What makes a great sermon? In some ways that is like asking what makes a great piece of music. One can talk about conventions in different genres, features of great compositions or performances, but there are no sure-fire recipes or formulae. At the same time, how we in the pews hear and respond to sermons varies greatly from day to day and individual to individual. Those sermons that have moved me most deeply have had more to do with my spiritual needs at the moment and God’s grace in delivering the right words through the mind and voice of the preacher who had no idea of my situation and most likely was delivering what he or she thought was a run-of-the mill effort.
With that as a caveat, here’s what I think. First, the sermon or homily should never be the focus of worship, at least in a Eucharistic-centered worship service. It should be composed and delivered with grace and humility and be designed to shed light on one facet of one of the scripture readings, most often the Gospel lesson. While theology and scholarship may, at times, offer insight into the reading, a sermon is not the place for an extended piece of scholarly analysis because a) it draws attention away from the rest of the service, elevating the preacher and the preaching to a level of importance that eclipses the Eucharist and b) to do in-depth analysis well requires the kind of time and effort on the part of all that only an Adult Forum, bible study, or Sunday School class can provide.
Second, while an inexperienced preacher cannot help but listen to the comments from the pews, and may, in fact, get some useful insights, over the long haul the preacher has to go with what he or she works out to be the best way to articulate his or her faith to others. In the beginning, it may help to try out different styles or suggestions from others. It also may help to get assistance from an expert in public speaking, which may not have been taught in seminary (I recall a seminarian intern whose sermons blossomed overnight after a few sessions with someone in the congregation who taught speech and communication at the local university). But in the end, the best sermons come from the mind and heart of a spiritually mature person, who speaks from his or her own wrestling with the meaning of scriptures in the context of personal life and public ministry, who is not trying to “move” the congregation as a whole or create a life-changing experience, but simply preaches the Gospel as he or she knows it and lets God take care of rest.
Finally, I agree wholeheartedly with John Chilton’s comments that sermons should not be the primary focus of any pastor. The reality is that few pastors are truly gifted preachers, and truly gifted preachers are not necessarily good pastors. While the “best” sermons I have heard were composed in writing and read, delivered in 8-12 minutes, had a clear point, beginning, middle and end, were theologically sound, well-informed, but not burdened with jargon, the best church experience I had was in a congregation lead by a pastor who gave sermons based on loose notes, that rambled, were heart-felt, a little too long, but he was someone who not only was a great pastor but was supported by a community of lay people who were the heart and soul of the church, laity who brought great gifts to bible study and other adult education programs, who worked hard on both mission and fellowship and who did not rely on the pastor to direct them in every endeavor. His gifts were in knowing and appreciating that community and ministering to its needs and those on the outside. Not all pastors find themselves in a congregation like that, but the best nurture the seeds wherever they find them, nurturing that requires more precious gifts than what it takes to deliver block-buster sermons.
[originally posted as comments to Susan Fawcett's article at Episcopal Café]
Monday, July 9, 2007
Back from Vacation
Well, I'm back, more or less, from my so-called vacation with the soccer team in beautiful Maine. It came to what was, for some, a heart-breaking end -- two wins and a tie, which nevertheless ended up a loss due to a one point goal differential (i.e. the team we tied 2-2 beat another team 4-1, whom we beat by only 3-1). Unfortunately that meant that the team did not advance to semi-finals, where it would have faced a team it has beaten before and probably would have beaten again. But that's the games and the breaks that happen. Meanwhile, we enjoyed the wonderful food, nice sunshiny but cool weather, and some time at the ocean. I love the ocean, anytime, anywhere, and Portland was a marvelous city to explore.Since then, I've been busy catching up with work and barely keeping track of what everyone else has been writing on the web. I have lots of thoughts swirling about what to write here and am beginning to see the wisdom of simply writing as often as I can and not worry so much about trying to produce finished pieces (which, of course, I can still try to do, from time to time). Thanks so much for all your kind words and encouragement. I'll try to get back when I can, but for now.... back to work (and I'll just leave my recent comments on sermons -- nothing earthshattering, but nevertheless something I felt I had something to say worth sharing).
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Never on Sunday (but maybe in heaven)
I went to an organ recital and reception at church last night. It was well attended by members of the parish and the community at large, including the Sisters from the local convent(Sisters of St. Margaret).
Not many Episcopalians know that there are Episcopalian nuns (and virtually no one else does, either -- try telling a Roman Catholic that there are any other kind but theirs!). But the Sisters have played an important role in the history of our parish and community ministries going way back. Unfortunately, their numbers are dwindling and their ages increasing, but they continue to enrich the lives of all they encounter.
Sister Jane Margaret, well into her 80's, is currently the oldest residing at St. Margaret's House. She's a tiny woman, frail, and in increasingly poor health, but she has the kind of fiery energy that seems to burn brighter the more her body fails her.
Last night at the reception, she drew me aside, having heard that my daughter was going to be playing in a regional soccer tournament, now that her team has won the State Cup championship. Her eyes were aglow with excitement. She told me how much she loved playing lacrosse when she was young (and how they allowed girls to play the "real" game back in 1940, whereas today she knows that checking is no longer allowed -- at least it's not legal -- for girls). Apparently lacrosse was something she missed very much when she first entered the convent. She said she was glad my daughter was able to play as she did and wished her the best of luck.
Then she drew me closer and told me, with a twinkle in her eye, that if by some chance she made it to heaven, she said she'd be playing lacrosse there. She also said that just last week, she spoke to the bishop after some ordinations and he told her he loved lacrosse as well. She asked the bishop if he'd play on her team with her in heaven, and he said yes, he'd be happy to.
So, somehow, some day, God willing, the two of them will be playing in heaven, men and women alike, bishops, nuns, and whoever else may love the sport. Blessed be Jane Margaret and all the Sisters.
Not many Episcopalians know that there are Episcopalian nuns (and virtually no one else does, either -- try telling a Roman Catholic that there are any other kind but theirs!). But the Sisters have played an important role in the history of our parish and community ministries going way back. Unfortunately, their numbers are dwindling and their ages increasing, but they continue to enrich the lives of all they encounter.
Sister Jane Margaret, well into her 80's, is currently the oldest residing at St. Margaret's House. She's a tiny woman, frail, and in increasingly poor health, but she has the kind of fiery energy that seems to burn brighter the more her body fails her.
Last night at the reception, she drew me aside, having heard that my daughter was going to be playing in a regional soccer tournament, now that her team has won the State Cup championship. Her eyes were aglow with excitement. She told me how much she loved playing lacrosse when she was young (and how they allowed girls to play the "real" game back in 1940, whereas today she knows that checking is no longer allowed -- at least it's not legal -- for girls). Apparently lacrosse was something she missed very much when she first entered the convent. She said she was glad my daughter was able to play as she did and wished her the best of luck.
Then she drew me closer and told me, with a twinkle in her eye, that if by some chance she made it to heaven, she said she'd be playing lacrosse there. She also said that just last week, she spoke to the bishop after some ordinations and he told her he loved lacrosse as well. She asked the bishop if he'd play on her team with her in heaven, and he said yes, he'd be happy to.
So, somehow, some day, God willing, the two of them will be playing in heaven, men and women alike, bishops, nuns, and whoever else may love the sport. Blessed be Jane Margaret and all the Sisters.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Father's Day
Yesterday was Father’s Day in the United States. For some it was a day to truly honor a beloved parent and to gather the extended family. For others, it was a reminder of how the cult of Family is sometimes exalted over the reality of human lives, a painful jab at those who were born and raised outside the cookie cutter model of the late 20th century, Western, intact and supposedly nurturing, nuclear family.
Elizabeth Kaeton has done a masterful job of bringing both perspectives to light, serendipitously with the Lectionary’s Old Testament and Gospel readings. I recommend her sermon it in its entirety, but the following excerpt is what, for me, hit the ball out of the ballpark:
Today is Father’s Day. For some, this is a day filled with exquisite pain, and this morning is filled with dreaded expectations of the same things which, for others, will be nothing less than pure delight. For still others, it will be a day filled with loss and grief, regret and remorse. Why? Because we are human. We make a mess of our lives as easily as drawing a breath. We hurt the ones we love. We are David and take what is not ours. We are Simon and resent what others are able to give.
Today is Father’s Day and it is no coincidence that the scriptural message is about love and forgiveness. We all need to hear about love and forgiveness, but especially parents who, even the best among us, mess up from time to time – some, even more than their share. Today, especially today, many need to hear a word about love and forgiveness. For ourselves. For the ones who are or were our parents, especially our fathers. For the fathers we are. For the fathers we never were. For the fathers we’ll never be.
Love, Forgiveness and Father's Day at Telling Secrets. (Do go there and read the rest).
Elizabeth's words speak to the kind of experience most of us have lived in a variety of circumstances. Those of who find ourselves parents, in whatever kind of family we may end up raising children, face no easy task. We let ourselves and them down day in an day out, as we often feverishly try to do our best, papering over our flaws and weaknesses, all the while demanding more of them than we managed ourselves, or demanding something very different, some things that might have been beneficial for us when we were growing up, but may be of little or no use to them. Being a child of a flawed human being is not easy either. We don’t know what to make of the many mixed messages we get as our parent(s) inevitably preach some of what they do not practice and are sometimes blinded by the lenses by which they perceive us, our futures, and their pasts.
Learning to love and forgive each other is something that may take a lifetime to get nearly right, if ever. Sometimes it is harder with family than with friends, acquaintances, or even strangers, but, almost inevitably, it is where we all start. Family isn’t everything, and some families are so broken and hurtful that some bonds are best left loose. Yet whether we are born into them, find our own parents and children to honor and nurture, families are where we begin to learn to need and serve others, with love, compassion, and care, the best we can, with God's grace and the example of perfect love God has given us in his Son.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Church v. Soccer
As many people know, youth soccer plays a big role in my life. It takes a lot of time, effort, and some money. It's not always worth it. Sometimes it's boring, sometimes it's just plain ugly. But it is something I and my family have made a big commitment to because we have a child who not only has some talent for the game, but has dreamed of playing it competitively since she was 7 years old. She's worked hard and given up a lot to do it, but it's her passion, one which she freely chooses, with a good understanding of the sacrifices we make so she can pursue it. And while it does require much of us, both she and the rest of the family have much more in our lives than just soccer. She's a serious student and musician, participates in Model U.N. (United Nations) Club and debates, and believe or not, has a busy social life and a number of close girlfriends. I work full-time, my husband has his many church and diocesan activities, and our at-home son goes to school, works part-time, runs cross-country and track, and has various activities of his own.
There's much I could say about youth soccer, pro and con, and many stories that I could tell about our experiences. But, on the whole, I would say it has been a good thing for all of us. It's not for everyone, and it certainly can be destructive, as can be just about any "serious," competitive youth activity, whether it be sports, music, dance, art, debate, etc. But it also offers much that is valuable as well, not only the friendships we have formed across two states, but a realm in which discipline, hard work, and life lessons, some kind and some not, predominate.
Maybe someday I can write further about these things (it's time to get ready for church now!), but for the moment, I'll simply share the following (for background, go to the Café):
Posted at Episcopal Café Soccer v. Church,
Please correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe Jennifer wrote about tournament play, which typically schedules games on Saturday morning, Saturday afternoon, and Sunday morning, and often schedules semi-finals and finals on Sunday afternoon. The issue, therefore, is not about Sunday morning league play or practices, but tournaments, which only happen a few times a year, which, at the height of outdoor soccer season in June and July, are the culmination of an entire year’s worth of training, practices, and league play. Father’s Day is not a religious holiday, not a holy day, but is a secular observance. Many people participate in sports and other activities, are faithful members of church communities, and do not attend church services at their home church every Sunday morning 52 weeks out of the year.
Soccer, music, and other activities can bring children and adults together, foster a sense of community, nurture friendship and trust, instill Christian values – or not. Church can foster community, nurture and strengthen faith, instill Christian values – or not. Sports and Faith are not opposed to one another. Faith should be part of our lives 24/7, and neither faith nor religious practices are limited to Sunday mornings between 8 and noon.
Recently the Café published an article on how our culture tends to isolate youth and prolong their adolescence. This does not happen in the realm of competitive sports. Youth sports, for better or for worse, is not only run by adults, they are involved in just about every aspect of the game. Team parents form an extended family, and each player must respect and deal with all of them, as well as the coaches, managers, referees, and league officials. Unlike their peers, athletes cannot do whatever they want, when they want. They must miss parties, sleepovers, dances, and much “hanging out,” while they train, practice, and compete. If they miss key team events or if their performance is hampered by not getting enough sleep, the right food, or taking drugs or alcohol, their behavior impacts not only their own lives and their fellow players, but many adults as well.
Athletes have to grow up early, arguably even too early. They do not get to be “kids” in the same way as many of their peers. They have responsibilities, they are subject to rules, and they must work and get along with adults in often very difficult, emotion-charged situations. They have to deal with many “unfair” decisions and rules, first and foremost referee calls, rough behavior and taunts from the opposing team, sometimes verbal abuse from spectators on the sidelines, and political maneuvering from those who want to exert power and influence. (Kind of like Episcopal politics?). They need to stay cool under pressure, deal with anger and frustration constructively, establish and stick by their own personal values of fair play and consideration for others.
Of course sports are not more “important” than faith or even religious practices. Conflicts arise not because sports are more highly valued than religion but because some people choose to do other things on Sunday mornings – not just sports, but also staying home to watch t.v, playing golf, working in the yard, going shopping. (Let’s also not forget those who have little or no choice, those who are compelled to work in low-paying service sector jobs and must work on Sundays). Sports is not the culprit, and not all sports or teams have WEEKLY activities scheduled for Sunday mornings.
Clergy who decide to use sports as a scapegoat and penalize parents or children who participate are, I believe, shooting themselves in the foot. Any activity that prevents regular participation in worship and community fellowship and mission is, clearly, something to be discouraged. And for those who are on the Catholic side of the Catholic/Protestant spectrum, regular (at least weekly) partaking of the Eucharist needs to be taught and practiced as essential. But none of that precludes sports.
Our daughter is a PK and currently a member of a soccer team that is a three time State Champion. We are very proud of her and the team, and we do not apologize or defend her participation to anyone in our parish. My husband, the rector, while not a sports fan himself, helps other parents with serious conflicts with sports activities. While he, like most of his colleagues, has no patience with people who drop in and out of activities that require long-term commitment at a moment’s notice, he does work with, for examples, members of confirmation classes so that they can makeup classes or assignments when a major conflict is foreseen (whether it be sports, music, or school) and it is clear that the parents and children are making every effort to comply with the requirements. He also does his best to provide as many weekday masses as possible (on general principles, of course). Nearby parishes, like our many Roman Catholic neighbors, offer early Saturday evening masses, some for the summer months, some year-round.
I understand and appreciate those who feel overwhelmed by popular culture and the pressure we and our children face from those who have no experience with, let alone commitment to, religious life. But too often our response is to retreat and try to insulate ourselves to the point where we sometimes don’t know or understand what is going on the Outside and simplify or demonize what we take at face value as contrary to our beliefs. The Church, apostolic and universal, will not prevail if we confine it to our buildings and monuments and rigid timetables. God is present both within His houses and on the fields of dreams. It’s not where we are on every Sunday morning that counts, it’s whether we do our best to not only keep God in our daily lives but foster church communities that welcome the full breadth of human experience, that do not take attendance rolls, but rather tell people they are missed when they are not present, and give people good reasons for coming back and being there often.
There's much I could say about youth soccer, pro and con, and many stories that I could tell about our experiences. But, on the whole, I would say it has been a good thing for all of us. It's not for everyone, and it certainly can be destructive, as can be just about any "serious," competitive youth activity, whether it be sports, music, dance, art, debate, etc. But it also offers much that is valuable as well, not only the friendships we have formed across two states, but a realm in which discipline, hard work, and life lessons, some kind and some not, predominate.
Maybe someday I can write further about these things (it's time to get ready for church now!), but for the moment, I'll simply share the following (for background, go to the Café):
Posted at Episcopal Café Soccer v. Church,
Please correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe Jennifer wrote about tournament play, which typically schedules games on Saturday morning, Saturday afternoon, and Sunday morning, and often schedules semi-finals and finals on Sunday afternoon. The issue, therefore, is not about Sunday morning league play or practices, but tournaments, which only happen a few times a year, which, at the height of outdoor soccer season in June and July, are the culmination of an entire year’s worth of training, practices, and league play. Father’s Day is not a religious holiday, not a holy day, but is a secular observance. Many people participate in sports and other activities, are faithful members of church communities, and do not attend church services at their home church every Sunday morning 52 weeks out of the year.
Soccer, music, and other activities can bring children and adults together, foster a sense of community, nurture friendship and trust, instill Christian values – or not. Church can foster community, nurture and strengthen faith, instill Christian values – or not. Sports and Faith are not opposed to one another. Faith should be part of our lives 24/7, and neither faith nor religious practices are limited to Sunday mornings between 8 and noon.
Recently the Café published an article on how our culture tends to isolate youth and prolong their adolescence. This does not happen in the realm of competitive sports. Youth sports, for better or for worse, is not only run by adults, they are involved in just about every aspect of the game. Team parents form an extended family, and each player must respect and deal with all of them, as well as the coaches, managers, referees, and league officials. Unlike their peers, athletes cannot do whatever they want, when they want. They must miss parties, sleepovers, dances, and much “hanging out,” while they train, practice, and compete. If they miss key team events or if their performance is hampered by not getting enough sleep, the right food, or taking drugs or alcohol, their behavior impacts not only their own lives and their fellow players, but many adults as well.
Athletes have to grow up early, arguably even too early. They do not get to be “kids” in the same way as many of their peers. They have responsibilities, they are subject to rules, and they must work and get along with adults in often very difficult, emotion-charged situations. They have to deal with many “unfair” decisions and rules, first and foremost referee calls, rough behavior and taunts from the opposing team, sometimes verbal abuse from spectators on the sidelines, and political maneuvering from those who want to exert power and influence. (Kind of like Episcopal politics?). They need to stay cool under pressure, deal with anger and frustration constructively, establish and stick by their own personal values of fair play and consideration for others.
Of course sports are not more “important” than faith or even religious practices. Conflicts arise not because sports are more highly valued than religion but because some people choose to do other things on Sunday mornings – not just sports, but also staying home to watch t.v, playing golf, working in the yard, going shopping. (Let’s also not forget those who have little or no choice, those who are compelled to work in low-paying service sector jobs and must work on Sundays). Sports is not the culprit, and not all sports or teams have WEEKLY activities scheduled for Sunday mornings.
Clergy who decide to use sports as a scapegoat and penalize parents or children who participate are, I believe, shooting themselves in the foot. Any activity that prevents regular participation in worship and community fellowship and mission is, clearly, something to be discouraged. And for those who are on the Catholic side of the Catholic/Protestant spectrum, regular (at least weekly) partaking of the Eucharist needs to be taught and practiced as essential. But none of that precludes sports.
Our daughter is a PK and currently a member of a soccer team that is a three time State Champion. We are very proud of her and the team, and we do not apologize or defend her participation to anyone in our parish. My husband, the rector, while not a sports fan himself, helps other parents with serious conflicts with sports activities. While he, like most of his colleagues, has no patience with people who drop in and out of activities that require long-term commitment at a moment’s notice, he does work with, for examples, members of confirmation classes so that they can makeup classes or assignments when a major conflict is foreseen (whether it be sports, music, or school) and it is clear that the parents and children are making every effort to comply with the requirements. He also does his best to provide as many weekday masses as possible (on general principles, of course). Nearby parishes, like our many Roman Catholic neighbors, offer early Saturday evening masses, some for the summer months, some year-round.
I understand and appreciate those who feel overwhelmed by popular culture and the pressure we and our children face from those who have no experience with, let alone commitment to, religious life. But too often our response is to retreat and try to insulate ourselves to the point where we sometimes don’t know or understand what is going on the Outside and simplify or demonize what we take at face value as contrary to our beliefs. The Church, apostolic and universal, will not prevail if we confine it to our buildings and monuments and rigid timetables. God is present both within His houses and on the fields of dreams. It’s not where we are on every Sunday morning that counts, it’s whether we do our best to not only keep God in our daily lives but foster church communities that welcome the full breadth of human experience, that do not take attendance rolls, but rather tell people they are missed when they are not present, and give people good reasons for coming back and being there often.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Tagged (Aren't We All?)
Thanks to Sharecropper, I've been tagged. This means:
1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.
2. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.
[Following Mimi's sensible lead, I'm not tagging eight people since, among other things, it would take me eight years to find anyone who hasn't been tagged). But here goes:
1. I love eating butter cream icing.
2. I should have been a ballet dancer or a physicist, though maybe it’s just as well that I followed my abilities, such as they are, rather than my passions.
3. I keep thinking of the current Anglican Communion and TEC dance in terms of an off sides trap (too much soccer, you see).
4. During high school, I spent countless Saturday nights watching bullfights on Spanish-language t.v. (with English commentary from Sidney Franklin, known as the “Bullfighter from Brooklyn” and friend of Ernest Hemingway). I cannot account for this other than being intrigued by its grace, skill, and its supposed respect for the strength and courage of the animals, and being removed from the blood and gore, not only by distance but also by poor t.v. reception on a black and white screen (well, I’m almost as old as Mimi, but not quite).
5. I loathe and despise shopping, especially in enclosed malls. I really HATE being herded into a group of women and being told to “go shop” as if it were coded in my DNA. (This is partly why I have not participated in clergy spouses’ functions).
6. I love running a boat alone in choppy waters with the wind whipping through my hair.
7. I am almost never anywhere on time. My kids chalk it up to my ADG (attention deficit Gift – their term, not mine. Needless to say, I'm not medicated -- this
is the "natural" me, I'm afraid, impulsive but slow to do what and when I ought).
8. Last Christmas my 83-year-old mother and 60-year-old husband conspired to treat me to my guilty pleasure – the entire DVD set of Sex and the City. Although I live in t-shirts, jeans, and bare feet and otherwise have little in my life resembling life in the series [correction, I do have True Love], nevertheless, I am smitten with the clothes, the shoes, the deep friendships, the humor, the wit, and the wisdom of this show (which, of course, is NOT about sex ;-) ). Or maybe it’s just the glorious ending episodes in Paris, the white shoe in the doggie do in the street, the beautiful ballet skirted vintage dress, the scene where Carrie slide tackles (i.e. trips) Big in the corridor of the hotel, and they tumble down together laughing (if that's not real love, I don't know what is).
There. That's eight. Whew! My first meme. Too bad I flunked the tagging part. I thought about tagging some dead people, who might enjoy joining in, but I'm not sure which email addresses or websites to use. Maybe later.......
1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.
2. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.
[Following Mimi's sensible lead, I'm not tagging eight people since, among other things, it would take me eight years to find anyone who hasn't been tagged). But here goes:
1. I love eating butter cream icing.
2. I should have been a ballet dancer or a physicist, though maybe it’s just as well that I followed my abilities, such as they are, rather than my passions.
3. I keep thinking of the current Anglican Communion and TEC dance in terms of an off sides trap (too much soccer, you see).
4. During high school, I spent countless Saturday nights watching bullfights on Spanish-language t.v. (with English commentary from Sidney Franklin, known as the “Bullfighter from Brooklyn” and friend of Ernest Hemingway). I cannot account for this other than being intrigued by its grace, skill, and its supposed respect for the strength and courage of the animals, and being removed from the blood and gore, not only by distance but also by poor t.v. reception on a black and white screen (well, I’m almost as old as Mimi, but not quite).
5. I loathe and despise shopping, especially in enclosed malls. I really HATE being herded into a group of women and being told to “go shop” as if it were coded in my DNA. (This is partly why I have not participated in clergy spouses’ functions).
6. I love running a boat alone in choppy waters with the wind whipping through my hair.
7. I am almost never anywhere on time. My kids chalk it up to my ADG (attention deficit Gift – their term, not mine. Needless to say, I'm not medicated -- this
is the "natural" me, I'm afraid, impulsive but slow to do what and when I ought).
8. Last Christmas my 83-year-old mother and 60-year-old husband conspired to treat me to my guilty pleasure – the entire DVD set of Sex and the City. Although I live in t-shirts, jeans, and bare feet and otherwise have little in my life resembling life in the series [correction, I do have True Love], nevertheless, I am smitten with the clothes, the shoes, the deep friendships, the humor, the wit, and the wisdom of this show (which, of course, is NOT about sex ;-) ). Or maybe it’s just the glorious ending episodes in Paris, the white shoe in the doggie do in the street, the beautiful ballet skirted vintage dress, the scene where Carrie slide tackles (i.e. trips) Big in the corridor of the hotel, and they tumble down together laughing (if that's not real love, I don't know what is).
There. That's eight. Whew! My first meme. Too bad I flunked the tagging part. I thought about tagging some dead people, who might enjoy joining in, but I'm not sure which email addresses or websites to use. Maybe later.......
Sorry!
Belated apologies to all those who have stopped by here recently while I've been absent. I'm afraid that my day job has lately shifted into nights and just about every other corner of my life not occupied by soccer (which seems to rule supreme, although it shouldn't) and various other activities associated with teenagers reaching the end of the school year (and the time when they will be home long enough each day to drive me OUT OF MY MIND (not hard to do) and distract me further from both work and blogging). This, of course, comes at the same time of year that courts are issuing a glut of decisions, wrapping up cases heard in the past term so they all can get on with their summer vacations -- which is what drives my "day" job (reporting on those decisions).
I hope to get caught up with the blogosphere someday soon (though I suspect that, with regards to the TEC/AC saga, it's much like any other soap opera - one can jump in at any point and not really have missed much). However, aside from the workload and my son's upcoming graduation from high school (how is it possible I have an 18 year old? oh yea, sex + childbirth + the passage of time = big guy about to leave home, or at least move away to a dorm), there is, as I've mentioned SOCCER (or as its known among the local elite, "football"). I can't help but be excited about my daughter's team winning State Cup in their division and going on to play in Regionals in Maine at the end of the month, and maybe (or so they dream) going on to play Nationals in Texas in July. But this means even more intensive training and practices for now (meaning lots of driving for me) and taking a chunk of vacation time (let's not mention money) for the trek to Maine.
Winning, of course, isn't everything, but it's great to see this group of girls, some of whom we've known for the past six years, working hard and playing at such a high level, with energy, skill, and determination. I've loved soccer ever since college, when I tagged along to watch our team (BF was a defender) play, an unlikely but marvellous mix of talent with students from overseas (Europe and Africa) and some from the few communities in the U.S. that had decent soccer programs back in the 1960's and 1970's. To me it combines the grace, agility, and quick thinking required for ballet (my first love), creating a vibrant dance that ebbs and flows and only occasionally bursts into successful shots on goal. Anyway, my daughter hated ballet, so here we are. And although I hesitate to point this out, doing my best to maintain some Christian values in a rough-and-tumble sport, the photo I snapped last weekend features a Central New York player edging out a much larger Binghamton player trying to strongarm her out of the way. It seemed kind of fitting somehow, although I'm not sure why. Anyway, it was a sunny, lovely weekend away from the computer.
So, this is a roundabout way of saying that my blogging aspirations may have to sit on the back burner for now. Someday maybe I'll write of my lovely visit to early Sunday mass at an Episcopal church, conveniently located near our hotel for the State Cup tournament weekend. Then there's religion and science and.... but, yes, I promise, NO breastfeeding talk. Until then....
Well, enough natter. Back to work (after being tagged).
I hope to get caught up with the blogosphere someday soon (though I suspect that, with regards to the TEC/AC saga, it's much like any other soap opera - one can jump in at any point and not really have missed much). However, aside from the workload and my son's upcoming graduation from high school (how is it possible I have an 18 year old? oh yea, sex + childbirth + the passage of time = big guy about to leave home, or at least move away to a dorm), there is, as I've mentioned SOCCER (or as its known among the local elite, "football"). I can't help but be excited about my daughter's team winning State Cup in their division and going on to play in Regionals in Maine at the end of the month, and maybe (or so they dream) going on to play Nationals in Texas in July. But this means even more intensive training and practices for now (meaning lots of driving for me) and taking a chunk of vacation time (let's not mention money) for the trek to Maine.
Winning, of course, isn't everything, but it's great to see this group of girls, some of whom we've known for the past six years, working hard and playing at such a high level, with energy, skill, and determination. I've loved soccer ever since college, when I tagged along to watch our team (BF was a defender) play, an unlikely but marvellous mix of talent with students from overseas (Europe and Africa) and some from the few communities in the U.S. that had decent soccer programs back in the 1960's and 1970's. To me it combines the grace, agility, and quick thinking required for ballet (my first love), creating a vibrant dance that ebbs and flows and only occasionally bursts into successful shots on goal. Anyway, my daughter hated ballet, so here we are. And although I hesitate to point this out, doing my best to maintain some Christian values in a rough-and-tumble sport, the photo I snapped last weekend features a Central New York player edging out a much larger Binghamton player trying to strongarm her out of the way. It seemed kind of fitting somehow, although I'm not sure why. Anyway, it was a sunny, lovely weekend away from the computer.
So, this is a roundabout way of saying that my blogging aspirations may have to sit on the back burner for now. Someday maybe I'll write of my lovely visit to early Sunday mass at an Episcopal church, conveniently located near our hotel for the State Cup tournament weekend. Then there's religion and science and.... but, yes, I promise, NO breastfeeding talk. Until then....
Well, enough natter. Back to work (after being tagged).
Thursday, June 7, 2007
To Believe or Not
The flip side of some of the issues raised in ”Have You Given Up Hope And Reason”, is the notion that Modernism (or whatever one wants to call ideas that emerged in post-World War I Western culture) that questioned conventional belief in and understanding of God, is somehow dangerous, that no one before or since ever doubted God’s presence or love for humankind or bore fruit as a result, and that the same “old familiar Christian words” have at all times in all places have had a single fixed meaning. Instead of trying to understand the context for the questions that arose and the various kinds of provisional answers that emerged in those contexts, some would simply reduce them all to a terrifying specter of non-belief, which somehow is responsible for all the current woes of the world.
The fact of the matter is that both the troubles and the doubts are much the same as those that have been with humankind from the beginning. Every generation has had different ways of dealing with them, different ways of approaching and seeking to understand who or what God is, and different views of how those understandings should shape our individual and communal lives. Each and every one of them have been “wrong” in the sense that none have gotten it all “right.”
How do we ever sort it all out? I don’t think we do, at least not in our time or on our terms. Rather than obsess over who has it “right” or “wrong” and blaming humanity’s woes on those who fail to pass their theological exams, why can’t we keep it simple and focus on hope, charity, and love? God doesn’t need our “belief” to either be or to work wonders in our lives and all of eternity. God will help us believe what we need, as long as we ask and listen. The only true test of belief is embodied in "credo" -- whether we have turned our whole hearts over to God. Once we have that, I don't think God will quibble over our words, since his Word subsumes them all.
The fact of the matter is that both the troubles and the doubts are much the same as those that have been with humankind from the beginning. Every generation has had different ways of dealing with them, different ways of approaching and seeking to understand who or what God is, and different views of how those understandings should shape our individual and communal lives. Each and every one of them have been “wrong” in the sense that none have gotten it all “right.”
How do we ever sort it all out? I don’t think we do, at least not in our time or on our terms. Rather than obsess over who has it “right” or “wrong” and blaming humanity’s woes on those who fail to pass their theological exams, why can’t we keep it simple and focus on hope, charity, and love? God doesn’t need our “belief” to either be or to work wonders in our lives and all of eternity. God will help us believe what we need, as long as we ask and listen. The only true test of belief is embodied in "credo" -- whether we have turned our whole hearts over to God. Once we have that, I don't think God will quibble over our words, since his Word subsumes them all.
We Like Sheep
Episcopal Café recently featured an article entitled "Have You Given Up Hope And Reason", which raises questions about statements made by Rev. Dr. Leslie Fairfield in an interview posted at the Diocese of Pittsburgh website. Dr. Fairfield's remarks generally propound the worn myth that the Episcopal Church is divided into two “camps” – one that believes in the true Triune God and one that does not – rather than the real division between those who want to stay within the Episcopal Church (the majority, which encompasses a wide variety of theological views) and the those who wish to leave (a group apparently united on their views of homosexuality but diverse in most other respects).
Two features, however, were noteworthy. First, as John Chilton pointed out at the Café, was Dr. Fairview’s assault on scientific understandings of certain aspects of human behavior, thoughts, and emotions. I find it fascinating both in the context of the larger debate about religion and science and as an odd fish plopped into the pond of the current troubles within the Episcopal Church. I hope to discuss it further at some later date, but for now, I'd like to simply point out the second thing that struck me in the interview, which was this throwaway line from Dr. Fairfield:
“To sum it up, Modernism uses all the old familiar Christian words, but changes all the meanings. And it neglects to tell the laity.”
What was interesting to me was not the usual charge that They (for Dr. Fairfield, the “Modernists,” who apparently are all those who do not share his theological views) do not “truly” believe in Jesus Christ or a personal God, but rather that They are an “It” who “neglects to tell the laity.”
Bullseye. So the supposed divide between the two opposing “camps” in TEC is clergy- (and bishop) driven and we dumb sheep, the laity, have had the wool pulled over our eyes.
Well, it comes as no surprise that there are theological words being tossed to and fro and that most of the current unpleasantedness has been driven by clergy. However, it is news that at least some of the self-proclaimed righteous think that the heart of the problem is that we in the pews are woefully ignorant of what our clergy and fellow pew-sitters “really” mean when we gather for worship, speak, stand, kneel, and sing all the words of Book of Common Prayer, partake in the Eucharist, meet in Bible study and fellowship, and seek to serve the poor, the sick, and those who are distress. Apparently what people like Dr. Fairfield can see, and we cannot, is that the root cause of the troubles is that our clergy have swallowed Modernist theology hook, line, and sinker in seminary and ever since have been bound and determined to sneak it into our chalice cups, on the sly. It looks, sounds, and feels like the real thing, but, of course, it couldn't possibly be.
Aside from the fact that many of us in the pews have not only critically read some so-called Modernist theologians, but know more than a little about the history of and trends in Western thought, pro and anti-Modern, Post-Modern, etc., the real insult here is what it says about all the clergy who are not joining the charge to leave TEC. Those clergy (no doubt like many of their colleagues in the other "camp"), spend virtually all their time doing the same things – leading traditional worship, visiting the sick, caring for the needy, burying the dead, baptizing, marrying, and pastoring, all the while puzzling over budgets, staff problems (if, in fact, there are any staff to worry about), how to pay the heating bills the next winter, what to do when person A and person B clash, as they have been for the many years they have been in the parish together, etc., etc. Most clergy have also made great sacrifices in deciding to accept a calling to ministry, financial and otherwise, whether it is a first or second “career” for them. They work hard, have little time to relax or care for their own needs, pray, read, and speak the same "old familiar Christian words" day in and day out and do their best to live by them.
So what’s the difference? Some believe it’s imperative to preach and practice that GLBT persons should be fully included in the life of the church and in society in general, and some believe that they cannot share the same church with those who do. As far as I can see, that’s it, give or take different emphases on mission, different worship styles (low, high, contemporary – all of which flavors are practiced by persons on the conservative and liberal sides of the church political spectrum). It goes without saying that this difference has become the fault line in the church, over which deep divisions have and may continue to occur. But it’s got nothing to do with clergy “neglecting” to tell the laity about their seminary training in theology. Nor is it credible that legions of clergy are out serving in parishes just “pretending” to believe in God, secretly crossing their fingers, and not “meaning” any of the words they stand at the altar and say in the name of Jesus Christ, feeding his body and blood to his sheep before them.
Maybe it's time for us sheep to speak up and call off the real wolves who seek to herd and divide us. We are not "pretending." We are not coming to church, working in mission, or sharing in the Eucharist for the sake of the god of Modernism. We believe and we're not going away.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
For Cheryl, John, and Matthew
Funeral held for student killed in car accident
Police: Vehicle in fatal crash exceeded 85 mph
This is the news that currently is gripping our community. Of course it can happen anytime, anywhere teens and cars can be found together. And it often happens around this time of year, now that school is almost over and seniors, in particular, have little to do between AP exams and high school graduation, which does not occur for another three weeks.
What makes this accident most tragic is the fact that it was clearly avoidable. The teens were driving along a rural road and decided to speed up and “hit the bumps” as apparently they had done before. All had seat belts on, but the car went out of control and hit a tree, causing severe head injuries to Cheryl, who died hours later.
We did not know Cheryl or her family, although our son was in her senior class. Nor do we know either of the boys, John, the driver, or Matthew, the other passenger. My son and his friends attended the wake, and many also attended the funeral, held yesterday.
I cannot imagine bearing the grief that Cheryl’s family and friends must be suffering now on these sun-drenched days before all her friends will graduate and most go off to college, as she had planned to do. Their loss must dig deep into their every waking moment.
But my heart also goes out to John and Matthew, who survived and must not only live with the knowledge that they might have prevented the accident, but also must face the anger and bitterness of those who blame them for what happened. Feelings must be running quite high, since at the funeral Cheryl’s pastor warned, “Anger is a poison that kills us if we don't find healthy ways to deal with it. We need to find a way to forgive.”
I’m all for accountability for wrongdoing and the kind of sanctions that establish standards for conduct and deter violations of those standards. But while actions must have their consequences, I cannot help but empathize with the wrongdoers.
In this particular case, I must confess it could have been me. No, I did not drive recklessly as a teen in the sense of speeding or trying to perform stunts. I was the proverbial “good” kid, the kind who studied tirelessly, never skipped a day of school, let my parents know where I was going and when I would be home, worked diligently at part-time and summer jobs, and saved almost all my money for college. But… unknown to most everyone but my close friends, I did drive recklessly in that I, whom my parents trusted, let me take our second car (actually my grandmother’s who had quit driving) just about anywhere I wanted. That meant that I was the one who drove whenever my friends and I went to parties or just drove around the country roads at night while under the influence of one substance or another. The joke was that I drove more carefully and attentively when I was stoned. Some joke.
It didn’t last long – just a couple of seemingly idyllic months after my senior in high school until I came to the conclusion that I had better things to do with my time, and started hanging out with some friends who didn’t drink or smoke. But, needless to say, it has struck me many times over since then, especially now that I have teenagers of my own, how easily I could have ended up like Cheryl or John.
It would be easy to chalk up this behavior as youthful indiscretion, as a brief experiment trying to act and be “cool.” It wasn’t, it just was an early example of one of the many things I’ve done in my life just because I felt like it, because I didn’t think or care enough about the harm that it might cause others.
The sad thing is that I continue to behave that way, at times, even though drinking and driving is not one of them. Like most people, I think of myself as basically being “good” and always wanting to do the right thing. But what an awful trap that can be because it can keep me from seeing ways in which I can and must do better and can keep me from finding love and compassion for those who do not seem to be as “good” as I think I am or try to be.
I weary of the kind of sin-talk I see from time to time on conservative religion forums, the kind of discussion where everyone seems to be bending over backwards to claim that they are more thoroughly and painfully cognizant of their own sinful nature (not to mention humanity’s depravity in general) than others, and that the more one contemplates the blood oozing out of Christ’s wounds, each drop bearing witness to the horrific punishment we all deserve, the better everyone will be. That just seems to me to be a grim way of asserting (and endlessly reasserting) that someone or someones are better than everyone else.
But it is, indeed, true that we are all sinners, that we sin out of both carelessness and design, day in and day out. That realization, however awful, does not leave me in a dark dungeon of despair or self-flagellation. It makes me think with love of Cheryl, John, and Matthew, whom I pray will live on, in heaven and on earth, in grace and humility. We all make mistakes, some with horrific consequences, and none of us is truly better than anyone else. Thank God who forgives, gives us joy as well as sorrow, and helps bring us back, time and time again, into his loving arms.
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