On Fire--a sermon for Pentecost

Rev. Teri Peterson
RCLPC
On Fire 
Acts 2.1-22, 24, 32-33, 37-39 27
May 2012, Pentecost

When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability. Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, ‘Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs—in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.’ All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, ‘What does this mean?’ But others sneered and said, ‘They are filled with new wine.’ But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them: ‘Men of Judea and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to what I say. Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o’clock in the morning. No, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel: 
“In the last days it will be, God declares,
that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh,
 and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,
and your young men shall see visions,
 and your old men shall dream dreams. 
Even upon my slaves, both men and women,
 in those days I will pour out my Spirit;
 and they shall prophesy. 
And I will show portents in the heaven above
 and signs on the earth below,
 blood, and fire, and smoky mist. 
The sun shall be turned to darkness
 and the moon to blood,
 before the coming of the Lord’s great and glorious day. 
Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.” ‘You that are Israelites, listen to what I have to say: Jesus of Nazareth, a man attested to you by God with deeds of power, wonders, and signs that God did through him among you, as you yourselves know— God raised him up, having freed him from death, because it was impossible for him to be held in its power. 
This Jesus God raised up, and of that all of us are witnesses. Being therefore exalted at the right hand of God, and having received from the Father the promise of the Holy Spirit, he has poured out this that you both see and hear. Now when they heard this, they were cut to the heart and said to Peter and to the other apostles, ‘Brothers, what should we do?’ Peter said to them, ‘Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may be forgiven; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. For the promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to him.’

I know not everyone gets as excited about things as I do, but think back to the last time you were really excited for something. What was it? Can you call up that feeling of anticipation, of joy, of passion? When we’re passionate about something, we can feel it, and so can the people around us. We talk faster and louder, for some of us our color rises and people wonder if we’re burning up inside—and we are, that’s why it’s called “being fired up!”! That excitement calls up the fire in our bones and our bellies, and we can talk for hours, at a speed and volume that may very well lead people to wonder if we’re…well…drunk, even if it is nine-o-clock in the morning.

 That kind of passion, that kind of excitement, that kind of love is contagious. You can feel the spark of positive energy in a room or a crowd. Especially when we share things that have called to us, changed us, brought us joy—and when we share in terms others can understand—it makes people want to be a part of that experience or to take action. The fire spreads. Sometimes it’s a slow burn, other times it’s a wildfire driven by wind.

No one knew what to expect when the Spirit blew into that room all those years ago, igniting the church with love. They hadn’t put together a committee and made careful plans. When the Spirit blew in, they were just an average church—a bunch of people who like to tell stories and host potlucks, with their good and bad habits, their fear and their faith intermingled, uncertainty about the future just as prominent as their love of singing and eating together. What would they do? Who would they be? Why were they here? What was the point? Sure, the fellowship and the worship are nice, and people are friendly, but what are we here for? And can we make it? Do we have a future?

 It’s into this uncertainty that the Spirit comes, whistling and rushing and filling, setting their hearts and their tongues aflame. They were overwhelmed with love, igniting a holy fire in that place. They couldn’t help themselves, they had to talk about it—and not just amongst themselves. They can’t just use the words they’re comfortable with, they can’t just communicate on their own terms—they learn at last to reach into people’s hearts and truly speak in ways others can understand. Finally, they can pass on their excitement, their hope, their stories, their love—they can share the thing that has changed their lives.

There’s a reason that Pentecost is often called the Birthday of the Church. It’s because this is the day when we learned who we are, why we are here, and what to do about it. It’s the day a gathering of people who like potlucks became the Body of Christ commissioned to share the love of God with the world. It’s the day a small group of scared men and women who weren’t sure they could survive the coming year were transformed into a true community that learned to pray, to teach their faith, share their resources, welcome the stranger, clothe the naked, and feed the hungry without worrying about the budget. It’s the day a bunch of people who thought they knew the story found out what it means to be a storyteller. They didn’t just wait for people to come and notice that they were friendly but struggling, they went out and spoke the language of literally every nation on earth, and found they had more than enough resources for their task. All those names John had to pronounce are the names of every nation that was known at that time—every. single. one. That’s how far God calls us—to every single place, to change the life of every single person, one story and one meal and one small flame at a time. It’s not enough to be on fire with love ourselves, it’s not enough to say we’re just one light, not enough to stay in our upper room and wait for the Spirit to do something else for us while we worry in comfort…we have to do something about it, until the whole world is on fire.

  (video will play at this point)



We come to the table, bringing what we are able, and we’re not alone in this story…we’re looking for a calling, something we can do to change the world…well, the first answer, as Howard Thurman says, is to ask what makes you come alive—because what the world needs is people who are alive. What is your passion? What makes your heart beat faster, what brings color to your cheeks, what makes you talk faster and louder? The world needs that passion. The church needs that passion. We need that spark within and among us. That’s where God is moving in our midst.

Of course, sometimes the church and the world are afraid of passion, of fire. It threatens the way things are, it brings change and that often means pain or destruction before new life takes hold. The heat makes us uncomfortable, and we back away. Or worse, we look for ways to contain it in our safe fire pits, or even to put it out. A few years ago a friend of mine was leading worship on Pentecost when, during the prayers near the end of the service, a candle on the communion table burned dangerously low and the gauzy red tablecloth, which was wafting on the breeze of the air conditioner, caught fire. After a few moments of shouting, confusion, and frozen uncertainty, someone thought to grab the baptismal font and dump the water on the table to douse the flames. While this was a perfectly practical and good thing to do, it does make for a strange metaphor. As my friend put it, “in an absurd clash of symbols, the waters of baptism actually extinguished the fires of the Spirit.”

We can laugh about that, especially since no one was hurt and nothing was damaged. But the reality in the absurd clash of symbols is hard to miss—sometimes entering the church community (which is one of the things symbolized in baptism) can be the fastest way to douse the flames of passion with “we’ve never done it that way before” and “you should…” and “that’s not what we do here.” Working through the channels to get something done, to try something new, to put passion into action, can be exhausting, and many people simply give up—why bother? Especially when the world tells us to just go along with the flow, don’t make waves, be sensible. It’s easier to just come to worship and be filled, or to drift away, or to find some other place where I can put my passions and gifts to good use. Flames belong in their place—safely contained in fire pits or rule books, not actually burning and heating and lighting and spreading.

 But the fire that the Spirit ignites can’t be contained, any more than Jesus could be contained in a tomb or God could be contained inside the Bible. God has a way of bursting out of the confines we put up, and this is no different. The people gathered there were literally blown out of the house, and they spoke to the ends of the earth—because the promise is for you, and your children, and everyone who is far away, everyone God calls. Wind and fire will work together to spread God’s transforming love, setting the world on fire. Will we fan the flames, or dig the trenches?

 May the fire of God’s love burn brightly within us, and through us into the world. Amen.

monday morning haiku

meant to take out trash
memory sparked by truck's sound
oh--maybe next week.

dear internets...

...it's not that I don't love you.

Quite the opposite.

I love you too much, and that means that I do not get enough work done.

And by "not enough work" I mean the three enormous writing projects that are all due in the next 3 weeks. Some of them in the next 4 days. One of them in the next 18 hours.
(which is to say: my regular job gets done just fine. It's the stuff I need to do in addition to all that I'm finding difficult! not to mention that I haven't washed any dishes in a week, nor exercised for several weeks...)

SO: don't take my absence the wrong way. It's just that I have to do a lot of writing, and you are so seductive with your pictures, your interesting articles, your funnies, your pithy sayings. The little blue twitter bird and the red facebook notification bubble are so seductive that I can't help myself. Therefore, I'm going to have to turn you off for a bit. I'll be back, though....I couldn't stay away if I tried.

mwah!

ten on tuesday

okay, so it's barely still tuesday, but whatever. in no particular order, 10 things.

1. I am working on two writing projects and one presentation, plus of course my regular job. One writing project requires me to say whatever I have to say in 500 words or less. The other writing project requires me to write nearly 5000 words on a single topic. I would dearly love a writing project that has a word requirement somewhere in between.

this is what I do now, everywhere I go, even on vacation in Sonoma

2. I am a bad cat mom. Sunday morning I ran out of cat food but forgot to go to the store...Sunday night/Monday morning I had two hungry cat-monsters. I gave them some wet food I had on hand, but on their apparently very empty stomachs that just led to cat vomiting. gross.

3. I am grateful for my friend Elizabeth's newfound lack of carpeting, which led to her SpotBot coming to live at my house. It makes cleaning up the evidence of bad cat mothering much easier.

4. We had a very awesome Earth Day at church, and I so love our music ministry and the ways they can really pull everything together.

5. Since I have these two writing projects and a presentation all coming up in the next 4 weeks, naturally I have been spending time making arrangements for an event that is 3 months away. Because that event is a trip to Scotland, and sometimes a girl just needs to put some hard numbers to the daydreams.

6. I got parsnips in my box from Door-to-Door Organics last week. I still have no idea what to do with those. Suggestions welcome.

7. I have about a dozen books to read, but am putting them all off until the big writing projects are done. Like a reward, sort of. I hope that works.

8. I have run out of ice cream. I don't know how it happened, but one day I had ice cream and the next day I didn't. Well, okay, I know how it happened (I ate the ice cream) but I'm not clear about how I allowed this situation to progress to the point of having no ice cream in the house at all. It's quite distressing.

this is how I feel about ice cream. you can see why I'm sad to not have any.

9. Good thing I have girl scout cookies, courtesy of every girl scout I know across the country. Thanks Grace, Iona, Abby, Anna, Lily, and Selam!

10. I asked the confirmation class this week what was exciting in their lives. They didn't have anything exciting, which I thought very strange. I usually feel like my life is pretty boring, but compared to theirs my life is a whirlwind of excitement!

every day is earth day: a sermon for April 22 2012

Rev. Teri Peterson

RCLPC

every day is earth day

a bunch of different texts

22 April 2012, Easter 3B (off lectionary), Earth Day

Nehemiah 9:6

You made the heavens, even the highest heavens, and all their starry host, the earth and all that is on it, the seas and all that is in them. You give life to everything, and the multitudes of heaven worship you.

John 1:3

Everything came into being through the Word, and without the Word nothing came into being.

Psalm 24:1-2

The earth is the Lord’s and everything in it, the world and its inhabitants too.

Because God is the one who established it on the seas; God set it firmly on the waters.

Psalm 19.1-4

Heaven is declaring God’s glory; the sky is proclaiming God’s handiwork.

One day gushes the news to the next, and one night informs another what needs to be known.

Of course, there’s no speech, no words—their voices can’t be heard—

    but their sound extends throughout the world; their words reach the ends of the earth.

Job 12.7-10

Ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds of the air, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish of the sea inform you. Which of these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In God’s hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all humankind.

Genesis 1:1, 31, 2:7-9, 15

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth... God saw all that he had made, and it was very good.

The Lord God formed the human from the topsoil of the fertile land and blew life’s breath into his nostrils. The human came to life. The Lord God planted a garden in Eden in the east and put there the human he had formed. The Lord God took the human and settled him in the garden of Eden to farm it and to take care of it.

Ezekiel 34:17-18

Is it not enough for you to feed on the good pasture? Must you also trample the rest of your pasture with your feet? Is it not enough for you to drink clear water? Must you also muddy the rest with your feet?

Romans 8:22, 19

We know that the whole creation is groaning together and suffering labor pains up until now. The whole creation waits breathless with anticipation for the revelation of God’s sons and daughters.

Yesterday morning, eleven of our youth and six intrepid adults woke up early and went to join in the Community Clean Up Day. We spent two and a half hours picking up trash from a park that had a stream running through it…you would not believe how much trash collects in a tree-lined stream. Cans, firecrackers, plastic bags, candy wrappers. We also had a few big finds—lots of golf balls, part of a realtor’s sign, a five gallon bucket, and an old boot. Some of the people who walked their dogs in the park stopped to talk to us, and more than one thanked us for the work we were doing, and promised to remember us whenever they walked in that park. But a few of them followed that up with “I’m glad someone does this, because I wouldn’t.”

Now, I’m not against people not wanting to get dirty. It was cold and muddy work, cleaning up that stream. It was hard to pick our way through trees and bushes to get the trash that collects in the underbrush. But how many of us walk past things we could do to help? Most of that litter didn’t start out in the stream or the underbrush, it started out blowing down the street or dropped on the playground, but we walked by. Not all those candy wrappers got embedded in the dirt because someone pushed them into the ground—they were dropped and forgotten, or noticed and left anyway, or even stepped on and ignored. “It’s not that important” right? “It’s probably biodegradable.” “It’s dirty.” “It’s just one wrapper, one cigarette, one plastic grocery bag, one water bottle.” We say the same things about letting the water run when we wash dishes or leaving lights on even when we aren’t in the room. It’s just a little thing—does it matter?

Even when we do pick things up or dispose of them properly in the first place—what happens to them? Do we recycle, or throw everything away because it’s quicker? How did we end up with so much disposable stuff in our society, and where does it all go? Few of us live near a landfill, so we hardly ever have to think about what happens to the stuff we throw away. But it goes somewhere, and sits and sits and sits, taking up valuable land, or it collects in the rivers and oceans, like in the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, which is a floating island bigger than Texas made up entirely of plastic waste. Our pattern of consumption and waste leaves a mark—whether it’s a garbage island, a slick on the mud at the bottom of a stream, unbreatheable air, or mutant fish—and that mark hurts other parts of God’s creation, from animals to plants to other human beings who can’t find clean water or healthy enough soil to grow food. How did we get here?

Some of this is the byproduct of living in a wealthy society with a culture of disposability. To make life more convenient we have also made it expendable. As an example, this week I saw an interesting photo-article about school lunches around the world. While the food differences were intriguing, the most interesting thing was the dishes on which lunch was served. The only disposable things in the entire set of 20 countries’ lunches came from American schools. Styrofoam or paper trays, plastic fruit cups, plastic forks, paper cups, foil chip bags. In other countries, ranging from Japan to France to Kenya, students ate lunch served at school on real dishes. Some of them had metal bowls, others ceramic plates, but nothing was disposable until you got all the way to the end of the article, to the American lunch.

Into the middle of this reality we hear the word of God for our day: “Is it not enough for you to feed in the good pasture and drink from the stream, must you also trample and muddy the rest of it?” God planted a garden, placed human beings in it to take care of it, and called everything “very good.” All around us God’s creation calls out in praise even as we use it for our own purposes. And before I get myself into trouble, let me just say: yes, human beings are the pinnacle of the creation story as told in Genesis 1. God makes all the rest of creation, then makes human beings in God’s very own image, and places us in this beautiful gift of a world.

But the gift is more like a loan—because, as we learn in the rest of scripture, “The earth is the Lord’s and everything in it.” The world belongs to God, not to us—our job is to take care of it and use it wisely, to love God partly by loving the things God has made. Our job is not to use it however we want with no thought to the rest of the beautiful web God has woven, no thought for the future of the system and those who will live in it after us. When one strand of a web breaks, the rest is weakened as well, and that is true for God’s creation just as it is for the icky little spiders who weave those webs I can so blithely use for a metaphor.

Most of the time when the Bible talks about creation, it’s about how all of God’s creation sings, it’s about how even creation praises the Lord so why can’t we seem to learn, and it’s about instructions for taking care. Huge chunks of the Old Testament are about how we ought to care for the land, give it fallow seasons, not pollute it, and use it wisely so it will produce good fruit—enough for everyone! In fact, the word used in that Genesis 2 creation story, where we heard that God took the human and put him in the garden to farm and take care of it—usually that is translated as “to till and keep it.” And that word that can be translated as “keep” or as “take care” is the same word as in the blessing—“The Lord bless you and keep you.” We are to care for, to keep, the gift of God’s creation in the same way that God cares for and keeps us. This is not a gift given lightly! The land was such a gift for God’s covenant people, and the way to keep the gift was to treat it carefully and with respect. And yet when we get to Paul, we hear this: “we know that the whole creation is groaning…waiting with breathless anticipation for the revelation of God’s sons and daughters.” Groaning…breathless anticipation…the whole world is waiting for us to become who God has made us to be, to see what a complete set of God’s creatures participating in God’s kingdom might look like.

Well, aren’t we all God’s children? Here we are, we haven’t been hiding or anything…so how come the world hasn’t noticed yet? How can there still be more to wait for?
Perhaps because someone living as though they are made in the image of God, the creator of all things, would not walk through a park and proclaim that they wouldn’t stop to pick up some trash.

Perhaps because someone living as though they are made in the image of God, creator of the first garden, would not feed themselves and trample the rest of the pasture while others are hungry and thirsty.

Perhaps because someone living as though they are made in the image of God, creator and owner of the world and all that lives in it, would not stand silent while their culture continues to regard everything (including some of its people) as disposable.

Perhaps the issue is not that creation waits for the right people, but that creation waits for us to grow into our inheritance, into our true selves, into the creatures God created to live in this delicate web of life. All creation groans and waits breathlessly for us to be transformed by God’s grace so that the image of God is revealed in us. When we take a place in the web of creation, rather than trying to remake it to our liking, subdue it for our uses, and force it to follow our own way, we may very well find ourselves singing the same song as the sky and stars and birds and fish and sea—every day, not just on Earth Day.

May it be so. Amen.

some tropical delicious for a strange spring day

Today, thanks to Door to Door Organics, I had a little Egypt flashback. When I first went to Egypt, one of the stranger and more wonderful things I encountered was the ubiquitous juice stand. You can always recognize it by the bags of fruit hanging out front, which will usually give you a clue about what's in season (and therefore what you can get). In the summer and early fall, mangos are in season.

Apparently in Peru, mangos are in season right now.

So...in my Door to Door Organics box last week were two delicious looking mangos. Now, every other time I've had mangos in the US they have been beyond disappointing. In fact, when I went to Egypt, I thought I didn't like them! But one slice into one of these mangos (after removing the Peru sticker) told me this was the real deal.

So...I had one of my favorite things: mango juice! I popped the flesh of the two mangos into a cup, put in some water, and whipped out the immersion blender...soon I was transported to one of the best parts of that year (the food!). :-) 16 ounces of fresh mango juice...unfortunately sans the fun juice man and his jokes (which are probably much funnier if your Arabic is better than mine ever was!)

Definitely a good thing on a day filled with some of my least favorite things: lightning, thunder, and rain. It's like sun in a cup!

And healthy too!

fasting for Lent

Lent is a common time to practice fasting--abstaining from things in the hope that when we discipline ourselves, we are more likely to see God's presence around us. When we don't give in to every craving for a snack, or spend our time constantly consuming or distracting ourselves, we have more energy (spiritual, mental, and physical) to pay attention to what God is calling us to.

In that spirit, each week during Lent many in our church family are fasting from different things.

The first week we fasted from snacking between meals. I didn't find that too hard, until the end of the week--something about Friday made me crave all kinds of snacks I'd not cared about earlier in the week. But whenever I wanted a snack during the week, I spent a moment thinking of those who don't have enough to eat, and feeding my hunger for justice instead of my hunger for Girl Scout Cookies (of which I have many!).

Last week we fasted from text messaging and computer/video games. The fast runs Monday-Saturday, and by mid-morning on Monday I was already in withdrawal. I hadn't realized just how much I use texting as a way to convey and receive short bursts of information and to keep in touch with various friends throughout the day. I talked on the phone more than usual last week! It's interesting to think about the differences in types of communication. What's lost when relying so much on texting? How can we maintain connections and at the same time not be tied to that medium? And then the games...I was super afraid that I would end up losing (aka being force-resigned from) all my Words With Friends games--because if you don't play for a certain number of days in a row, you lose. :-( I was theoretically prepared for giving that up, but I confess it hurt my too-competitive soul just a bit. That doesn't seem to have happened, thanks to my friends being slow players too, so I didn't have to face those "consequences" (yes, I realize what a ridiculously tiny first world problem that is). And I really did have more time when I wasn't checking in on my games every few hours.

This coming week we're fasting from TV and movies. I don't have tv channels, and I rarely watch movies, so it shouldn't be hard, right? Well...yes and no. I mean, I do have Netflix and Amazon Prime streaming video, and I usually go to a friend's house to watch the Monday night musical extravaganza (The Voice and Smash). And, much bigger than that, when I work out each morning I watch some tv. It's my moment to just let my mind veg out while I work my muscles...I watch the previous night's Daily Show, or I watch streaming netflix tv shows. This week, no tv during workouts. I'm not entirely certain what that's going to mean, but I suspect it means that I'll be taking advantage of the nicer weather to get outside!

As I was contemplating this situation, a parent at church reminded me (via basically preaching back to me my sermon from 2 weeks ago) that multitasking is often the enemy of the deeper spiritual and creative life. She told me to keep the tv (and the ipod) off and just go workout, focusing on what I was doing and nothing else...and that might just turn out to be the time when problems would be solved, my brain would be free to do its thing, and I might even find that my spirit was more free too. It could help to "clear the clutter" (to use a phrase that's been in our Lenten liturgy each week) if I would just take advantage of this opportunity rather than seeing the fast as a burden.

Well, she told me! and of course she's right. So this week, no tv or movies. hopefully some clutter will clear and my own spiritual vision will come into focus. When it does...I can text you about it. ;-)

See Clearly--a sermon for Heart and Seek 3 (Lent 2012)

Rev. Teri Peterson
RCLPC
See Clearly
Acts 9.1-22
11 March 2012, Lent 3B (off lectionary: Heart and Seek 3)



Meanwhile Saul, still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord, went to the high priest and asked him for letters to the synagogues at Damascus, so that if he found any who belonged to the Way, men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem. Now as he was going along and approaching Damascus, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. He fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, ‘Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?’ He asked, ‘Who are you, Lord?’ The reply came, ‘I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. But get up and enter the city, and you will be told what you are to do.’ The men who were traveling with him stood speechless because they heard the voice but saw no one. Saul got up from the ground, and though his eyes were open, he could see nothing; so they led him by the hand and brought him into Damascus. For three days he was without sight, and neither ate nor drank.

Now there was a disciple in Damascus named Ananias. The Lord said to him in a vision, ‘Ananias.’ He answered, ‘Here I am, Lord.’ The Lord said to him, ‘Get up and go to the street called Straight, and at the house of Judas look for a man of Tarsus named Saul. At this moment he is praying, and he has seen in a vision a man named Ananias come in and lay his hands on him so that he might regain his sight.’ But Ananias answered, ‘Lord, I have heard from many about this man, how much evil he has done to your saints in Jerusalem; and here he has authority from the chief priests to bind all who invoke your name.’ But the Lord said to him, ‘Go, for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel; I myself will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name.’ So Ananias went and entered the house. He laid his hands on Saul and said, ‘Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus, who appeared to you on your way here, has sent me so that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit.’ And immediately something like scales fell from his eyes, and his sight was restored. Then he got up and was baptized, and after taking some food, he regained his strength.

For several days he was with the disciples in Damascus, and immediately he began to proclaim Jesus in the synagogues, saying, ‘He is the Son of God.’ All who heard him were amazed and said, ‘Is not this the man who made havoc in Jerusalem among those who invoked this name? And has he not come here for the purpose of bringing them bound before the chief priests?’ Saul became increasingly more powerful and confounded the Jews who lived in Damascus by proving that Jesus was the Messiah.

In many churches the preacher leads a prayer right before the sermon—sometimes it’s called the “prayer for illumination”—praying for the Spirit to shed light on the word of God in our time and place. Several years ago I was in church when I heard the following prayer right before the sermon: “Lord, let something happen here this morning—something that isn’t in the bulletin.”

I’m pretty sure that wasn’t what Paul was praying that day as he traveled the road to Damascus!

Paul was working the plan—to get rid of this newfangled heresy called The Way by getting rid these people following Jesus and proclaiming that he was alive and the son of God. He knew what to do, and he was doing it…until something happened that wasn’t in the bulletin. Blinding flash of light, thrown to the ground, booming voice—the whole nine yards. The only thing missing was a burning bush, but he wouldn’t have been able to see it anyway.

Paul was literally knocked down, forcing a new perspective--things look different down in the dust than from on high, and they look different when your eyes are sealed than when you think you know what you're seeing. Even when he stood upright again, he couldn’t see with his eyes—he was forced to learn to see with his heart, to think about that voice rather than brush it off as an anomaly or something only crazy people would hear. And so he spent three days adjusting to this new reality—three days fasting and praying, seeking God with his whole heart. In order to do this work, preparing for God’s new perspective, he had to go without some things, had to remove any number of obstacles to his vision. Then when Ananias came, Paul was ready—ready to hear the good news, to see the world differently, to proclaim a new message. The last obstacles disappeared, and Paul could see more clearly than ever how God was present and working in the world.

I wonder what obstacles are in the way of our vision? What’s stopping us from looking with new perspective? What dark lenses need to fall away so we can see clearly?

Sometimes the obstacles may be literal objects—things we hold to so tightly, we can’t see around them to look for what God is doing. The ancient Israelites had more than their share of trouble with idols, and I think we do too. Most of us have something that we would be loathe to give up, even if it meant we were freer to seek God.

Sometimes the obstacles may be relationships—not all relationships are healthy or help us to seek and follow Jesus. Some of us are in relationships that suck our energy dry, or that are hurtful, or that make us into anxious or angry people rather than helping us build the kingdom of God on earth as it is in heaven. Ananias was afraid that was the kind of relationship he was about to get into with Paul, but he trusted his relationship with Jesus enough to go and be surprised.

Sometimes the obstacles are embedded in the ways we think about God—if we believe God has to be one way or another, it makes it hard to see when God is doing a new thing in our midst. Perhaps that’s why Paul had to be blinded, and why Ananias had to be reassured—because it’s hard to imagine God acting in ways we don’t think God should act, or God loving people we don’t think God should love, or God calling people we don’t think God should call.

Sometimes the obstacle is in how we see ourselves—Paul knew he was in the in-crowd, he was a Pharisee and a Roman citizen, he had followed the law and was just the kind of person everyone aspires to be. How often do our perceptions of ourselves—as the talented one, the popular one, the smart one, the one who made it, the black sheep, the loser, the slacker, the non-conformist, the self-made—or even our job titles…how often do they obscure our vision of what God might be doing in our lives, or asking us to do with our lives? I don’t know about you, but sometimes what I think I am is the biggest obstacle to doing God’s new thing.

Sometimes the obstacles are embedded in our language—when we choose to say something without thinking of its implications, or when we are violent with our word choices, we can end up stuck as well as creating obstacles for others.

Sometimes the obstacles may be the way we do things—If all we do is blindly follow the bulletin without thinking about how the pieces fit together or how they help us encounter God, or if we blindly go along with the culture or political discourse because it’s just easier that way, or blindly accept the status quo because, well, it’s just the way things are…then it’s time to pray more fervently that something not in the bulletin will happen this morning! Paul knew how things were to be done and what he had to do…the way things have always been done, or the structures in which we live, can easily become obstacles to seeing and following God’s way.

Sometimes the obstacles may be our expectations—if we expect that people will fail, they often will. If we expect people to rise to the occasion, they often will. If we expect too much or too little of ourselves, or of church, or of children or teens or parents or elders or anyone else at all, we’ll often find ourselves frustrated and blocked at every turn. If we expect that worship will be boring as usual, it will be. If we expect God to show up during worship or Sunday School or youth group or choir practice or staff meeting or on the morning commute, or during lunch at school or in the office, God will. Paul certainly knew what he expected to find in Damascus…thankfully, that expectation was shattered before he got there. The expectations we put up can be just as effective as walls, or they can open doors.

I’m sure there are dozens more examples of obstacles, and while some will be common human experience, others will be so individual that we all have to spend time searching them out on our own.

There will always be obstacles in our lives, of course. We’ll never be completely free of them—we’ll always see through a dark glass, until the kingdom of God is fully realized. Even in the song, the obstacles didn’t disappear, it’s just that “I can see all obstacles in my way.” Once we learn to recognize them, then we can also learn to look past and move around them at least some of the time. In fact, there was a Mythbusters episode about this very idea. An obstacle course was constructed, and then people who’d never seen it went in to try to navigate it—in the dark. Not surprisingly, the change from light to dark and their inability to see the obstacles in front of them made it very slow going. But after they’d seen the course in the light for just a few moments, they were able to navigate it in the dark again much more quickly. Isn’t that kind of like what the Christian journey is about—learning to follow Jesus even through and around the obstacles of life, learning to adjust our lenses or our perspective so we can discern what God is doing in our midst even when it’s hard to see?

So may something unexpected happen here this morning, bringing us new vision—something unexpectedly beautiful, unexpectedly hopeful, and unexpectedly perspective-changing…and may we see it clearly.

Amen.

Friday Five: superwomen!

Karla is over at RGBP getting ready for the church women's retreat..."This Friday-Saturday is our annual Women's Retreat at my church. It's one of my favorite 24 hours of the year, because we enjoy each other, we laugh, we cry, we support each other..and all of that good stuff!
So, since I am in the WR mode, let's talk about women in your life!"

1. Name a woman author you very much love to read.

Ooh, just one? I have several I really enjoy. I like Margaret George's historical fiction. I like Julia Spencer Fleming's clergy-sleuth mysteries. I like basically every book ever written about a princess, Tudor or otherwise, and many of those are written by women--notably Phillippa Gregory. I loved the Margaret of Ashbury series by Judith Merkle Riley.
2. Name a woman from the Bible with whom you would like to enjoy a nice long coffee talk.

hmm...Miriam. Or Rebeka. Or the woman at the well.
3. Name a famous woman from history with whom you would like to have lunch.

Catherine de Medici.
4. Name a living famous or infamous woman with whom you would like to go out to dinner.

like probably every other woman in the country...Michelle Obama. Such grace, and such a wonderful laugh, and so so smart!
5. If you could be SuperWoman (o.k., I know you already ARE) what three special powers would you like to have?

I definitely want to be able to apparate/disapparate (fastest way to travel!). To slow or speed up time would be handy (especially for naptimes!), though I have no idea how that would actually work--just repeating time (a la a timeturner) would be fine. :-) And the power to eat whatever I want...aka, a faster metabolism.

And you?

International Women's Day

March 8 is International Women's Day...a day to celebrate the contributions of women (all women, from the rural subsistence farmer to the CEO) and to raise awareness of the issues of women around the globe. Issues like equal pay (even in the US, we don't have this), education (2/3 of the children who can't go to school are girls), healthcare (in many parts of the world, and even in some places in the US, healthcare for women is nonexistent), safety, etc. We know that educating women and ensuring they have healthcare are the keys, often, to bringing whole communities out of poverty...and yet.

Just this week I've had more than one conversation that included the words "I'm not a feminist." There's also the national conversation going on about how we talk about women, and the use of the word "feminazi" ...(not to mention "slut.")

And then I started reading this book, a biography of Gertrude Bell, and in the prologue--only a few pages in--came across this quote:

"she was not a feminist; she had no wish for special treatment.....this was the 1880s when women were hardly educated or allowed to prove themselves outside the home....she got a First at Oxford, was a spy and a major in the British army, was a poet, scholar, historian, mountaineer, photographer, archaeologist, gardener, cartographer, linguist, and distinguished servant of the state."

Now, let's be clear: feminism is not about special treatment. It's about equality. It's not special for me to want to be treated the same as a man. It's not special for girls to have the same educational opportunities, to get paid the same for the same work, or to have access to healthcare. That's human.

Gertrude Bell had plenty of opportunities other women in the 1880s didn't have....which I'm pretty sure qualifies as special treatment because of her socio-economic status, but let's leave that issue aside for a moment. She did all those things--including creating the maps of the middle east that were used by everyone up until the second world war. She went on adventures, shaped nations, had amazing access to politicians, served in the military, and published under her own name. In her time and place, it would have been perfectly normal and acceptable for the men in her life to refuse her these opportunities for schooling, travel, work, speaking to powerful men. But they didn't. She broke the norm for women of her culture, her class, her time, so that she could do whatever the men could do.

So yes, she was a feminist.

It's time to take that word back. There is no reason for "feminist" to be a dirty word, a slur, a put-down. It's a badge to wear proudly--yes, I'm a feminist, because I believe women are human beings with all the same rights as any other human being, with capabilities and liabilities like any other human being, and women deserve to be treated equally, with respect. period.

cat crazy

Today my cats are going crazy. It can't be just the wind (which is also crazy) because it was insanely windy yesterday and they weren't like this...something is up. Not sure what, but holy weird cats, batman!

Ollie has just raced through the house several times, followed by Andrew...and then Ollie hopped up onto the kitchen counter, top of the fridge, and onto the top of the cabinets, where she raced back and forth from wall to wall up at ceiling level. Meanwhile, Andrew is pacing the kitchen floor at about the same speed, because he can't jump that high. (heehee).

To top it off, Ollie is still slowly recovering from a sinus infection, which means that when she runs around you can hear her breathing through her still-kind-of-congested nose.

And now they are simultaneously stalking something on the balcony and each other.

Awesome.

And what does this mean? Are they sensing something coming? What is it??

Friday Five: winter essentials

Over at RGBP Kathryn writes:

I'm heading from unseasonably warm temperatures and no snow to a place of GREAT SNOW. Sadly, for reasons that don't need to be boringly laid out here, I am sans decent winter boots at the moment so I need to find some... NOW! In the meantime I am shaking my head at myself. How could I possibly be without one of the key essentials for living in my environment?
Every area is different. What are the 5 key essentials needed for where you live?

Well, I'm extrapolating that we mean winter essentials, because of course spring and summer require different essentials, at least around here.

For winter...

Scarves. Plenty of them. I may have been seen wearing more than one scarf at a time on occasion. You know, one that matches my outfit, and then one that's on the outside of my coat too, for extra warmth. (I may also be in possession of more scarves than outfits. so?)

Coat(s). I know Jesus says that anyone with two coats should give one away, but here you really do need different levels of coats. There's the windbreaker, the fleece, the rain coat, the jacket, the wool pea coat, and the serious puffy coat. Sometimes it is possible to wear these in combination.

Good Tires. Do not let your tires wear out and think "oh, I'll just get new ones in March."

Plenty of hot cocoa. I actually ran out of cocoa earlier this winter, and wondered how I had let this happen. It was exceedingly strange, because normally I stock up so I'm never stranded in my house without the opportunity to have a warm delicious beverage in the evening...

earmuffs. Yes, I pick earmuffs even over gloves. I don't wear hats very often (I have hair issues), but my ears get cold...and particularly if one is going into the city, where the wind whips around like crazy, earmuffs are fantastic because they keep your ears from freezing off AND they act like a headband keeping your hair from blowing in your face! I have earmuffs next to my door and on the shifter in my car, so I'm always prepared. :-)

and a sixth: car emergency kit. Okay, you need this in every season. But in winter dead batteries are more likely, and the importance of flares increases with snow or fog. My emergency kit is a black case that contains jumper cables, flares, flashlight, a bottle of water, some snacks, and a bunch of things you need to fix cars (tools and stuff). I also have a super warm blanket back there.

Now, to be clear, this winter has been so mild that I've only worn my earmuffs a few times, and have yet to double up the scarves. And though I stocked up on hot chocolate, I haven't needed it as often--I haven't once been stranded at home due to weather. Yet. Since winter here lasts practically until Memorial Day, there's still time.

A few non-essentials that really make winter a lot better?

Scraper and brush, for the car windows. or, if you have a van, a push broom in the back for getting the snow off. Though if you can't find yours, letting the car run until the windows defrost is also an option. It won't help your headlights being covered in snow though--you'll still have to brush those off, possibly with your bare hand if you can't find your gloves either. (what voice of experience???)

Heated mattress pad. This may be just about the best thing I've ever spent money on. I pre-heat my bed, then turn it off when I get in...so it's all warm and cozy when I slip between the covers. mmmm.....

Cat trained to sit on your feet. If you can make this happen, you're amazing. I have about a 20% success rate, between two cats. But when it does happen, omg awesome.

singing--together

One of the great things the church has to offer the world, in my opinion, is a place to participate in making music. There are no longer very many places in our culture where the average person can make music with other average people. Music has become such a commodity that we expect either to consume it by ourselves via iPods or to consume it in a concert hall--it's not something we *do* ourselves unless we are professionals.

Except in church.

At church, everyone can (and should!) sing. Everyone can clap or hum or sing at the top of their lungs. Together we make a joyful noise--sometimes more noise, sometimes more tuneful, but always beautiful in its way. A large part of that beauty comes from the fact that we are making it together, not simply consuming it. (Please note I'm not talking here about "special" music--music not meant for the whole congregation to create together--which is obviously different, though still not intended for consumption, exactly, it's also not a communal creation with every person participating--it's a communal creation of the choir or band or ensemble. I get that. I also get that it has other issues, which are for another post sometime.)

I love both old and new hymnody--I'm not one to shy away from a new hymn or a new tune or a new instrumentation (ask around and RCLPC and you'll probably find plenty of people who wish I would shy away a little more often!). But the reality is that the purpose of music in the church is for us to participate in it...which means that when we do learn something new, it has to be something we can all participate in, whether or not we can read music, whether or not we can remember a tune after hearing part of it once. It needs to be accessible. If it isn't, it's nothing more than an opportunity for the "professionals" to perform and the congregation to consume.

And this is exactly where we run into trouble when we start to have "contemporary" worship (whatever that means) or "new" music. I love a lot of the stuff being done by people in the church all around the world. But if you stand up front and ask people to sing along, it better be something we can all pick up on and join in relatively quickly (like within one verse...if it has verses...). Otherwise you aren't enabling people to worship through creating music together, you're enabling people to stand there while you play and sing for them, and that's not the same thing.

So today I was watching the live feed of the Next2012 conference opening worship (yes, I'm kind of a dork, but a friend was preaching and I'm a sucker for worship) and the musician, who was a seminary classmate of mine, was leading people in singing. I don't know for certain but I would bet that he is the author and composer of two of the songs they sang this morning.

Now, when I say this next thing, remember that I wasn't there so I'm going off what I felt and what I could hear through the internet streaming feed. It may have been different to be there--and I hope people who were there will chime in.

The two new songs I heard, and to a certain extent the two hymns he led, were not singable. They had random-feeling tunes with lots of skips and jumps and a range most of us couldn't sing, especially first thing in the morning. With only guitar and one voice (a voice often singing a descant or solo rather than the tune) to follow, it was almost impossible to sing along. At home, I definitely could not, and I couldn't hear many voices singing in the space either. (for comparison, when they were able to sing a verse of a familiar hymn, or say unison prayers, I could hear clearly the crowd's voice(s).)

It's not that I don't think the songs were great--I do. They were appropriate to the text, theologically sound, and musically interesting and beautiful to listen to. Troy is a great musician. But they didn't seem like songs for a congregation to sing together. They were songs for people who knew what was going on to sing, and people who didn't know what was going on to listen.

And at it's heart, that's the problem I have with "contemporary" worship--it seems like it's for people who are already in the know, and if you aren't then you can't be included until you know this secret musical language. It's not something you can simply join in and get carried along by the experience of making music together.

It is possible to find and to write music that is not a tune from 1743, not accompanied on the organ and still have it be singable. It's possible to find and write music that's led by a band and have it be simultaneously musically interesting, singable, and theologically sound. I know because we do it every week. (It's also possible to have an organist lead those tunes from 1743 and have them be spirit filled.) Now if only the NEXT thing in the church could be to strengthen our community building through music making, rather than simply making it another opportunity to perform.

*note: I use "contemporary" in quotation marks because, while it's often used to describe a particular style of worship, it's actually a misnomer. Since worship is happening now, it is contemporary, no matter what style it is. There are not good words to describe worship styles, at least not what we do at RCLPC--some of it has a band, some has the organ. Both include old hymns and brand new songs. Both involve congregational singing, prayer, silence, preaching, etc. The primary difference is in instrumentation. It's possible, people, I promise. It just takes work. But does the presence of a band at 830am mean that the worship at 930 or 11 is not contemporary? No. Hence the quotation marks.

Don't Just Do Something, Stand There!

Rev. Teri Peterson
RCLPC
Don’t Just Do Something, Stand There!
Luke 10:38-42
26 February 2012, Lent 1B (off lectionary: Heart and Seek)

Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, ‘Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.’ But the Lord answered her, ‘Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.’



Last summer there was an article in the LA Times whose headline I have borrowed for my sermon title. The article was about the value of doing nothing—the argument was that idleness feeds our creativity and gives our brains room to have new ideas. In addition to the scientific evidence there was the anecdotal evidence of writers, musicians, and artists of all types. To do nothing, to just “stand there,” is an important practice without which we become cogs in the world’s often unjust machine.

The article didn’t touch on spirituality, but I think it applies there too. Without some space that looks suspiciously like just standing there, doing nothing, our spirits wither just as surely as our creative energy does. In fact, I would suggest the two are related, or even one and the same. Without time doing nothing, without mental and spiritual space, we find ourselves simply going around doing things, often mindlessly or simply because they are expected of us, and ultimately that can pull us off our foundation—and, as Jesus says, if we haven’t built our lives on a strong foundation, when the storm comes we’ll be tossed around and feel abandoned.

This story of Mary and Martha is one that drives many good Presbyterians bonkers, because it implies that sitting around is better than doing tasks. Many Presbyterians are do-ers, we like to get to work and get things done, to not just stand there but to do something…sometimes it almost feels as if we can save the world with our to-do lists. And if either mindless doing or saving the world is behind our doing, then we are definitely reading this story right, and it should make us uncomfortable—because compared to that kind of doing, it really is high time that we learned to sit at the feet of Jesus and just listen.

And in fact, I think it’s true—it’s time that we take some Sabbath, that we rest and remind ourselves that God made the world and continues to care, and our work is not going to save the world—Jesus is busy with that task himself. It’s okay to leave some things undone in order to simply sit at the feet of Jesus, to listen and absorb and be Centered on the One.

(here the band will play I Meant To Do My Work Today)



We are so prone to concentrate on what we are doing or not doing. Please hear me—what we do and don’t do are important. But even more important is to remember in our doing that it's not all about us, but about God. It's about what God is doing and has done not only here and now, but in times long ago and in a future we cannot even dimly see.

Taking some time to just be in the presence of God, without any tangible results, is a big focus for the season of Lent. Lent is a time of examination and of turning back to God. We take time to intentionally, and with our whole selves—mind, body, heart, spirit—look for what God is doing in our midst. Often we church people engage in that seeking by having more events during Lent, but this year we’re trying something different—we’re having fewer events, hoping that a change in our usual way of doing things will offer space for the Spirit to enter and move, space for us to wander through thoughts and hear the call of silence, space to see and feel and hear and know God more deeply. We’re going to try a season of just standing there, and see what we notice around us. We hope you’ll share where you notice God moving in your own life and in the church—what is the Spirit saying to the church in this time and place?

As we practice this not-doing, this meditation and prayer, this listening, this sitting at the feet of Jesus, the ultimate goal is not to become a church full of people who do nothing but sit around. The purpose of this kind of practice is to learn to take the presence of God, the stillness, the peace, the joy with us into our tasks. So we aren’t simply doing things because it’s what we’re supposed to do, we aren’t resentful about the enormity of the tasks, we aren’t worried and distracted by many things—instead, we are focused and real, knowing that the things we do are what we're called to do, for the glory of God and not the glory of ourselves. Because it’s true that sometimes dinner needs to be on the table, or the laundry needs to be done, or the report completed. It’s true that the hungry need to be fed, the earth cleaned up, and justice done. But we want to learn to become a Mary-Martha hybrid. Not Martha who’s constantly thinking of all the things she has to do, and how little help she has, and going through the motions of what is simply expected—no matter who is in the house—while her mind races a mile a minute. Nor can we go on forever as Mary. But remember who IS in the house—not just anyone, but Jesus. Mary has the sense to focus her attention where it belongs. Can we take that focus, that mindfulness, into every task we have to do? Not if we don’t try out being Mary for a while. But if we do…

(here the band will play Holy As A Day Is Spent)


As we make some space for the Spirit to move, removing ourselves from at least some of our usual routines, for moments or for months, that change in routine and that space in the schedule can shift the way we see, give us new perspective. We begin to see our God-infused world, and our tasks as sacraments and prayers. And that new perspective is exactly what we’re going to need if we’re going to seek God—who is often hidden in plain sight, if only we would open our eyes to see.

May it be so.

Amen.

Lent and Food and other things

I have long suspected that Thai food was the thing to eat when you're sick. As in, if you think you're getting a cold, you should go get some Thai food. I'm pretty sure it has medicinal properties.

I'm also pretty sure that I read that somewhere, probably in a random historical fiction novel. That doesn't make it not true.

So anyway, yesterday I was eating Tom Yum soup (yum!) and looking up recipes so I could make it myself, and I discovered that, according to Teh Interwebz, tom yum soup is thought to have immune boosting powers that make it a good thing to eat when you have a cold or flu! So...score one for the historical fiction.

Anyway, I'm looking for a recipe for Tom Yum soup, vegetarian. Probably without tofu, because I'm so unlikely to do the work to make tofu delicious. But it can have other goodness, like mushrooms. One recipe called for broccoli, which I am skeptical about, but would try. once.

One of the reasons I need a recipe is that during Lent I don't eat out. Instead, I work hard to make sure that I'm prepared to cook and eat at home. Part of the reason for this is that I want to be more intentional about what I put in my body. The other part of the reason is that I want to make sure that I keep my work hours in check. It's so easy to work work work and then find it's 9pm and I'm starving, so I'll just run to Taco Bell. Or to think "well, I'll just run out for lunch and be back in a sec so I can keep on working." Or to not have time to cook. But I love to cook (though I don't love to clean). So during Lent I push the re-set button on the ways I use my time and energy, so I can be more mindful of my body and spirit and work and leisure.

So...any good recipes to share?

down in the ATL

This week I'm at Columbia Seminary for the closing retreat for the S3 project--my peer group has created LiturgyLink through this program. LiturgyLink is an online collaborative worship planning resource. It's awesome.

Last year when we began, we introduced ourselves via a parody video.

This year, we introduced ourselves by writing new words for a song from the Book of Mormon and performing it for everyone at dinner last night.

Now we report what we did with money and time, and then we continue the work going on at the site.

In other news, a few of us CTS alums realized this week that we started seminary here 10 years ago this summer/fall. Holy Long Time Ago, Batman!

video wednesday

It's not the end of the week, but it is the end of the alphabet...Video Wednesday. get it?

anyway, this is awesome. I love so many things about this. I love that the president is all "no, really, I mean it--move out of the way." I love that the kid says completely matter of factly "it shoots 172 feet at 30psi."

But most of all, I love that the president, on learning that the cannon shoots marshmallows and that it'll probably hit the wall, asks the most important question in the entire world.

"Will it stick?"

Way to support kids and science and being a real person!!

time to go!

ok, I've finished all my work for this week and next week, I've gotten my house cleaned, I've taken the cat to the vet and had a follow up call with the vet, I've arranged a cat sitter, I've made the copies for worship on Sunday, I've done laundry, and I've packed. It must be time to go!

I'm off to spend a week (back in the normal world next Friday) thinking about Mark and John and Ordinary Time and worship and creative stuff, with really amazing people, in the sun and surf. I'm ready. This is what it's like:

a year ago...

it's been a year since the start of the Egyptian revolution. A year ago today, we weren't really sure what was going on. Was it just a small protest? A temporary disruption? A year ago, we were watching al-jazeera's live streaming from Cairo on the website and wondering what this all meant. A year ago we were pondering where our friends were, what was happening, and whether everyone was safe. We were watching cars burn, protestors camp, and even people cleaning up trash. We were worrying and hoping all at the same time.

A year later, much has changed, but at the same time little seems to have changed. Mubarak is out but the military is in. Women are still harassed. Photos and videos suggest that the streets of Cairo still have plenty of litter to go around. Schools are in session, people are trying to get jobs, and the economic uncertainty that plagued 25% of the population before the revolution is still there, seeming as steady as the pyramids.

2011 was quite a year for Egyptians and those of us who care about them. It was quite a year for the Arab world in general. But the one-year mark is not the end. There's still lots of work to be done. Keep hoping, keep praying, keep sending good vibes out into the universe--Egypt and its neighbors are on the cusp of possibility. May they move forward into 2012 with grace and peace and justice.

Friday Five: movies!

Over at RGBP Jan asks....

Thinking of movie-watching, what do you prefer?

1. At home or at a theater?

Definitely at home. movie theaters weird me out--they're so odd. They smell like gross stale over buttered popcorn, the floors are sticky, and people always talk--except that I'm always trying to remember NOT to talk...sigh. But the seats are ridiculously comfortable, so there is that...

2. With whom? Whoever is willing to watch what I want to watch!

3. Movie you look forward to seeing? I've been wanting to see Hugo...and I love the colors in the Lorax trailers, so can't wait to see that. I might even go to a theater...

4. Movie you like to see repeatedly? The Princess Bride. heehee. The Lord of the Rings.

5. Food with a movie? It's so interesting how we're basically conditioned to eat while we watch movies. During the 30 Hour Famine we often watch a movie while fasting, and it's strange how much harder it is to fast while watching a movie than while doing other things. I don't love popcorn (though I do love kettle corn!) so my usual movie food is something like lemon heads or milk duds.

Bonus: Recommendations for home/theater viewing. I loved loved loved Puss In Boots. That's one I'll want to have so I can watch it again.

What movies do you recommend? I'm always looking for things to put in my Netflix queue!

It Takes Practice--a sermon for Ordinary 2B

Rev. Teri Peterson
RCLPC
It Takes Practice
1 Samuel 3.1-10
15 January 2012, Ordinary 2B


Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord under Eli. The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.
At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in his room; the lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the Lord, where the ark of God was. Then the Lord called, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’ and he said, ‘Here I am!’ and ran to Eli, and said, ‘Here I am, for you called me.’ But he said, ‘I did not call; lie down again.’ So he went and lay down. The Lord called again, ‘Samuel!’ Samuel got up and went to Eli, and said, ‘Here I am, for you called me.’ But he said, ‘I did not call, my son; lie down again.’ Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord, and the word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him. The Lord called Samuel again, a third time. And he got up and went to Eli, and said, ‘Here I am, for you called me.’ Then Eli perceived that the Lord was calling the boy. Therefore Eli said to Samuel, ‘Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” ’ So Samuel went and lay down in his place.
Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’ And Samuel said, ‘Speak, for your servant is listening.’


I admit to feeling a little bit odd reading that text then standing up here to talk. All week I’ve wondered why I didn’t just decide to say “speak, for your servants are listening” and then sit down for a few minutes? In addition to meaning less work on writing a sermon, it seems it would make more sense—why am I talking about a story that’s all about listening? Then I read again the words of the Second Helvetic Confession, which is the topic of our Monday online theology class on the blog. In the very first chapter it says “the preached word of God IS the word of God.” Right…no pressure, then. I’ll just come up with something to say that will be as valuable to you, the listener, as hearing directly from God standing at the foot of your bed or your pew.

I think many of us can relate to the opening of this story—“the word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.” Or perhaps, if we’d read a little before and a little after this passage, we’d relate even more. As Samuel is growing up in the temple, the religious and political leaders (who are the same people) are corrupt, self-serving, and greedy. They claim God’s favor but act in ways contrary to God’s calling and character. So perhaps a better way to say it is “talk about God appeared everywhere, but the word of the Lord was rare.” Sound familiar?

In the midst of this reality—scandal, greed, temptation, abuse of power, corruption—comes, surprisingly, the word of the Lord. But Samuel doesn’t recognize it! There are so many voices, so many noises, so many opportunities, so many people…even in the quiet, in the middle of the night, in the holiest place around, Samuel doesn’t recognize the voice of God.

I think we like to imagine that if God were ever to speak directly to us, we would notice. Maybe because there would be a voice coming from the clouds, as at Jesus’ baptism, or a flaming bush talking in the desert, or a blinding light on our commute, or maybe even a whisper—but preceded by such great signs that we couldn’t possibly miss it. But when God talks to Samuel, it’s in a voice like any other voice, calling in the night. Eli has probably called Samuel countless times before, there’s no reason to assume this night is any different. Who else would be calling, after all?

Because—and here’s what I think is the interesting part of the story—Samuel doesn’t know God. He’s never heard or talked to God before. God calls Samuel before he even knows about God, before he’s learned God’s word. He’s been serving in the temple, helping Eli and his sons, but he doesn’t know God. And yet God speaks to him.
First there are the false starts—where Samuel doesn’t recognize the voice. He’s never heard it before, never spent time talking or listening to God, so why would he know this voice?
Then there’s the instruction—Eli finally realizes what’s going on and teaches Samuel what to do. Instead of rushing off to perform a task, instead of immediately speaking, instead of turning to the person beside him—or the facebook or twitter or blog or phone beside him—he is to simply listen.
And then I imagine there’s some practice. In my mind’s eye I can see Samuel reciting his line over and over, the way I recite my parking space number so I won’t forget it before I get to the train platform. “speak for your servant is listening. speak for your servant is listening. speak for your servant is listening.” I also wonder if he had to sit there in the silence, straining to hear, for a little while. Did God’s voice come again immediately, or did Samuel also have to practice his silent listening first?

Because most things we do take practice, right? It’s rare that we develop a skill without effort, and sitting in silence, listening to others, listening to God—these are no exception. We have to practice silence, even when our inclination is to follow the distractions down their fun rabbit holes. We have to practice listening, even when God doesn’t seem to be speaking. We have to practice discernment, even when we think we know the voice.

I suspect many of us are like Samuel—we haven’t heard directly from God before, and we might not even recognize God’s voice if we did. Sometimes that’s not for lack of trying, either! But for many of us, this discipline of listening is just too darn hard. Our brains don’t seem to be wired for silence, for listening when no one appears to be talking. It’s hard to connect with someone you can’t see, and the ways we can try to imagine—like talking to God on the phone or something—are too cheesy to take seriously. So…it must just be that the word of God is rare.

I wonder if the word of God was rare in Samuel’s day because so few people were willing to say “speak, for your servant is listening”? After all, the message Samuel gets is no walk in the park—it’s a message that will bring pain before the healing can begin. It’s not a message I’d want to hear—I would rather say “listen, God, for your servant is speaking” and not have to worry about the hard parts, because often when God talks it changes our lives. Could it be that God is speaking but we’re so afraid of what God might say that we keep on talking over the still small voice, or we delete the message before we have a chance to hear it, or we assume it's just another call from a friend or colleague or telemarketer?

If so, how do we remedy that? How do we become people who connect with God, who discern God’s voice in the midst of the cacophony of life, and who are willing to share the news which is both hard and good?

Sadly, I don’t think it’s just going to happen overnight. I think it’s going to take some work on our part. Samuel had to learn and practice—and he continued to practice throughout his life—and in the practice, he found a connection to the Holy that he could never have imagined.

We have heard the instruction. so the first step in following it is to, like Samuel, be there. Samuel lay down in his place and waited, and when God spoke he was ready to hear. It could have been seconds or hours of waiting in the silent darkness...are we willing to wait? To make space, however difficult that is, for God to speak? I know it’s hard—believe me. For one thing, I like to talk. For another, I think about things. Some might use the word “obsess.” And for a third, 99% of the time I also have a song or two or three running through my head. I’ve finally learned not to hum all the time, but the music still plays. And let’s not even talk about the allure of facebook and twitter and the 24 hour news cycle. To say that there’s a lot going on in my head is an understatement—and I bet that’s true for most of us. Turning that off takes practice and commitment. When we can’t, it’s tempting to give up. But we don’t give up on math or learning an instrument or soccer practice, so why do we give up on this? It took Samuel and Eli several tries before they figured out what was going on, but they kept at it. It took Paul literally being struck blind. It took Peter hearing himself deny before he could truly hear Jesus. It took Moses several rounds of excuses before he could listen to God. All these people, and many more throughout history, stayed in the game and found that God used them in amazing ways they could never have imagined, and certainly could never have done on their own. There is value in this discipline, in the trying (and even in the failing) to quiet ourselves and listen for the Spirit’s whisper. Let’s keep trying—even just a minute or a few minutes at a time—and eventually, we may find that there’s just enough room for God to enter. And then who knows what might happen?

May it be so. Amen.

Friday Five: AHA! moments

Over at the RevGalBlogPals, Kathryn asks us to share five of our aha! moments...moments of clarity and understanding. I have some that are silly and some serious. naturally.

1. The day I realized that the song did not say "Secret Asian Man." I had always wondered what that was about--how could one be a secret Asian? Why would one want to be a secret Asian? Was this a song about living in the Seattle area during WWII? so confusing...and so much clarity the day I realized that just wasn't what it said at all.

2. The day I finished my petition to major in clarinet performance, was accepted to that major, and realized almost instantly that I didn't want to be a professional clarinetist after all. Of course, I argued with myself for a long time about that because it was something I'd worked so hard for...it was another year or so before I realized what I actually should be doing. And, honestly, I wouldn't trade a minute of that performance degree program.

3. I spent several of my pre-teen years on a small farm, and a lot of our food came from local friends with small farms. When I read Diet For A New America, and saw the pictures, and realized that most people in this country get their food from factory farms (and that we were now city people who would do the same), that was the moment I realized I couldn't be a part of that system. The raising of animals for the purpose of eating them, when it was unnecessary and inhumane and was a major part of the world's food crisis, was suddenly out of the question for me. (of course, we were also poor, and my mom was way too practical to cook two meals, so it wasn't until I was 17 that I could make my own choices about not eating meat and trying to eat as local as possible.)

4. When I returned from my weekend visiting Columbia Seminary (the last of 4 seminary visits), I went straight to church and then shared a cab ride home with my pastor. When he dropped me off at my house, he said "congratulations on your decision to go to Columbia." Of course, I hadn't consciously decided that, but he obviously could hear something I couldn't. I'm glad he shared that with me.

5. A couple of years ago, at Christmas dinner at my aunt's house, she made brussels sprouts that were not disgusting. I had no idea they could be not disgusting. Then this Christmas, Amy's (now husband) Dave made roasted brussels sprouts. I'm pretty sure I ate about 50. Who knew those could be good?

What's one (or more) of your realization-moments?

Day Off

Recently it was decided that both of us pastors should not be off on the same day of the week, so I switched my day off from Friday to Thursday.

It's a weird thing, actually, to be off on Thursday, especially as the day ends and I have to keep reminding myself that it's Friday tomorrow, not Saturday, and that I have to go to work! I'm sure I'll get into the routine, but right now (this is only my third Thursday off) it's still odd, to remember that Sunday is not as imminent as it sounds, and that I still have another day to get work done.

So, on this Thursday off I am trying to remind myself not to check my email, I'm doing one small task (confirming our numbers for the youth group bowling party on Sunday!), I'm planning to pick up my house a little and run Roomba, I'm making risotto...but mostly, I'm sitting on the couch covered in cats. It's a good day.

Peace and Quiet

I am an extrovert. I'm sure you all know that already. I can barely keep my mouth shut, I love to be in stimulating environments, and since I live alone I spend as much of my time as I can being connected to other people through the internet. When I wake up in the morning and when I come home at night, often the first thing I do is check facebook and twitter to find out what the rest of the world is doing. I like to be connected. This summer my peer learning group decided to take a once-a-month social media fast. No twitter, no facebook, no text messages, no blogs...and in order to do that, I basically had to shut down my computer and ignore it the whole 24 hours. I know that my self-control would not extend to writing but not checking the news, dealing with email but not checking facebook, etc. Those 3 days were some of the loneliest I remember in a long time--it's strangely isolating to be cut off like that.

But it's also strangely liberating, after some practice. One of my favorite places right now is my friend Cindy's cabin, which doesn't have internet or tv and where my phone only sort of works. It's quiet in a way that even the far-away-suburbs aren't quiet. It's dark. The disconnection is profound, and I have come to love it, even to crave it. I'm finding that if I don't have some disconnected and quiet time in my day, I'm distressingly unproductive and even crabby. I like to have time to just think.

It could be because of articles like this one, or this one, or this most recent one...it could be because I'm trying to write a book AND have a full time job...it could be because something in my spiritual or emotional life has shifted and I just need more space to contemplate. In any case, I long for the opportunity to turn off my phone and internet and just BE. The science tells me that my brain works better when I give it a rest. The history tells me creative juices flow best when given space to move. The spiritual experience of millions of people before me suggests that it's hard to recognize the movement of the Spirit when I'm busy with the movement of the next thing and the next thing, or with what's happening on facebook or twitter or email or the blogosphere. We need time and space to do nothing in order to be our best selves, to let creativity flourish, and to connect to the Holy. We need sometimes to just turn that other stuff off and just be with ourselves and whatever comes up. And, of course, I could do that at home. I could sit and do nothing, or just shut down the computer and read a book, or be disciplined enough to turn off the wireless while I write so I'm not distracted by that little blue twitter bird. But I'm not to that level of my practice yet, so I still need to be more physically cut off in order to really practice silence. I used to mock those people who have that computer software that blocks websites they choose, or that turns their internet off for defined periods of time--couldn't they just have some self control? It turns out...no. lol.

I think it's so interesting when people (including myself) claim that we're just not good at silence, or meditation, or prayer, or retreating, or disconnecting so we can reconnect with our center, or other things in this vein. I've said these words before. I've heard them frequently. But more and more, I'm thinking it's kind of a cop-out. Lots of things are difficult, there are plenty of things we're not immediately good at, but we still believe them to be valuable enough to practice. For instance, none of us learned an instrument, or a foreign language, or math, or how to ride a bike, or a sport, or creative writing, or anything else, instantly. Few of us were immediately good at those things either. They take practice, but we don't just say "well, I'm not good at that" and give up on it. But when it comes to practicing silence or prayer or even just BEING without DOING, we do give up right away. The twitter bird turns blue, or the phone chimes, or we walk past a place with free wireless, or we get a little bit uncomfortable, or start thinking of our grocery list, and we're right back in the thick of things, shrugging off the attempt as just "not my thing." And somehow that's okay in a way that shrugging off math or Spanish or learning to drive would not be.

The thing is...silence, retreat, meditation, prayer--all of these are practices that Christians (and others) have been doing for centuries. They have endured because they have value, and they should probably be a signpost for us too. We (hopefully) don't give up following Jesus just because it's difficult--though I think many of us do do that (hence the prevalence of Moralistic Therapeutic Deism). But when we just brush these practices aside as something we're not good at, it's likely we're missing something--something that could deepen our faith and change our lives. So the question is: what is it in that silence that we're afraid of, and how can we let go of the fear instead of the practice?

Grounded Joy--a sermon for Advent 3B

This was last week's sermon. I didn't love it when I wrote it, but the feedback has been such that I decided I'd better post it. Happy Advent.


Rev. Teri Peterson
RCLPC
Grounded Joy
Isaiah 61.1-4, 8-11 (and the magnificat) (CEB)
11 December 2011, Advent 3B

With all my heart I glorify the Lord! 

In the depths of who I am I rejoice in God my savior.
He has looked with favor on me.
Look! From now on, everyone will consider me blessed
because the mighty one has done great things for me.
Holy is the Lord!
He shows mercy to everyone,
from one generation to the next.
He has shown strength with his arm.
He has scattered those with arrogant thoughts
and proud inclinations.
He has pulled the powerful down from their thrones
and lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things
and sent the rich away empty-handed.
He has come to the aid of his servant,
remembering his mercy,
just as he promised to our ancestors.

~~~~~

The LORD God’s spirit is upon me,
because the LORD has anointed me.
He has sent me
to bring good news to the poor,
to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim release for captives,
and liberation for prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor and a day of vindication for our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
to provide for Zion’s mourners,
to give them a crown in place of ashes,
oil of joy in place of mourning,
a mantle of praise in place of discouragement.
They will be called Oaks of Righteousness, planted by the LORD to glorify himself.
They will rebuild the ancient ruins;
they will restore formerly deserted places;
they will renew ruined cities, places deserted in generations past.
I, the LORD, love justice; 

I hate robbery and dishonesty. 

I will faithfully give them their wage, 

and make with them an enduring covenant. 

Their offspring will be known
among the nations, 

and their descendants among the peoples. 

All who see them will recognize that they are a people blessed by the LORD.
I surely rejoice in the LORD; 

my heart is joyful because of my God, 

because he has clothed me with clothes of victory, 

wrapped me in a robe of righteousness like a bridegroom in a priestly crown, 

and like a bride adorned in jewelry. 

As the earth puts out its growth, 
and as a garden grows its seeds, 

so the LORD God will grow righteousness and praise before all the nations.

It’s that time of year again—when happiness and cheer abound! Everywhere you go there’s festive music playing, lights twinkling, and happy people urging us to buy from their store. There’s Christmas Spirit in the air—that strange scent combination of apple cider, pine, and molasses that somehow equals comfort even though it’s almost impossible to describe in any appetizing way. The bumper stickers and TV pundits are, as ever, reminding us to keep Christ in Christmas, some of them while wearing santa hats and reindeer antlers. All that’s missing is a little dusting of snow—but not too much—to brighten up the barren branches, and we’ll have the picture-perfect multi-sensory Christmas Card life. We can sing our glorias and finish our shopping and hang our stockings by the fire with care, breathing deeply all this Christmas Cheer that guards our spirits against the long winter.

But sometimes I feel like the cheer is forced on us, spread on so thick it’s clearly designed just to get us to stimulate the economy. It’s like the whole of our western culture, which is built on being nice and making ourselves happy, is suddenly on steroids, and if we’re looking for something beyond “happy” then we’re obviously deluded. And if for some reason we aren’t happy—whether we’re grieving, or struggling with depression, or wondering how to pay for all those Christmas presents, or hoping to have enough money for Christmas dinner, or just not feeling the cheer this year—then something must be wrong with us.

Around the world today churches are celebrating God’s promise of joy—which sounds a lot like happiness, right? Sometimes people use the words “joyful” “happy” and “blessed” almost interchangeably, but they’re not quite the same thing. On some websites you can indicate your mood at the time of your post, and one of the choices is “happy”—happiness as a temporary mood, probably based on any number of circumstances, like whether you had coffee this morning, whether a friend called or didn’t call, what kind of headlines you saw today, or whether there are interesting plans in your day. Happiness is one of those sort of basic-yet-shallow feelings—part of the sad-mad-glad trio that never gets any deeper than the surface. The kind of joy that these prophets express, and the kind of joy they call us to seek, isn’t just happiness. It’s not just a feeling, not just a cheerfulness brought out by the smell of cinnamon wafting down the hall or the thought of a jolly old elf bringing fun new toys.

So then…how do we get it? Some of us have a hard enough time summoning up happiness or cheer, and others of us trade on our cheerful dispositions. Many of us at this time of year are so frantically rushing around getting everything decorated and wrapped and baked that we don’t have time for any of it. I wonder, if we were truly honest with ourselves, how many of us would admit that we pretend to be happy even when we aren’t—at Christmas time or at any time—because we think that’s what people expect of us. Do we use our smiles to mask something missing deeper down? Do we keep working on happiness, hoping it will one day be enough?

I wonder how cheerful Mary and Joseph were, that first Advent. Mary, an unmarried teenager suddenly pregnant, and Joseph a man who’ll be supporting a family before he even pays for a wedding, both of them in a small village where everyone will know their scandal before lunch, and in a culture where Mary’s choice to say Yes to God could easily have gotten her killed. Yet in the midst of that, she sings this song—“My spirit rejoices in God my savior, for he has done great things for me. He has fed the hungry and lifted up the lowly, and holy is his name.”

Or the prophet Isaiah, looking around at the ruined city his people were hoping to rebuild, trying to preach the word to people of fair-weather-faith, proclaiming that God has promised to plant them in fertile ground so they can grow into oaks of righteousness that glorify the Lord, offering a vision of justice and joy.

If anyone had reason to mask their fear with false cheer, it was these two. Yet in the face of both, they proclaim joy instead. As Margaret Aymer, an Old Testament Professor at the Interdenominational Theological Center, told me yesterday, “Joy is an act of faithful subversion in a world that tells you to be scared and sad.” I would add that it’s also an act of faithful subversion in a world that tells you to cover up your true self with sad-mad-glad. Joy is well beyond anything our culture, our possessions, our country, our media, or even our relationships can give us. Joy comes from one place: from seeking God. And, interestingly, it seems that God has even shown us the way to joy. Did you hear it?

“The spirit of the Lord is upon me, anointed me to bring good news to the poor, to bind up the broken hearted, to release the captives…to comfort the mourning…to rebuild, restore, renew…I the Lord love justice…”

Could it be that the way to know the joyful fruit of the Spirit is to practice? Not to look to the sky, anticipating something better; not to turn away from suffering because it’s depressing and ugly; but instead to get more grounded, to reach to our roots, to push down into the earth and let God grow in us like a seed…to live fully into our calling as the anointed ones, the body of Christ, made to bring grace to a world in need, to shine light into a world of darkness.

It seems so obvious as to be almost trite. We’ve all heard the stories before—some of us have even told them—of giving, serving, helping, feeding, and finding more joy there than in opening the presents under the tree. Looking into the eyes of a child receiving their only Christmas present, or handing a hungry family a Christmas dinner, or helping someone find their way through the food pantry for the first time, or visiting a jailed immigrant who wonders if they’ll ever see their family again, or looking at the photos of students in El Vaquero, Mexico finally getting running water in their school, or meeting a missionary, or praying for the person sitting next to you in the pew—these are all things we’ve done, and for many of us we’ve found more of the Spirit in them than in the malls or decorations. Is it possible that the way to joy—to the real Christmas Spirit—is through being more fully who God has called us to be, in the place God has called us? Is it possible that Christmas Joy comes from US being the site of God’s incarnation, God’s taking on flesh, God’s coming to be with us? Maybe when we bear Christ into the world, the way Mary bore Christ in her body, when we don’t just speak good news but ARE good news, when we are creators of justice, then we will also find joy—a joy that is beyond mere cheer, a joy that is grounded and growing, a joy that is subversive and holy.

May it be so.
Amen.

an anniversary spent with no internet

Living with grief is a strange thing.
Years, made up of months of weeks of days of hours
spent keeping busy
doing the job
getting things done
making people proud
proving you can do it
even when the person you most want to make proud
the only person you ever needed to prove anything to
is gone.
Every other anniversary (and many other days)
has been filled with reliving every moment of that day
and the days leading up to that day
wondering pleading crying
but not truly functioning, whatever other people might be able to see.
This year was different
a day in the muddle of days

in a place with no internet and no clock

where time stands still…
a day spent reading mystery novels with women detectives, just like she did
a day spent cooking, in a pot that once was hers, just like she did
a day spent, for the first time in six years,
just resting.
It seems counterintuitive—
we’re told to keep busy to keep our mind on other things to distract ourselves and move on
but that may not actually work
I thought a retreat would mean thinking more, obsessing more, crying more
but instead it meant rest,
and some relief—
relief from trying to hold it together,
relief from hiding the sobs,
relief from doing everything the best to make her proud.
This year was different.
No relentless memories of the phone call,
No wondering if the day would ever end,
No what-ifs about how the world might have been different,
No sobbing until throwing up.
Just…reading. cooking. rest. Finally.
I still miss her.
I still want to pick up the phone and find her on the other end.
I still want to go on those adventures we’re (in)famous for.
But maybe a little rest from all of that

was what I really needed on this year’s anniversary.