Swimming against the tide

Garrison Kiellor said in a recent "News from Lake Wobegon" that the Episcopalians have ADD - Advent Denial Disorder.  He means (and he's right) that Episcopalians want Advent to be Advent, not Christmas, and therefore we pretend like the Christmas rush everywhere around us isn't really happening. 

Advent is the season of the church year that begins at the end of November and includes the four Sundays before Christmas day.  During the season of Advent, we do not sing Christmas carols in church - we sing Advent carols which are fairly formal and quite Anglican.  We don't put up lights or decorations until Christmas eve.  So unlike the rest of the country, which has been celebrating Christmas for weeks (or in the case of retailers - have been pushing Christmas since October or even late September) we stubbornly struggle to remain in Advent - insisting that it's a quiet season of preparation and anticipation.  We tend to look down our noses at those who put up their Christmas trees right after Thanksgiving.  Don't they know it's not Christmas yet?  But, as Garrison Kiellor points out, other than giving a token nod to Advent with Advent calendars or Advent wreaths, pretty much everyone thinks of the month of December as the Christmas season - rather than the Advent season.

I think this is too bad because I like Advent a lot.  So I had a strong case of ADD this year.  And in many ways, it was great.  I avoided the Christmas rush - choosing instead to take some quiet time to rest and prepare and take care of myself.  We didn't even buy our tree until Dec 23 - a practice we might repeat again because it was quite festive and joyful and we got a beautiful frasier fir for only $20.  And we had a lot of fun decorating it together as a family on Christmas eve.  It is still glowing brightly in our living room today, the fifth day of Christmas.  It will remain there until the 12th day of Christmas - January 5th. 

I really like honoring the church calendar rather than succumbing to the commercial calendar.  But this year I've found it to be rather a struggle to honor the Christmas season.  In Advent, it was easy enough to be counter cultural.  But this week, as I say "Merry Christmas!" to people, I've noticed the strange looks I get.  "Yes.... um .... Happy New Year," people mostly respond.  What's wrong with her?  Doesn't she know that Christmas was last weekend?  I've been posting a different Christmas song or video on the church facebook page each day of Christmas, and I notice I seem to be the only one still talking about Christmas at all.  And I bet it'll seem even stranger when I'm still saying Merry Christmas to people next week.  After New Year's Day, it'll be right out!  People have become Christmas weary - and who can blame them?  We've all had enough tinsel, Jingle Bells and Rudolph to last another year for sure!  People are ready to take the tree down and be done with it.  Time to move on to 2012.

So I'm left to wonder what it means to want to honor a calendar that is no longer normal.  What does it mean to want to stick to traditions that are no longer known, let alone fashionable?  And this leads me to ask: as fewer and fewer people consider church an important part of their lives, what does it mean to be a faithful churchgoer?  A person who professes a particular religious faith?  A disciple of Jesus?   Although sometimes it feels like a struggle, I'm not sure this struggle is all bad.  Because these days, I have to consciously choose my faith, to consciously decide to learn to swim in it and to really work at claiming it as my own - instead of just being swept up in the tide of what everyone else around me is doing.  I have to intentionally choose my own priorities when what's important to me seems counter cultural to most others - whether that's something as small as calendar traditions or as large as choosing my basic priorities in life.  I have to learn what it means to stand up for something even when it makes me stick out and seem strange to others.  I simply can't be smugly comfortable in my religious faith as some of my recent forebears had become, and I think it is a good thing.  I take heart that Jesus himself did not have a smugly comfortable life of faith, either.

 

All Saints and All Souls

I had breakfast with a colleague this morning, who recommended that I take a look at the eulogy Steve Jobs' sister's delivered at his funeral.   A eulogy about Steve Jobs?  Really Janet?  I have to admit that I've secretly resented all the attention Steve Jobs' death has gotten in the media and how his words of wisdom are now so often now quoted on facebook as if he were a wise philospher and not just a businessman.  I have generally judged this as a sad commentary on our culture - turning a wealthy entrepreneur into a kind of consumerist society saint - which has seemed to me to canonize wealth and influence and rugged individualism as our highest ideals.

But my conversation with my colleague has opened me up to a different viewpoint.  She spoke admiringly of Steve Jobs' creativity, his commitment to excellence, his love of his work, his ability to risk and to change, and his search not just for function but for beauty.  She pointed out that it is no mystery why people have paid so much attention to his passing is because he and his company and his products have really changed life as we know it for almost every individual in the US.

So I got off my high horse and took a look at the eulogy.  Mr. Jobs' sister obviously loved him a whole lot, which her words clearly show, and according to her, his last words were, "Oh Wow, Oh Wow, Oh Wow!"  Such final words would endear me to anyone, no matter what I knew or didn't know about them.  So I decided that perhaps I will let go of my resentment about the press coverage of Steve Jobs' death and instead choose to focus on how sometimes it is only through another person that we can manage to see something bigger than our human selves, and how just a few very human words can somehow fully express the power of love, the adventure of death and the mysterious presence of God in and among us.

Open Hands

Fall is traditionally pledge drive time in churches, and we are having our Commitment Sunday today. As I write parishioners are travelling all over town visiting each other, talking about the church, sharing why it's important to them, and making their 2012 financial pledge by filling out their pledge cards. Later today, we will gather for a special service at 4:00, at which we'll gather all the pledge cards and dedicate our commiment to God and share in the bounty of God's abundant feast around the communion table. Then we'll enjoy a great supper together downstairs.

Pledge time can be an uncomfortable time for people in the church, because whenever you start talking about money, anxieties show up. Gertrude Stein said, "Money is funny," and I couldnt' agree with her more! But this year I have come to understand in a newly deep way how important it is for us to talk about money and to be generous in giving. I will be sharing at our service later today a quote from Bishop Mark Andrus of California, who wrote these words on his blog while attending the recent Bishop's Conference in Quito, Equador:

I was part of a group that stayed in Quito but journeyed a long distance in culture and economics, to Sector Comité del Pueblo, a community of poor and working class people who squatted some thirty years ago on a large swath of a valley that absentee landowners had left fallow. They finally received recognized land rights, and they have created a vibrant community, which has a wonderful Episcopal mission in it, Mission Cristo Libertador, Christ the Liberator. ... It was there I attended a worship service, and the opening song had this refrain: “May we always have hearts without doors; may we always have open hands.”

Immediately I remembered what I learned this past spring about the Guarani people - they call themselves the people with open hands. What that means is that as they receive something –money, material possessions, emotional investment, ideas – they are thinking about how they can enhance the gift, and pass it on.

The Guarani, through several centuries of experience with colonizing Western culture have learned to call us the people of the closed hands; people who immediately invest energy in how to hold onto possessions of all kinds.

I felt a sting of recognition when I was referred to here as a person of closed hands. And I have since been imagining how my life would be transformed by becoming a person with open hands. And I believe that is what Jesus calls me to be - even with my material possessions - even with my money -even though a voice inside me tells me I don't have enough and I'd better hold onto it just to be safe. I've been imagining how our church would be transformed by becoming a people of open hands - and how our community, our economy and our world could be transformed. This is a dream of no less than the kingdom of God - a vision of the gospel in action - this becoming and living as a people with open hands.

So I am grateful this year for our pledge drive, which reminds me in a kick-in-the-stomach kind of way that everything in this life is a gift, not a possession - and that as a disciple of Jesus I am called not to store up possessions, but to steward them, enhance them, and then give them away for the sake of God's love - in response to God's abundant love for me and for the whole world.

So I am praying this morning for Grace Church and for all our parishioners, out there talking to each other right now about the sometimes uncomfortable topic of money. And I'm praying that we may truly develop hearts without doors and become a people with open hands.

Open Engagement

Today I was sitting in my local Starbucks, and I looked out the window to see a little red haired boy, maybe about 3 years old, outside the entrance door.  His mother was standing and talking with a friend, and while they talked, this little boy was eagerly engaging with the simple metal handrail along the ramp leading up to the door.  First, you've got to realize that the rail was just a very simple metal bar - nothing fancy.  But at one end, it curved around to make a good foothold.  The little boy was climbing up and then down, up again, down again.  Then he ran the length of the bar looking for more ways to get up on the bar.  He tried a few options, found it was hard to climb up without the toehold, so returned to the end excitedly and went up and down again, folding himself over the top bar, standing up straight on it, hugging the bar, lying along it, getting down again, swinging from it.  I don't know if I can convey the intensity and enthusiasm with which this little boy engaged with climbing and exploring this simple bar.  I sat transfixed by his undivided and unwavering commitment to his quest while for the whole 5 minutes his mother was talking, he continued to climb and explore with unrelenting curiousity, focus and dedication.

And I thought: when was the last time I took such interest in exploring an everyday object like that?  I would never give that tired old railing a second look, let alone see it as a delightful way to engage with my world, although perhaps at one point, when I was three, I might have.   This led me to wonder if I ever, in my own current context, approach any everyday situation with the same kind of complete openness and eagerness to all possibilities that the little boy was demonstrating?   Do I ever still run enthusiastically toward my own handrails in life with self abandon – and with an active desire to squeeze every ounce of possibility out of an everyday opportunity? 

This Sunday I will be preaching about what it might look like to live our lives with wide open hands and wide open hearts.  This little boy gave me a great image to ponder as I consider what I will say. 

Promises

Today I'm going to preside at the first wedding I've done in a long time.  Since first being ordained in 1996, I've done hundreds of funerals, but only maybe a dozen or two weddings.  In my days as a Unitarian Universalist minister I did some unusual ones. I remember one wedding I did in the Tufts Chapel for a Greek Orthodox woman who wanted all the Orthodox rituals in her wedding with her groom, a culturally Jewish man who'd never once been to temple in his life.  He had no knowledge of her (or his) religion, but just kept saying he didn't want the wedding to be "too Christian."  Boy, I had to work very hard with that couple to come up with something that worked for them both!  I did weddings for people who wanted me to sing Sufi chants I'd never heard of or to include very, very long poems or to base their ceremony on their favorite movie.  I've got to say, such weddings were exhausting!  It was like reinventing marriage every time.  Now, as an Episcopal priest, I stick with the Marriage rite from the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer.  It's traditional, but beautiful, and it is founded in the understanding that it is God that brings people together into a life of commitment together. 

Marriage is about making promises - both the bride and groom's promises to each other and God's promise to be there with them in their love for each other.  Sometimes we avoid making promises for fear that we will not be able to keep them.  But today two of our parishioners will make lifelong promises to each other - and despite the risks involved, they are excited and happy.  For they know they will not need to carry out their promises alone.  Their extended families and our church community stand ready to support them in their marriage.  And they also know that God is at the center of their lives together and will provide what they need to live more deeply into God's love together.

When we are convinced that God is active in our lives and when we can entrust our lives to God, we are able to make promises to ourselves and others despite our fears.  For we know that with God, nothing is impossible.  I am grateful for John and Kim today - for their faith, and for their willingness to make promises.

Break Fast Time

Well, just to report the results of my wonderful juice fast, I fasted for a full 10 days, including the last two days in a hurricane.  I juiced a whole bunch of vegetables and fruits before the storm in case I lost power.  I had a pitcher of red juice (beets, carrots, celery, hot peppers and apples), a pitcher of yellow juice (peach, mango, pear and celery) and a giant pitcher of bright green juice (chard, kale, parsley, celery, lemon, ginger, peaches and cucumbers)  These juices lasted for the whole last two days of the fast.  Those days were very relaxing because I didn't have to do any juicing, and all I could do was rest, since Hurricane Irene raging outside.  It turns out that being still, quiet and restful at the end of a fast only brings a deeper awareness of your body and the changes that fasting is bringing.  The fast really sunk in during the hurricane - I recognized both my hunger and my fullness, the changes in my body, the new energy I felt and my gratitude very strongly as the fast came to an end. 

The reason I haven't written this post before is that I was waiting for my internet to be restored after the storm.  I broke the fast last Tuesday at lunch with some beautiful fresh salads at lunch and dinner, and then the next day, I had a soup with beans and pesto in it.  My awareness and appreciation of what I'm eating is still very high almost a week later.  I have not fallen into sloppy eating habits again - at least not yet.  I feel my relationship with food has changed and it is my prayer that I can actively maintain this new relationship rather than fall into my old, mindless (and pretty un-grateful) habits.

My clothes now fit comfortably again and I lost 12 pounds over the course of my fast.  I feel well and strong, in control of my food choices and free of illogical cravings. 

Most of all, I feel very grateful for having so much good, healthy food and clean water available to me.  I hope the experience of fasting will keep me in that place of gratefulness so that I remember not to take these amazing gifts for granted.

And I think I will do it again!  I hope you will give it a try sometime, too.  Advent or Lent are natural times to do some fasting, but anytime is a good time to get in touch with the gift of food and your relationship to it.  Let me know if I can be of help.

Day 7 - Appreciation

Here I am with my dinner last night - before I juiced it.  Look at the size of that bowl of vegetables!.  No wonder sometimes people call this a juice feast instead of a juice fast. 

Today, on day 7 of 10, I can finally say that I felt hungry at times.  Maybe a better way to say it is that today I became aware of the emptiness of my stomach.  This is not a feeling I usually allow my body to have.  So it wasn't like I was craving any particular foods - as in, "Oh a pizza would taste so good right now!"  This was different.  I just recognized hunger in my body.  When I felt it and thought about what I was hungry for, my next fresh juice actually seemed like a very appealling option.  Or maybe some vegetable soup with beans.  This was not just a craving.  That's what my "hunger" usually is.  Usually I crave things that taste good (and greasy and sweet or salty) and name that craving hunger.    Like I said, this was different.   This was my body simply asking me to give it nutrition.  To give it what it needs - not just craving what my mind wants.  Because my body and I experienced a lack of food it seemed like my fast really began today. 

But that lack of certain things has created a deeper appreciation within me of certain other things.  Like the smell of my fruits and vegetables. I juice each type of vegetable one at a time, so I can breathe in the the fresh cucumber smell, then the fresh lemon smell, then the fresh tomato smell. They don't just smell good to me. They smell absolutely delicious to me. Generally I eat so fast I don't take the time to smell my food at all, let alone notice the exquisite and abundant smell and taste of one simple unsalted, unseasoned ingredient.   Then there's certainly the keen awareness of and appreciation for the overabundance of food I usually have available to me.  A fast is a time of hunger with an endpoint for me.  There are hungry people all over the world who aren't fasting on purpose, and don't have plenty of food waiting for them on Tuesday like I do.

These are important things for me to remember.  I hope that the fullness of appreciation that the lack of food has given me will not be overtaken by overeating as soon my fast is over.

Day 5 - Mind and Body

When I woke up on day three of this juice fast two days ago, I was not sure I could keep going.  I felt hungry and had many thoughts about the good foods I would like to have that day.  But then I reminded myself that it was not like I was never going to eat again - that it is only 10 days out of my month and soon enough I would be eating all kinds of things again.  The funny thing is, as soon as my brain accepted this fact, I was immediately fine and did not feel hungry.

What is it about our brains that tell us lies?  Lies like, "I'm not going to be able to do this."  Our brains have a lot of power over how our bodies feel.  The most interesting thing about this fast for me is how clearly and keenly I'm noticing my body/mind connection.  And it's not only how my brain affects how I feel in my body - it's also how my fasting body affects my mind.  I find my memory is much sharper, my thinking much clearer and my focus much more sustained this week.  It is as if all the food that I usually stuff into my not really that hungry body robs some of the energy I need to function mentally, diverting it into having to digest all the time.  Without having to digest more than juice, my brain gets more blood flow and energy, and therefore certainly more clarity.  It makes me realize that smaller portions and eating less often is important not just for my waistline but also for my brain.

This morning I embark on Day 5.  Wow!  Almost half way through.  I went out to breakfast with my colleagues, which is my weekly habit.  I brought my juice along and happily drank it while they had their eggs and oatmeal.  I feel good enough from my fasting not to crave the food now.  In fact, my brain registered how different I would feel if I were eating my usual pile of eggs and potatoes and I fekt grateful for the lighter feeling I have today.  I also noticed how I had more time to really listen to my friends and have a conversation because I didn't have to get any eating done.  That is one very concrete and simple example of how fasting has taken something out of the way to leave room for something new.  Another example - yesterday I got a whole lot of stuff done because I didn't have to think about what I was going to make, prepare meals or stop to eat a meal.  (With thanks to my husband, who fed the boys!)  I was amazed how much longer the day felt.

What I'm also now wondering about, however, is the choices I am making about how to use my extra time, space and energy.  I have a propensity to fill my time with lots of work.  Yes, there is a lot to get accomplished as fall approaches, but I want to make sure to leave some room during this fast - which really is a special time - for some extra down time, too.  Some prayer time.  Some quiet time.  Some serious listening time.  Ultimately, I think that's what this fast is for me - a time to listen better - to God, my body and myself.   It gives me a rare opportunity for deeper awareness - an opportunity that is often hard to find in life.  The fast is giving me the room I need to notice more deeply than usual who I really am, for in my emptiness, I find I am not alone.  Usually, I'm too busy menu planning, grocery shopping, cooking, eating or digesting to have the room to notice some of these very important things each day. 

A New Twist on an Old Practice

Fasting is an ancient practice.   It has been a part of the Christian tradition since before John the Baptist pointed his finger heavenward and started yelling, "Prepare Ye the Way of the Lord."  Jesus himself fasted for 40 days in the wilderness and often went off alone to fast and pray throughout his ministry.  Fasting has been a part of every major religion - and most minor ones too.  In fact, since August 1 and until the 30th,  faithful Moslems are currently observing the month of Ramadan, in which they have no food and no water at all until the sun goes down each day.   Islam is one faith that hasn't let the practice of fasting fall by the wayside!  I have fasted for a day here and there - often on Good Friday, but I've never really done a prolonged fast, even though I know darn well that they are extremely good for one's physical, mental and spiritual health.

On Thursday, I saw the movie  "Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead" for the second time.  If you haven't seen this wonderful documentary, I heartily recommend it.  It is the story of an Australian fellow named Joe Cross who decided to take his life back by getting healthier.  The way he does it is to embark on an extended journey across America while also embarking on an extended juice fast.  It's the kind of fast in which the only thing you take in besides water is freshly juiced fruits and vegetables (not prepared juice - you have to make it fresh in a juicer).  So it's not a complete Ghandi-like fast.  You are actually taking in some really good nutrition.  But it's very simple nutrition from veggies and fruits - and no chewing is involved.   You are definitely fasting from eating as we normally know it.

The central message of the movie is that the way to change the world is to change yourself.  And it conveys, in a variety of ways, how as people invite more wellness into their lives, they not only get better themselves, but also invite healing into their communities.  I particularly liked that theme, because this is just what what seems to be emerging here at Grace Church.  We are working toward becoming a gathering place for healing and wellness - not just for our own church members - but for the entire Trumbull community.  We're planning all kinds of events having to do with nutrition, exercise, stress reduction, spiritual practices, etc. in the coming year.  We hope God's healing and wholeness will start here and then move outward from our church like ripples on a pond.

So, I found the movie very uplifting and inspiring.  The first time I saw it, I was inspired by Joe's story.  But the second time I saw it (last Thursday), I was inspired to start a juice fast myself.  Though I've always known - at least with my head - that fasting is an important spiritual discipline, I guess it took this movie to get me to actually DO one.  I guess sometimes God speaks through unlikely channels - even movies with funny names.

So today is the second day of my own 10 day juice fast. As expected, yesterday I had some detox symptoms - fatigue, headache and irritability. I was just darn hungry by the time 4 pm came around.  I faded fast in the evening and went to bed around 7:30 and slept right through until 6:30 this morning.    Some people get some pretty serious detox symptoms for up to 3 days when they do a fast, but I guess I was lucky. Today is my second day, and I feel pretty darn good, my hunger is less bothersome and I am feeling quite satisfied by the juice.  I've been making fruit juices in the morning (this morning I juiced fresh watermelon, cherries, limes and cucumbers.  Delicious!)  and I've had vegetable juices for the rest of the day (yesterday I made a whammo juice with tomatoes, chard, celery and hot peppers - very bracing.)

Why am I doing this?  Well, I have a lot coming up this fall, and I thought it would be a good idea to be at my best - to be clearer and cleaner - to do a "reboot" as they say in the movie. I'm also doing it to lose the 10 -15 pounds I've gained since moving to Trumbull two years ago.  But I think the most important reason is that I'm approaching this as a spiritual discipline.  I'm doing it to empty myself out - like cleaning out a messy closet - so that God can reorder my insides, and fill me with the good things that I haven't been leaving any room for.  I know it'll be a challenge, but I also hope it'll be a great experience.  I'll keep reporting how it's going this week. If all goes as planned, I'll be juice fasting until some time on Monday the 29th. 

 In the meantime, talk to me if you'd like to see the movie - I've got it at my house and I'm happy to watch it again anytime!  Also, let me know if you're interested in doing a juice fast yourself.  I'm happy to help in any way I can.  Let's heal together.

It's all in how you say it

Although I knew way back in seminary that good communication is at the heart of effective ministry, I will admit that I was surprised at how much PR is involved in building a church.  Getting the word out about what is going on here - both to church members and people outside the church - is the key to growth and redevelopment.  So I spend a lot of time and energy deciding which words to use in on our website, in our newsletter, in press releases. 

When Steve shared this short video with me recently, which I think was probably produced by a PR firm, it gave me a lot to think about.

The woman in the movie tells the beggar that she had said the same thing he did on the sign, only she chose different words.   With the tired, overused words he'd put on the sign, he became as invisible as wallpaper.  People would glance at him and immediately put him in the folder in their head labelled "beggar" and easily dismiss him.  The words she put on the sign hit people in the gut and invited them to see the beggar with new eyes - as a person who they could relate to.   

Church language can often be received like the beggar's first sign.  Same old phrases.  Same old imagery.  People just throw it all into the folder in their head marked "religion" and ofen quickly dismiss it.  How can we in the church, with our words, help people experience church with new eyes - and feel in their gut that there might be something going on here that they can relate to?

This video shows that words can be very effective.  But I stumble over that word "effective" when I think about the church.  In the video, "effective" seems to be defined by more coins in the beggar's cup.  Of course that's a good result for the beggar, but in what other ways could you define "effective?" Could the new words on the sign be effective in inviting real conversations and connections between the beggar and passers by - effective in not only bringing certain tangible results but in beginning to change old definitions, labels and behaviors?

I often wonder, as we build our church, how we will measure "effective?"  What results do we hope our careful use of words will produce?  How will we know when our words are "working?"  Do we just want more money in the plate?  More people in the pews on Sundays?  No, our goal is not really to build this church but to build the Kingdom of God.  We are about finding ways to participate in God's mission of healing and reconciling the whole world.  "Effective" is more about the real conversations and connections and relationships that begin to develop among us and all around us and is far more difficult to gauge than a simple increase of change in a can.
Words are very important.  They can bring about wonderful responses in and among people.  They can inspire, lead and heal.  I am all too aware, however, of the strange edge that exists between wording things in such a way to open people's eyes to God versus trying to sell them something.  On my less good days, I wonder whether we're spending too much time trying to sell ourselves to a consumerist world.

I just returned from a two day clergy conference.  The speaker was a theologian, and his words were beautiful, thoughtful, relevant, accesible.  He reframed some of the most challenging passages in the Bible (the sections some call 'toxic texts') in such a wonderfully helpful and expansive and open minded way that I was uplifted and inspired.  I left there wanting to bring God's love out into the world.  That's what I hope our communication does, too.

In the Valley of the Shadow of Death

  

The kids in our youth group joined in a salt marsh cleanup last Saturday.  One of the largest salt marshes in New England is on the Stratford/Bridgeport border, and it is federal land.  Until a few years ago it was fenced off and people could not go out on it.  And it was completely ignored. 

The role of salt marshes in the environment are very important.  The grasses and creatures filter the water, decompose dead animals and plants and clean the ocean.  They tend to form in places where tides bring such waste to shore.  Therefore, they are also places where trash collects.

Because the salt marsh in Stratford was ignored for a good period of time, a lot of trash began to collect there.  LOTS of trash.  Two years ago, the folks at CT Community Boating, headed by Chris German, began organizing yearly cleanups of the marsh, along with other area beaches.  The first year they went in, the amount of trash was overwhelming.  The next year it was not much better, for much of what they'd removed had been replaced by new trash.  This year, it was still shocking.

Trash that has built up on one area of shore

Plastic and styrofoam do not degrade, but the work of the waves and the salt marsh plants and animals do their best to break it down.  What is left is teenier and tinier pieces of plastic and styrofoam.  Little pieces that are impossible to pick up but which collect in piles, and also float back out into the water for fish and other creatures to eat.  Sea animals have been found to have more and more plastic and styrofoam in their stomachs.  The petrochemicals are found in their flesh.  This includes the fish we eat.

I don't think I was the only one shocked by the sheer volume of plastic trash that had collected at the salt marsh.  I came home and looked up a few statistics that shocked me even further.  I found out that Americans use 2,500,000 plastic bottles an hour.  I found out that Americans throw out 25, 000,000,000 (that's billion) styrofoam coffee cups a year.  I found out that world wide, 60,000 plastic bags are thrown out every 5 minutes.  Lots of plastic trash ends up in the ocean, pooling in areas called 'gyers.'  There are gyers in the Pacific that have accumulated floating areas of trash twice the size of Texas. 

Trash floating in the ocean

It would be one thing if we could say, "Wow, we've made such a horrible mess.  Let's clean it up!"  But manufacturers still continue to create more and more and more plastic and we continue to use it (and then throw it away.  In the time it's taken me to write this, around 180,000 new plastic bags have entered the waste stream.  But "throwing it away" doesn't make it go away, as we witnessed firsthand on the shore last weekend.  The problem just keeps getting bigger and the trash piles just keep getting bigger.

I've tried to reduce my own plastic use, but find it nearly impossible to avoid purchasing plastic in our society.  Everything is wrapped, labelled, contained.  Even bringing my own shopping bags to the store, I leave with them full of new plastic.  It's hard to hold on to hope in the face of such overwhelming societal sin.  

A broken plastic Jesus we found amonst the trash

 Psalm 23 says, "Even in the shadow of the valley of death, I will fear no evil.  Thy rod and they staff, they comfort me," but I don't take this as a platitude.  God led me and the youth group beside the still waters last Saturday, and I think God is leading us down right paths for his name's sake - to begin to open our eyes to the mess we're making.  Awareness of what we're doing is always the first step.  Acceptance that there's really a problem that's not going away is next.  Then comes action - actions both small and large.  I don't pretend that one little youth group will make any dent at all in this problem.  In fact, I had to wonder where all that trash would go from here - back into the water?  Into a landfill?  Into the air in the form of pollutants and dioxins through an incinerator?  The bottom line is that plastics do not go away.  They will continue to poison the air, water and ground - and our bodies - for generations to come.  So though I don't think we made a big dent on Saturday, just deciding to walk with Jesus through the reality of the situation is good action.  Moving toward healing, even if we don't see how we'll ever get there, is what we all can do.

Almighty God, in giving us dominion over things on earth, you made us fellow workers in your creation: Give us wisdom and reverence so to use the resources of nature, that no one may suffer from our abuse of them, and that generations yet to come may continue to praise you for your bounty; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen

Complexity

"I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an     enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that."                              - Martin Luther King, Jr.

I woke, as many did on Monday, to the news of Osama Bin Laden's death.  I was not cheered by the news.  As Martin Luther King's quote reminds me, there's enough hate and death in the world already.  And although I know this is 'mission accomplished' for our military, I don't like to think of my government participating in assassination.  I know all is considered fair in war, and we have been led to consider our struggle with terrorism and those who perpetrate it a war, but I can't help but wondering how fighting terrorism with violence and death will get us anywhere.  I do understand what has happened probably needed to happen, and I do believe that God works through all things - through this - even through 9/11.  I understand that those who paraded and cheered in the streets when they heard the news were feeling that something wrong had been made right - the bad guy got what was coming to him.  But I just can't find it anywhere in myself to cheer about it.  And I certainly can't bring myself to name it justice when it feels to me so much more like vengeance.  "Vengeance is mine, says the Lord."  I look at the world around us - self-righteous, power hungry and violent - and I see us taking into our own hands what we need to leave to God everywhere I look. 

When I try to understand what has happened in this, I just keep coming up with more questions and fewer and fewer answers.  So what does my faith tell me?  Jesus tells us to love our enemies.  But Jesus also overturned the tables of the money changers in the temple when he judged they had crossed a line. The death of Bin Laden seems a complicated mix of both polarities (although, I keep thinking, Jesus did not kill the moneychangers.)   All I know for sure is that I wouldn't change places with the president of the United States for all the tea in China.  This world is a very large and complicated place, and leadership is one of the hardest things there is to do in the midst of great complexity.

I know God works through all things and so I pray that what has happened will all lead to God's reconciliation somehow.  Praying is the only thing I can do about something that seems so big and completely out of my hands.  So I pray for those who lost loved ones in the twin towers, or in the Pentagon, or on a plane on 9/11.  And I pray for those who have been victims of suicide bombers or terrorist attacks anywhere.  And I pray for soldiers and civilians who are caught in the crossfire and confusion of war.  And I pray for the leaders who must decide and act, even when what is truly right and just is beyond their human ability to discern.  And I pray for those who believe they are meting out justice when they do something violent, no matter who they are.  And I pray that God forgives us all for allowing the world be like this.

Enjoying My Day

Here is an actual conversation that took place in my mind this morning as I was running along the rail trail:

Ooh, look!  Pretty flowers!  I wish I had my camera.

Oh, I do have a camera on my cell phone.

I can't stop, though, I've got to run.  The 5K is coming up and I've got to train.

But they probably won't be so pretty next time I come.

The cell phone doesn't take great pictures, and I've got so much to do to get ready for Holy Week.  I've got to get my run in and get home.

Oh for heaven's sake.  I can take a minute to stop and take a picture.  Who am I?  Joan Benoit?  I can stop for a minute.

So, to make a long story short, after much arguing with myself I did stop, and took several pictures of the beautiful wildflowers coming up through the dry leaves, the sun shining on them just right.  And unfortunately, it is true, my cell phone does not take pictures as well as my camera, so the photo above does no justice to the beautiful sight.  But as I was taking pictures and enjoying the flowers, I was also enjoying the sound of the river below, rushing and tumbling over the rocks because of recent rains.  I was enjoying the feel of the soft breeze and the spring sunshine on my face.  I enjoy my walks and runs on the trail, but after taking a minute to slow down enough to really enjoy my surroundings, when I resumed my run I enjoyed it all the more.  I wondered why I'd been so reluctant to stop and enjoy the flowers.

There is a helpful pamphlet called "Just for Today" that suggests that today I save myself from two pests: hurry and indecision.  Indecision has never been much of an issue for me.  But hurry - well - this morning was a good example of how that pest can sometimes nag at me and rob me of the enjoyment I could choose in my day.  At the moment I consciously recognized that I had allowed that pesky pest hurry to get a toehold in me this morning, and realized that I had managed to save myself from it by stopping to enjoy the flowers, I looked up the hill and noticed this:

It was a face someone had nailed on a dead tree halfway up the hill to the side of the trail.  If I'd still been in such a hurry with my running I never would have noticed it.  In that smiling tree I saw evidence that someone had recently done something for no reason other than just having some fun.  Here was evidence that someone had chosen to enjoy their day, just like I had.

By the time I was almost back to my car, I felt as if I'd been on a mini vacation - all before 7:30 am.  I really, really enjoyed my run.  And as if to cap off the lesson I was given in the woods, I ran by a trout fisherman heading toward the river with his pole.  Now that I was in such a light and happy mood, I said to him, "I hope you catch a fish!"

He answered, "It's such a beautiful day, it doesn't matter if I catch one or not!  Enjoy your day!"

Seeing Myself as Others See Me

So, just recently we started videotaping our sermons and posting them on the website.  This is a good thing, but I've got to adjust to having myself projected on the small screen.  I remember, as a kid, hearing my tape recorded voice for the first time and being amazed at how different my voice sounded from the way I heard it inside my own head.  "Is that really how I sound?" I asked incredulously.  Sure - of course - was the answer.  Wow, I didn't soud at all like I think I sounded.

This discomfort has now all been taken up a notch for me with these videos.  Do I really look like that?  That is not how I picture myself in my own head.  Do I really blink that much?  Is my voice really that sharp?  Are my nose and teeth really that big?  And for that matter, is my neck really that scrawny? 

Some people look in the mirror and see nothing but flaws and imperfections - even magnifying them and imagining them larger and more pronounced than they really are. 

Some people look in the mirror and overlook their flaws - moving into a place of denial about what they could improve. 

What I would like to do is to look at the mirror (or at the videos) and embrace what I see with love, not magnifying my flaws or ignoring my shortcomings.  Despite my own initial negative reaction, I need to remind myself that everyone who has met me sees me the way I look on the videos.  No one thinks there's anything "wrong" with how I look or sound.  It's just how I look and sound!  Since so far no one has run screaming, so I guess it must not be all that bad.  I am simply an average bear.  Oh bother.  I guess this is just another thing to put in the God box!

O God, by whom the meek are guided in judgment, and light rises up in darkness for the godly: Grant us, in all our doubts and uncertainties, the grace to ask what you would have us do, that the Spirit of wisdom may save us from all false choices, and that in your light we may see light, and in your straight path may not stumble; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Babies in Church

Today we had two new babies in church - a 6 week old and a 9 month old.  They both made joyful noise at the most appropriate places.  The younger baby slept for most of the service, but woke up and cried a hungry cry at the pinnacle of the Eucharistic Prayer.  Obviously he'd heard the invitation to partake in spiritual food!  The older baby seemed always to exclaiming "Amen!" at very appropriate places throughout the service.  I loved his enthusiasm - and actually, sometimes I wish that proper adult Episcopalians would be that enthusiastic about the sermon and the prayers.

Babies add a different energy to a group of people, and our congregation was practically giddy with excitement in having babies among us today.  I lost count of how many people said something like, "It's so wonderful to hear babies in church!"

It may be the middle of Lent, but it felt like the nativity on Christmas morning at Grace Church today.

Signposts

After a long, trying winter, today I finally got back into the woods today for a beautiful walk by the river.  I noticed that the mountain bikers had recently repainted the blazes on the trees.  I know the trail well, but there are places where bikes have made alternate paths, so it felt good to have strong, clear blazes to follow.  After all, it had been a while since I'd walked the trail.

And I was thinking about how we always need signposts in life, even when we're travelling down a road we've been down before.  I remember as a child, on the familiar trip to our summer home, I always looked for the same office building along Route 128 with the mirrors along its roof.  When I saw it, I knew we were headed to New Hampshire.  There were other landmarks along the 2 1/2 hour route, each one assuring me that we were getting closer to our destination.  This reminds me how each year during Lent, we hear the same weekly prayers and consider the same readings, and then during Holy Week, we participate in the same rituals each year.  The familiar words and liturgies are like signposts, like blazes, assuring us that we're on track and that we're moving closer to the promise of Easter.

Signposts also remind us that others have travelled this path before us.  The blazes on the trees in the woods tell me that I'm not the only one that cares about and travels on this woodland trail.  It is wonderful that someone took the time to make it possible for me to venture forth into the woods that first time with blazes to lead me.  If no one marked the trail, people who've never been there before would not be able to learn the way.  So, marking the trail is an important responsibility.  If those of us who love the trail don't create trailmarkers, no one but us will be able to enjoy it, and once we're gone, the path will no longer exist.

The same is true for church. Those of us who have a strong connection with church no longer need blazes to find our way here. We don't need signposts to find our way around the building and we don't need instructions in the bulletin about how to follow the liturgy. But if we care about church enough, we'll want it to be for others, not just ourselves. So we need to create clear blazes for those who are less familiar with the way. If we tend to our signposts, just like the mountain bikers tend the blazes in the woods, the path can become a favorite journey for others yet to come.

Today on the trail was one of those times I was strongly reminded that the most important people for the church are the people who haven't found their way there yet.  (Just like it's frequently repeated that the newcomer is the most important person in a 12 step meeting.)  We're not in the business of creating a club for insiders.  We're called to go out into the world and to put bright and clear blazes on the trees everywhere we go.  Or or maybe more accurately, we're called to be living, walking blazes ourselves - so that who we are and what we do can help show the way for people who haven't found the way yet. 

Following the Star

The three kings arrived in our creche at church this morning.  And I am looking forward to using those kings as my mentors in 2011.  Why?  A few reasons:

1. They noticed the world around them and noticed things they wouldn't have expected.

It's easy to just go through life assuming things are the way I think they are.  But if I can be like those wise kings, I will keep my eyes and my mind open to things I'm not expecting.  In their case, it was a star that did not conform to any of their charts or expectations.   I have no idea what surprises I'm in for this year, but I hope I'll welcome them with as much openness and curiosity as the kings had.

2. They were willing to go a long way to find what they were looking for.

Sometimes I can put things on a back burner when they might take a lot of effort or seem incovenient for me.  But if its something that really needs doing, I need to pack up my camel and get going.  When the kings knew something important was happening, they packed up and went across whole continents to reach their goal.

3. They followed.

The kings did not know where that unusual star would lead them.  They only knew that they were being led to something important.  Sometimes I don't move until I know where I'll end up.  This year, I'll try to start my day like those kings - asking for direction and then following.  I want to spend my days with eyes, ears, heart and mind open to follow God's call.

4. They were willing to change direction

Sometimes I can get a goal in mind and force my way forward toward it in the way that seems best to me.  But the kings didn't do that.  They listened, discerned and just followed the star where it led, even though it might not have made sense to their educated brains and even thought they had no idea where they'd end up.  And they were also open to the need to go home by a different way than they'd come.  They were not stubborn about the right way to do things and were willing to change course.

5. They were generous

The kings gave of their gifts and resources lavishly to Christ.  A little baby born to a poor couple in a stable.  God, I just want to at least remember to buy cereal for the food pantry every week.  And I want to be a really good sharer.

At our church we each get a gift from the three kings - a special word or phrase for the year.  My phrase was "being childlike."   I took this to mean having a beginner's mind.  And I wonder if that's the very thing I admire in these three kings so much - a very wise openness to the new and unexpected things God is always doing and a willingness to respond by following along with trust.  I pray I really take this special gift to heart in 2011.