back

We made it back yesterday evening, much later than I wanted, but that's okay. We hit traffic again, only this time it was a lane drop and not somebody's RV that died in the middle of the highway.

It was a really nice weekend. I needed some time away. But it's back to work now. I've got a few meetings this week, and a couple classes left, and many shelves of books to put away. Looking forward to an easy summer.

breakfast is ready!

Bacon is frying, coffee is made, and the kitchen is abuzz with activity. The garden is being watered, the horses have been visited, and the fluffy chicken now has 11 cute yellow chicks. The Guinea hens are suspiciusly quiet. I think they're plotting something. It's another sunny warm morning that promises to be another hot afternoon, but with less breeze. I hate to leave. It's been such a nice visit.

Kathryn's aunt Patty stayed on the farm last night. She'll be departing for Kansas City today round about the time we leave. She invited us to visit her, which I'm hoping we can do before too long. Her late husband was a Presbyterian minister, and she was one of the people at the reception with whom I talked shop. She's a laugh riot, and we hit it off right away.

Roz will get a bath before we leave. She had such a good time rolling in smelly things and getting muddy in the barn. She smells a bit like horse. Oh, and speaking of... I was patting Cody this morning behind his big ol' horse ear. His hair is softer there, almost like his snout (but there's no hair on the snout). Anyways, he lowered his head and closed his eyes. Horse sweet spot I guess. So anyways, Roz gets a bath in a little while.

Gotta go. The Dakota Wheat is toasted, and I need a warmer for my coffee. See y'all back at the Ev'tn ranch.

seminarian jeopardy

Church Mission -- Sacramental Theology -- Discount Confessions

"Topics are on the board. Laurel is in the lead."
"Thanks Alex. I'll take Sacramental Theology for 1000."

That was about how the wedding reception went yesterday. Remarkably, no one asked about the filioque controversy and its effects on the orthodox church, or Bonhoeffer's experience in light of the war on terrorism. But I did find out about who had dirt on whom. And I didn't want to know any of that.

I jest. It wasn't that bad. It was a fine wedding and the reception was most enjoyable. Some of the aunts and uncles are here at the farm for a visit. They're a stitch.

The weather today is hot, but not humid. There's a warm breeze. The grass feels nice under bare feet.

We'll pack up to leave tomorrow morning. Hopefully we'll make be back in town by 3pm-ish if we don't hit that traffic again.

Hello from Cannon Falls, MN!

It took forever to get here this time. 90/94 through Wisconsin was a parking lot. As expected, cops everywhere on this holiday weekend. It was a slow day for speeding tickets, though.

This morning I took Roz out to greet the animals. There's a lilac bush right outside the door that fills the air with a thick, sweet smell. The sun was warm at 8:30, and already a little humid, just the way I like it. I took off my slippers and walked through the dewy grass to the horse paddock fence to see Cody. I may get ride tomorrow. They have three kinds of fowl in one of the barns. The Guinea hens are just as boisterous as ever. The laying hens & their roosters, well, they're still the same. I don't think chickens change all that much. The big news is that the other chickens had chicks! They're white, fluffy birds with black, bandit masks around their eyes. The chicks are yellow. I got some pictures that I'll post when I get home. They're so cute.

There used to be a huge raspberry bush with giant sweet berries next to one of the other barns. It was pulled out last fall. So sad for a Rubus idaeus strigosus-phile like myself. BUT, the rhubarb plants are almost ready to harvest, and that's conslation. This year also boasts asparagus, along with the other garden variety delights. Kathryn and Mother are already out there pulling weeds. (They think I'm busy working on my Gospel of Matthew paper -- ssshhhh.)

You should see the variety of birds here. The Orioles are brilliant golden-orange streaks across the sky. One just clung to the screen door. The Humming Birds sound like B-52 on bombing strafes. Barn Swallows, Blue Birds, and Woodpeckers also make appearances at the feeders outside the sunroom. Mum & Dad would love the bird watching here.

Kathryn's cousin is getting married this afternoon, so the rest of today is full up with family things. Tomorrow we'll do more family things, but probably not with the extended family. Then it back on the road for home Monday morning. Hope the traffic is better.

part 3 addendum

I've gotten a ton of really good feedback from a lot of people about yesterday's sermon. Someone said I hit a homerun (if only I could do that in softball), someone else said I "rocked her face off" (cool), and a faculty member practically gushed (...uh... wow, a homerun). A friend of mine drove our Native American visitors back to the airport and reported to me that they were still talking about the homily, and were very excited about continuing the dialog with Seabury. At least two of the three of them will be at General Convention in June. I'm hoping to meet up with them again there. They are part of a group who are trying to re-establish the "Evanston Covenant." That was a partnership created to support the theological education of Native Americans, but it fell by the wayside some years ago. It's an important issue for me. I'd be interested in getting more involved with this dialog. Anyways, I've been asked to submit the sermon manuscript for publication on the Seabury website. Dunno when it'll be posted or exactly where. I had fun yesterday. I hope I get to preach again soon.

preaching - - part 3

Well, here's the final product. I cut-and-pasted it from a Word document and it looks kind of wierd on my screen, but I haven't got time to fix it now.

"Like a skilled master builder I laid a foundation, and someone else is building on it."

It has taken over 2000 years, countless saints and martyrs have sacrificed themselves, theologians and teachers have labored, and thousands more have dedicated their lives to lay the foundation for this very day, the day when I get to preach. I get to reap the benefits of all those people who went before me, to build on the foundation other people have made – we all do.

Have you been watching the garage in the alley? The one they tore down to rebuild? I’ve been keeping an eye on it, and it occurs to me that “foundation” is a flexible notion. It’s not necessarily a concrete basement. Everything becomes a foundation for everything else. The poured concrete flooring was the foundation for the framing they put up, which became the foundation for the next thing that went on top of that. And the next thing that will go on top of that. And so forth… and you just keep building on what was put there before until you have a solid structure.

In 1835, Jackson Kemper was ordained the first Missionary Bishop, and set off Westward for parts unknown. He left the comfort of his own home in PA to bring the gospel to the frontier. That was the same year General Convention declared that we are all members of the Domestic and Foreign Missionary Society by virtue of our baptismal vows. It was the responsibility of the whole church, they said, to spread the word of God – our collective mission was to make disciples of all nations. That’s easier said than done.

Last week it rained so much that the contractors halted work on the garage. The stud walls were in place, and some of the ceiling joists were set, but the rest of the boards sat on the ground under a tarp with puddles forming around them. The guys decided that since the weather wasn’t going to cooperate, they might as well walk away until a better time.

Jackson Kemper wasn’t the only missionary to head west and evangelize to the indigenous populations. There were others, but scorching heat, drenching rains, and winter blizzards sent them back to their homes. It isn’t easy to the work God has given us to do. And more than a few turned back. So what was up with Kemper?

I think it was the Holy Spirit. It was passion. There was a fire there that no drenching rain could put out. He brought with him the Spirit of God. What else could it have been that kept him going for 24 years on the frontier? He had a passion and a vision that enabled him to persevere when the “weather” didn’t cooperate. It’s got to be the Holy Spirit.

What keeps us going through our processes? Why is it we’re all still here after so long, when the process can be so hard? It’s that Spirit. That passion. That perseverance. Where is the Spirit in you that keeps you going when the weather in your soul has gotten cold and damp? Will you let that turn you back to a safer place? Or will that Spirit kindle a fire that keeps you going to spread God’s word in the world?

Kemper saw a need in indigenous peoples. He began translating services into their native languages. He advocated on their behalf that more attention be paid to them, as sisters and brothers in Christ. He saw the beauty of their Spirit, their passion, their fire.

The contractors came back when the rain eventually stopped. The electrical is going in, and that will enable them to work off the power in the building and not have to bring the generator everyday. There’s still a lot more to do, so they got the roof up so they can continue to build even if it does rain again.

But you know what, I don’t believe our mission with indigenous peoples has gone to rot. We can go back, and build on the foundation that Kemper, and others have lain. That’s reconciliation and healing. That’s what Gospel Mission is all about! When we make the decision to go back to building, we’ll do it knowing that what we build will become the foundation for the next generation, and the next generation. And someday, maybe someone will step up to preach and thank us for the foundation we laid.

May we, like Jackson Kemper, “have the vision, courage, and perseverance” to continue to make disciples of all nations.

preaching -- part 2

Tomorrow's sermon seems to be okay. I think I've covered all the points I want to make. I ran it by some folks and they had only little tweaking suggestions. Thanks to Sr. Slackristan for his wisdom, but I have another question. How do we keep our sermons from sounding too "preachy?" I understand the notion that we all have one sermon that we preach, and that we preach what we want to hear, but I'd like to think that other people want to hear it too. I also believe that there are some things people need to hear. My concern is that my enthusiasm or passion for a thing comes off sounding like an infomercial. I exaggerate, but my point remains. It seems to me that a sermon involves participation on the part of the preacher and the silent (usually) listener. If the speaker isn't energized about what she's saying, why should the listener be? On the other hand I think it's a real hazard for all preachers and speakers to blow their audiences away with their energy for the topic, leaving the listener disconnected to both topic and speaker. Then there's the ever-present idea, that crops up like the little devil that sits on one shoulder and argues with the angel on the other shoulder, what gives you the right to get up and say that, or take authority on that!? Well, in this case it's Ruth. She's the one who put me on the rota. And who's going to argue with her?

preaching

I get to preach this Wednesday here at Seabury. It will be my first time in the chapel. Unlike the last sermon I wrote (the spoken word one), this one has been difficult to nail down. I could get used to sermons that write themselves. Just a little more polish on this one and I think it'll be there. I'd like to preach it without notes, but it's taken so long to develop, I haven't got time to memorize.

I kind of wish I didn't sign up for the preaching rota this term. If it were earlier in the term I'd be fresher, but less comfortable. Now that I'm preaching late in the term, I'm tired. Someone commented recently that she was tired of the things she was saying. That really resonates with me. I'm tired of hearing myself talk. I feel like I say the same things over and over. I can't wait to learn Spanish so I can say it all again in another language.

I've just got a little left to do this term. Tomorrow I lead a guided meditation on the Lord's Prayer. Wednesday I preach. Sometime before the end of the term I've got to write one more paper. Then I can sit in front of the tube in my pajamas and give my brain a rest.

what happened

Here's the whatfor regarding the last post. I had a meeting with my discernment committee and it didn't go well. This was our third meeting and we had yet to talk about discerning my call to the priesthood. We've been talking about my family or origin, my art, and getting to know me. They've read the spiritual autobiography and ministry statements I wrote for my last committee, along with the things I had to write specifically for this committee, and of course I've fielded six hours of rapid-fire questions. After this they said they still don't "know" me. If they can say they "know" me after three 2-hour questioning sessions, that makes me a very shallow person. On the other hand, with everything I've written and talked about, they should know me as well as my closest friends know me. There's a disconnect here.

A few things trouble me. I had to initiate an opening prayer for this last meeting. I wanted to do that before the previous meeting, but we forged ahead so fast I lost my moment. It's important to me that we intentionally invite the Spirit into this discernment process. I'm a little surprised that prayer wasn't initiated from the start. It is after all, what it's all about, no?

Second: The diocesan handbook specifically recommends that questions are best raised, "conversationally and not fired off one after another" (page 19). I don't feel like there's a give-and-take conversation going on. I feel like I'm fielding questions. I still know very little about them. When I tried to talk about the things that excite me, that inspire me, the ways I feel the Spirit working in me, they didn't seem interested. At one point, when I talked about how important community is, I was told that it sounded like "a speech," and they changed the subject. That was deflating.

Finally, and this is what spurred the last entry, I got diagnosed. Some of the committee members have been engaged in therapy for a number of years. They speak very highly of it. They said that we live in a therapized world and that I should get therapy too because I have "pain issues." Now, honestly, in all seriousness, I believe that therapy is a very good thing. But I believe that unless one is *qualified* to make a diagnosis, they should refrain from doing so. Years of therapy does not qualify anyone to diagnose and perscribe anything. This is wrong on a number of levels. First, they're just not qualified to do that. I don't care how good they think their therapists are, osmosis doesn't make them able to diagnose anyone else. When people do this, it changes the power structure of the relationship. The diagnoser becomes an authority, handing down critical information to the receiver. If the receiver then believes that the giver of this information truly is an authority, the receiver can allow the giver inappropriate power over the receiver. Power corrupts. People work very hard to earn the right and privilege to diagnose and perscribe, and I truly respect their work. I am offended when people usurp that professionalism and privilege. Posing as a person of that achievement when one isn't, is a deception. I have too much respect for those professional people, and the people to whom they dedicate their careers, to be unaffected by the words of my committee. Their closing comments at the last meeting sounded like they crossed an ethical line that I've seen crossed by others with sometimes disasterous results. And that is what set me off on Tuesday.

I spoke with Jane on Wednesday morning and we worked things out. Everything is still on track, and I got some needed affirmation from her. I left our meeting feeling like myself again. To the friends who expressed concern, thank you.

WHAT THE #?;*&@!!!

...is with this process!

And when I say #?;*&@!!!, what I mean is #?;*&@!!!

Hi Mum!

No Mum, I'm not a mum (yet), but thanks for asking.

almost there

The good news is: there's just a couple weeks left in the term.
The bad news is: (the same)

This week didn't turn out to be as productive as I had hoped. I would have liked to have gotten both of my papers written. Admittedly, I set the bar high with that goal, but it would have been a nice accomplishment. I got about as far as Wednesday and things started to unravel. The Matthew paper came to a screeching halt, and the History paper is slow going. Looks like I won't get to take the weekend off.

My brain has felt full all term. I can't recall a time when I thought that I couldn't put another bit of knowledge into my head. I feel like an academic tick on a bender.

Thank God there isn't a math requirement.

buenos dias

I'm planning my summer schedule. As many of you already know, it is my intention to be conversant in Spanish by the time classes start up again in September. It will happen. The Cervantes Institute in downtown Chicago has been highly recommended to me by several people. Their summer classes start towards the end of June and last 30-36 hours. The tuition is really affordable (after seminary, every tuition looks affordable), and the class schedule is very flexible. I've got a couple jobs lined up for the summer, also with flexible schedules, so everything should work well together. I've got some travelling to do in July, so I may not be able to register for the three-times per week class, but I might be able to swing the twice-a-day class. I'm really excited about this. I got my Seabury class registration packet today for the fall term. Maybe, just maybe, if I'm not flat-out with reading and papers, I can continue Spanish in the evenings with the more advanced classes. They told me there was a placement test to see what level I should be in. That's one test I don't have to take. I know pathetically little Spanish -- my entry title, that's about it. But soon, gentle readers, soon, I'll have a second language.

readin- - attention deficiency week

Reading Week is my second favorite week of the term. I've been released from stuffy classrooms so I can "focus" on writing all those papers that will be due too soon. My first favorite week is the first week of classes. That's when I can relax in my favorite classrooms secure in the knowledge that nothing is due.

The goal this week is to knock out two papers. I'm pretty happy with the topics on the whole. The first looks at the nature of food and eating in the Gospel of Matthew. The second traces the development of the feminine voice in the ECUSA from the mid-19th century up to the Philadelphia eleven. If I can get the weekend off* I will be the happiest seminarian in the whole world. (*Sundays don't count. Thay haven't in a while. Don't think they ever will again.)

The first paper is for my Gospel of Matthew class. The page requirement is 15-20 pages. My notes alone are 16 pages. I've come across a couple very scholarly works that are, quite frankly, waaaay over my head. There are people out there who spend a great deal of time thinking about the finer points of the gospels, and then write about them using all the really big words. I'm sure they'll be happy to know I pose no threat to the scholarly world. About half way through this paper, as happens with nearly all my papers, I come to hate the topic and think of something much better to write about. It will distract and frustrate me probably the rest of today. Tomorrow I'll be back on track.

I'm hoping to get to the feminine voice paper by Thursday afternoon. Not much else to say about that one.

It's hard to keep focus when there are almost constant interruptions. ...of course blogging doesn't help. But hey, I haven't talked to you in a wicked long time. The neighbors two houses down demolished their garage a few weeks ago and contractors are now there putting up the framing for a shiny new garage. Oh how I would rather be watching them raise the walls and set the roof. Maybe they need help. Dad and I used to show off to each other how we could drive framing nails with three hammer swings. I could show them how to do it. I could take another picture of the grass growing. Time for another cup of tea. I'm certain I could beat my best score in Majong if I applied myself.

I need another week.

4 Easter

I'm taking the third of a three-part preaching class this term. For the better part of the term I've had to write a 4-6 minute sermon each week. We're trying out the different styles of preaching described in a book. What I did today was not from the book at all. I put it all out there this morning, and it was totally worth it. I got some really good feedback from the class both during and after class. Several people have asked me for copies. Here it is:

Y’all ready for this?

This sermon is called “Jesus is the good shepherd, yo.”

Jesus is the good shepherd, yo.

Jesus loves me

This I know

‘Cause the Bible

Tells me so.

Catch the Time? -- follow the rhyme

‘Cause here we go…

Jesus is the good shepherd,

The good leader unfettered by the lettered

Unphased by the haze of the crazed and depraved

Bad shepherds playin’ the same blame game

“You put the nails to the wooden frame!”

Shame!

They seek to scatter, shatter

The flock of the Lord

With words that don’t matter

The pitter patter

Of small minds

Close the sheepfold door

Jesus is the good shepherd

Ezekiel’s words

To the bad shepherds:

God is about to stand

And demand from the hand

Of the bad shepherds who would flee the land

Beware the bad shepherds

They seek feed us

To the lions of pride who would eat us

But we are sought, brought

Bought by the life of Jesus

Jesus is the good shepherd

Christ comes in many forms

Turns upside down the social norms

Expected forms

And excepted behavior

Challenges the powers that assume nature

They fear

The flocks flee

Return to safety

Am I too pale

or too young -- too old

Does this come off too bold?

I’m just doin’ what I’m told

‘cause I am sold

on the love of Christ

And this mold

I would break it twice

For the Shepherd who for me would not fail

Jesus is the good shepherd

We are loved

Affection from God above

Bad shepherds spread the infection

Of divine rejection

Objection!

The court is adjourned

Our argument sustained

Jesus won’t leave us

His love is perfection

Because the resurrection connection

Is a grace unstrained

Jesus is the good shepherd

The place where they prayed was shaken

Not forsaken

Taken

Awakened

Filled with the Spirit -- made bold

Healed by love

Gather the fold

Made whole

Mortal, prophesy these words

Tell it all among all the herds

Jesus Christ is risen

Our sins are forgiven

And we are given

Bidden by the Spirit

Sent out by the word

Into a world

That would rather us keep hidden

We are led through the thicket

Through the fearful thickness, sickness

Of our souls

To his voice known

Ears honed

To the tone

Of our own calls us home

We are rescued

Not food for the cruel

Bad shepherds, bad rules

But we can all choose

To be made new

In the view

Of three or two

Blessed are you

And blessed are they too

The good news Sisters and Brothers:

We may wander far from the others

To cutters

Who bleed us

Susceptible

Bad teachers need us

But remember the place serene

And lie by the stream

Dream

A table set before you

In the sight of all your foes

Your head anointed with oil

Your cup overflows

In the house of the Lord forever you’ll dwell

Feel the weight lifted off

Feel your heart swell

Now awake, for his name’s sake

The dream is recurrable

In waking life we’re breakable

But not forsakable

Jesus is able

And bold

And will gather us again

Into one fold

And then

Knowing that that hearts may bend

He’ll do it again

And again

And again

Jesus is the good shepherd

Can I get a witness say Amen?

message sent... no wait!!!

Communication technology is amazing, isn't it? I can get in touch with just about anyone, just about anywhere, just about anytime, with the touch of a button. Sometimes, however, that same amazing technology can lead to a potentially, amazingly, embarrassing error. Take for instance, a certain personal text message, intended to be read by a certain person, sent to somebody else by accident. Imagine now that you don't know who that somebody else is because you were going so fast that you hit "send" before you could stop yourself. Yeah... this could be bad. I've got quite a few numbers in my cell phone speed dial memory that I simply don't call anymore. Some of them I know don't get text messages. Some of them I know do. It is my deep, deep, hope that "China Corner", my favorite Chinese food place in the whole world back in Peabody, MA, got the message, because I really do love them that much -- just not in that way. Then again, some high ranking person in the Diocese of Massachusetts may be the recipient of a great deal of affection. ... oh gosh. I implore you, gentle readers, go slowly, s-l-o-w-l-y, when you send text messages to your special loved ones. And if any of you got a mysterious unsigned message from the 781 area code, yes I do love you that much -- just not that way.