One of Us--a sermon for Ordinary 26B

Rev. Teri Peterson
RCLPC
One of Us
Mark 9.38-50
27 September 2009, Ordinary 26B

John said to him, ‘Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.’ But Jesus said, ‘Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterwards to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us. For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward.
‘If any of you put a stumbling-block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea. If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life maimed than to have two hands and to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire. And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life lame than to have two feet and to be thrown into hell. And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into hell, where their worm never dies, and the fire is never quenched.
‘For everyone will be salted with fire. Salt is good; but if salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.’


I love the disciples, don’t you?—so human, they make it a little easier to be a follower of Jesus even when I don’t understand. Can’t you just imagine their internal monologues?

Really, Jesus? Are you sure?
Do you really want to say these things so close together—they’ll create an incomprehensible reading for Sunday mornings. Couldn’t you be a little more coherent, a little more obvious, a little more helpful? We’re having trouble following your train of thought, and we’ve been hanging out with you for almost a year now. For all the scholars’ talk about keywords—water and fire—that link these three sayings together, we don’t get it. We don’t understand the salt thing—can salt lose its flavor? Is that even possible, does it happen? And cutting? really? you want to encourage cutting? I just don’t think that’s a good idea. Then there’s this whole business of copyright infringement—there’s another guy out there using your brand without permission and without paying any royalties, and you’re just going to let it go on? Worse, you’re going to let it go on AND mess up the phrase we all like so much, which we all know is supposed to say “whoever isn’t with us is against us.” What is this “whoever isn’t against us is with us” nonsense? You know you can’t just let those people talk about you without the right credentials—it’s important to have the framed seminary diploma on the wall before leading a Bible study or teaching a class or praying or preaching or helping people!

We tried to stop him, because he wasn’t one of us.

I mean, he’s a “them.” He’s not one of US…and no way is he qualified. He looks different, comes from outside Galilee, speaks with a funny accent, hasn’t finished school, and is taking our job! We tried to heal that boy yesterday…it didn’t really work out, of course…but then here’s this guy doing it with no problem? That doesn’t seem fair! Plus he’s not wearing the patented disciple sandals, and he’s using our logo without permission!

Whoever isn’t against us is with us.

Wait…does that mean you’re not going to stop him? Does that mean you’re going to allow the watering-down of the power we had in the brand name, the power of our name recognition, the power of our tight-knit group, the power of our elite education, the power of our status as your followers? You’re just going to let it spread like that, opening the boundaries and letting in anybody with gifts for ministry?

We tried to stop him, because he wasn’t one of us.

But you widened the circle and grace crept in, when we weren’t even looking. We were busy trying to preserve our power, our status, our prestige, while you were busy proclaiming the gospel.

We drew a circle that shut him out,
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But you and Love had the wit to win,
You drew a circle that took us all in.*

Well, that wasn’t what we were expecting. We thought we’d be commended for tightening the rules, for keeping the riff-raff out, for saving leadership for the ones we think are ready. We thought this was an exclusive club of followers, complete with matching t-shirts! And now you’re saying that’s not how it is? That anyone can get in, that those who are gifted by the Spirit can teach classes, give testimony, pray for healing, visit the sick, that people who look and act and talk different can still be a part of the body of Christ?

Well, Jesus, we may have to have a talk about this.

And then comes the most incomprehensible part of all—anyone who puts a stumbling block before a little one might as well drown, and any part of your body that causes stumbling should be cut off.

Umm, Jesus? This isn’t quite what we had in mind when we said we needed to talk. We were hoping you would be more clear and less, well, bloody. We just wanted to talk about the problem with the outsiders being let in, the clearly unfit and untested being given leadership roles, the “them” contaminating “us.”

Instead, we got a conversation about the body…it turns out we might not need any help contaminating “us." We know, we know, it’s part of our job as The Best Disciples Ever to help other along on their faith journeys, but we really do like to keep the outsiders out and the insiders in. We like for only the properly educated to teach us and we like the things we’ve always done to continue to be so—after all, we’ve been walking these dusty roads with you for months now! We like the feel, the ethos, the culture of our body, but it could be that sometimes parts of our body lead us down a wrong path, becoming barriers to our experience of grace and boundaries we won’t let grace cross.

When that happens—when negativity, exclusion, and pride are the defining characteristics—it’s time to cut them off. These things come from within, they are part of us, one of US…and these body parts hold us back from what God is calling us to be—salt.

Well, obviously. Salt.

Wait…what? Jesus…couldn’t we just have one thing go like we expect? Just one saying that makes sense, one teaching we can understand, one miracle we can explain?

Okay, we’ll work with you…this time. Salt—a wonderful flavoring and a good preservative. Too little and everything is bland—a little like a group of people who all look, talk, think, and act exactly the same. Too much and everything is bitter—a little like a group of people overcome with negativity, exclusivity, and pride. The right balance—peace within and without—is hard to find, but worth the effort.

And so the circle widens, encompassing ever more people with ever different gifts, bringing new flavors and new ideas and new energy to the body of Christ, until there is no “them”—only us.

May it be so.
Amen.

*apologies to Edward Markam for some artistic license taken with his excellent poem.

the business of church

I have been saying a lot lately that the Church is not a Business. Churches should not be run like businesses--there's a different mindset needed. And the business of the Church is not the same as the business of a Business. Corporations exist to sell stuff and make a profit. The church exists to proclaim good news, to (as John Buchanan put it at the beginning of A New Church for a New World) "keep alive the rumor that there is a God."

The problem, of course, is that most people (churched and unchurched, pastors and elders and deacons and lay people together) live in a world of corporations. We work for businesses, live/buy/sell in/from/to businesses--our whole lives in the West are centered around corporations. So for the church to be different is *really* hard. It's hard when we talk about money. It's hard when we talk about employees. It's hard when we talk about programming. It's hard when we talk about ethos/culture. It's just...well...difficult. To be people of grace, an organization of grace, in the midst of a world that is about producing and advancing and *earning* is hard. It takes a shift in mindset, in values, in vision...

The scripture we are working with for stewardship this year is a little obscure, but is obviously a part of my thinking these days. I think I'm only just beginning to open it, petal by petal..."For in Christ, every one of God's promises is a 'yes.'" (2 Corinthians 1.20a) And we are the body of Christ...

I know

I know I'm a blog slacker. Sorry. Here's what I've been doing....

visiting Taliesin...

visiting the Modern Wing...

visiting Mo Rocca at Wait Wait Don't Tell Me...

Plus teaching Inquirer's Class, Confirmation Class, and Saving Jesus...getting Middle and High School Youth Groups running...preaching and leading worship...caring for people...going to meetings...watching Sicko and contemplating moving to either France or Norway...loving my local public library...petting my kitties...

it's been a busy month.

Out Loud--a sermon for Ordinary 24B

Rev. Teri Peterson
RCLPC
Out Loud
Mark 8.27-38
September 13 2009, Ordinary 24B

Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi; and on the way he asked his disciples, ‘Who do people say that I am?’ And they answered him, ‘John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.’ He asked them, ‘But who do you say that I am?’ Peter answered him, ‘You are the Messiah.’ And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him.
Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, ‘Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.’
He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, ‘If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.’


When Pastor Hani visited us this summer, I was reminded of something I learned while preaching in an Egyptian church a few years ago: In Egypt, “Christian” is just a label on a birth certificate, it doesn’t mean anything about who you really are. Protestant Christians in Egypt call themselves “believers” to distinguish from both the Coptic Orthodox and also from the Egyptian version of nominal cultural Christians, something like the “Christmas and Easter” type. Here it’s a vast percentage of Americans who say they “believe in God” but don’t participate in a community much.

In other words, lots of people say they’re Christians…but, like Peter, would prefer to keep that quiet.

Who do people say that Jesus is? Some say he’s a prophet, some say he’s a teacher, some say he’s a healer, some say he’s a good example.
But forget the gossip, the hearsay…who do YOU say that Jesus is?

It’s not an easy question in 21st century America. There’s a lot of temptation to use those other words—prophet, teacher, healer, example—and see our friends nod their heads in agreement, maybe even in relief that we haven’t turned out to be one of THOSE Christians. But Peter takes a stand, even as the other disciples are all doing the classic Presbyterian look-at-the-ground-avoid-eye-contact-at-all-costs move. Peter looks Jesus right in the eye, then comes out and says it: Jesus is the messiah, the one we have waited for. He makes a classic statement of faith, telling Jesus and all the world what he believes. Or, rather, he tells us what he thinks. He knows, in his mind, that Jesus is the Messiah, the One who is to come, the one who will save us.

But, when Jesus begins to explain what that means…well, let’s just say Peter isn’t thrilled with this turn of events. It’s one thing for Jesus to teach crowds of people to be nice to each other, feed thousands of people with a miracle, heal the sick…it’s a totally different thing for him to go around saying, where people can HEAR, that his brand of lordship looks different than they expected. This is a lord who will be conquered, humiliated, killed, not one who will conquer and humiliate and kill others. This is a lord who will ask us to follow into the depths of despair, need, and pain so we can join him in bringing grace, peace, and love. This is a lord who calls us out of the darkness and into the light.

Lots of people say they’re Christians…but, like Peter, would prefer to keep quiet about what that means for our lives.

Jesus doesn’t keep many things on the down-low—he’s not afraid to say out loud things we would prefer to keep to ourselves. And the thing he says (loudly, I imagine!) to Peter is that saying it with your mouth or thinking it in your head are NOT the same thing as living it every day, in every action, every word, every thought, every relationship, every move.

Who do you say that I am? You are Son of God, Lamb of God, Word of God. King of Kings and Lord of Lords and Prince of Peace. Alpha and Omega, Immanuel, Rabbi. Savior, Messiah, Friend.

Okay, forget all the hearsay, all the gossip, all the words…who does your LIFE say that I am? who does your life say that YOU are?

This is a little harder…words are easy, as Peter discovered. We’ll confess with our mouths and believe in our minds and maybe even in our hearts, and yet we’ll walk past those who hunger; we’ll pollute the waters and not worry about those who are thirsty; we’ll ignore the stranger because they are just too different; we’ll think it’s a pity that some are cold but won’t offer our own coats; we’ll wish all could have health care but let complexity distract us from actually ourselves caring for the sick, we’ll stay away from prisons, not believing that those who have strayed can truly be redeemed…and we’ll try to forget what Jesus said in Matthew 25, that whatever we do to the least, the lost, the last, the lonely, we do to him.

We’re good at the words, at the belief part. But when it comes to putting that belief into action, living our faith, following Jesus wherever he’s leading us, we often have the same reaction as Peter. “Surely, you don’t mean that…and if you do, could you please be quiet about it? It’s very inconvenient, it gives the wrong impression, it isn’t fashionable.”

Many of us say we’re Christians…but, like Peter, we’d prefer to keep that in our heads, inside the church building, in our homes, in the book.




I think this is a little like what happens to Peter—he has all the right answers at first, but when push comes to shove and his lifestyle or his image is on the line, he gets defensive and wants to maintain his brand-name label. But when Jesus tells us what the life of a follower is like, it doesn’t seem to involve having the right answers, reading the right books, praying the right prayer, keeping up the right appearance, or even saying the right name. “follow me.” “stop worrying about what other people think of you.” “give everything away and come.” “take care of others.” “do justice, love kindness, be humble.” “take up your cross and follow me.”

Taking up the cross is not the same thing as wearing one on a silver chain around your neck. Following Jesus is not the same thing as reading about him. Being faithful is not the same as thinking the right things.

There is hard, but good, news for us here. The good news is that everything we have and everything we are is a gift from God, we can’t earn it and we can’t pay for it. That means we can follow freely, unencumbered by the world’s expectations, that we don’t have to know everything or be perfect…all we need to do is follow where Jesus is leading.
The hard news is that everything we have and everything we are is a gift from God, we can’t earn it and we can’t pay for it and we can’t hoard it for ourselves. Jesus may not be leading us where we thought we wanted to go, and what other people think really is important to many of us, so it’s easier to keep it all quiet, confined to an hour on Sunday and maybe a few words of thanks before dinner or before bed. If not joined with our lives, all our words and all our songs say nothing.

Our calling, as we enter a new year of worship, ministry, and mission together, is to sing it out loud with our lives, not only our words, to LIVE our faith every day, to follow, not only believe.

I believe we can live out loud together. May it be so.
Amen.

for your reading pleasure...

...this is one of the best posts in my long Google Reader list of posts made since I went offline yesterday. It's thought provoking and yummy looking all at the same time!

Okay, I'm going offline again so i can go enjoy the Maine sunshine! ta!

gone visiting...

I've gone to see Maine! And at least one bloggy friend and one RL friend. And who knows what else!

back next week. Until then, talk amongst yourselves.

Owning Up--a sermon for Ordinary 19 but using the 18B text...

this is the first draft, aka "the one I had to get out of my system first." Rewrite to come Saturday evening...probably. possibly. maybe. or maybe I won't chicken out and I'll just preach this. or maybe I'll get braver and be more specific. who knows. feedback welcome in the comments.

Rev. Teri Peterson
RCLPC
Owning Up
2 Samuel 11.26-12.13a
August 9 2009, Ordinary 19B (18B text)

When the wife of Uriah heard that her husband was dead, she made lamentation for him. When the mourning was over, David sent and brought her to his house, and she became his wife, and bore him a son.
But the thing that David had done displeased the Lord, and the Lord sent Nathan to David. He came to him, and said to him, ‘There were two men in a certain city, one rich and the other poor. The rich man had very many flocks and herds; but the poor man had nothing but one little ewe lamb, which he had bought. He brought it up, and it grew up with him and with his children; it used to eat of his meager fare, and drink from his cup, and lie in his bosom, and it was like a daughter to him. Now there came a traveler to the rich man, and he was loath to take one of his own flock or herd to prepare for the wayfarer who had come to him, but he took the poor man’s lamb, and prepared that for the guest who had come to him.’
Then David’s anger was greatly kindled against the man. He said to Nathan, ‘As the Lord lives, the man who has done this deserves to die; he shall restore the lamb fourfold, because he did this thing, and because he had no pity.’
Nathan said to David, ‘You are the man! Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel: I anointed you king over Israel, and I rescued you from the hand of Saul; I gave you your master’s house, and your master’s wives into your bosom, and gave you the house of Israel and of Judah and if that had been too little, I would have added as much more. Why have you despised the word of the Lord, to do what is evil his sight? You have struck down Uriah the Hittite with the sword, and have taken his wife to be your wife, and have killed him with the sword of the Ammonites. Now therefore the sword shall never depart from your house, for you have despised me, and have taken the wife of Uriah the Hittite to be your wife. Thus says the Lord: I will raise up trouble against you from within your own house; and I will take your wives before your eyes, and give them to your neighbor, and he shall lie with your wives in the sight of this very sun. For you did it secretly; but I will do this thing before all Israel, and before the sun.’

David said to Nathan, ‘I have sinned against the Lord.’


There aren’t many things I love more than a good story. On my day off you can often find me curled up on my couch with a novel or two…or three or four. All my favorite TV shows and movies are favorites because they do a good job telling a story. I love to listen to a good storyteller. Most of the things I love about church involve people telling their stories and hearing the stories of others. And, in case you were wondering, if I were stranded on a desert island with just one book for the rest of my life, I really would take the Bible, because it has so many different stories told from different perspectives with lots of great character development and some good action scenes too.

The best stories, in my opinion, are ones that make the reader feel a part of the plot, one of the characters—allowing us to get caught up in the narrative, transported to another place, far away from our own everyday lives and stresses. There’s action, there’s conflict, there’s adventure and wonder and fear and hopes and dreams…these are the makings of a great story, whatever media we use to tell it. In these kinds of stories, we get so caught up in what’s happening that we have real emotional responses, like anticipation or love or anxiety or anger. And when the credits roll or we turn the last page, there’s a little sense of loss, like we didn’t want to come back to this world quite yet.

Nathan’s story is a little like this. Nathan, a prophet, is a world-class professional storyteller. His job is to tell the king God’s story and God’s vision of David’s place in that story. It’s actually been going pretty well…until now. Now comes the make-or-break moment in the storytelling prophet’s career: the moment he has to tell a story the king won’t like.

David, you see, is a man who has everything. He has money and a big house and many wives, all the military power, all the good looks, all the charm. He’s the king, after all. But he seems to have forgotten something important: that when God calls a king, that doesn’t mean what you think it means. A king in Israel, a king called to lead God’s community of people, is different. He’s a shepherd, a leader by example, a man of God, not the power, money, and war-mongering monarch of other tribes. And a king in Israel is called and anointed, not born into his position—that’s how David, the youngest of the shepherd boys, got the job in the first place!

But all that is forgotten when he actually gets the power and the money. Gone is the man who once refused to take land for free, though he could since he was the king, because he refused to offer God offerings that cost nothing. In his place is the man who sees, wants, and takes. He saw Bathsheba bathing. He wanted her. He took her. When it looked like her husband would find out, he tried to trick Uriah into taking his wife back, but Uriah was an honorable man who refused to leave his army in the field alone while he enjoyed the comforts of home. Since that didn’t work, David had him killed, and now Bathsheba is another wife in David’s harem. See, want, take. That’s how it works when you have the title, the power, the money, the right skin color, the right gender, the right job.

Enter Nathan and his story, a story of the haves stealing from the have-nots, a story of extreme inhospitality, a story of injustice. Everything about us wants to scream, with David, that this is NOT FAIR!!! How could the man who had everything at his disposal take away the one thing that the other man had, the one thing that made him happy, the one thing that gave him comfort? How could the rich steal from the poor? How could the traveler and the neighbors stand by and allow this? It’s a story that we get caught up in, a story that tugs at our heartstrings and then rips them apart, a story we want to end differently. Why did this have to happen? What kind of person would do such a thing?

Oh.

And suddenly it’s not just David’s story, it’s not just a story of a king misusing his power or misunderstanding his role…it’s our story.

YOU are the one who did this.

The prophet speaks directly to us, to all of us together, as a nation, as a culture, as The Church, as a congregation.

YOU are the one.

The prophet speaks directly to us, to each of us individually, to me and to you.

YOU are the one.

The one with the power and the resources. The one who took from others what you had already at your disposal, because it was convenient. The one who stood by and ignored the injustice going on next door. The one who used someone else for your own ends.

You are the one.

No one likes to be confronted with sentences like that. No one wants to hear the follow up either, where God says to us, “I gave you life, I gave you resources, I gave you air and earth and water and family and friends and love and so much more…and yet you despise me, you squander my gifts, you hoard them for yourself, you close your eyes and ears to the cries of my people that you are supposed to care for. And you do it in secret, behind closed doors, when no one can see, when you think it doesn’t make a difference, that you can’t do anything differently than the people around you, that it’s not your responsibility.”

I don’t know about you, but I’m cringing inside even as I say these things, because I hear the words spoken to me. I have said that things are not my problem, not my responsibility, too big for me to do anything about. I have despised the gifts God has given me, using them in ways that hurt rather than heal. I have neglected to even remember that everything I have is a gift from God, instead choosing to hold on so tightly you couldn’t pry things out of my hands or heart or mind—they’re MINE!

YOU are the one, God says to me, and to you, and to all of us together.

Then God says, “You do these things in secret, but I will bring them into the open.” And David said, “I have sinned against the Lord.”

He confessed. He brought these things out into the open himself. He owned up. He said, “I messed up. I did wrong. I distorted your image.”

Well…this is a lot harder for us than it seemed to be for David. We have a prayer of confession each week in worship, where we say here, in public, that we haven’t lived up to the vision God has for us as individuals or as a community. But when we get into specifics, like uneven distributions of power and wealth and resources, or our complicity in injustice, or the part we play in maintaining a status quo that serves us but not our neighbors, then we shy away. We get defensive. We remind each other that we can’t solve the problem or that we aren’t really as privileged and powerful as we might look. What we need is to confess, out loud, out in the open, that we have done things we ought not to have done, we have left undone things we ought to have done, we have been complicit in wrong.

When Nathan spoke truth to power, David’s response was, at first, simple: “I have sinned.”. Perhaps, instead of being defensive or passing the buck or sitting back thinking we can’t do anything, we too should start by recognizing the problem. We, in our choices, in our lives, in our speech, in our action, participate in injustice.

This is an uncomfortable topic for us. No one likes to be the one speaking truth to power or the one hearing it as truth spoken in love. We prefer to think of how Jesus died and rose again so we are free from sin…but reality is that we still do wrong things, we hurt people and ourselves and God’s creation, left in our care. We drive past injustice and avert our eyes, we take from those who have little to feed our own appetites, we neglect to show hospitality.

I don’t know a better story than the one Nathan told—maybe I could update it for the 21st century, but the ending would be the same…

We are the ones.

The good news is that healing begins when we own up, when we confess, when we bring things into the open so God’s light can shine in. May we be as courageous as Nathan and David.

Amen.

Friday Five: hobbies and (gasp!) sports...

I haven't played the Friday Five in a long time, but since the sermon fairy is still MIA...

1. Is there a sport/ hobby that is more of a passion than a past-time for you?

reading. napping. sitting around. I love these things...and could do them all day for weeks if I were allowed.

To say that I am NOT sporty would be the understatement of both this and the last century. I have recently tried out ballet...I wouldn't call that a success though I'm not quite giving up yet. I practice yoga. I do indoor rock climbing sometimes. None of those are passions, though, they're definitely run-of-the-mill hobbies. Ditto walking (for exercise or to go places). Otherwise, it's all about the reading and napping and thinking. :-)

2. Outdoors or indoors?

INDOORS!!! I like the outside...and I like it to be outside. I can look at it from a window, or go out for short periods for some fresh air and sunshine, but mostly I like things I can do inside. No bugs, easier to control the temperature, comfy furniture, my kitties...plus it's easier to read inside. No need for sunglasses, no glare off the pages, no chance of getting a sunburn (which takes me about 8 minutes).

I do keep my windows and sliding glass doors open pretty much any time the temperature is above 60--does that count at all?

3. Where do you find peace and quiet?

Unless the weather is changing (causing the cats to go crazy!), inside my house. It's a pretty quiet place since I have no TV channels, no radio reception, and no other human beings who live here. I love to sit/lay on my couch or in my bed and just hang out.

4. A competitive spirit; good or bad, discuss...

Depends. I certainly have one, that's for sure. Don't ask my friends about my board game strategies...let's just say they involve WINNING, or else. ;-)

5. Is there a song a picture or a poem that sums up your passion ?

I don't know if this counts, but I have this canvas bag (I use it for groceries!) that says on the side: "books. cats. life is good." that pretty well sums it up!

what is a spiritual practice?

Some of you may know that my friend Amy and I have been researching and working and are now finally getting around to writing some stuff for a new book on spirituality for a new generation/young adults. It's very fun to work on, even if it does mean sucking up all my procrastinating tendencies and actually doing stuff.

Well, recently (thanks to reverendmother) I stumbled upon a blog series at Godspace called "what is a spiritual practice?" Lots of different people are contributing essays on spiritual practices, including things like driving, washing the dishes, and yoga. So I thought I'd see if I could excerpt a bit of what I've been working on and send that in...

and here it is! An excerpt of a chapter titled "Between the Sheets" from a book with a title so tentative I'm not going to tell it to you right now...but don't worry, it's awesome.

Be sure to check out the other essays in this series too--they are really good!

how did this happen?

How did it get to be August when the vast majority of things I need to do this summer are still undone?

Things to do, in no particular order...

* watch the Saving Jesus dvd curriculum and decide if I want to use it. If not, find something else.

* get serious about lesson plans for this year's confirmation class. Granted, it's the same curriculum as two previous classes, but every class is different and this one will be no exception! Gotta at least plan a month or two to get my other adult teachers on board.

* finish the 4 books I'm reading and get started on the next 4 on the stack.

* visit elsa in maine! I've never been to Maine, so I'm very excited about this. I'm also very excited about seeing Elsa's new house, and maybe meeting Songbird, and maybe having better weather than here, and maybe relaxing for even a few minutes! yay elsa!

* clean my house before going to Maine, and set up a cat-sitter for that 5 days.

* preach this Sunday on last Sunday's David and Nathan text.

* youth group planning. for two groups.

* initiation planning--in the final stages now, but still with tons to do!

* get all the annual medical stuff out of the way BEFORE the program year starts. Ditto car stuff and cat vet stuff. I think Andrew has the same thing Ollie has--he has been suspiciously sneezing the last few days.

* make a schedule for Sunday adult ed, including the spiritual gifts class (taught by someone else) and the Inquirer's Class (taught by me, somehow).

* figure out a dream budget for the ministries I'm "in charge" of and also a practical one.

* dream up ways to help people in the church understand giving/stewardship as a spiritual and whole life issue, not a pledge-card-in-October issue.

* find more youth leaders.

* talk with the confirmation mentors RE their responsibilities and the schedule for classes.

* desperately attempt to actually EAT the stuff that comes in my CSA box and not be seduced by macaroni and cheese.

* figure out the possibilities of yoga, pilates, and ballet classes in the fall. (yes, I'm thinking of doing it again, hopefully better this time!)

* pray, a lot, for the PNC and the candidate who is perfect for us, who must be out there somewhere!

* visit people.

* write.

* catch up on months and months worth of magazines I'm behind on (including, but not limited to: Presbyterians Today, the Christian Century, the Outlook, Group Magazine).

* sleep.

yeah. I'm pretty sure this is going to be a busy month...with a great break in the middle!

so exciting!!

Exciting news from the San Diego Zoo!!

leadership

I know this has been written about before, and better, but I'm thinking about it again now.

You know how when women act like men, they're called bitchy? Despite how progressive we think we are and how much we deny latent sexism of any kind, this still happens (I know, shocking, right?). Authoritative leadership by a man is authoritarian when done by a woman. Conversely, consensus-building type leadership (women-style) is weak when done by a man.

So, let me get this straight...pastors, who are members of session, are supposed to lead when they are men (they may be talked about as "always got his own way"--but not until after they leave!), but follow when they are women (or risk being told they are too pushy/directional/overbearing... to their faces).

As a pastor who has leadership gifts, I'm not okay with that. My leadership style combines the stereotypical masculine and feminine types, and flows pretty freely along that continuum. And I want to exercise my leadership gifts...and I don't want to be forced to do that in just one way.

There's a difference, of course, between exercising leadership in a particular context and being boxed in to a particular style...I like the first. Not the second.

that's all.

i know, I know

sorry. lots of unbloggables lately--and lots of stuff going on in general that just keeps me away from blogger, even though it's right there, smack in the center of my bookmark bar, mocking me.

so, in no particular order, some things.

* I love curly girl design.

* I love sunny days. I wish we had more of them.

* I love kale.

* I love hanging out with friends.

* I love pajama days.

* I love battlestar galactica. (season 4/4.5 are ahead! Yay for Amazon and good friends.)

* I love my kitties. I spent several minutes on Saturday afternoon taking funny cell phone pictures of Ollie trying to get milk out of a tall glass--when sticking her head in didn't work, she stuck her paw in (almost her whole leg was in the glass!) repeatedly and licked the milk off her paw. ha!

* I love sleeping in.

* I love inserting random Eddie Izzard quotes into everyday conversation and seeing if people notice.

* I love driving along with the windows down and the Indigo Girls blaring.

* I love reading books. I'm reading 4 books right now. I'll let you know if I finish any of them. And no, those 4 don't include books I'm reading/reviewing/thinking about for church. And none of them are the planned re-read of Harry Potter either. That can't start until I finish all 4 of these books.

* I love the idea of DVD based curriculum for adult education. I don't know if I'll love the practice, but I love the idea. Mainly because it sounds like less work for me along with better substance for the class. But we'll see, when said curriculum arrives, what I think after reviewing it.

* I love taking walks (you know, for exercise) between the farmer's market and Jenapea's.

that seems like enough for now...enough to make me happy, give me a little attitude adjustment, and get me ready for bed!!

and so I asked myself...

...do I have anything to blog about today?

let's see, some random dots of randomness:

* i watched last night's fireworks display from my bed--it was clearly visible just over the house across the street. cool.

* Ollie is sneezing again in spite of the medicine...but I'm hoping that continued regular dosing (hard sometimes given my crazy work schedule) will make it go away.

* Andrew is just as furry as ever. and just as determined to lick my face when he's hungry, even if it is 2am. or 6am. or any other time when I'd prefer to be sleeping.

* it's sunny outside again.

* Yesterday's children's time was very long because I lost my train of thought and was unable to regain it even with repeating myself. Had no idea where I was going at all, even though I had carefully thought out the plan ahead of time. Awesome.

* I really need to stay on top of the whole dishes thing, but I just don't like to do dishes, and so I don't. They pile up in the sink until I need more bowls, then everything goes into the dishwasher overnight (off peak electricity time!).

* I am trying to figure out an opening for my "between the sheets" chapter in the spirituality for young adults book Amy and I are working on. (the chapter is about sleep as a spiritual practice--get your minds out of the gutter, sillies!) Once I have the opening, I think the whole thing will flow, but I obviously haven't found that opening yet because it's all still in my head.

* we are doing Sunday morning Taize soon (in two weeks, I think) and that's so fun and exciting and I get to put it all together today! woohoo!

* speaking of today, I guess I should get a shower and get my act together, eh? time to get moving...

woohoo!

the RCLPC Church Information Form is finally up! It's so exciting, I can barely contain myself!

new experiences

I like to have new experiences. I'm interested in learning things, going places, meeting people, trying stuff out.

So, this summer, I thought I'd try a new experience, something I've always wanted to do but never have...I signed up for an adult ballet class.

I'll wait while my family members recover from snickering.

So this class, I thought, would be full of people who, like me, were beginners but didn't want to try to take a class with 3 year olds. Or at least people who were dancing for fun, not for a career. And maybe some exercise would happen, and I'd learn some basics, and maybe then I'd be brave enough to try out the adult class that happens at my local ballet studio during the regular school year.

This class is at a convenient time for me--Tuesday evenings. It didn't take much trouble to clear my Tuesdays, since my small group doesn't normally meet in the summer and we don't have Taize in the summer (normally those two things take up 3 of the 4 Tuesdays in any given month). It's only an hour and a half, for six weeks, for a mere 82 dollars. So I did it--I took the plunge and signed up for all 6 classes, I bought ballet shoes, and I went to class.

Last week was okay...not great, but it was my first time ever and I didn't understand most things but I could try them and I'm flexible and I generally think of myself as a fast learner so it was fine. A little of my enthusiasm waned when I discovered that there were professional dancers (and other advanced students) augmenting their workouts in this class, and that I was the only true beginner, plus maybe 3 or 4 others who were relative newbies. But I made it.

Yesterday, not so much. An hour into the class, I literally broke down and cried. That's right, I, an adult person, cried in ballet class because it was so overwhelming.

I'll freely admit that I brought a lot of stuff into class with me yesterday--I was tired, there's been lots of stress at work, etc--and that definitely played into this, but the pace and difficulty of the class were a part of it too. I stood there in the studio with 30 other people twirling and leaping around me and felt as though I am not good at anything--not my job, not friendships, not relationships, not ballet.

I know that's not true, but there you have it--ballet was the last straw.

On further reflection, I think the issue is that I've never not been good at something I *wanted* to do. The only other times I remember being really, obviously not good at something were softball (the summer after 8th grade--I don't think I've ever been so miserable) and calculus (junior year of HS, but I was taking my classes at the college by then so it was a college class).

Softball was something mom made me do, and I begged to be able to quit but was lectured about commitment, and I stuck it out even though I was terrible. I think my batting average was somewhere around .066. I was an okay pitcher, but if people hit the ball back at me, I would duck. I would rather have been reading in my room or even practicing the clarinet! PLUS, to add insult to injury, the uniforms were bright yellow and black. we looked like bumblebees.

Calculus was a class in school, something you did because it was part of schooling. And after I figured out that I really wasn't good at it (I failed a 3-question test with a 30%. That's right, I didn't even get one whole question correct) though I'd been good at basically every other class I'd ever taken, I worked harder and ended up with an A anyway.

But ballet--this is something I personally wanted and looked forward to. I intend to stick it out--4 more weeks to go--but at the moment it feels really hard and scary and overwhelming and also like something I will never be good at. Add that to some of the vibe from church right now and we have a recipe for staying home and eating mashed potatoes all summer, because if nothing else I can make mashed potatoes, darn it, and I AM good at that, I swear.

I'm thinking that for next summer's try-something-new experience I'll look into either horseback riding lessons (horses pretty much terrify me) or maybe a new language. Or maybe I'll stay home and read more books--I already know I'm good at that....

Fools Rush In--a sermon for Ordinary 13B

Rev. Teri Peterson
RCLPC
Fools Rush In
Mark 5.21-43
June 28 2009, Ordinary 13B

When Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered round him; and he was by the lake. Then one of the leaders of the synagogue named Jairus came and, when he saw him, fell at his feet and begged him repeatedly, ‘My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.’ So he went with him.
And a large crowd followed him and pressed in on him. Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse. She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, for she said, ‘If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well.’ Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, ‘Who touched my clothes?’ And his disciples said to him, ‘You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, “Who touched me?” ’ He looked all round to see who had done it. But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. He said to her, ‘Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.’
While he was still speaking, some people came from the leader’s house to say, ‘Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?’ But overhearing what they said, Jesus said to the leader of the synagogue, ‘Do not fear, only believe.’ He allowed no one to follow him except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James. When they came to the house of the leader of the synagogue, he saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. When he had entered, he said to them, ‘Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping.’ And they laughed at him. Then he put them all outside, and took the child’s father and mother and those who were with him, and went in where the child was. He took her by the hand and said to her, ‘Talitha cum’, which means, ‘Little girl, get up!’ And immediately the girl got up and began to walk about (she was twelve years of age). At this they were overcome with amazement. He strictly ordered them that no one should know this, and told them to give her something to eat.


When I was in high school, my best friend Rachel was also the daughter of our high school band director. Rachel and I were pretty well-grounded girls—we were into classical music and books, mostly, and we stayed out of trouble without really trying. Nonetheless, we still were well acquainted with a look Rachel’s dad could give very well, and which we called the “you are such an idiot” look. It came over his face with only a moment’s notice whenever we asked a dumb question, said something bizarre, or showed ourselves for the naïve 16 year olds we were. In the more than 10 years since I last saw Rachel’s dad give me that look, I’ve seen it on countless other faces, and I’ve probably given it myself without even realizing. I’ve seen the look on the faces of those who heard I wanted to be a professional musician, those who heard I thought I might be called to ministry, those who heard I was planning to move to the Middle East. I’ve seen the look on the faces of professors, friends, and colleagues when I’ve said something ridiculous or showed my idealistic side, daring to dream that the church and the world could be different than they are today. I’m sure I’ve given the look in similar situations, as well as when I’ve seen or heard someone do or say something that betrays their lack of common sense.

It’s also the look I imagine Jesus got a lot, especially in this story. I picture Peter and the other disciples with Rachel’s dad’s face when Jesus, in the midst of a huge Taste-of-Chicago-sized crowd, pushing and pulling and jostling for position, has the audacity to ask, “who touched me?” I mean, really, Jesus…you see the size of the crowd, you feel the people all around us, you see us being swept along rather than moving on our own—how can you possibly ask, “who touched me?”

But Jesus does ask, and he keeps asking, and he keeps turning around and looking, looking for the outcast, for the unclean, for the woman, for the one who is shunned and looked at with disgust and outrage. And when he finds her, after looking as if for a needle in a haystack, after repeatedly asking the same apparently stupid question, he changes everything in her world. No longer is she an outcast, no longer is she unclean, no longer is she shunned—he calls her “daughter” and reaches out to her, there on the margins of society, there in the land of no health insurance during a catastrophic illness, there in the invisible space where people we don’t want to see often live.

Doesn’t sound like such a stupid question anymore, does it? While the disciples, and the crowd, and the whole society—even including the church—said “why bother?” Jesus was looking, and asking, and doing something to meet a need. Sure, that need seems small if you’re the disciples, and outrageous if you’re the crowd, but it literally meant life for that woman.

Almost as soon as the look gets wiped off the disciples’ faces, servants come from Jairus’ house with bad news…and we see the look again as Jesus sets off in the direction of this house once more. Why bother, Jesus? Why bother when the girl is no longer sick, but dead? Why waste your time on an insurmountable problem? You’re being silly, Jesus—you can’t do anything, this is too big even for you.

But Jesus goes anyway.

When he arrives, he finds the professional mourners wailing and the family and neighbors sobbing—and when he says he’s going in, the incredulous look returns, this time with derisive laughter. You’ve moved beyond silly, Jesus—this is the full blown look now, complete with disbelieving raised eyebrows.

But Jesus goes in anyway. He walks right into the house made unclean by death, right into the midst of a family’s pain, right into a hopeless situation. He takes the hand of a little girl, worthless in the eyes of society, a piece of property to be married off in order to increase her family’s wealth and standing, a ritually unclean nothing in the house of a church leader. And in that one impossible moment, Jesus looks at the insurmountable task and he DOES SOMETHING. He takes a step, he makes a small movement, and manages the unbelievable. The girl gets up and walks around as though she’s just woken from an afternoon nap, Jesus orders her a snack, and everyone is amazed.

Gone is the apathy everyone felt in the face of a problem larger than they can imagine. Gone is the paralysis that comes from overanalyzing a situation. In its place, amazement.

I think initially that amazement was about the fact that Jesus raised a girl from the dead. But after that shock wore off, I bet people were amazed about something else entirely. Sure, it’s exciting and unreal that the girl was alive after being dead, and that the woman was healed after all the money and time spent. But it’s even more amazing that Jesus got into it at all. I mean, the crowd was overwhelming, the girl was dead…what’s the point of even trying?

How often do we hear these words? I know I hear them a lot, usually in the same sentence as I’m accused of naïve idealism as though having ideals is a bad thing. There’s so much wrong in the world, there’s so much violence, poverty is so overwhelming, hunger is so prevalent, disease is so uncontainable, what’s the point in even trying? I can’t fix the problem by myself, we together probably can’t even fix it, and even if the whole country and all our politicians were united on one thing, there’d still be other things. Why not just walk on by, since we can’t help every person who lives on the street? Why not walk on by, since we can’t feed every child suffering from hunger? Why bother at all when the crowd is so thick we can barely walk and when the girl is already dead?

But that’s not the Jesus way, and not the way of those of us Jesus calls to follow him, either. Jesus never asked, “why bother?” He looked. He went. He asked. He did something—anything to help even a little. When he sent disciples out two by two, he didn’t say, “if you can’t heal everyone, then just keep walking.” He told them to do what they could, to keep their eyes and ears and hearts open, to look and ask and go, to DO SOMETHING.

I spent the past three weeks at the Presbyterian conference center in Montreat, North Carolina. One of those weeks, I went to a workshop where we talked about gospel foolishness—that what we do in following Jesus, in proclaiming the gospel with our words and our lives, is foolish, stupid, deserving of the “you are such an idiot” look. No logical person would do this—it’s insane. The things we claim, the person we try to follow, the action we’re called to—it’s all ridiculous, and also ridiculously important. And then, when the youth arrived, we spent a week learning about the World on Fire—both in bad ways, like poverty and climate change and violence, and in good ways, with the fire of Pentecost, the fire of disciples, the fire of love. That week we talked about fighting fire with fire, which sounds ridiculous and foolish and wonderful all at the same time. The keynote speaker said one day that we are called to do SOMETHING, anything, really, not later "when we're ready," but NOW. We pray “thy kingdom come,” and now it’s time to realize that we are part of that coming, part of building God’s kingdom—that our living and our DOING is also our praying. In everything we are and everything we do, we dare to dream that the church and the world can be different, and that we can make that difference, even with our own two hands.

In that spirit, I invite you to finish the sermon with me, claiming our foolishness and our willingness to rush in where God has called us.
We believe in a with-us God
who sits down in our midst to share our humanity.
We affirm a faith that takes us beyond the safe place:
into action, into vulnerability, and into the streets.
We commit ourselves to work for change
and put ourselves on the line;
to bear responsibility, take risks,
live powerfully and face humiliation;
to stand with those on the edge;
to choose life and be used by the Spirit
for God’s new community of hope.
May it be so. Amen. *

*from the iona abbey worship book

home

I got home Saturday night. Still recovering from a week at the youth conference, spent being both the back-home group leader AND a small group leader. Preaching this coming Sunday. Hoping to have head above water any day now....

apparently I lied

I am not being a good blogger while I'm gone either.  Not sitting in front of a computer all day, and not having regular internet access (have to go either to the Assembly in lobby or the Dripolator coffee shop) are both putting a damper on my general internet activities.  Instead, I've been having a grand time at a great conference (one of the best I've been to, actually, so y'all check out the Proclaiming the Text conference at Montreat!), developing my preacher crush (Otis Moss III), hiking/walking, meeting new people, reconnecting with old friends, learning stuff, reading books...you know, the stuff we do when there's no internet.  Imagine that.

Monday begins the next conference (Alt7)...I hope to upload some photos before then so I can start fresh with my camera's memory card!

lame

I'm a lame blogger. sorry.

here's a fast recap:  spiritual gifts series (in sermon and in adult ed) was good--learned some interesting things with some interesting people!  pentecost was totally awesome with a children's time that featured helium balloons tied to wrists as a reminder that we can fly hi when filled with the breath of God, and also of what dancing tongues of fire must have looked like.  The balloons danced all through the service and made me so happy.  then work work work work work trying to get ready to leave for three weeks.  I'm headed to a preaching conference, then the Alt7 (for PCUSA clergy under 40)--both at Montreat--and then my youth (led/driven by four fabulous adults) will come down for the youth conference (also at Montreat) and then we'll all drive back together!  I've been trying to get everything ready so those fabulous adults have everything prepared for them, but that's harder than you might think.  I've also been trying to get everything ready just to be gone for so long--at my house, the office, etc.  And, of course, there's tons going on at church between the Covenant Network explorations, the end of the year, the Bible Bowl (which was today and was SUPER FUN), the PNC getting ready to finish the CIF (which means they can start looking for a new pastor soon!), and other fun.  Good times.  My kitties are going to be mad, but they'll (hopefully) get over it as usual about 10 minutes after I get home.  :-)

I should in be in bed, as I have to leave in a little over 8 hours.  But instead I'm still cleaning up the kitchen, wishing I'd vacuumed, and packing.  I did all the laundry, I even bought new clothes (or new-t0-me clothes, some of them, from my fave consignment shop!)...but everything is sitting in neat piles next to the suitcase.  Perhaps I should get on with that.  

Do you think I can justify 6 pairs of shoes for 3 weeks?  ;-)

In theory I can blog while I'm gone.  Maybe I'll try extra hard, complete with pictures from the mountains...