The taxis are pretty much for the small segment of the population that doesn't have cars but does have enough money to pay for a cab. It's a dangerous job even here; two cab drivers have been shot in recent memory in my small metro area.

So it really never occurred to me before to wonder if cabbies talk on cell phones while they're driving. Evidently, they do. Even when they're not supposed to. This recent editorial from the New York Times discusses the prohibition on NY cabbies talking on the phone. (Evidently, other cities are not so concerned with safety.)

The sentence that caught my eye though was this: "Despite their reputation as expert complainers, New Yorkers apparently don’t like to do it officially."

Um, duh?

This is an example of a cheap trick that journalists, preachers* and other writers use when they're in a rush -- the false conflict. The sentence seems to make sense at first: If New Yorkers like to complain, they ought to be doing it. But what it ignores is that filing an official complaint is pretty much the exact opposite of actual complaining.

The satisfaction of real complaining (kvetching, I believe those New Yorkers call it) is not in getting results by having the problem resolved. The satisfaction is in the complaining itself. If the problem were resolved, the permission to bitch about it would be removed, thus resulting in lowered satisfaction.

I am too lazy today to get into what it is about complaining that is so satisfying, but I don't have to, do I? You know what I mean. You know people who go on and on about how annoyed they are. You know they enjoy it. I'm sure someone, somewhere, has done a study of this. It might be nice to know what they come up with. But on the other hand, it might be another announcement that a scholar has discovered the obvious.

Meanwhile, I'm left trying to decide if I would mind if my taxi driver was using a cell phone or not. I do it when I drive. I would assume that most cabbies are pretty experienced drivers. I think I'm going to go with a case-by-case assessment. Just as there are occasionally taxi drivers who shouldn't drive, as evidenced by how badly they do it, there are presumably taxi drivers who shouldn't drive and talk on the phone, as evidenced by how badly they do it. (There's probably a lot of overlap between those two groups, eh?) So I guess, if it were me, I'd wait till the phone made the driver do something stupid before I'd ask him to get off.


*About the false conflict and preachers -- I find I have to guard against this habit carefully. It is very tempting to begin a sermon with a strong statement of tension: "Such-and-such is what society says, but the Jesus said this" or "You would think things should be this way, but actually the exact opposite is true". The problem is that frequently, in order to make it work, you have to create a straw man, that is, exaggerate the thing you're trying to create tension with beyond what is fair. It's a cheap trick, and I try to avoid it. Starting a sermon with a falsehood can't be a good thing.

The Hazards of Preaching

It's been quite a week here. I've supposedly been on vacation, but unfortunately, the day before that happened, a minor kerfuffle arose within the online portion of my church community, and it's been a little hard to remove it from my brain this week.

I have recently discovered one of the lesser remarked-upon hazards of preaching. (I give thanks that it's taken 8 years for this to happen; for many people I'm sure it comes up a lot more often.)

There is a story that preachers tell each other often of how we gave a supposedly mediocre sermon and then had someone tell us it was the best ever. Or alternately, that we worked really hard on one and felt good about it, only to get no feedback at all or only of the negative variety. These experiences are real and happen fairly frequently. They are usually attributed, either gratefully or ironically, to the Holy Spirit.

But what they point to, and what is commented upon less often, is what I've been experiencing this week. When writing and delivering a sermon, we have control over what we say. We do not, however, have control over what people hear.

I have realized often, over the years, that much of the time, in conversation, we don't listen very well, because mostly we already know what people are going to say. That is why surprising things almost always have to be repeated.

The same thing, apparently, is true for sermons. I can say whatever I choose, expected or otherwise, and members of my congregation will, at least sometimes, hear what they expect me to say, good or bad, regardless of whether it's what I said. What's funny is that people on different ends of certain spectrums (say, the agree-or-disagree-with-the-pastor spectrum) sometimes hear the same thing that I didn't say. They just disagree about whether I should have said it or not.

This has the uncomfortable result of giving the preacher the choice of defending herself for something she didn't do, or pointing out to multiple people that they are not good listeners. Neither of these are good choices. What makes it even more complicated, of course, is the possibility of willful misinterpretation. (Did I mention that this has not been the most relaxing week of vacation I've ever had?) It also, by the way, puts the good listeners in the congregation in the same position, which is also uncomfortable because they don't want to make that choice about their fellow church members either.

The preacher, of course, could endeavor to be more clear. And she will, though that is a challenge for one who appreciates subtlety and nuance. But in the meantime, I shall ask the Holy Spirit to intervene with some grace for all parties.

An Appealing New Dessert?

The other day, as I was driving in traffic in the big city, I ended up a few cars behind a bread delivery truck. The slogan on the back said "Baked While You Sleep!"

Hmmmm... I thought. Yes, it probably is. I am a notorious sleeper, both in quantity and timing.

But I got to thinking about those words, and the phrase "baked sleep" arrived in my mind. "Baked Sleep," like Baked Alaska or something.

It reminds of the many times in college when all I wanted for lunch was a nap. Do you think Baked Sleep could make it as the next trendy dessert? What would it be made of? For some reason (probably because of Baked Alaska) whipped creme or meringue is coming to my mind.

Then again, despite how much our sleep-deprived culture craves rest, I'm not sure Baked Sleep would make it as a dessert. There might be conflicting desires there. Dessert is frequently associated with coffee and pretty much always involves sugar. Those are things that supposedly stimulate us, not bring us rest.

Would this dessert involve chamomile or tryptophan? Almonds have tryptophan; maybe they should be a key ingredient.

So what do you think? Can the Trendies resolve the conflict craved rest versus dessert's normal role as stimulant? Can the mere reality of indulgence overcome that? Would you want to eat something called Baked Sleep? What would be in it? Or is there another form of preparation, other than baking, that you think would be more fitting for a dessert called Sleep?

Good-Bye for Another Year

So as of yesterday, I've decided my birthday week is over. It was a week after my grampa's birthday, which is sort of when my birthday week starts, I've decided. More importantly, my horoscope moved to the end of the list yesterday.

So now it will be another 11 months before Virgo is on top again. It's an interesting way to observe the passage of time each day as I read the comics. The horoscopes in our paper are listed in two columns, so the day when I switch from the top of the second column to the bottom of the first column is a good way to notice that half the year has gone by.

Anyway, I know y'all are very into these weird little narcissisms that go through my head, so I thought I'd share.

Wasteful or Trusting?

So as of yesterday, I'm on vacation.

As of three weeks ago, it's been almost continually cloudy, partly-cloudy, and rainy most of the time.

But yesterday, the first day of my vacation, it was sunny, pretty much all day long.

And I slept in till noon.

Was that wasteful? I think some people would say it was. Some people, of course, would always consider sleeping in wasteful. But I suspect there are others who wouldn't find it a problem if it was a dreary day. But to sleep through sunshine? I can see how, from a certain perspective, that could seem sinful.

On the other hand, the one I like to stand on, I think you could see sleeping through sunshine as a sign of trust. I know that the sun will come back, that it will be sunny again. Taking a nap or sleeping in on a sunny day can be a sign of trust in God's goodness and providence.

On the other other hand, it's cloudy again today. And I miss yesterday a lot, and I sort of wish that I'd enjoyed more of it. Oh well.

The sun'll come out tomorrow!

Birthday Week

Yesterday was my grandfather's birthday. (Happy Birthday, Grampa!)

Tomorrow is my birthday.

But TODAY - Today, according to my local newspaper (the paper kind), is the 43rd birthday of rapper Doug E. Fresh, without whom my blogger name would not exist. Happy Birthday, Mr. Fresh!

(I still think Doug is a weird name for a rapper though.)

Hmmm, Here's Another

I had seen a hint of it last week on facebook, but a column in today's paper confirmed it: Crystal Lee Sutton died last week at the age of 68 from cancer. Crystal Lee Sutton is the real-life Norma Rae. She really did stand on a table with a sign saying "Union" right as she was being fired. She went onto a life of activism, even after getting sick.

Rest in Peace, Ms. Sutton. We are grateful for your service.

Okay, This One I Care About

There have been a lot of celebrity deaths this year. You have not heard much from me about any of them. I will admit that I was moved when Patrick Swayze died earlier this week. I love "Dirty Dancing" a lot, and I admire him as a person, for a movie star. But I didn't blog about him or mention him in my facebook status update.

Mary Travers, on the other hand, is the first celebrity to die this year, that actually evinced a strong personal reaction from me. In this article from the NYT, I discovered that we had something in common. We both grew up listening to the music of The Weavers. The difference being that I grew up listening to her too, without realizing they were from two different generations.

I met Peter Yarrow at my first (only?) march on Washington, the point of which, if I recall correctly, was nuclear disarmament. My parents took me out of school, and we drove overnight to get there. It was rainy, rainy, rainy, and I ruined a pair of shoes. Mary was either not there, or simply didn't wander through the part of the crowd where we somehow got introduced to Peter. (I think it was Peter; might have been Paul. Did you know his first name is actually Noel?)

I got to do a presentation at school about that trip when I got back. That surprises me a little, given the conservative nature of the county, but then again, it may have been the conditions of me getting out of school. My parents could be tricky like that. (To me and the school system.)

Anyway, I just wanted to register my appreciation for the life of Mary Travers. Death is not something I tend to take with sadness. At least not the death of people I don't know personally. This experience is more like profound appreciation for her and the movement she was part of. They will be part of my heart and soul as long as I love.

Deep Thoughts for Tax Day

This article from Michael Lind in Salon brings up something I've been wanting to get at for a while now: studies are showing that a huge part of the reason we don't have a better safety net in this country is because of our racial and ethnic diversity, which welfate states like Sweden and France have less of.

As I pay my quarterly tax estimates today, it's worth thinking about what they're going for. Mostly, I like paying my taxes. It feels good to make my contribution to things like schools and parks and social services that help strengthen the country by making life more stable for our citizens. Except that I also know that way more of that money than makes sense is going to go to line the pockets of defense contractors, otherwise known as war profiteers, selling us things we don't need.

What can we do to help people see Americans who are different then they are as still worthy and deserving of the help we all would need in their circumstances? What can we do to promote the reality of being "One Nation"? Lind includes lots of interesting historical facts and observations.

I don't see this perspective becoming part of the mainstreamm dialogue any time soon though. It's way more incendiary than noticing that the attacks on the President are racially-tinged. The "recent unpleasantness" surrounding Obama is merely the tip of the iceberg of racial tension in this country.

MoJo on Another Casualty of 9-11

Monika Bauerlein talks about the ways that the after-effects of 9-11 continued the destruction of some of the important strands of the social, political fabric of our nation. She makes some very good points in this piece, "9-11 Truth, Trutherism, and Truthiness."

John Roberts Abandons His Umpire Approach

While the rest of us are occupied with health care reform and anniversaries, scary, threatening, and yes, activist, if you must, things are happening in the Supreme Court.

The case had to do with whether some right-wing nut jobs could show a movie they made to keep Hillary Clinton from becoming president. But Chief Justice John Roberts, he who said a justice's job isn't to make law but to make calls on what's lawful - like an umpire, somehow decided that instead of just deciding that case, the Court should address whether or not corporations should have the same rights to free speech as citizens, which would then unleash billions of corporate dollars into our campaign finance system. Not only has Roberts made this case about way more than it should be about, he called them in to discuss it earlier than their real session starts. Creepy.

This piece from Mother Jones covers it well. He is a scary man, and the Court does not yet have a safe majority to reign him in. I don't like the phrase "activist judge" because I respect activists way too much. It's not a word I'm willing to re-define as a bad thing or use to label pompous right-wing rich people. But we definitely need a word for this sort of skull-duggery. Because he's clearly trying to change laws, or at least long-time interpretations of laws which would in essence changes the laws, rather than make calls. Which might mean he's a liar. Hmmm, there's a word. It's not quite specific enough, but it's still useful.

My Singular Experience

I had a rather unusual experience of September 11, 2001.

That morning, I was driving a moving van, traveling toward my new hometown here in the Heart of Dixie. My sister was driving my car. We had walkie-talkies so we could communicate with each other. I heard about a plane crashing into a building over that walkie-talkie.

I was sure she had something confused. I'd been listening to an oldies station and had heard nothing. Eventually, with patchy radio reception, we started to realize something was really happening.

We got into town about 1:00. I didn't actually have a house to move into. We had to go pick one out, due to last-minute changes with the realtors. People were only beginning to react, and we needed somewhere to sleep that night.

We chose a house. We moved stuff. We ate dinner with a couple from the church.

I do not come from TV people. I had a television, but it had no antenna and I wasn't getting cable. I did not see the video of the second plane hitting the tower until a few years later. It is the not-seeing of that image that I think sets my experience of the trauma apart from most Americans'. At first, it was accidental. Then I started wanting to preserve my lack of exposure. I think my sister did too.

We both flew on the first day planes were flying, September 14th, out of Atlanta. My flight arrangements had been changed 4 times, new airport, new airline, new flight path. I was on a plane with people who had been stranded for 3 days, and I got in 20 minutes earlier than originally scheduled.

It was all very weird. I felt kind of disconnected from what others were going through, I think mostly because I was in the midst of such a huge life transition.

My first day in the pulpit wasn't till October 7th, so I didn't really have to address it. There were some very bold pulpit supply preachers who cared for my church in those difficult days. We've never really talked about it all that much. I have friends for whom September 16th was their first Sunday on a job. I gave thanks that wasn't me.

While we're thinking about large-scale tragedy, I have a similar story about Hurricane Katrina. The impact of that storm and resulting mess did come this far north. There were relief efforts, things going on here to care for displaced victims of the storm.

But that same month, September of 2005, our congregation lost 3 major pillars within 10 days. I was not very present for Katrina because we were dealing with death and grief and loss of our own, on a scale not experienced here before or since (in my ministry at least).

All of this makes me wonder about my own capacities for dealing with large-scale traumas. I seem to prefer not to get into the middle of things. Or Fate prefers for me not to. I have a very strong tendency to mutter unorthodox, contrary things in the midst of group-think, even when the group-think is motivated by shared tragedy. Perhaps it's God doing me a favor so that I'll keep my mouth shut.

I don't think I have much of a point here today. I have not found much meaning in all of that yet. I do worry about how I will behave in the future if some truly huge trauma happens and I have to take leadership. I feel untested and unsure of how I will perform. I would not want to fall short. But I'm tired of having good excuses for not getting very involved too.

Believe in Good (My weekly devotional message)

John 14:1-3, 27 – ”Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. … Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” (NRSV)

Our Common Daily Bible Reading for this Friday begins the 14th chapter of John. When I noticed the date, I realized how appropriate that is. The memories we all have from 8 years ago are steeped in horror, fear, and disbelief. The terror of that day and the perpetual state of war we’ve been in since create a low rumbling of tension in our souls that has not faded. These words of Jesus offer such a contrast, it seems almost too jarring to bring comfort.

But if we read the words again, and again, the depth of their promise starts to sink in. Whatever the world gives us, whatever troubles our hearts and makes us afraid, the peace of Christ can swallow up and dissolve. However lost we may feel, there will always be a place for us in God’s house.

As the news commands our attention to all the tragedies and scandals and disasters in our world, it is easy to wonder how a loving God can really exist. “Believe in God, believe also in me,” Jesus says. “Believe in God.” Believe in good. It is no accident the word “God” and the word “good” are so similar. Despite all the problems we have, we can also see – we have also experienced – that there is good in the world. And that good comes from God.

When we live like we believe in Jesus – acting out the peace and love of God that he showed through his life, death and resurrection – we become part of the dwelling place of God. When we offer a helping hand to one in need, when we share words of compassion in a world bent on destruction, when we refuse to see an opponent as anything other than a child of God, we become a witness to Christ’s peace, a movement for wholeness in a fragmented world.

Collect for the Week: Everlasting God, who showed us your love through the gift of your Son, grant that our hearts might be filled with the peace that surpasses understanding, that we might offer a witness of hope and wholeness to our broken and hurting world. Through Jesus Christ and the Spirit, Amen.

Morbid Motivation (Caution -- Contents may be disturbing to some.)

Last year, during the primary, there were black folks who were saying they didn't think Obama would live to be inaugurated. While I understood where they were coming from, I thought their concerns were overblown.

Obviously, they were wrong. He did get inaugurated. And he's been president now for almost nine months.

But I now share their concerns. Things have changed. Well, actually, those black folks would probably point out that things haven't changed; that's the whole point. Things have just become more out-in-the-open.

The line between what is socially acceptable and what is not has shifted in this country. (Which is a pretty momentous change in and of itself.) And the shift is a very dangerous one.

Can you imagine what would have happened if someone had worn a gun to a Bush rally? (Assuming it wasn't assumed he was a vigilante there to protect the president, since it would be so weird for a leftie to show up wearing a gun...)

Things have shifted, and I am now very worried about the safety of our president. I was thinking about it last night. I was thinking about how if Obama is assassinated, it would not be unreasonable to hold any Republican politician who hadn't made a clear statement denouncing disrespect and threats of violence, partially responsible for his death. They ought to be doing that right now. I considered writing a letter to that effect to my representative and senators.

And then I got to thinking about my own life, as a citizen and as a minister. And I came up with a question: If Obama got assassinated, would you have regrets about what you'd done or not done to shape and influence the tone of debate in this country?

Have I done enough to help tone down the rhetoric of violence and hatred? I haven't, thus far, done much openly and directly. So if the unthinkable happened, would I feel guilty about not doing more? Should that possibility affect my choices about what I do now?

It's a truly creepy question, but I'm glad I'm asking it now and not because I have to. I'll keep you posted as to whether I do anything about it or not.

Understanding Joe Wilson

Okay, so yes, Joe Wilson made an ass of himself.

But for me, that was mostly because he was wrong, not because of his behavior.

I think it's because I have a high tolerance for conflict (which can be helpful in many situations) and specifically, for yelling, but I'm just not as bothered by the Representative from South Carolina's outburst as others seem to be.

And I haven't been as bothered by the raucous town hall meetings that have been happening this summer. If I had to choose between apathy and raucousness, I would choose raucousness every time.

Now mind you, the bringing-guns-with-you thing is a whole other story. That makes me want to lock people up. But yelling? I get that.

In fact, I sort of did it myself at the "town hall" meeting I attended. My representative was trying to use his talking points in response to a woman's question that had nothing to do with his talking points. She interrupted him and clarified her question once, and he kept doing it. After she'd already tried and he actually said "Okay, but that's not the primary question" and tried to pretend the primary question was about the public option, I used my cutting-through-crap voice and said -- loudly, in a brief moment of silence -- "That wasn't her question." It got the job done, and he had to ask her to repeat her question (again) and then admit that he didn't know the answer. (For the record, it was a silly, way-too-specific question that he was obviously not going to have an answer for, but still, respect your constituents enough to address them and not the questions you wish they would ask.)

All of which is to say, I understand being frustrated enough to yell things out. My outburst that day was not my first comment. I'd been muttering for a while before that.

When someone else has the floor in such a total way that they are defining reality, and you believe reality is something completely different, yelling, though "socially inappropriate" is one option that cuts through the gap in authority to define reality. For some of us, being rude and disruptive is way more tolerable than allowing what we believe is the truth to be distorted. You might call it a form of (not particularly) civil (but non-violent) disobedience (to social norms).

I don't agree with Joe Wilson. But I understand his motivation. If I had taken a different path and ended up in Congress, and had to sit through a certain president's speeches, he might not have been the first person to do what he did.

I also wonder if there isn't something anti-democratic about decorum. I understand that there's something nice about respecting the office of the president and granting that he's the president of the whole country. But on the other hand, this was a policy speech. He wasn't being a figure-head. He was being the leader of his party. Why shouldn't such situations be open to heckling? Decorum can be used as a tool of repression. We should be careful about that.

Full Disclosure

I didn't actually watch most of the President's speech last night. I got home about 8:00, caught a tad bit on the radio during my one-block car trip home and the rest on streaming internet video my husband had it set up.

To be honest, I'm not positive I would have watched if even if I hadn't been in a meeting. Probably I would have, since he was. But I've been kinda anxious about it. I hear he was forceful and laid down the line and all, but I probably still would have been skeptical every time he said something bi-partisanish. I'm just really sick of them trying to work with crazies.

So, yes, I didn't really watch the speech. But I'm about to blog about it anyway. I did review the moment I will blog about in a moment. And actually, if I have time, I might watch the whole thing later, since people seem so pleased. What was weird was that when I got in the car, I almost didn't recognize the President's voice. He sounded angry, and then he sounded a little like he was affecting a Southern accent. It was a little weird.

The Country Needs an Intervention

Bob Herbert is a really smart man. He calls it like it is, in all its ugly truth, in this article about the state of the nation.

The question might be: Who is qualified to counsel the nation? Clearly we're not going to listen to outsiders. And the lunatic fringe is so far gone at this point that it's hard to find anyone talking about them respectfully. I'm afraid that means it might be up to the churches. Problem is__I'm not sure the churches have the chutzpah to pull something like that off.

New Hero for Labor Day

Just this weekend, I've discovered a new commentator that I love. Thomas Geoghegan is a lawyer from Chicago.

He had this marvelous piece in the Nation recently, explaining very convincingly why the Senate needs to kill the filibuster.

And then today, the New York Times ran what they call an "Op-Classic", that is, a column he wrote in 1991, in honor of Labor Day. They note at the end that he is the author of a book called "Which Side Are You On: Trying to Be for Labor When It's Flat On Its Back."

On the positive side, I honestly think things may have improved for Labor since he wrote that, though I'm by no means an expert. On the negative side, it's sad that the NYT had to go back to 1991 to find something appropriate for the holiday.

Geoghegan notes in his op-ed that one of the things we can do it try to increase public interest in the Labor movement. So here I am. Do you know what the Labor movement has done for you?

As the t-shirt I love to wear to Wal-Mart says, "Unions: The Folks Who Brought You the Weekend!"

Enjoy your holiday!

Six on Saturday

1. I've been trying to address two areas of my life where I am uselessly excessive.

The first is my morning cereal. I have an unwavering devotion to Cheerios. I fill the bowl with Cheerios almost to the top. And then I pour in milk, more milk than a lot of people would use, because I like my Cheerios with lots of milk. But lately, I've realized that I've been measuring how much milk I need by stopping only after the Cheerios start falling over the edge of the bowl onto the counter. That's just excessive. So I'm trying to remember to stop pouring before I get to that point.

The second, and this is a little personal I realize, is how much toilet paper I use. (Mom, if this doesn't provoke you to comment, I don't know what will!) I've finally admitted that I measure how much toilet paper to use not by what's needed, but by what's quick and easy to flick off the roll with a doubled-back hand to tear it off. Usually that means I get more than I need.

With a little mindfulness, I could probably stop wasting both milk and toilet paper. I'm trying anyway.

2. I got my hair cut yesterday, and I'm afraid I hate it. I haven't washed it yet (it being against my personal religion to wash on Saturdays if avoidable), but I'm afraid that's not going to help. But in the spirit of avoiding waste, I'm going to try really hard not to go get it fixed any time soon. Unless it turns out really bad, in which case my stylist might cut me a break anyway. It wasn't entirely her fault, I should say. I was mis-leading and confused about what I wanted. Should have stuck with what was already working. Oh well. It's hair. It will keep growing.

3. Today was the first day of our new "Our Church Loves Our Kids!" project. We're encouraging church members to attend the events and activities that our kids are involved in. We had 7 church members at a flag football game this morning. I think the boy's mother was particularly touched because it was sort of raining. Pretty good turn-out for the first weekend. We'll see how much staying power we have. 8:00 is pretty early on a Saturday. But I don't have to wash first, so maybe I can do it.

4. I am about to watch "Dave". It is one of my all-time favorite movies, and for some reason, quotes from it have been coming up more than usual this past week, which is saying quite a bit because we quote it A Lot. So I decided I'd go ahead and indulge.

5. I'm reading "Mudhouse Sabbath" by Lauren Winner right now. I'm attending a clergywomen's thing with her in a couple weeks, and they sent us free copies of this to read ahead of time. (At least, I guess they intended for us to read them ahead of time; they didn't actually come out and say it though. Weird.) It's pretty good and interesting, though I'm finding the voice she writes in a little inconsistent, which is sort of distracting. It's good, but it's also a little "worky" which is why I'm having to turn to a movie for my Saturday indulgence.

6. I love black bean and cheese burritos. (Or is it "burritoes"?) I put some chopped-up sun-dried tomatoes in with the black beans, along with onion and garlic powder and cilantro. Mmmmm... So good.

A Little Perspective

There is a woman in my church who is an active Democrat. By active, mind you, I mean has she run as a delegate for Democratic presidential candidates and has run for district office as a Democratic candidate herself.

A while back, this woman went on a union trip to Washington, D.C. She took her granddaughter, who also belongs to our church, with her. While they were there, they went to worship at some Episcopal church. I don't think it was the National Cathedral. I think it was that one that's closest to the White House.

When they got back, this woman told me that her granddaughter was still overcome with excitement because she had gotten to shake the president's hand. He had been in worship that day and evidently stuck around to shake hands with all the kids present before he left.

I must admit that as she was telling me, my first instinct was snarky cynicism and disgust. You see, this was over a year ago that this happened. The president involved was not someone for whom either the grandmother or I had voted. He was someone I disagreed with on pretty much everything, who had done, in my opinion, immeasurable damage to the people, the cherished institutions, and the soul of our great country.

But I quickly realized that my initial reaction was completely inappropriate. Not only was I in church, where overt political ugliness is, pretty much, flat-out inappropriate, even when talking to someone of the same political persuasions. But more importantly, a child in my congregation had gotten to touch history, and she was excited about it, and that was something to celebrate.

So I did. I completely and totally restrained my lower instincts to say anything derogatory about the man at all (no easy task, mind you!), and just shared her excitement and awe at the fact that the elevated personages running our country are also people who do things like go to church, just like us.

Any time we can do things that heighten our children's sense of themselves as citizens, we should do so. Interaction with presidents is one of those things, regardless of their politics.

At some level, and especially with relation to children, the president IS the office. The president is the symbol of a country that chooses its leaders through free and fair elections (or tries to, anyway). When a president interacts with children, the primary message is "I was a child once too, and I became president, so maybe you can do incredible things like me." That's it.

So why on earth would any parent want to keep their child from experiencing that? Okay, so clearly my gut understands. But my brain doesn't. Why can't we all start operating from our brains again?

I Thank God for Anne Lamott

She's written an open letter to the President.

What I love about Anne Lamott is that she just says what she means. And she's funny. I like funny.

As Holly Near says in a song about another president, "I'm tired of being smooth. I'm tired of being nice. I'm tired of making it sound all pretty." Anne and I are tired of Obama being smooth and nice and trying to make it all sound pretty.

It's time for some good, old-fashioned class-warfare, for Pete's sake! Sure it's wealth redistribution. That is how we save our souls. "Sell all you have and give the money to the poor." "Go and do likewise." "I was hurting and in trouble and you helped me."

In Money We Trust

Here is a blog post from the NYT confirming my mother's high school proposition that the gold standard is meaningless. (And she got in trouble for that.)

Also, a paraphrased, salient quote from I don't know whom: "If money becomes our religion, then being poor will be a sin."

Hmph. Yes. That seems to be part of our problem.

Ten on Tuesday - White Rabbit Birth Month Edition

1. White Rabbit!

2. September is my birth month. I'm rather fond of it. I like being a Virgo too.

3. Today is the 8th anniversary of my ordination. When I mentioned this on facebook this morning, I added that the funny thing was that it felt like a long time and a short time at the same time, and that the funnier thing was that I was finding it hard to believe it was really the anniversary, because today feels so not like a Saturday (the day I was ordained). Then I wondered what kind of strange mixed message I was sending by making the announcement and immediately deflecting attention to random trivia. Fortunately, my dear friends who love and respect me despite my neuroses, ignored the attempt at light-hearted deflection and offered their blessings anyway, which is presumably what I was fishing for in the first place. Except that I don't really think I was wanting to fish, so much as reflect on the passage of time, which is quite possibly why I made the supposedly deflectionary comments in the first place. Hmmm, I guess I wasn't kidding the other day when I noted that it would take a poet to explain my brain, eh?

4. It seems we are living in anxious times. I am picking it up at church, for a variety of reasons, global and congregational. I'm having trouble knowing how to react. Part of me wants to spend most of my time reassuring ("Be not afraid!"). (Ha! I even sound bossy when I'm trying to be tender...) But part of me wants us to be being defiant in the face of anxiety, to stubbornly place our trust in God and thus, does not want reacting to the anxiety to be the main narrative. Plus, the lectionary is giving us James, which is not particularly pastoral, so much as bossy. Well, I guess I'll keep trying.

5. My county chorale started rehearsing again last night. I'd almost forgotten about it over the summer. I think it is good for me to give my brain over to a totally different discipline and my will over to a different director, if only for 2 hours a week. (Plus practice time, of course, once we're a month or so in and I finally admit I don't know half the notes!)

6. I worked a sort of short day today. But it was way more productive than most Tuesdays, so I figure I just saved the two hours of procrastination and goofing around that normally is spread throughout a Tuesday until I got home.

7. I am excited about a clergy retreat I am helping to plan for January. And so were the people I recruited to help today. Which made me even more excited.

8. I bought some produce at a farmer's market tonight. That is kind of an accomplishment for me, here. Also, I've become fond, recently, of the Britishism "veg" to refer to vegetables. I'm quite fond of talking with a British accent, but don't do it nearly often enough to amuse myself, since I spend so much time at work, where that would seem mostly inappropriate. I wonder what the congregation would do if I gave a whole sermon with a British accent?

9. My mother says I give announcements with a Southern twang but then return to my normal, accentless, Mid-western voice for praying and preaching. Weird.

10. I am praying for a man named Fred. You could pray with me, if you want. C'mon, good test results!