better

Today was better.  Yesterday's meltdown seems to be over (for now) and I've solidified once again into something resembling a human being, and maybe even resembling a pastor.  I think some of the problem was overstimulated extrovert (which doesn't happen often, but when it does, it's not pretty....at least it's over quickly).  That was resolved by lots of sleeping in and taking walks instead of going to the gym, along with only going to church for the afternoon/evening blocks instead of part of the morning block too.  (yesterday that was unplanned, but on Thursdays I don't go in until 1 anyway.  And yet I still work 8 hours.  How is that normal?)

Total hours spent in the church building this week (Sun-Thurs):  51.  I haven't been keeping track of how many I've worked at home (answering emails, looking up worship resources for World Communion Sunday, etc).  I don't know how many hours I'm supposed to work in a week (I'm sure that's in writing somewhere...bwahahahahah!) but I'm pretty sure it's not more than 50.  I do know that 51 was the average I was working when I was meeting with my therapist though, too (I stopped going last winter), so I suspect this is normal for me.  I'm not convinced that I like it, or that I'm helping to model good boundaries or time stewardship, but at least I know that this week's work wasn't more than it has been.  Now, the no-days-off-last-week (not even Saturday) thing was no good, and probably contributed, but...what do you do when there's stuff going on and you need to participate? (answer:  take more days off the next week, dork!!  It's not like you're (read: I'm) indispensable.  Get over it.)

So anyway, thanks for all the well wishes and helpful words.  Y'all are awesome.  And special thanks to Cecily who retrieved me from work and made me eat two rootbeer floats at a park this afternoon.  :-)

Now I'm still mulling over world communion sunday...and tomorrow I'll be mulling at an international restaurant (yummy!!) and at Whole Paycheck where I'll be stocking up for the debate-or-no-debate party.  :-)

I'll try for some kind of deep thoughts...tomorrow.  Probably about time, but we'll see...

when fiction and real life meet

You know the young(est?) sister in the Secret Life of Bees?  The one who has a rock wall stuffed with all the prayers for all the world, the one who is particularly affected by suffering/tragedy/heartbreak/sadness/illness, even when it's just on the news or far far away?  (yes, the one who kills herself...leave that part out for now)

I feel sort of like her today.  Every little thing sends me into a meltdown.  Tourists still held hostage in Egypt.  people losing their homes.  hungry children.  magazines with women pastors on the cover pulled from LifeWay bookstores.  I mean, seriously.

But I'm not going to walk into the river, so don't worry.  And hopefully I won't end up crazy like when Buffy could hear the thoughts (and therefore the pain) of everyone around her...

more whelmed than I want...

I'm in that place of feeling overwhelmed--there is so much to do, so much going on, so many people to care about, and so little time to process.  In 3 days this week I've already worked 34 hours, and I still have two more days (long ones, too) to go.  There are many more people who need things ($$, gas cards, prayer, more prayer, classes, worship, meetings, more prayer, someone to talk to, etc etc etc) than I can handle on my own. I'm going on week 2 of headaches, though last week's was weird and very specific, and this week is cluster headaches around my right eye, so I doubt they are related.  I had a horrible dream this morning (all I'll say is this:  it wasn't a vegetarian friendly dream, it happened at church (weirdly), and my mom was in it.).  I miss my friends and am having one of those days when being single and living alone sucks.  I miss my mom today but can't figure out why today more than any other day.  I'm tired and I don't want to teach a class on predestination tonight, I don't want to argue about heaven and hell, I don't want to do anything except sit on my couch and cry and then pet my kitties.  My house has been taken over by fruit flies because I apparently had bananas that I forgot about in the fruit bowl (and which got covered up by a piece of foil so I couldn't see them) and I don't even have time to clean my house or deal with this problem.  

I, apparently, just want to whine and complain.  I haven't had a day where I've felt like this is a really long time.  Whine and complain, sure...I'm a pro...but crying and wanting a roommate and a housecleaner and more cats and a vacation, all at the same time?  unusual.

Obviously I need a nap, but instead I'm going to work now....sorry for inflicting my breakdown and my neuroses on you all.

a little fun

in the midst of all the craziness of my life, this makes me happy. I watch the pandas several times every day, for a few minutes at a time.  It's like enjoying creation without going outside!  Plus pandas are cute and cuddly and funny.  Hopefully I'll get to visit in person at christmas time!  until then, watch away...

Whiners to Bakers--a sermon for Ordinary 25A

Rev. Teri Peterson
RCLPC
Whiners to Bakers
Exodus 16.2-15
September 21 2008, Ordinary 25A

The whole congregation of the Israelites complained against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness. The Israelites said to them, ‘If only we had died by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread; for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.’
Then the Lord said to Moses, ‘I am going to rain bread from heaven for you, and each day the people shall go out and gather enough for that day. In that way I will test them, whether they will follow my instruction or not. On the sixth day, when they prepare what they bring in, it will be twice as much as they gather on other days.’ So Moses and Aaron said to all the Israelites, ‘In the evening you shall know that it was the Lord who brought you out of the land of Egypt, and in the morning you shall see the glory of the Lord, because he has heard your complaining against the Lord. For what are we, that you complain against us?’ And Moses said, ‘When the Lord gives you meat to eat in the evening and your fill of bread in the morning, because the Lord has heard the complaining that you utter against him—what are we? Your complaining is not against us but against the Lord.’
Then Moses said to Aaron, ‘Say to the whole congregation of the Israelites, “Draw near to the Lord, for he has heard your complaining.” ’ And as Aaron spoke to the whole congregation of the Israelites, they looked towards the wilderness, and the glory of the Lord appeared in the cloud. The Lord spoke to Moses and said, ‘I have heard the complaining of the Israelites; say to them, “At twilight you shall eat meat, and in the morning you shall have your fill of bread; then you shall know that I am the Lord your God.” ’
In the evening quails came up and covered the camp; and in the morning there was a layer of dew around the camp. When the layer of dew lifted, there on the surface of the wilderness was a fine flaky substance, as fine as frost on the ground. When the Israelites saw it, they said to one another, ‘What is it?’ For they did not know what it was. Moses said to them, ‘It is the bread that the Lord has given you to eat.’


Does anyone here ever wish they could go back in time? Anyone remember the good old days, when things were simpler, better, golden? What were those days like?

I once went to a retreat where the speaker used the acronym “BITD” instead of saying the whole phrase: “Back In The Day.” After a while, someone shouted “I think it was a Wednesday!” as a way of reminding us that “back in the day” doesn’t really exist—it’s idealized in our memory as a time better than now, a time when we knew what to do, a time we have successfully navigated and survived. Using phrases like “back in the day” or “back in the good old days” or even “when I was your age” (as in “When I was your age, television was called books!”) is a way for us to escape into a time and place that we already know how to handle.

Interestingly, the Israelites have only been out in the wilderness six weeks when they start living in the past. In that six weeks they’ve sung songs to God, praised and thanked God for delivering them, seen God turn water from polluted to potable, and camped at an abundant oasis filled with springs and palm trees. But now, a day into the desert, they’re hungry and cranky and they’ve figured out that they don’t know where they’re going or how they’ll get there or how long it will take or even where they are exactly. And there’s no established religion or government, no social safety net, and apparently no leftovers from the camping trip. So they start complaining, beginning with “if only we had died in Egypt where we sat around and ate as much as we wanted!”

Now, I don’t know if you remember what the Israelite people were doing in Egypt, but it goes something like this. Gather straw. Carry water. Make bricks out of mud and straw. Build cities you won’t live in using these crumbly bricks. Work longer hours because straw is hard to find. Pay taxes. Get paid very little. Worry that your children are going to be thrown into the Nile while you’re at work. repeat. That’s what the Israelites are looking back on with such fondness—being slaves of Pharaoh, captive to his every whim for a new city or a new palace or more food. Everything they had was provided by Pharaoh, and that’s not much: no days off, no straw, no safety for their families. And yet, when they’re hungry for one day out in the desert, “I want to be back in Egypt, like in the good old days!”

To Moses and Aaron, who worked so hard to get the people out of Egypt, this sounds suspiciously like whining—as in, “would you like some cheese with your whine?” But God listens—even to the whining. God says, “they’re right—I brought them out, I promised to be their God, and that means providing for them.” So Moses and Aaron tell the people that “in the evening you shall know…and in the morning you shall see” who God is and what God is like. But even before then, the people look at the edge of the camp and they see the glory of the Lord settle into the pillar of cloud that has been leading them…and then here come quails strolling into the camp just in time for dinner! The song we sang earlier from Taize was practically made for this moment—“look to God, do not be afraid, lift up your voices, the Lord is near!” The Lord is indeed near, and listening when the people lift up their voices.

After the glory and the quail, we might think things are going pretty well, but God has more in store. The Israelites wake up to find the first ever Sinai snow day! The ground is covered in a fine flaky substance they don’t recognize, and they ask around... “What is it?” The Hebrew word for “what is it” is manna. The stuff they discover is bread from heaven is named not by its appearance or its function or its taste, but with a question: what is it? It is provided by the Lord, for you. According to the rest of the story, they go out to gather and no matter how much they picked up, everyone had exactly the amount they needed for their families—no one had more, no one had less. It tasted like cakes made with honey—good enough to eat every day for 40 years. It could be baked or boiled, but not stored overnight except for the Sabbath. It was there every day for the taking, except on the Sabbath. There was always enough—no one went hungry and there was no waste. God provided by turning the whiners into bakers.

In many ways, this is the central wilderness experience, the first of many lessons in the making of a people. God said, “I will be your God,” and then called them “my people” and had to teach them what that might mean—they had to go through the visioning process and figure out a mission statement (“love the Lord with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself” turned out to work pretty well!). They had to wander a little to find out that God was leading them if they would just follow. They had to look back without the rose colored glasses so they could look forward with hope. They had to learn that God is love, and they had to discern who God is calling them to be. And the very first lesson is to rely on God’s goodness and abundance to provide. That sounds cliché and naïve to us now, and I suspect it did then too—but alone out in the desert, the Israelites literally depended on God for their daily bread. They learned that God is faithful. They learned that hoarding doesn’t get any of us anywhere. They learned that God’s abundance comes along with justice—it’s not whatever we want, it’s what we as a community need. They learned that they can call on God to hold up God’s end of the covenant and God will do it. They learned that they were chosen to be a community of God’s people, being a blessing to the world, not just a ragtag band of wanderers. Most importantly, they learned that the journey from “if only” to “I AM” goes through a question: “what is it?”

“What is it?” God provided, but they didn’t know what it was or what to do with it, they didn’t understand at first that it would be there when they needed it or that it was both good for them and good tasting. They weren’t used to being provided for—and it takes time for slavery to get out of your system, time to turn from Pharaoh’s non-people into God’s people, time to figure out that God is not just another Pharaoh, time to learn trust and reliance, time to figure out providence—that God will provide, even if they don’t recognize that providence at first.

What is it? turns out to be manna, bread from heaven tasting like cakes made with honey or like fresh popped kettle korn, good enough to eat every day for 40 years. The journey from “If only” to “I AM”, from whiner to baker, involves lots of “what is it?” And throughout our whole journey, God provides, though we may not see or understand or have a word for it. And so God weaves us together, a community learning to trust, learning to look around and ahead rather than only back, learning to bake.

Thanks be to God.
Amen.

it's coming...

the conspiracy!  I'm hoping we can all conspire together...(learn more here)

what if there is no problem of evil?

That's what I'm left with after tonight's adult ed class.  We are in the midst of a 101 series, currently in Theology 101.  and in discussing the classic theodicy problem (if God is both all-good/loving and all-powerful, how is there evil?) I discovered that the people in my class consider "evil" to mean "evil intentions behind the action" and therefore the vast majority of bad things that happen aren't evil.  Even when I changed language to "bad things" it didn't help...natural disasters were first off the list, then illnesses too, and then there was discussion of how extreme poverty/starvation/etc is our responsibility to take care of so why don't we do that, and then you're just left with the category I called "mean people."  and then there was free will.  So it looks like there is no problem of evil.  I offered them the classic solutions, but it doesn't matter because they don't seem to believe that God is so intimately involved in ordering things that happen to *them*...instead they are trying to focus on the big-picture "all will be well" sort of deal.  So love and power are not incompatible with the relatively small picture stuff, and even the bigger stuff isn't technically evil.  That's what I walked away from the class with.

What's interesting is that I WANTED to talk about predestination tonight, and leave theodicy for another time.  alas, no.  so now i'm pushing into a third week of theology 101 and leaving spirituality 101 (which I'm calling "how we relate to God" since the theology stuff is a lot about who God is and what God is like and what God has to do with us) for the 4th week.  (sigh)  so tonight:  attributes of God (which I should have known was going to get me to theodicy since "in control?" came up in both "God is" and "God is not" columns...), theodicy, sin, and the beginnings of atonement.  Next week:  finishing up atonement/reconciliation, justification/sanctification, predestination, and heaven/hell.  I can do that in an hour, right?  ;-)

an interesting conversation during the attributes of God section:  does God hate?  if God is love, and most human hate is grounded in fear, and perfect love casts out fear, is it possible for God to hate?  interesting thinking...

Reading Challenge 2008

The latest book in the challenge was actually 3-novels-in-one-volume (sort of like the Trinity...but not quite.) called The Parish Papers.  I picked it up on a whim at half price books.  George MacDonald wrote these novels as serials--you know, back in the day (in his case, the late 1800's day) magazines and newspapers published a chapter at a time?  I can't even imagine reading a novel like that, but it seems to have worked for people.  Anyway, you can sort of tell that this was a serial, as each chapter stands on its own a little and the beginning of the next chapter helps you catch up a bit.  Mildly tedious but not too bad.

What was more tedious is that the main character, Rev. Walton (often referred to just as "parson") doesn't seem to know how to listen but he does know how to talk!  At first, every conversation he has turns from a two-way into a didactic theological monologue.  He gets a little better as the story progresses, but he still really likes to talk.

19th century novels, even when they've been "cleaned up" for "the modern reader" can be kind of slow sometimes, and occasionally the speech patterns are hard to follow if you aren't paying close attention.  It wasn't a huge problem, but it was noticeable if I was reading while tired.

Anyway--there's not a ton of action (though there seems to be more disturbing action in Walton's parish than mine!) but there is some interesting character, relationship, and theological/faith development.  The third book in the volume is written from the perspective of the oldest daughter and was probably my favorite.

So anyway, if you're looking for a portrait of late 19th century church of england, here it is.  If you're looking for theology-in-a-story, here's some.  The main theological point is the same as the Shack:  trust in God, trust in God, trust in God.  Easier said than done, which is lived out by each character in the story at various points.  Some of the theology is old and more evangelical than I like, some is unhelpful (telling a dying woman, whose husband just died, that God "chasteneth those whom He loveth") but if you can get past it, the story does move along.  It's interesting to think about how people of one class befriend those of other classes, how relationships develop, what faith-friends might look like, etc.

It was a fun read, in other words, but not the kind of book you can pay only a little attention to. 

insanity

That's what I think my life has turned into:  a big ball of insanity.

We have an interim pastor lined up, thank God.  But she won't start until October 20, which leaves me with 6 more weeks on my own.  6 weeks in as the only pastor of a congregation of 400, here's what I've learned:

1.  preaching every week is a discipline that would require a lot more practice on my part.  And is also something I don't really want to do.  Possibly ever.  I know God is laughing her butt off as I say that. (anyone remember when I informed the Fourth Church session that what I had learned from Colloquium was that I didn't want to be in a church where I had to do three services on a Sunday morning?  hahahahahahhaah!! God said.)

2.  Preaching every week when you are also responsible for all the other ministries and programs (youth, education for kids and grown-ups, fellowship, etc etc etc) is very difficult.  I have complained about this before:  that if my job is already nearly 50 hours a week on programs, adding preaching on top of that (without removing any of those other responsibilities for that week) is really stressful.  I am working very hard on empowering laypeople to do ministry in all these areas, but that in itself takes a significant amount of work and time, in training and encouraging and resourcing and helping.  Not to mention the communication, which generally has to come through me/the office anyway.  I am committed to laypeople being the church and "doing church" together, following their calls in the church and in the world, etc etc. But that doesn't seem to be the end of my work, yet.

3.  I love preaching and planning and leading worship.  I hate turning in bulletins on time every week.

4.  I don't know anything about Stewardship and I don't really want to, but all of a sudden it looks like the entire campaign this year will be on "my" watch.  Crap.

5.  I also don't know anything about money, in general, so of course the Treasurer wants to go over the stuff with me before the session meeting.  I miss the days when I could just show up to a meeting and have that be good enough.

6.  If you're (well, if I'm) in charge of everything, some things fall through the cracks.  The thing falling through the cracks right now:  checking up on sick people.  Praise the Lord for the clerk of session who went to visit someone I'd visited once...only to discover she'd been moved somewhere else and no one had let us know. I'm pretty sure I should have figured that out sooner, but...there are only so many hours in a day.

7.  I really like being an Associate Pastor.  I don't want to be in charge of more than I already am.  And now that I'm sort of de facto in charge of everything, I worry about what happens when an interim comes and we have to negotiate a collegial relationship as well as the responsibilities that I might end up being sort of territorial about after 12 weeks on my own.  In fact, I stress about the possibilities in that working relationship a lot.  More than is probably necessary, since I can't do anything about it until she gets here.

8.  I need more bookshelves in my office.  Every flat surface is covered in stuff and I can't do anything in there until I get more storage.  I can't even tell you how tempting the empty bookshelves/table/desk/drawers/entire office next door is.

9.  days off are good good things, but rarer than they should be.  I want them to be more regular again.  6 weeks...

10.  I am very tired.  I have been coming home and falling immediately asleep, often on the couch.  Monday night I was out cold by 7pm.  I don't think I've stayed up past 9 more than once or twice in the past two weeks (aside from sermon-writing-saturday-nights, obv.).  I've had two whole days off this weekend, thanks to a guest preacher, and it feels like the most amazing luxury.  Except now I don't *even* want to go church tomorrow.  (sigh)

11.  People are always asking me questions I don't have the slightest idea how to answer.  What's up with that?

12.  I have more voicemail than I've ever had before.  

Okay, I have to stop.  I must go to bed (even though I napped most of the day away, post-massage...).  Tomorrow, even though I'm not preaching, is still a long day:  3 services, Inquirer's Class, and Middle School Youth Ministry kick-off.  For those keeping score at home, that's 7.30 prayer/children's sermon writing, 8.30 worship, 9.30 worship, 11.00 worship, 12.00 inquirer's class, 1.00 youth ministry.  woohoo.

I love my job, I love my job, I love my job...

(it's more than a job, it's a calling...it's more than a job, it's a calling...)

10?-a sermon for ordinary 23 (or 27...)A

Rev. Teri Peterson
RCLPC
10?
Exodus 20.1-17, Romans 13.8-10
September 7, 2008, Ordinary 23A (ex. 20 = ord. 27a)

Then God spoke all these words:
I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery; you shall have no other gods before me.
You shall not make for yourself an idol, whether in the form of anything that is in heaven above, or that is on the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I the Lord your God am a jealous God.
You shall not make wrongful use of the name of the Lord your God.
Remember the sabbath day, and keep it holy. For six days you shall labor and do all your work. But the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work—you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns. For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but rested the seventh day; therefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day and consecrated it.
Honor your father and your mother, so that your days may be long in the land that the Lord your God is giving you.
You shall not kill.
You shall not commit adultery.
You shall not steal.
You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.
You shall not covet your neighbor’s house; you shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, or male or female slave, or ox, or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor.
...
Owe no one anything, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. The commandments, ‘You shall not commit adultery; You shall not murder; You shall not steal; You shall not covet’; and any other commandment, are summed up in this word, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ah, the Ten Commandments—probably some of the most well known words in the Bible, thanks to Charlton Heston. Right? Everyone knows the 10 commandments—aren’t they the source of our laws, the rules that keep us in check, the thou-shalt-nots that have defined the negative view of religion for years? Well—maybe, but maybe not. I read this week that nearly 90% of Americans get stuck once they’ve named 4 commandments. The poll didn’t say which 4 were the most consistently memorable, which is too bad because I’m quite curious. Perhaps these words are not as well known as I thought! Nevertheless, they do in some way form a foundation for our life together. The form of that foundation is not always obvious, but I suspect it’s there whether we notice it, or whether we can name it, or not. As a society we are obsessed with rules—making rules, following rules, breaking rules, punishing people for breaking rules. It’s possible that some of that obsession comes from these very words.

Unfortunately, our focus on rules obscures something very important about the 10 commandments—did you notice the very first sentence? God says, “I am the LORD your God who brought you out of Egypt, who rescued you from slavery.” Before the rules, salvation. Before the commandments, grace. God first saves the people, sets them physically free, and then speaks these words. Following the rules isn’t going to save the people—they’ve already been saved. Following the rules isn’t going to earn them God’s good action on their behalf—they’ve already received the action. Following the rules isn’t going to make God like them anymore—God has already said, “I am the Lord YOUR God.” So what’s with the rules, anyway?

Tom Long also notes that the first words out of God’s mouth are not “follow these rules or else!” but are a proclamation of freedom already given. He goes on to suggest that we can view these 10 “commandments” as descriptions of what life is like in God’s vision of community—not as heavy burdens to bear, but as good news of liberation, of freedom from overwork, from idols who control us, from violence and loneliness and deception. God sees what our human community could be like, and offers us these 10 words to show the way to life after physical freedom, a life lived in response to God’s grace.

These 10 words as they stand now might be considered such a part of our fabric of life that we barely notice them—perhaps that’s why so many people can only name 4. I wonder what would happen if we though of 10 new words, words for OUR community. After all, God speaks to specific places and times just as much as to every place and time. What might the 10 commandments of our RCLPC community be?
Perhaps something along the lines of…
1. I am the Lord your God, who loves you and calls you…listen to my voice!
2. You shall worship and serve with all your mind…and also your heart and maybe even your body if you’re really into it.
3. You shall reveal any musical gifts you might have, ASAP.
4. You shall bring something tasty to potlucks.
5. You shall consider prayerfully when (not if) you are asked to serve on a team, teach Sunday school, or sing in the choir.
6. You shall eat together…often.
7. You shall laugh together, including at yourselves…often.
8. You shall talk to one another when there is a conflict—no gossip!
9. You shall ask for help when you need it—ask and you will receive.
10. You shall tell all your friends what God’s spirit is doing in this place.

This is a little tongue-in-cheek, of course…except the bits about musical gifts and potlucks…but you get the idea. The 10 commandments are not about following the rules to the letter, they are about becoming God’s people, living into God’s vision, being woven into God’s community. They are about how we live together, how we treat one another, how our community grows in spirit, how we work together, how we reach out together, how we serve one another, how we love.

I wonder if that’s what Paul was trying to say to the Romans in his letter. All these commandments can be summed up in one word: love. Jesus says this too—that love of God and love of neighbor is the whole of the law—not just these 10 but all 613 laws of the old testament. They aren’t talking about love the feeling, they are talking about love the verb—the action that we decide on every day, whether to love or not love. When we decide each day to love, we fulfill the law, we live in gratitude, we share the grace we have received.

But rules are so tempting, aren’t they? Even if it’s just our 10 ricklepickle commandments, it feels like they give us something concrete to do or not do, something to measure ourselves against and to feel good about when we do well, or to feel guilty about when we don’t. “love your neighbor” is harder—it feels vague and maybe even a little wishy-washy. How exactly do we do it? is what we really want to know. Tell us what to do so we can live up to God’s expectations, so we can be good enough, so we can go to heaven, so we can earn grace.

Because that’s what we’re really talking about—earning grace. And no matter how many times we hear that grace is free, that God gives it to everyone, that grace falls like rain, that grace is enough, that grace is God’s to give and not ours to earn, we still want to do something. Our Protestant work ethic kicks into high gear, as does our American “no-such-thing-as-a-free-lunch” sensibility.

Except, where God is concerned, there is a free lunch. It’s right here on this table—offered to us with no strings attached, no rule-following as a prerequisite, no way we can earn it. At this table, God is the host and God invites whomever God pleases—and that just happens to be every single one of us. When we come to this table, we take a place in the vision God has for community—a vision full of good news, a vision of freedom from overwork, from idols who control us, from violence and loneliness and deception. A vision of a community, gathered around a table to break bread, to share stories, to love one another both with words and actions.

May we live into God’s vision of a community woven together by love.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.

Reading Challenge 2008

Okay, I just finished the Twilight series.

This week (like from Monday to now) I've read Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, and Breaking Dawn.  Yes, I'm a fast reader, especially when the book is interesting and especially when I am stressed out and in need of escape.

Anyway, about these books I have this to say:  wow.  

I'm very impressed with this series, with the character development, with the consistency of writing style through four long novels, with the plot twists (especially in the fourth book!), and with the story in general.  It really is a captivating story.  In spite of having to work with all new vampire/werewolf mythology (I am a Buffy fan, after all!), I found the books easy to get into and even to get immersed in.  And the characters are so vividly written that at first I actually *felt* like I was back in high school, my insecure and slightly clumsy self, unsure of why anyone would want to be friends with me, etc.  I do NOT like that feeling so I spent some of this series not really liking Bella much, but she does capture the teen psyche in a remarkable way.  And Edward...move over, Mr. Darcy?  (okay, maybe not quite, but pretty close...I mean, he has WAY MORE than ten thousand a year!!!  ha!)

I think there are movies coming soon.  Part of me can't wait to see this story visually realized, and part of me dreads that because it won't be the way it is in my head.  I'm telling you--vivid.  I have LIVED this story this week.  I had Twilight and once I got to the end, I went immediately to Borders to purchase the next three, as I was unwilling to have any gap in the reading at all.  I could NOT wait.  Yes, I thought it was that compelling of a story.  I can see why these are the most popular books among youth--there's a lot to capture about the growing-up life, and this story does it well, with sub-plots about sex/intimacy, school, friendships, grief, family, navigating the world as a young adult, violence/nonviolence/peacemaking, faith in oneself, mythology/truth/fiction, gifts (as in talents, gifts of the Spirit), and growing into self-awareness.  I'm telling you, it's good.  I am thinking of putting these books, along with some others, on a shelf in our youth area.  What other books would you put there?

So...Twilight.  enjoy!

blessed?

I am confused by the idea that there are some people who are "less blessed" than we are.  Who are these people?  In what ways are we "blessed"?  Why do we assume that people whose lives are different from us are not blessed?  

Discuss.

And then, when you're done with that, I want to know more about allegiance.  "country first"?  Where does that leave God?  Are we creating an idol?

While I'm listening to the RNC right now (obviously), I think these questions apply to both parties (I was just too busy to blog last week--and this week I'm forcing myself to make the time because I'm beginning to go insane) and to our whole national life.  And especially to our faith life--what does it do to us when we replace God with an idol?  How is this related to the idea that some are less blessed?  To other ways we view ourselves and our political and religious leaders?  

Discuss.  I'm going to finish Breaking Dawn so I can blog about the Twilight series...

Reading challenge 2008

Last night I made a Saturday evening tactical error:  after finishing my "sermon" (actually a guided meditation) I decided to read The Shack.

It was actually pretty well written, and a compelling story.  The theology was basically sound (in my opinion)--I was reading fairly quickly so I don't remember any egregious theological errors (nothing that made me cringe anyway) but if I missed something, I'm sure someone will let me know.  I liked that God was portrayed in ways that made the main character uncomfortable, as in NOT a grandfatherly type.  I liked that it was repeatedly pointed out that God loves every single person, regardless of their actions, and that God's love can't be lost, but that in order for us to experience eternal life NOW (this has nothing to do with "eternity" but with a quality to our life together now) we need to rest and trust in that love.  Even the stuff about atonement (and I'm pretty sure substitutionary atonement is the norm for this book, which is something I don't always agree 100% with as I think it's a limited theory in need of the other theories for us to get a fuller picture) was relatively subtle most of the time.  And the portrayal of the loss within Godself at the death of Jesus was profound and lovely.

However, the book is totally sad (I mean, hopeful and all, but the basic storyline is heart-wrenchingly sad).  I don't know how anyone could read it and not cry unless you are stone-hearted.  And it also definitely pushed some grief buttons for me. (hence the saturday evening error--I cried and ended up dehydrated and with puffy eyes as I headed into Sunday.)  But anyway...

read it and tell me what you think.

Turn Aside To See--a guided meditation for Ordinary 22A

Rev. Teri Peterson
RCLPC
Turn Aside To See
Exodus 3.1-15
August 31 2008, Ordinary 22A

Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian; he led his flock beyond the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire out of a bush; he looked, and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed. Then Moses said, ‘I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.’ When the Lord saw that he had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, ‘Moses, Moses!’ And he said, ‘Here I am.’ Then he said, ‘Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.’ He said further, ‘I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.’ And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.

Then the Lord said, ‘I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey, to the country of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites. The cry of the Israelites has now come to me; I have also seen how the Egyptians oppress them. So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt.’ But Moses said to God, ‘Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?’ He said, ‘I will be with you; and this shall be the sign for you that it is I who sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall worship God on this mountain.’

But Moses said to God, ‘If I come to the Israelites and say to them, “The God of your ancestors has sent me to you”, and they ask me, “What is his name?” what shall I say to them?’ God said to Moses, ‘I am who I am.’ He said further, ‘Thus you shall say to the Israelites, “I am has sent me to you.” ’ God also said to Moses, ‘Thus you shall say to the Israelites, “The Lord, the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sent me to you”:
This is my name for ever,
and this my title for all generations.

~~~~~~~~~~

Today we will walk in the footsteps of Moses.
In invite you to close your eyes.
Put your feet flat on the floor, sit up straight, and be comfortable.
Take a deep breath in, and let it out slowly.
Take a deep breath in, and let it out slowly.

Picture yourself doing something you do every day.
Where are you?
What is around you?
What sounds do you hear?
What do you smell?
What colors do you see?
How do you feel in this everyday place, doing your everyday task?

In the midst of the ordinary, everyday-ness of your place, glance to one side.
There is something there—you can’t quite make it out, it seems out of place.
Are you curious?
Look harder—can you see it?
Will you leave your busy-ness, your schedule, your plans to step off your beaten path?
What’s stopping you from stepping out of the rush, from turning aside to see?

Go ahead—turn aside to see.
The colors are dancing,
heat is coming off in waves,
sparks are flying,
but the bush is not burned up—it’s still there, green as ever, with berries ripe for the picking.
What are you thinking?
What are you feeling?
Are you curious?

Suddenly you hear something—faint, at first, but definitely coming out of the flames.
Listen closely, what is it saying?
names…
your name.
Will you answer?
It seems silly to talk to a bush, especially one on fire.
But the voice is compelling.
What will you say?
Moses said, and Samuel said, and Mary said, “Here I am.”
What will you say?

Again, the voice:
take off your shoes—this is holy ground.
Go ahead—if you can reach, take off your shoes and then close your eyes again.
This is holy ground.
Holy.
Ground.
Feel it—solid, cool in spite of the heat coming from the bush.
Feel it—shifting as flames speak and you know something big is coming.
Feel it—holy, sacred, made by God for this moment.
Holy Ground.

One little turn off the beaten path and we’ve ended up here, barefoot on holy ground.

The voice again:
I’m God.
Not just any god, but God—the God of your ancestors, the God who created all this, the God who called people and blessed them, the God who called people to be a blessing to others.
What will you do now?
Moses, shoeless Moses, hid his face—afraid to look at God.
What will you do now?

The burning bush is not God—it is an instrument of God.
Look into it—stare into the flames.
See the shapes, the life, the passion, the swirl of color.
You turned aside to see—now, see.
You took off your shoes to feel God’s holy ground—now, feel.
What will you do?

You can turn away.
You can hide your face.
You can go back to your daily life and keep a secret.
You can go back to your daily life with a great story.
You can put on your shoes and walk.
Or you can stand on this holy ground,
wondering
hoping,
listening.

God’s voice, yet again…
I have plans.
For you.
For my people.
For the world.
I need your help.

Your help.
What is your first thought?
What is your second thought?
How can you help God?
Why you?
What does God mean by “help” exactly?
Are you feeling a little crazy?
Wondering if you should be listening to a plant or a fire?
Looking around to see if anyone has noticed?
Hoping you’re hearing voices or that this is all a dream?

God’s voice, again…
Yes, you.
You are the one I have chosen.
You, standing here on this holy ground.
You, who turned aside to see.
You, who can do far more than you realize.
You, the one staring at your feet and thinking you aren’t good enough.
You.
And then God says:
I will go with you.
My name is I AM—and I will always be.
I’m not just a thing, not just a person, not just a verb—I AM.
I AM God.
I AM the God of your ancestors.
I AM the maker of all things.
I AM the One who called you.
I AM love.
and I WILL go with you.

Listen again—
God is telling you what you have been chosen for.
God is calling you…to what?

Your hands,
your heart,
your ears,
your eyes,
your feet…
made holy,
made for a call,
made for carrying good news.

Will you turn aside
to stand on holy ground
to hear the blessing
and to hear the challenge
and to hear the promise,
and then to go out into the world with holy bare feet?

When you are ready,
take a deep breath, let it out slowly
and look down at your feet.
Open your eyes to see the holy ground.
Then turn and see your holy neighbors,
companions on the way,
fellow workers in God’s world.

Thanks be to God.
Amen.

reading challenge 2008

I have been remiss in posting about books...I promise I still read, though I actually didn't crack open a single non-Lonely-Planet book during my entire vacation.  Anyway, I think I forgot a book or two that I read right before vacation, but here's what's happened since..

Lamb: the gospel according to biff, christ's childhood pal

This is a re-read, of course--I read the whole thing on the plane on the way home from Scotland.  I laughed, much to the chagrin of people seated around me on an 8 hour transatlantic flight.  I love this book.  It was particularly amusing to read it when we're in the middle of the Bible in 90 Days.

The First Harry Potter Book (British Edition)

also a re-read--I felt I needed to read more Harry Potter after I'd been in Edinburgh and everything looked like an HP set, and after seeing some of the places where Rowling did her writing.

Knots and Crosses, by Ian Rankin

Hide and Seek, by Ian Rankin

(and currently reading, probably will finish by bedtime) Tooth and Nail, by Ian Rankin

Ian Rankin is a Scottish author, some of whose haunts we visited on the literary pub crawl in Edinburgh.  Several of the places we visited are places his novels happen, so I decided it was an easy fluff way to relive my vacation.  These are crime/mystery novels, the type my mom used to love, all in one series with the same Inspector (Inspector Rebus).  They thankfully aren't the kind of books (so far) that cause nightmares when read right before bed, or the kind that make me stay awake until 2am trying to finish the book so I can know what happened.  While I do love those can't-put-it-down page turners, I'm exhausted and need to be able to read a few chapters and then go to sleep without seeing serial killers in the shadows on my wall.  These fit the bill nicely and I can picture the places he talks about!  Fun.

The Willoughby's

This is a children's book, I think--of the chapter variety, of course.  It was amusing and a quick-read--there are intrigues and stereotypes and fictional history...plus the glossary in the back cracked me up.

The Friendship of Women, by Joan Chittister.  This is the book for tomorrow's RevGalBookPals discussion, so I read it this afternoon.  While I think some of the symbolism she sees in the women of the bible is a stretch, I enjoyed thinking about my friends and what biblical woman archetype they might fit in.  Plus the book was short, had big margins and wide spacing, and is divided into manageable chapters.  I'm all about books I can read entirely on a Sunday afternoon without compromising my nap as well.

I know I've read something else but this is all I can remember for now...and now back to my crime novel!  :-)

Holy Disobedience--a sermon for Ordinary 21A

Rev. Teri Peterson
RCLPC
Holy Disobedience
Exodus 1.8-2.10
August 24 2008, Ordinary 21A

Now a new king arose over Egypt, who did not know Joseph. He said to his people, ‘Look, the Israelite people are more numerous and more powerful than we. Come, let us deal shrewdly with them, or they will increase and, in the event of war, join our enemies and fight against us and escape from the land.’ Therefore they set taskmasters over them to oppress them with forced labor. They built supply cities, Pithom and Rameses, for Pharaoh. But the more they were oppressed, the more they multiplied and spread, so that the Egyptians came to dread the Israelites. The Egyptians became ruthless in imposing tasks on the Israelites, and made their lives bitter with hard service in mortar and brick and in every kind of field labor. They were ruthless in all the tasks that they imposed on them.
The king of Egypt said to the Hebrew midwives, one of whom was named Shiphrah and the other Puah, ‘When you act as midwives to the Hebrew women, and see them on the birthstool, if it is a boy, kill him; but if it is a girl, she shall live.’ But the midwives feared God; they did not do as the king of Egypt commanded them, but they let the boys live. So the king of Egypt summoned the midwives and said to them, ‘Why have you done this, and allowed the boys to live?’ The midwives said to Pharaoh, ‘Because the Hebrew women are not like the Egyptian women; for they are vigorous and give birth before the midwife comes to them.’ So God dealt well with the midwives; and the people multiplied and became very strong. And because the midwives feared God, God gave them families. Then Pharaoh commanded all his people, ‘Every boy that is born to the Hebrews you shall throw into the Nile, but you shall let every girl live.’
Now a man from the house of Levi went and married a Levite woman. The woman conceived and bore a son; and when she saw that he was a fine baby, she hid him for three months. When she could hide him no longer she got a papyrus basket for him, and plastered it with bitumen and pitch; she put the child in it and placed it among the reeds on the bank of the river. His sister stood at a distance, to see what would happen to him.
The daughter of Pharaoh came down to bathe at the river, while her attendants walked beside the river. She saw the basket among the reeds and sent her maid to bring it. When she opened it, she saw the child. He was crying, and she took pity on him. ‘This must be one of the Hebrews’ children,’ she said. Then his sister said to Pharaoh’s daughter, ‘Shall I go and get you a nurse from the Hebrew women to nurse the child for you?’ Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, ‘Yes.’ So the girl went and called the child’s mother. Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, ‘Take this child and nurse it for me, and I will give you your wages.’ So the woman took the child and nursed it. When the child grew up, she brought him to Pharaoh’s daughter, and she took him as her son. She named him Moses, ‘because’, she said, ‘I drew him out of the water.’


“This must be one of the Hebrews’ children” she says. Well, of course? Who else would be driven to such desperation that they would leave their child to float along the river, waiting to die? Who else would come up with such an idea? The Hebrews, of course—the once-favored-but-now-enslaved Hebrews. There’s no better story to show that it’s all about who you know, no better story to show what happens when power goes to your head, no better story to show that people have surprising ways of holding on to hope, than this story of the Hebrews in Egypt.

To back up a little, this saga begins with Joseph being sold into slavery by his brothers. He eventually rises through the ranks of the Egyptian government, becoming the overseer for the whole land—essentially the prime minister of Egypt. A famine hits and Joseph’s brothers come to Egypt to buy food, not knowing that Joseph is the one they come to buy from. Eventually they reconcile and all the Jacob family comes down, 70 people in all. They settle in Goshen, the fertile land in the Nile Delta. And they grow—in population, in wealth, and in stature. Generations come and go, and the Hebrews are productive members of the Egyptian society and economy.

But then a new king comes to power and he doesn’t remember Joseph—and it’s all about who you know. Along with a short historical memory, this king is getting used to power, and may be a little prone to anxiety, and when he takes a look at census numbers and discovers that the ethnic Hebrews outnumber ethnic Egyptians and when he learns a little more about this God they worship …it all seems like a recipe for trouble. He imagines the scenario where this all goes horribly wrong…and he concocts a plan to bring these people under his control, turning them from productive members of society into slaves through a cunning propaganda campaign in which he spreads his own fear through his whole nation—what if? What if? What if? Soon the Egyptians hate, dread, fear their neighbors, and so being ruthless is easy. Plus if we try hard enough, maybe they’ll begin to think of themselves the way we think of them—as less than human.

But no—the spark of hope seems to grow stronger rather than weaker, the Hebrews continue to multiply and to grow. So desperate measures must be taken—and the Pharaoh orders the first biblically recorded ethnic cleansing campaign. And, of course, he calls on the women, the keepers of community life.

Except these are no ordinary women—these are midwives. These women are charged with bringing life into the world, and they aren’t about to follow an order to turn life into death, especially since they know that they serve the God of Life, even Abundant Life. So they continue doing their jobs, just as they had before, bringing life and love into the world, even if it is a world of ruthless oppression. They continue to fan the flame of hope, a small light in an increasingly dark time. They blatantly disobey Pharaoh—the earthly authority, the one who considers himself powerful, even over life and death. And they end up in the throne room, answering questions.

My favorite part of this story is the midwives’ answer to Pharaoh’s question. “Why have you done this when I told you to kill them??” he asks. And Shiphrah and Puah, faced with earthly power, with fear embodied, look the Pharaoh in the eye and do the last thing we expect of nice, proper ladies—they lie! They don’t apologize, they don’t plead for their lives, they don’t even appeal to religion. They just tell their made-up story, and tell it convincingly enough that they leave the palace free women, able to continue their lives and their important work.

And their work is important, especially since God’s future literally rests in their hands. One of those babies they deliver turns out, you see, to be the one God has in mind to lead the Hebrews into the future, to turn them from victims of ethnic cleansing into a community for the blessing of the world. But first he has to survive the pogrom—you see, Pharaoh’s fear is increasing, and so is his fearful propaganda. Now that the midwives can’t get the job done, Pharaoh orders his people to get in on the fear-filled action by tossing babies—sons of their neighbors, their former friends, their coworkers—into the Nile. Now remember, the Nile back then was different than it is today—it was deeper, wider, and faster. It flooded regularly, bringing life-giving silt to the land and replenishing the wells with fresh water. It was also filled with crocodiles and fish and goodness knows what else. It was a long silver ribbon of both life and death.

But again, the hands of women are resourceful and strong. Moses’ mother makes a basket and makes it watertight. She knows she’s not supposed to do this, she knows that her child is likely going to die one way or another. She also knows that Pharaoh’s type of fear isn’t the kind that brings safety or security or life—only trust in God can do that. So she drops the basket in the river, leaves Miriam in the reeds with strict instructions to watch silently, and leaves. Who could bear to watch? Her own child, floating downriver, crying for food, for eye contact, for love. So Miriam watches instead.

But, to her horror, someone else is watching. Someone powerful, and someone else with strict instructions. Pharaoh’s daughter comes down to the river to bathe—a princess accompanied by her entourage, perhaps getting ready for a party or perhaps just in a daily or weekly ritual. In any case, her job is to make herself beautiful so she can look the part of princess. Her job is to do what her father says, when he says. But she sees something, and her instructions fall by the riverside. She wades into the river, looks in the basket and states the obvious—“This must be one of the Hebrews’ children.” Well, now all bets are off. Miriam can’t follow her instructions anymore—her baby brother is in the hands of the power! She wades out into the water, the life-giving and life-taking water, and defies all our expectations with her cleverness—“do we need a nurse? Well, do I know the woman for you!” And the princess defies all our expectations, all her instructions, all her training, and all her father’s laws, saving this child from a watery grave and agreeing to raise him as her own son. And somehow, Moses’ mother manages to hide her surprise and her joy, calmly taking him in to be nurtured and fed and loved—and getting paid for it too!

Five women in one story. Five women who defy expectations. Five women who defy fear, who choose to live with a little spark of hope rather than giving in to the darkness. Five women, upon whose disobedience the entire future of God’s people depends. Five women, some of whose names are long forgotten, some of whose names live on in our collective memory. Five women who redeem an entire people with their courage in the face of power. Five women who live in the kingdom of God rather than the kingdom of fear. Five women in one story.

I doubt I need to tell you how unusual it is to have this many women in one section of our story. I doubt I need to tell you how unusual it is to have this many women cast as heroes. I doubt I need to tell you that these women are all of us at one time or another, doing what God has called us to do and so participating in the coming of God’s kingdom. The famous quote that “good girls rarely make history” is probably true—and these women are anything but conventionally “good”!! They act in such unexpected ways, they disobey the authorities time and again, they draw deep on resources of hope and compassion and ingenuity. And they certainly made history—and their courage allowed God’s history to continue to be made. That is holy disobedience indeed. Perhaps God’s future lies now in our unlikely hands—may we follow the example of these five unexpected agents of grace.

Thanks be to God.
Amen.

big day!

It's here!  new youth group members....welcome!  You know you always wanted to be taken, blindfolded, from your house at 6am to join the youth ministry!!!

big weekend!

it's a big weekend here...our biggest youth event of the year (well, besides youth sunday and summer trips) is this Saturday.  It's a huge secret and is taking lots of planning, but as soon as it's happened I'll blog about it!

Also I'm preaching again this week (week 2 of 4 in a row), and there's a luncheon in which high schoolers will tell their mission trip stories.  that too requires prep by me, the one with a Costco card.

Today's my mom's birthday--she would have been 50 today.  Happy Birthday mom!  I miss you so much.  Today my colleagues and I will eat Mexican food at a little hole in the wall place where they make everything from scratch, and we'll sing you happy birthday over ice cream from kaleidoscoops.  I hope you enjoy it.

Also, our internet is still down at church.  It's supposed to be back on today, but I hold out little hope.  Maybe next week....

so, it's busy.  sorry for the blog silence...back soon!

Double Dog Dare--a sermon for Ordinary 20A

Rev. Teri Peterson
RCLPC
Double Dog Dare
Matthew 15.21-28
August 17 2008, Ordinary 20A

Jesus left that place and went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon. Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, ‘Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.’ But he did not answer her at all. And his disciples came and urged him, saying, ‘Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us.’ He answered, ‘I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.’ But she came and knelt before him, saying, ‘Lord, help me.’ He answered, ‘It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.’ She said, ‘Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.’ Then Jesus answered her, ‘Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.’ And her daughter was healed instantly.


Well, that’s not the Jesus we usually hear about growing up in Sunday School, is it? This is a hard story to hear—our loving, all-compassionate Jesus first ignores a human being in need, and then insults her to her face. The story is just barely redeemed by the fact that Jesus heals the woman’s daughter in the end—but it’s hard to argue that the ends justified the means. I mean, Jesus called this woman, this suffering woman, a dog.

But you know what? There’s not much a mother won’t do for the good of her child. If there’s one thing we know from both nature and our own experience, it’s that you do NOT mess with a mama protecting her cubs. Or perhaps I should say her puppies??! This woman is no exception—she is willing to go to great lengths, to endure insults—even this most vulgar of insults—for the sake of her child. She’s willing to make a scene, to beg, and to be a little sassy if necessary. This is one tenacious woman.

Now, I have to admit that if I had to choose between these two characters right now, I’d side with the woman in a heartbeat. I’m a Cubs fan, so I know about persistence in the face of failure. I tend to be on the side of the underdog, with compassion and righteous anger bubbling just below my surface pretty much all the time. The trouble is, usually I say that that’s what Jesus calls us to do—but here he is being exactly the opposite of how we think he ought to be, playing the role of oppressor rather than liberator, divider rather than gatherer, perpetrator of prejudice and injustice rather than the one breaking down the walls of hostility between us. How is that possible? I mean, isn’t Jesus supposed to be perfect? How could he be so horrible…and so horribly human?

I have heard preachers suggest that Jesus was testing the woman, trying to see if she would persevere even in the face of difficulty, daring her to continue her quest for healing. I’ve heard them suggest that Jesus didn’t mean it when he used this insult, but he was trying to teach his disciples something. I’ve even heard a few people suggest that the word used is more like “doggies”—like a term of endearment for a pet, which is unlikely since pets were largely unheard of and animals tended to be unclean. There are lots of ways to soften this, but the reality is that Jesus was harsh and that his prejudices seem to have gotten the better of him this time, at least at first.

But the woman didn’t give up—she just kept pushing, almost daring Jesus to walk away. What does she have to lose? She’s already lost her dignity, any standing she may have had in the community, and often her daughter. It can’t hurt for her to keep shouting, to run after this man she’s heard about, to kneel at his feet and beg, or even to backtalk the great teacher of Israel. And once he’s insulted her so, she ups the ante—she double dog dares him. “yes…but even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the table.” Well, who can argue with that? I don’t have a dog, but I have two cats who try to eat anything that falls on the floor in my kitchen. She’s not asking for the world, but she is asking this man, this Word of God made flesh, this Bread of Life, to be enough for her daughter. She’s asking Jesus to take a little step out of his comfort zone, a little hop over the boundary line he thinks he has to work within, to have compassion for someone completely and totally Other. And, thankfully, Jesus does it.

I like to imagine Jesus sounding totally amazed in his last sentence here—“woman! great is your faith!?!?!?” As though he’s looked into her eyes, he’s heard her voice, and he’s seen and heard the image of God calling out to him. We talk a lot around here about seeing God in other people, about hearing God’s voice in the people we meet—well, here’s a time when maybe Jesus saw God in someone besides himself. He looked at this woman, he heard her desperation, and he knew God’s call. And when he heard the call, he immediately followed, even outside the bounds, across the walls, over the line.

I often tell people that I think each one of us lives on a platform. We have a platform on which to dance and dance, to sing and play and frolic, to laugh and cry and wonder. We come up to the edge of our platforms sometimes, and we might even peek over the edge now and then, but most of the time we back away from that edge and dance inside the lines, afraid of falling off the edge. Sometimes we might hear things coming from below, but they’re hard to make out and it’s too scary to think about jumping off our platform, because it’s like the edge of our world—if we jump or fall off, we might die. But occasionally something happens—a reading, a movie, an experience, an encounter—and it’s like a voice calling us from somewhere off the edge of our platforms. So we gather up our courage and we dance to the edge and we let ourselves slip a little bit…and we fall off and it’s scary and we’re out of control and we don’t know what to do…and then we find ourselves on another platform, bigger than the one we were on before, and we have so much more room to dance and sing and frolic, so much more room to laugh and cry and wonder. And so we dance around our platform, amazed at how big it is and how many more friends we can fit in our room and how great it is that this big platform is here and how thankful we are that God had another platform for us when we fell off the one way up there. Eventually we get comfortable and sometimes our platform gets crowded, and we have to make a choice. We remember what it was like to fall off the other platform, how scary it was. And we’re feeling like this one doesn’t have room for all our friends or all our vision of how God wants the world to be, and we’re hearing voices from somewhere off the edge again…but do we fall again? What if there’s not a bigger platform to save us, for us to land on down below…what if instead there’s condemnation? So in our fear we keep dancing our limited dance, but eventually the voices are too loud, shouting after us with such desperation, that we come right up to the edge again, close our eyes, reach out, and go, to find that we’ve lost control again, we’re scared and screaming again, and then that there’s another bigger platform with room for more friends and more dancing, so we kick off our shoes and delight in the expanse of God’s vision.

I think, in some ways, what this woman did for Jesus was call him off his platform and onto a bigger one. And when he heard God in her voice, calling him to take a leap, he danced right off the edge and found himself living in the kingdom of God right here on earth. And that little fall off the top table onto the one below was exactly what the woman, and the world, and Jesus, needed. Just a little barefoot dance, just a little courage, just a little leap, just a little crumb of grace, was what we all needed, and when we got it, we were amazed and delighted to find that it was more than enough.

Thanks be to God.
Amen.

lots of stuff, not lots of time

I have about 5 blog posts brewing, on the following topics (I'm hoping that putting this out there will force me to be accountable and actually finish these...):

* Scotland, week 2

* being an Associate Pastor when your Senior Pastor has gone away for good

* wondering about models of ministry and the personality of pastors, and how those come out in an interview process (or don't)

* something about religious education and the idea that faith is "forced down our throats"

* books books books.  I've read a few that I haven't had time to post about.

Unfortunately, dot number 2 is keeping me sort of pre-occupied.  Things that are stopping me from blogging in a coherent way this week:

* the first of at least four weeks in a row preaching, which I've never done before (exciting!)

* talking with potential interim candidates

* catching up with my intern--she has only two weeks left!

* the bible in 90 Days, which is now in the New Testament.  Once we get out of the gospels (so, in about five more days) I am going to need to spend even more time on this because my dislike of Paul makes me a) not want to keep reading, b) not want to teach the class, and c) need to do more prep in order to write about/teach about the material.

* a memorial service this weekend that is going to be very difficult

* frustration about communication (or lack thereof?  If a person doesn't take in what I communicate to them, does that mean we have a communication breakdown?  Os this in some way something I can fix?  Not sure yet.)

* planning the youth ministry kick off (in less than two weeks!)

* Team Night and the following called session meeting for examining new Deacons

* getting ready for fall in WEAVE (adult education/fellowship), plotting with admin and choir directors RE fall plans, etc etc etc...

* plus all the usual stuff that happens every week (worship planning, bible studies, meetings, etc...)

So--I'll blog as soon as I can.  And it will be brilliant, I swear.  :-)  In the meantime, you can join my NT blogging misery over at the church blog, you can send me happy preaching vibes, and you can discuss the following question:

Does playing Scrabble on facebook need to be as painful as it has become with the loss of Scrabulous to Hasbro and their inept coding team?

looking back...

...about two weeks.

That's right, I'm going to attempt to blog about Scotland. But this first one may be jumbled and/or come out in list format....

1. Apparently, flying to Newark is a bad bad idea. I learned this as my plane (on which I had been rebooked because my original flight was likely to be late, causing me to miss the connection) sat on the tarmac, with "we're going!" "no, we're not..." announcements coming over the intercom every 25 minutes or so for about 3 very hot hours.

2. You can get a pedicure in the in-terminal spa at Newark, however, so flying there might be worth it if you have 30 extra minutes to spare.

3. I love Scotland.

.....

wait, that wasn't enough?

Okay....

Going back to Iona was a really interesting experience for me. I lived and worked there for two summers when I was in college, in 2000 and 2001. I came home the last time right before 9/11. Though I've done tons of other traveling since then, I've not been back to Iona. It's probably my favorite place in all the world. It's where I learned what living in community looks like. It's where I learned about my passion for creative worship. It's where I learned that I can sing and teach others to sing too. It's where I heard my call to ministry. It's a lot of things for me, besides being just my favorite place--there are memories around every curve, on every beach, in every ruin.  

We stayed at the Abbey where I used to work, but this time I wasn't the one who knows everything, who handles questions and complaints. I was just a guest. Tricky, because I know things (like where the back stairs are and how much more convenient they would be) that I can't put to use, and because some things have changed (those stairs don't go as far as they used to!). Tricky because the experience is not the same, being staff and being a guest, and even coming back doing the same thing is different because the community is different. Things have changed--the staff have changed, some of the people with whom I worked have died, Historic Scotland has different responsibilities, there's scaffolding still on the Abbey Church bell tower.  

But in all of that, it's still my favorite place. There's something about that island that lives inside me, I think, and it calls to me. The intentional community, the life centered on worship, the fact that there's nothing to "do" because there's no shopping, just one pub, and 22 beautiful beaches just begging to be enjoyed. The rhythm of community life, organized by bells rather than clocks. It's great.

The program we participated in (and which I had not intended to participate in quite so fully but found myself sucked into nonetheless) was about hospitality toward the Other, with the intention of helping us foster interfaith relationships. I don't think it necessarily started off well, but it definitely picked up! It was centered on three Bible studies, which were done in a great format that I plan to steal shamelessly. We were divided into groups and each given a character. After the story was read, every character group went off to its own place to think about some character-specific questions (so in the story of Naaman, my group was the king of Israel). Then each group was visited by another character or two, who had questions for us. It was a really intriguing way to get into a story. I loved it!

Also, I went to this place fully intending not to get sucked into any leadership of any kind--I didn't want to be leading worship, singing in the choir, MCing the variety show (called the "guest concert" which is generous), leading my bible study group, etc. Of course, as a pastor, I did sort of end up taking a bit of a lead in the Bible Study because sometimes there were things that would really inform our character that others didn't know to look for (ie: flip back two or three chapters and find out what king we are, are we good or bad, etc). But I did pretty well with the rest of it-I didn't lead worship or end up in the choir. However, Sam, our program leader for the week, asked me on the first day if I was musical. Since I'm a bad liar, I had to say yes. He then proceeded to ask me if I would start each of our six sessions by teaching everyone a song. Well, he looked so needy at that moment (his co-leader was ill and couldn't come) that I said yes. Which is how I found myself leading a group of 20 people in songs from around the world 6 times during the week. In case you're desperately wondering, here are the songs I chose, but not the order in which we did them (because I can't remember that!):

Bless the Lord (from Kenya)
Mayenziwe (S. Africa)
Praise, Praise, Praise the Lord (Cameroon)
Take, O Take Me As I Am (a John Bell song, so...from Scotland)
Nung Ye Da (Ghana)
Ya Rabba Ssalami (Palestine)

I admit, it was fun. I miss doing that.

What else did we do? We ate together. We did chores (Elsa and I had the chore of setting up for breakfast, which we did late at night after coming back from the pub, thus releasing us from before-breakfast chores! hallelujah!!). We worshiped. We went on a pilgrimage around the island--7 miles. We made new friends. We snarked a little about our roommates (we had to be split up because of the bunk bed situation and people who weren't able to be on top bunks, while we young things are perfectly capable of climbing up there). We ate cream tea at the Argyll Hotel basically every day. We went to the pub at night. We danced at a ceilidh. I was forced to sing the fruit and jello song at the ceilidh as well (for which Ginna bought me a drink) (and which was horrendously embarrassing). We had a guest concert in which amy played a princess in a tragedy (tragic because everyone died, but actually utterly hilarious) and in which Ginna and I rushed the stage with flowers, pretending to be star struck. We sang silly songs and serious ones. We went swimming. We walked on the beach at night. We watched sunsets. We enjoyed both misty days and sunny days. We watched children play. We grieved the nuns buried at the now-ruined Nunnery (when there were only three left, the Protestant Reformation came to Scotland and the nuns were slaughtered). We laughed. I got offered a job, which I had to turn down (for now). Amy chased sheep. I b-a-a-a-d. And I learned how to do an impression of a Scottish frog (ribbit!).  I'm sure there's more, and if I've left anything out I suspect my traveling companions will note that in the comments.

So that's the end of installment one of Scotland 2008 (which, in my facebook photo albums is labeled "summer in heaven").  I have to go to a breakfast meeting with my now-former senior pastor (yesterday was Richard's last day) and the other staff.  More on the "pastor-who-stayed" phenomenon later.  Also more on Scotland, of course, and on my observations of reading Lamb (by Christopher Moore) for the second time.  There are definitely things I didn't pick up on before and now I feel dumb.  Did you ever notice that this guy was writing theology as well as a hilarious novel?

breakfast...

scotland photos

My photos are up on Flickr!

Enjoy...

home

catching up on many things. photos to come. for now: kitties to pet, laundry to wash, groceries to buy....

in Scotland

Well, we've just arrived in Edinburgh after a week on Iona. It was a great week and yes there will be pictures...but not until I get home. The internet is sort of spotty here and I don't have the patience to upload in that kind of situation. In the meantime, just know that we've had a great time worshipping, building community, swimming late at night, dancing, pilgrimaging, singing, learning, chatting, just sitting, and drinking lots and lots of tea. Now for a week of vacation in the city! :-)

Back next weekend....

Scattering--a sermon for Ordinary 15A

Rev. Teri Peterson
RCLPC
Scattering
Matthew 13.1-9
July 13 2008, Ordinary 15A

That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the lake. Such great crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat there, while the whole crowd stood on the beach. And he told them many things in parables, saying: ‘Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. Let anyone with ears listen!’
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Some of you know that I spent some of my growing-up years on a farm—my grandparents’ farm in western Oregon, where we raised sheep. We also seemed to often be involved in some other venture, like making yogurt cultures or growing mushrooms, but mainly we did sheep. And, of course, we had a garden where we grew our own vegetables. I remember the first year I got to have a little corner of the garden all to myself, to grow whatever I wanted. I remember that I chose baby carrots, beets, and corn. I carefully prepared the ground, made little hills in straight rows, and pushed the little seeds into the dirt. I watered, I waited, I weeded, I waited. The carrots and beets grew in abundance, but the corn never sprouted at all. I don’t know if they were bad seeds, or if things just weren’t right in my corner of the garden for corn, or if I planted them wrong, or what—I just know that my very own corn, which I had been so looking forward to, never came up. Ironically, I don’t even like beets or carrots, but that summer and fall I ate a lot of them!

Sometimes I like to tell people this as though it gives me some kind of credibility when I, who have tried for years now to pass myself off as a city girl, drive past cows and chickens on my way to work in an office that looks out on a cornfield. I’m not sure it’s either necessary or working, but there it is—the secret is out: I haven’t always been a city girl, but I like to imagine myself as one!

Interestingly, I don’t think the farmer in Jesus’ parable would have gained much credibility with my grandparents. This farmer doesn’t carefully prepare the ground, removing the rocks, breaking up clumps of dirt, pulling the thorns and weeds, putting down compost. He doesn’t make nice neat rows and carefully push the seeds into the dirt. In fact, this farmer is pretty much the exact opposite of my garden experience—she just flings seeds wildly, letting them go where they will. I imagine this sower tossing seeds left and right, some being carried off by the wind, some falling straight to the ground, some flying back into his face. This is hardly the most efficient way to plant a field! How does the farmer expect any kind of harvest, any kind of return on this investment, any kind of crop with which to feed the family? We all know what’s going to happen—birds are going to eat some of the seeds, chipmunks and squirrels are going to carry some away to a different field, weeds are going to grow up with some, some, like my corn, will never sprout, and some, like my beets, will grow way too thick and bring in more than we can use. Doesn’t this farmer know better?

Well, apparently not. Jesus goes on to explain this parable, saying that the seed is God’s word and that the different places it lands are the different ways we can receive the word. Traditionally we hear about how we want to be good soil, fertile land, where the word can take root and grow and bear fruit in our lives. Which is a good thing to hear! But I have to wonder—can soil change itself? Can rocky soil become good fertile soil on its own? Somehow I don’t think so. And is seed only useful if it lands on good soil? Can God’s word only bear fruit in one type of person? If that’s true, why didn’t the sower take more care with the sowing, checking the soil out first, making sure it was ready and willing and deserving? This is one reckless sower, scattering seed all willy-nilly!

And isn’t that just how God works? Scattering seeds of love and grace and hope, all willy-nilly? We talk a lot around here about how God’s grace is enough for all, indeed that God’s grace is abundant—we don’t have to worry about whether there’s going to be enough for us. As Jesus said earlier in Matthew—just like the sun rises and rain falls on the just and the unjust, grace is sown about, flung far and wide and close by. If God is the sower, then we want the seeds to be recklessly tossed about on every kind of soil! And if God is the sower, flinging seeds all around, some to be eaten by birds, some to be trampled underfoot, some to grow up quickly, some to sprout next to weeds, and some to grow the usual way, then is it possible that all those seeds are useful in some way? Sure, the plant that springs up in the sidewalk and then withers may not look like it’s produced fruit, but the flower might have been just the sign of hope someone needed in the midst of a concrete jungle. So the squirrels and birds run off with some seeds—don’t they need food too? And even plants that grow up with weeds around them give bees and other insects new plants to visit and cross-pollinate. And, of course, almost any plant that springs up will produce new seeds that will be carried away on the wind to plant themselves somewhere new. The life of a seed isn’t as straightforward as it sounds—there are layers and future chapters and sometimes we can’t even see the seed, let alone the fruit!

Interestingly, that’s exactly what people say to me whenever I’m frustrated. I can’t even count the number of times someone has said “I know you’re frustrated now, but you’re planting seeds. Who knows what those seeds will grow into?” And that’s true. But then again, using the traditional interpretation of this parable, it’s God who’s planting, and the seeds appear to be planted in good soil—the people I interact with are mostly people who look like me, and we all want to think we’re the well cultivated field! What about when God is scattering seeds in those other places, the places that don’t look ready or don’t seem right for planting?

I wonder what those places might be? It’s probably different for each of us, but I suspect that sometimes we all have a gut reaction, a first and quickly suppressed feeling of dismay that seed is being wasted on undeserving soil. I often hear about things like this from friends and family when I talk about mission trips or becoming a missionary—after all, part of the American dream is to turn ourselves into good soil at any cost. Today our high school youth, along with their adult leaders, will leave for a week in the inner city. When I told a friend about this trip he asked why I would take our youth “down there” where people don’t want to work, they only want to take advantage of the system. I wonder if this person thinks we’ll be wasting seeds of grace and love when we meet homeless children or when we make meals for hungry people? I don’t think we like to think about these kinds of things—they make us uncomfortable, they make us confront our stereotypes and prejudices, they make us defensive. I think that might be a sign that, once again, Jesus has used a story of God’s love to turn our world upside down.

Did you notice what’s happened in the way we use this parable in daily conversation? The traditional way this parable is explained is that we are the soil, which is an important and useful interpretation. But it seems we often also see ourselves as the sower. But if we follow the story the way Jesus tells it, being the sower means participating in God’s mission by recklessly scattering seeds of love and grace, seeds of good news, wherever we go. Not just in places that we think are worthy of the seeds, but every place. The soil we’re tossing seed to isn’t only the carefully cultivated soil but also the rocky, the weedy, the hard-packed. The soil that looks messy, unkempt, unworthy, that just looks like dirt. God can work with any kind of soil, after all, and so God scatters seeds recklessly and calls us to do the same. May it be so.

Thanks be to God.
Amen.

master procrastinator

Okay, so I was looking around the web for inspiration for this sermon (umm..yeah, that's what the kids are calling it these days) and I came across this video at Queen Mum's place:



Which of course made me think of this video (thanks to RM for bringing the new version to our attention a couple weeks ago!):


.

Neither of these has anything whatsoever to do with my sermon, which must be finished in the next, oh, hour or so.

Back to work...

stuff

I hate buying stuff I already have. 

I know that, somewhere in my house, I have an electricity/plug converter/adapter.  I know I do.  What I don't know is...where?  I feel like I've looked everywhere--places that make sense and places that don't.  I can't find it.

Which means I'm off to buy something I'm pretty sure I already have.

(sigh)  Apparently I can't just live simply, because that would be too easy.  And would require some kind of organizational skills that I clearly lack.

(bigger sigh)

packing

Packing for two distinct and very dissimilar trips that are back-to-back is harder than you might think. The number of cross-over items continues to grow.

Gym shoes.
some toiletries (though for some I have multiples of travel-size bottles, which is handy).
Bible.
books.
messenger bag needed for two different purposes.
water bottle.
flip flops.
flashlight.
windbreaker.
phone charger.

You get the idea.
This doesn't even get into the problem of clothes and shoes. You see, I love love love shoes (though I don't actually like to WEAR shoes if it's warm out and if I'm not somewhere where it's dangerous to not wear shoes) so I'm having trouble deciding what shoes to take to Scotland. But I tend to prefer minimalism in clothes--I don't own a lot of clothes and I tend to go through my clothes a few times a year and get rid of anything I haven't worn in a season. Which means I have a total of about 10 outfits. I own one pair of jeans, one pair of capris, one pair of brown slacks, one pair of black slacks, two brown skirts (one wool, one rayon), two white skirts (one plain, one decorated), and one black skirt. I own about 5 sweaters in varying weights and colors (most shades of blue or red). I own maybe 2 "blouses" and 4 or 5 t-shirt style tops. I have a few sleeveless shirts too. Which all mixes and matches quite nicely for me...especially if i'm going to sit in a church office most of the day (meaning I can wear most things at least twice before washing them) and if I can do laundry frequently. But for three weeks away, traveling/being active AND with limited/no laundry capability? Well...

Let's just say I had to do a little shopping. I got some cheap undergarments and a pair of jeans on clearance at Target ($11!). I'm planning to pick up my stash of free t-shirts (a hazard of working with youth) from my office (forgot to do that today when I was there, meaning another trip there tomorrow when I should be writing a sermon...) so I don't have to dip into my very few top-options while on the mission trip. But still--I'm looking at one pair of jeans per trip right now, which is sort of limiting. So I bought some recycled pants from nau (they're going out of business, so shop now! ha! update--they have apparently been given a second chance at life in a new form, but you can still buy anything they have left in the spring/summer 08 line at 50% off!)--they're water and wind resistant, which means they're going to Scotland! Supposedly they hand wash well too. Thank goodness for companies that make stuff for outdoorsy/travel types. What would we do without them? I also picked up a couple of t-shirts from nau. They say, in morse code all over the shirt, "Be the change you wish to see in the world." How cool is that? recycled pants and Ghandi in morse code. Fun.

I think I've doubled my wardrobe in the past week. But that doesn't solve any of the problems on the list there...so back to the packing drawing board (well, or suitcase-shaped lists!). The trouble is, I really don't want to be materialistic. I work hard at not buying or holding on to stuff. I have a pretty laid-back attitude about stuff--I mean, it's just stuff. Sure, I have stuff that is important to me and that I'd have a hard time getting rid of (which is why I still own books I hated--I can't seem to get rid of books), but overall I don't feel attached to stuff. I feel attached to my cats, my friends, my congregation, my memories and experiences.  But stuff?  Not so much.

I think the gospel calls us to live simply. I think that if we want to live in a way that our planet can sustain our life here, we need to live more simply than most of us do. I think that we who have many privileges also have a responsibility, to tread lightly on the earth, and I think we have an obligation to our brothers and sisters who have different privileges.  I don't think Jesus was kidding when he said that it's hard for the rich to enter the kingdom of heaven.  Then again, I think he means the kingdom of heaven coming on earth, not the kingdom of heaven that only happens when we die.  Sure, "you can't take it with you" but also "you can't even see it's here over your mounds of material 'goods'."  I wonder what thinking about these things does to our vision?  And what it does to our understanding of who is privileged or underprivileged, developed or developing, deserving or not?  Hmm...

Tomorrow: writing a sermon about the parable of the sower. Let's just say this: I think it will be relevant as several ricklepickles head to the inner city for a week. But I am apparently incapable of getting it on 'paper' without the preacher party...