Friday Five: Random

1. What is one of the best things that happened to you this week?


There are a few great things this week--a friend made Indian food and we sat on the porch eating delicious homemade Baingan Bharta! I got to have lunch with another friend, followed by my favorite ice cream (Kilwin's New Orleans Praline Pecan, in a waffle cone). It rained, saving my kale plant in the church courtyard from my watering neglect.

2. If you were in a Ms., Miss, Mr. (name your country) Pageant, what would your talent be?


I'm surprised by how hard this question is! Let's see....I think my talent would involve demonstrating the many creative uses of kale. (mmmmm, kale.)

3.  You were just given a YACHT!!! What would you name it, and why?


Again, a hard one! I want to think of something clever. Part of me wants to name it "Hotel California" because it's a place you never leave. but not in a creepy way. haha. Maybe I would name it "Meow-velous" and bring my cats along.

4.  If you were to perform in a circus, what would you do?  (I can't remember if I asked this before...)


I think the Trapeze would be super fun, but who are we kidding--I'd probably be the seal trainer or something much less likely to end with me breaking my arm.











5.  What do you have in your bag/wallet/backpack that best describes your personality?  


A Kindle! I can whip that out and read anywhere...which is just awesome. Contains so many different things, different ideas and genres, a few surprises, and is always ready to provide both entertainment and education as well as to receive something new. 

If This Table Could Talk...a sermon on Luke 24

Rev. Teri Peterson
If This Table Could Talk… 
Luke 24.13-48 (CEB)
2 September 2012

 On that same day, two disciples were traveling to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem. They were talking to each other about everything that had happened. While they were discussing these things, Jesus himself arrived and joined them on their journey. They were prevented from recognizing him. He said to them, “What are you talking about as you walk along?” They stopped, their faces downcast. The one named Cleopas replied, “Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who is unaware of the things that have taken place there over the last few days?” He said to them, “What things?” They said to him, “The things about Jesus of Nazareth. Because of his powerful deeds and words, he was recognized by God and all the people as a prophet. But our chief priests and our leaders handed him over to be sentenced to death, and they crucified him. We had hoped he was the one who would redeem Israel. All these things happened three days ago. But there’s more: Some women from our group have left us stunned. They went to the tomb early this morning and didn’t find his body. They came to us saying that they had even seen a vision of angels who told them he is alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found things just as the women said. They didn’t see him.” Then Jesus said to them, “You foolish people! Your dull minds keep you from believing all that the prophets talked about. Wasn’t it necessary for the Christ to suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” Then he interpreted for them the things written about himself in all the scriptures, starting with Moses and going through all the Prophets. 

When they came to Emmaus, he acted as if he was going on ahead. But they urged him, saying, “Stay with us. It’s nearly evening, and the day is almost over.” So he went in to stay with them. After he took his seat at the table with them, he took the bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Their eyes were opened and they recognized him, but he disappeared from their sight. They said to each other, “Weren’t our hearts on fire when he spoke to us along the road and when he explained the scriptures for us?” They got up right then and returned to Jerusalem. 
They found the eleven and their companions gathered together. They were saying to each other, “The Lord really has risen! He appeared to Simon!” 
Then the two disciples described what had happened along the road and how Jesus was made known to them as he broke the bread. 
While they were saying these things, Jesus himself stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” They were terrified and afraid. They thought they were seeing a ghost. He said to them, “Why are you startled? Why are doubts arising in your hearts? Look at my hands and my feet. It’s really me! Touch me and see, for a ghost doesn’t have flesh and bones like you see I have.” As he said this, he showed them his hands and feet. Because they were wondering and questioning in the midst of their happiness, he said to them, “Do you have anything to eat?” They gave him a piece of baked fish. Taking it, he ate it in front of them. Jesus said to them, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you—that everything written about me in the Law from Moses, the Prophets, and the Psalms must be fulfilled.” Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures. He said to them, “This is what is written: the Christ will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day, and a change of heart and life for the forgiveness of sins must be preached in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things.”

~~~~

When I was a teenager, my family regularly made road trips to see my grandparents. Whether it was a two-and-a-half or a five-and-a-half hour drive, we always spent the time the same way: playing games and making up stories as we went. Sometimes we would play the alphabet game, and as my brother got older we would make up more and more outlandish rules—sometimes license plates didn’t count, or a word only counted if you could use it in a sentence—or worse, a sentence that made sense coming after the last sentence either you or someone else had said. Sometimes we would just play road sign bingo. But no matter what we played, whether simple or complicated, no matter where we were going on our journey, we talked to each other. We were in the loop on what other members of the family were thinking, feeling, doing at school or work, wondering about, planning. We are story people, and those car trips were the perfect place to listen and to tell, to figure out who we are and what it means to be a part of this family in the world.
There is long-standing wisdom among pastors that trips are often the mountaintop experiences in our faith journeys—both for young and older. Whether the trip is for mission work or pilgrimage or fun or retreat almost doesn’t matter, because it’s the bus ride that makes all the difference—as long as we’re willing to leave the iPod and the DVD player turned off, anyway. It’s on the bus that we get to know each other, that together we traverse unfamiliar landscapes—both outside the windows and inside ourselves. It’s on the bus that we hear one another’s stories and tell our own, weaving in and out until we are a tapestry of community. We may play games or sing songs or learn about what we’re passing, we may nap or snack or just chatter away. On that journey, we listen and tell, and we figure out who we are and what it means to be a part of this family in the world.

I think that wisdom may have originated in a story we heard a few minutes ago. Compared to how far most of us travel every day, it doesn’t sound like a long journey—just seven miles. But that’s a few hours of walking at a pretty decent pace. If you’re walking and talking, caught up in your grief and uncertainty, it might take even longer. In any case, it’s a road trip of sorts, and like every good road trip it includes good stories, good food, and an unexpected twist.

It had been a wild ride—from listening to him teach to seeing him heal to being a part of the mystery. Every day their hopes were raised, their expectations soared, their minds and hearts overflowed. But then it all came crashing down, in ways so horrible they couldn’t even have imagined it. For the one who was to redeem to become the one on the cross was inconceivable. And yet, there it was. For the body to be missing, for women to know what they are talking about, for the horror to continue rather than to be able to put this sad ending to rest—all inconceivable. No wonder that when the stranger fell into step with them, they couldn’t see clearly.

One of the things that made crucifixion work as a method of torture and control was not just the awful physical reality, but the shame. It was so great that when someone was crucified, they were erased. Bodies were usually left on the cross until they disintegrated or were picked over by animals, and then the person was never spoken of again. They disappeared from history. Family and friends were so shamed by the association, so afraid they’d be next, that they’d never mention the name or the incident. Crucifixion wasn’t just death, it was annihilation. For this story to go on, the friends of Jesus risked everything. This wasn’t just silly choose-your-own adventure storytelling on a road trip, not just make-up-the-next-sentence-using-the-next-letter-of-the-alphabet. This was a life-or-death story, and they chose to continue to tell it, even to a stranger.

We rarely think of stories this way. The word “story” has come to mean something that’s frivolous or not true or unimportant. But the reality is that stories may be the only thing that matters—if we lose our story, we lose ourselves. It’s one of the ways culture works—we have shared stories that tell us who we are. But even behind that, we have a God who is a master storyteller, and the day we lose sight of the narrative is the day we descend into hell, just as the crucified one did the day he was erased from the earth. But his is a story that won’t stop, that can’t be held back, that shows through even when we do our darnedest to erase or white out, and the disciples were still telling the story, even at risk of their own lives.

That story carried them through a whole road trip. Sometimes they told it, sometimes the stranger did. It was comfort, it was hope, it was healing, but it was also learning who they were and what it meant to be a part of this family. No wonder their hearts were burning within them—they were finally coming to understand how this whole community thing works. They offered each other their shattered dreams, their grief, their hopes, their fears, their reality…and found themselves truly heard and known like never before. This is what it means to be the community of Jesus’ friends—to share our reality and to hold those stories, to really know one another, as we walk along the road.

It’s no wonder they asked him in for dinner, of course. The only place stories fit even better than a road trip is around a table. If our tables could talk, they would tell of laughter and tears, bad jokes and bad days, celebrations and sorrows. Next to water marks and spaghetti stains and bread crumbs they hold memories of homework, of dinner disasters and family feasts, of shouting matches and romance, of love and war and everything in between. The table is where we are fed with more than just food. We listen and we tell, and we learn who we are, our place in the family and the world.

And this table—this table is where it all comes together. This table’s story is the basis for all others. It’s at this table that the stranger became the host. It’s at this table that joy and disbelief and proof and wonder all mix together. It’s at this table that the breathless story of two disciples mingles with the hope of many others, and passes through the ages. If this table could talk, it would tell of feast overcoming famine. It would tell of doubt and faith joining with wheat and grape to make something unbelievable. This is the table where eyes are opened. This is the table where God’s big story meets our story, and we are strengthened to live in a world where nothing will ever be the same. This is the table where we listen and tell and learn who we are and what it means to be part of this family in this world.

And what does this table teach us?

It teaches us who is invited—everyone, faithful and faithless, broken and healed. It teaches us who is loved—for God so loved the whole world. It teaches us what true abundance looks like—enough for everyone. It teaches us to taste and see that God is good. It teaches us how to accept hospitality, and how to offer it. It teaches us that stories endure for a reason, and that the word and the bread together feed us as the people of God.

At this table, we see that it is possible for a simple meal to be a feast. We see that God is not far away waiting for us to get it right, but traveling our road trips and sitting at our tables, giving us new eyes and new hearts and new stories and new recipes. We see our brothers and sisters as God does—beloved, worthy, beautiful—rather than as different, old or young, troublemaker or saint. We see that we are part of something bigger than our imaginations, spanning time and geography with a story and a loaf of bread.

This feast is our practice room. Here we receive so that we can learn how to give. We come to be changed, so we can see that the table of God’s community, the communion of story and bread, is every table—starting here. So come, join your story to God’s story, your body to Christ’s body, and let your heart burn with the Spirit that all may see.

Amen.

Friday Five: character swap

Over at RGBP, today's thought-provoking question is "What five characters would you switch places with for a day? I initially read this to mean characters in books, but hey...you can use plays, movies, comic strips, cartoons, anything you'd like. For bonus points, tell us WHY for each or some."

Hmm.

Winnie the Pooh.
Life's adventures always end well for Pooh and his friends. There may be a little light drama, but it's easily taken care of with a witticism or a snack or a nap or some help from friends. There's something so beautiful about that kind of simplicity, I would like to have some of that!

Adelia, the Mistress of the Art of Death.
She's a doctor who figures out mysteries using only the bodies left behind (she was trained as a coroner, essentially). It's the 12th century and she is an independent, educated, interesting woman who (mostly) does things her way. I would like just a portion of the knowledge and spunk she has!

Nell, in the forthcoming novel written by a friend.
Seriously awesome. Great sense of humor, wonderful in an adventure, quick-witted...and she does have some awesome adventures! (I can't give away more, because you will all seriously want to read the book.)

moving to television, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Of Course!).
Especially more mature Buffy, or Willow, near the end of the series, where she's learning about the realities of power and community.

and for a historical figure: Isabella d'Este.
As part of the Medici clan she was powerful and interested in art and music and culture. She was a mover and shaker in her day, patronizing major artists and setting trends that would endure. She also had some adventures that would normally have been frowned upon for women, and her understanding of marriage was much more modern than her time really allowed. She was spunky and a little spiteful while also gracious and excelling at hospitality...and thoroughly interesting.

And you? What five characters, books-movies-tv-history, would you like to trade places with for a day?

memo to politicians of all parties

Dear politicians,

Since you seem to have forgotten, let me remind you of your job.

Your job is not to ensure that someone of the other party serves only one term.

Your job is not to spend money making yourselves look good or your opponent look bad.

Your job is not to cater to the K-Street lobbyist.

Your job is not to do whatever it takes to make a lucrative career out of your public office.

Your job is not to spend the GDP of several countries trying to get re-elected.

Your job IS:
to serve the American people.
to serve the best interest of the country as a whole.
to serve the greater good of the community who elected you.
to serve as a beacon of hope and help in a system that leaves people behind.
to serve with, not against, your colleagues in various offices so that we get the best possible solution (not no solution) to whatever issue is at hand.
to find ways, creative and conventional, to ensure that no one does end up left behind in a country we are fond of calling "great" and that we claim so much pride in.

I can see how you would get confused about the meaning of the word "serve" and the purpose of your position in our government, and I can see how difficult it can be to remember that not one moment of your job is about you. Even clergy have difficulty remembering sometimes, and you get paid a whole lot more than we do, so it's harder to remember.

I don't care who sits in what office as long as everyone in every office is willing to work for the greater good. Unfortunately, that so rarely seems to be the case.

But seriously: your job is not about you or your party, it is about America. So stop working so hard for yourself and start working for us. Stop your self-centered vision of doing nothing other than blocking the other guy, and start working for us. That's why you're there--period.

Sincerely,
the voters.

progress

In our church there are women ranging in age from 8 weeks to 102.

Every one of these women has or will come of age with the ability to vote. Though the oldest among us grew up in the midst of the struggle, and may have voted for the first time amidst controversy.

this is one of the less offensive ads. distressing.

We women have been voting for 92 years. Before 92 years ago today, women not only had no say in our national life, but we also endured mocking, insults, abuse--verbal, physical, and printed. We can barely imagine now the ads saying that women are too feeble-minded, too hysterical (a word invented to describe women) for the responsibility of voting. (and for lots of other things too) It was considered not only normal but even expected to put women in their place, make decisions for them, insist they couldn't control themselves.

Maybe we haven't made as much progress as we'd thought.

But we do have one thing those women 93+ years ago didn't have:

We can vote.

Broken With Pride: the 13th People's Choice sermon of 2012

Rev. Teri Peterson

RCLPC

Broken With Pride

Exodus 20.8-11/Deuteronomy 5.12-15, Luke 13.10-17

26 August 2012, People’s Choice 13

Keep the Sabbath day and treat it as holy, exactly as the Lord your God commanded: Six days you may work and do all your tasks, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God. Don’t do any work on it—not you, your sons or daughters, your male or female servants, your oxen or donkeys or any of your animals, or the immigrant who is living among you—so that your male and female servants can rest just like you. Because the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and everything that is in them in six days, but rested on the seventh day. That is why the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy.

In Deuteronomy, the commandment ends not with creation, but with this:

Remember that you were a slave in Egypt, but the Lord your God brought you out of there with a strong hand and an outstretched arm. That’s why the Lord your God commands you to keep the Sabbath day.

Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. A woman was there who had been disabled by a spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and couldn’t stand up straight. When he saw her, Jesus called her to him and said, “Woman, you are set free from your sickness.” He placed his hands on her and she straightened up at once and praised God.

The synagogue leader, incensed that Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, responded, “There are six days during which work is permitted. Come and be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath day.”

The Lord replied, “Hypocrites! Don’t each of you on the Sabbath untie your ox or donkey from its stall and lead it out to get a drink? Then isn’t it necessary that this woman, a daughter of Abraham, bound by Satan for eighteen long years, be set free from her bondage on the Sabbath day?” When he said these things, all his opponents were put to shame, but all those in the crowd rejoiced at all the extraordinary things he was doing.

All summer long, you’ve been asking the questions and we’ve been trying to answer them from the pulpit. Now it’s time to reverse—I get to ask the questions! Unlike the questions you’ve asked us, I’ll start with an easy one: put your hand up if you have ever thought “I wish it was the weekend” or “how many days until vacation?” Next…what comes to mind when you hear the word “Sabbath”? … okay, now hands up if you’ve ever thought “I’m too busy to take a break.”

What would happen if you did take a break, or a day off, or a nap, or a vacation?

Of all the ten commandments, I think this is one of the top two hardest—the other being that pesky first one about no other gods. When it comes to observing the Sabbath, honoring God by keeping it holy, taking a day to rest and let others rest as well…well, it just seems a little archaic. In our fast-paced 21^st century world, taking a day off could mean falling behind in the productivity race, which could mean less chance of a promotion or a raise, or could lead to a boss’s displeasure, or even the dreaded loss of opportunity. Observing the Sabbath would mark us as strange, or old-fashioned, or selfish. And besides all that, there’s the question: what would our work, our family, or the world do without us if we stopped for a moment? And then the frightening follow-up thought—what if they get along just fine…what does that mean for who we are, our place in the world, our importance?

And so we go on—busy busy busy, and proclaiming our busy-ness at every turn too. It’s almost as if we take pride in breaking the commandment to rest—surely our busyness means that we are too important to follow that command, surely it must be more of a suggestion for people with as much to do as we have, surely God doesn’t mean it.

Until the day our bodies rebel, and sickness forces us to rest. Until the day our creative energy gives out because we haven’t left it any time to rejuvenate. Until the day we snap and brutalize our relationships because we never had any downtime.

Then we discover, for at least a few minutes or a few days, that even as we have been rebelling against the perceived shackles of the commandment, we have been enslaved by our own view of ourselves.

Now I know, most of our cultural understanding of Sabbath comes from things like Little House On The Prairie, where Sabbath-keeping is about sitting in a straight-backed chair reading the Bible for a whole day that could be spent playing, or from the blue laws that restricted our shopping and eating and drinking habits until just a decade or two ago. Those legalistic Sabbath experiences feel more like restraint than freedom. But did you notice that in the lesser-known version of the commandments, the one from Deuteronomy, the reason given for keeping the Sabbath is that we used to be slaves, and we’re not anymore, so celebrate that freedom—take a day off! Slaves don’t get days off. Slaves don’t get to recline and enjoy a meal or a conversation with friends. Slaves don’t get to give their animals or their land or their families a break…they work work work because their life literally depends on it. But we are not slaves anymore.

Except when we are.

Nearly a thousand years after the commandments were first given, a woman walked into worship. She was a woman who was defined by her condition—bent over, afflicted, outcast, broken. She was a woman who worked hard to overcome the situation, every moment of every day, without rest. When she came to worship that day, and when Jesus straightened her back and looked into her eyes—maybe the first person to look her in the eye for eighteen years—the church elders turned on her. Not on Jesus, but on the woman, who dared to step out of her definition and into a new one—Before, she was the bent over woman, she was the afflicted one, she was the local outcast—but now she is a child of God, beloved, a daughter of Abraham, a member of the covenant community, a human being. She was freed, not only from illness but from a false identity and from all the work it takes to keep that up. And in that same moment, the elders and the congregants were freed as well. No longer must we sit by while others suffer—we are freed to act compassionately. No longer must we have special powers or the right college degree or a title to share good news—we are freed to speak the word of God into every circumstance. No longer must we keep silent while leaders bully or buy us into submission—we are freed to witness to another way. We are not slaves anymore.

 Except when we are.

 Many—perhaps even most—of us are in thrall to the ideal of self-reliance. We are enslaved by our perceived need to be available all the time. We willingly wear the chains of an identity primarily defined by what we do and how productive we are. We are slaves to the idea that we can waste or make time. Our pride is in the way of our freedom. We need to step aside and recognize that we are not the ones whose effort creates and redeems and sustains. In fact, sometimes we hinder God’s movement even with all our good intentions. 

Following the commandment—to lay aside our work and rest awhile—shows us another way. It gives us some perspective, teaches us that we do not rely only on ourselves, but on one another and ultimately on God. It gives our bodies, minds, and spirits a chance to take in the glory of God and to connect with God’s providence in new ways. It allows us the space to just be, to rest in the heart of God, and so to be renewed for the calling God has for us. It is freedom of the best sort—freedom to be who we are created to be, not who we think we have to be.

So—do we need Sabbath in the 21^st century? Yes! We need it as much as ever. Now, as at every other time in history, we are in danger of believing ourselves to be capable and crucial to the running of the universe—to be as important, or maybe even more important, than God. Which means it makes sense that Sabbath and Idolatry are two of the hardest commandments to keep—because they are so interrelated. When we break the fourth commandment we also break the first, for we place ourselves in the God-spot. It’s God who neither slumbers nor sleeps, it’s God who creates and redeems and sustains…and it’s God who rests, and calls us to do the same. Notice that the commandment doesn’t lay out how exactly—we have to figure out how to set aside the time, to keep work and housework and obligations and maybe even technology from intruding into that holy space…and that “how” will be different for every family. But I believe, and God believes, that it can—and must—be done. So lay your burdens down, put up your feet, and rest awhile.

May it be so.

a Sabbath hour

Amen.

Friday Five: choose your own adventure

so...I hardly ever post twice on my blog in one week, let alone in one day. but then I had the opportunity to make up the Friday Five for today, so....

This summer at RCLPC we've been doing what we're calling a "People's Choice" sermon series--people submitted sermon topics, and the preachers have taken them on. This Sunday I'm preaching my last in this series, about Sabbath. (Why yes, we did blatantly steal this idea from KathrynZJ, who did it last summer...) It's kept people engaged all summer and we've all had a great time. So now it's your turn...

1, 2: What are two texts or topics you wish you could hear a sermon about?
I would like to hear a sermon about Miriam, beyond her role in the whole Moses-in-a-basket adventure. She sticks around for a lot more of the story, but we often forget about her.
I would also like to hear a sermon that takes a creative look at the women who followed Jesus, beyond "and they provided for him out of their resources."

3, 4: What are two texts or topics you wish you could preach a sermon about?
Hmm...well, as a preacher I often get to preach those sermons I wish I could, except there are a few things that I think require more time or depth than a sermon can really give. At RCLPC a sermon can only be about 12 minutes long, and while most of the time that seems fine, it's difficult to address some bigger picture things in that time--for instance, what does it mean to be Church in the 21st century, and how does that affect our involvement in political and civic life? Or how can we nurture God's passion in the life of the church and of individuals, and what does that mean for the ways we think about "church" (especially when it comes to programs and education and mission)? Finding ways to link those big questions with the lectionary and simultaneously break them down into smaller parts that can fit into other sermons because they are way too big for just one is a huge challenge...and then add in the part where people may or may not be there every week or remember enough to make those connections from sermon-to-sermon, and we have ourselves a big ole conundrum!

5: What's your favorite sermon you've ever heard or preached? What makes it your fave?
I can't believe how hard it is to answer questions I made up myself! LOL. Umm....let's see...I think my favorite sermon that I have heard is probably a toss-up between a sermon preached by Otis Moss III at the Proclaiming the Text conference at Montreat in 2009 (it was about re-mixing, starting with Joshua doing a Moses re-mix) and one preached by Anna Carter Florence on the women in the Moses-in-a-basket story at the HerStory Conference in 2008. Both were amazing and have stuck with me for their vibrant imagery, strong good news coupled with challenge, and interesting twists on stories I'd heard or read dozens of times before.

Wanna play? Answer on your blog and leave a link, or play in the comments!

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

Okay, so my summer vacation was actually work, but it was still awesome. Two weeks leading a small group of mostly church people around Scotland. It was part Presby-Pilgrimage, exploring some of the history of our religious tradition and connecting with our spiritual roots. It was part tourist-extravaganza, visiting palaces and cultural spots. It was part study tour, exploring Scottish history/geology/politics/culture from 135 million years ago up to now. And of course it was part Iona Community Awesomeness.

I went a couple days early and stayed a day after the rest of the group (cheaper flight!) and took the opportunity to visit Inverness, look for the Loch Ness Monster (no sightings, sorry), see the Highlands a bit, and learn more about the 1745 Jacobite Uprising that culminated in the "battle" (read: massacre) at Culloden. I also took a moment to visit the first palace in Scotland at Linlithgow, to meet up with another RevGal and visit the Borders, and to eat plenty of delicious curries.

the entry courtyard of Linlithgow Palace

the window into the king's presence chamber-it had colored glass so when light came in it created a double rainbow at the foot of the throne. cool.

Looking across the palace courtyard from the top of a tower

the entry to Linlithgow Palace

Culloden Battlefield

clan graves at Culloden

due to a public transportation adventure gone awry, I didn't actually make it to my boat tour on time. However, it was making another stop in a lock on the River Ness, so I was able to get on partway through. This is looking back at the canal...aka the part of the tour I missed. I'd been really looking forward to that part, but alas...

Loch Ness

Urquhart Castle, as seen from a boat on Loch Ness

Looking down on part of the Urquhart Castle complex from a higher spot...with Loch Ness looking pretty!

this was the view for my entire Highland train journey. so gorgeous.

Melrose Abbey

yes, that gargoyle is a bagpipe-playing pig

looking out at the Borders from the top of the Melrose Abbey tower

looking down into the sanctuary

Kelso Abbey...what's left of it

Floors Castle--a real live castle still lived in by a real live Duke-and-Duchess!

yeah, I took this from a weird angle, but still...the place is HUGE

In between, I facilitated the travel and learning and conversation and delicious meals all over Edinburgh, Glasgow, St. Andrews, Stirling, and Iona. We visited the classics, like  Castles, the Wallace Monument, St. Giles Cathedral, and Holyrood Palace. We also went a bit off the beaten path with visits to Govan Old Parish Church (where we got a nice surprise--John Bell was there for morning prayer and to give a lecture to another group, which we hung around for!), Glasgow's Transportation Museum (surprisingly cool), and a behind-the-scenes tour and conversation with a Member of the Scottish Parliament. Not to mention that we spent a week on Iona, building community with people from around the world via song, worship, daily tasks, workshops, and a 7 mile walking pilgrimage.

inside Edinburgh Castle

Holyrood Palace courtyard

St. Andrews Cathedral

the William Wallace Monument, Stirling (that column on the corner? The staircase.)

Stirling Castle

St. Giles Cathedral

We ate entirely at restaurants recommended by friends. For the most part, it was local food, often slow-food, traditional and not-so-much. We enjoyed a chip shop, a curry house, scottish comfort food, homemade soups and breads, local produce (and meat, for those who eat that), and traditional desserts. Everyone was, in advance of the trip, worried about the food--between the combination of a vegetarian trip leader and the stereotype of British food, they were probably right to be worried! But now that they've traveled with me, they know how important food is...and how good I am at finding places that will be awesome and will cater to even the pickiest (or most allergen prone) among us. Even our most skittish eater had a wonderful food experience, and is still talking about the vegetarian restaurant!

the clean plate club at the vegetarian restaurant!!

scottish comfort food: sausage and mash, fish and chips...

One of the great things about being a small group (there were 8 of us) is that we were able to travel entirely by public transportation. That gave us yet another window into the Scottish life/culture/people that we wouldn't have had if we'd rented a minibus or gone on a big group tour. It was sometimes frustrating waiting for buses or trains, and sometimes crowded or hot or whatever, but it was also real life, not just the sanitized version of vacation many of us are used to. Yes, we were tourists, but we were tourists who did our best to get into the place as it is, rather than keeping ourselves separated from it by tour bus windows.

One of the things I learned on this trip is that leading a group can be very stressful! Part of that is because I always want things to be perfect when I'm showing people a place I love. I feel the same way about taking people to my favorite restaurants--I want them to love it, and I'm nervous the whole time that they won't! There's something vulnerable about inviting people into your favorite things, and I definitely had some anxiety about that on this trip. Not to mention that of course I want people to like and respect me, which meant I had to ensure that all the details would go smoothly (with only one or two notable exceptions, they did), and I needed to know everything and be able to answer every question (or bring in someone who could, which is much more my forte!). Umm...no pressure or anything! Every night when we got back to the hotel, I would spend time blogging the day for the church, reviewing the itinerary for the next day, the historical/religious/spiritual/cultural significance of any place we were visiting, and making sure I was certain of all the times and transit connections and restaurant locations and reservations. Then it was to sleep, then up early to have tea and biscuits and to try to get in a workout before meeting the group for another exciting day! Getting to Iona was a relief because at least we weren't going anywhere and I didn't have to plan meals, though of course there's still plenty of group-leadery-stuff to do there too.

Without fail, Iona always feels like home. I don't know what it is about that island, but basically within minutes I could feel that visceral settled-happy-love thing going on. It's not just mental or emotional but physical too. That place tugs at my heartstrings. A friend met on Iona many years ago asked, before I left, "is it weird that when I think of Iona I get positively homesick?" My answer was no...and still is. Because it happens to me too, no matter how happy I am in my current home, something about that island is home in a more basic way than where I live or where I came from. Strange but true, and beautiful too.

the nunnery

looking across the garden and sound toward Mull

the abbey

port ban

the bay at the back of the ocean

st. martin's and st. john's crosses outside the abbey

the sound and Mull

ruins

tea time in the garden!

lots of good intentions...

I keep meaning to blog. I even sometimes write blog posts in my head when something is happening and I want to remember to write about it. But for some reason they never make it out of my head and onto the keyboard/screen. This is not a new phenomenon, of course. And it's not just in blogging, either--I haven't been writing much of anything beyond the sermon lately. Once we sent in the book manuscript (which, for those playing along at home, was 3 months ago), I apparently ran out of words. Or maybe life was beyond the words, somehow.

So...I'm going to try again. Coming soon: the classic "what I did on my summer vacation" post (except that it was a working vacation...but there will be pictures!), contemplating the level of casual violence in our society as seen through the microcosm of Six Flags, and probably some stuff about church and society and culture. And maybe some pictures of the cats. Possibly a book review (you never know!).

And maybe I'll start posting my sermons again too. The last few have been sermons I didn't love, but when they were preached they kinda worked, so perhaps it's time to post them even when I think they might not be good, since apparently (according to John) I have no ability to discern whether my own sermons are good or not. ha.

In the meantime...there is a ton of cuteness over here.

Transformers--a sermon for people's choice summer 1

Rev. Teri Peterson

RCLPC

Transformers

Matthew 7.16-20,  2 Corinthians 3.16-18, John 3.1-8, Romans 12

3 June 2012, Trinity and People’s Choice 1

One of the questions I often ask the confirmation class is “what will change when you are a church member?” What is it about standing up here, professing your faith, and getting your own line in the church directory makes you different?

The ultimate answer, after lots of conversation, is of course nothing. The only thing that changes when you become a member of the congregation is that you can vote and hold office. Being a member doesn’t make you a different person, doesn’t automatically increase your involvement, and doesn’t make God love you any more than God already does. Joining a religious institution does not make you more faithful or closer to God. That takes work on our parts—more than just getting our names on the roll or in the directory.

But the other question I ask them all the time, I now ask you: what difference does it make in your everyday life that you are a follower of Jesus? What changes inside of you as you walk this faith journey? What makes you different from people who choose to follow another path? Again, God doesn’t love us more when we follow Jesus. Following Jesus does not always lead us to increased church involvement or even to membership. But it does make us different, it does change us. Faith is about a process of becoming, not a process of arriving. In 2 Corinthians (3:16-18), Paul writes “…but when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit.”

One degree of glory to another…one degree at a time, even. Slowly, slowly, yet it happens---because it comes from the Spirit of God and no one can thwart God’s vision and desire, not even the Roman Empire, let alone us. Day by day, when we choose to follow Jesus, to hear his call and walk in his footsteps, we exhibit a little more of the image of God planted within us. Just as in any other close relationship, we take on some characteristics of those we spend time with—maybe a phrase or a fashion or even an inside joke. And hopefully our relationships are also with people who draw out the best in us. This is how a relationship with God works, too. In fact, the Latin word credo, from which we get the word “creed” and which is usually translated “I believe,” is better translated as “I pledge my loyalty”—it’s like a marriage vow, saying “I do and I will” trust, love, and even obey (though we usually leave that obeying bit out nowadays!). When we make that kind of vow, when we stand up here and profess that faith and answer those questions, then everything does change. We do not belong to ourselves, we are in covenant relationship with someone who wants to see us become our fullest and truest self, who wants us to be a walking reflection of God’s image, kingdom, and glory.

This isn’t just about heaven, either—it’s about being transformed, day by day, in this life, so we can be part of transforming the world into the kingdom of God. We don’t pray “bring us to heaven,” we pray “your kingdom come.” Jesus didn’t say “if you’re good enough, one day you can play harps in the clouds,” he said “the kingdom of God is here.” That means it’s not just for perfect people, either. Scripture is full of examples of people loved and called by God despite what we would consider their imperfections. Abraham and Sarah were 100 years old. Noah drank too much. Moses stuttered and had a fiery temper without any anger management skills. David couldn’t restrain his lust, for a woman or for power. Jeremiah was just a child when he was called, and as an adult he was prone to depression. Isaiah was a “man of unclean lips and heart.” Peter had no impulse control. James and John were overly ambitious. And yet all these people were created in the image of God, were loved, and played central roles in God’s story. Many of us have pasts filled with varying levels of sordid tales, but we also trust in a God who redeems even unto death, a God whose love is more powerful than anything we might do, a God whose grace gets inside us, becomes a part of us, and that changes both us and the world.

We aren’t the first to be confused about how this all happens, and when, and why. In John 3 (1-8) we hear about “a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. He came to Jesus by night and said to him, ‘Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.’ Jesus answered him, ‘Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.’ Nicodemus said to him, ‘How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?’ Jesus answered, ‘Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I said to you, “You must be born from above.” The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.’”

You may recall that Nicodemus continues in his confusion, and Jesus is a tad incredulous—“are you a leader of Israel and you do not understand?” Well, Jesus, it’s not as if you’re speaking in plain English. The Holy Spirit is not easily wrapped up and explained, and the work of the Spirit is unpredictable—obviously, since Nicodemus is a Pharisee, not exactly one of Jesus’ best friends. That he sought Jesus out at all is a sign that something was going on inside, that Nicodemus didn’t fit the stereotype, that something was working on him and changing him. But he’s not there yet—he’s busy trying to make Jesus’ words literal rather than letting the Spirit grow inside him and open his mind and heart. He’s still stuck on the letter of the law, while Jesus is trying to encourage him to be open to another way.

We Presbyterians aren’t so into the conversion stories, the born-again experience, but Jesus tells us it’s something important—that we can’t see the kingdom of God if we aren’t born of the Spirit. If we don’t have room for the wild and mysterious movement of the Spirit in our lives and our religious systems, we’ll be blind to what God is doing in our midst. Could this be why the kingdom of God seems so elusive—because not only are we not looking with the right lenses, but also we’re dwelling in the letter rather than the Spirit? We’re busy thinking that church is great because in just an hour it gives our kids a moral compass and it makes us feel good and gives us an outlet to help people and a place to see our friends, but we’re missing out on so much more to the life that God envisions…what would happen if we followed the wind, let it blow us out of our houses and our churches to seek Jesus, let it make us into something new and beautiful and world-changing?

Sometimes, though, we bump up against these other hard stories, like when Jesus says in Matthew 7 (16-20), “You will know them by their fruits. Are grapes gathered from thorns, or figs from thistles? In the same way, every good tree bears good fruit, but the bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a bad tree bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Thus you will know them by their fruits.”

That sounds more like the Pharisees than like the Jesus we just encountered in John. It sounds so black and white, cut and dried, with no possibility of change. But the witness of scripture, all those people I mentioned earlier, suggests that we might be reading this wrong. It’s tempting, if we think of faith as an experience of following the rules in order to get a reward, to see this teaching simply as a statement of fact—there are good and bad people, and you can tell which is which. Then again, if our faith is more about a struggle toward an ideal, perhaps we’re more likely to read this in conjunction with the parable Jesus tells in Luke 13, in which the farmer convinces the landowner to let him nurture the fruitless tree, to dig around it and fertilize it, to spend time and effort growing good fruit. And if we read this together with Paul’s letter to Corinth that we heard earlier, we might conclude is that there must be something else to this passage, something we’re missing, perhaps because our vision of the kingdom is clouded.

Just before this, Jesus is talking about walking the narrow way to life—the harder path that may not lead to what the world values as a good life, but will lead to an abundance we don’t even have words to describe. And right after, he says that the one who does the will of God is the one who truly proclaims him Lord. Many of our paths meander and take wrong turns—what matters is that we come back to the Way, that we keep practicing even though we’ll never be perfect. In other words, despite this being a convoluted agricultural metaphor: the fruit defines the tree, not the other way around. And the way to get good fruit is to cultivate, to nurture, to practice. The question is not whether you’re a good or bad tree, or whether you can change from one to the other—the question is whether you produce fruit, and what that fruit is. Scripture says that the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, faithfulness, generosity, and self control. Those are all things you can cultivate, with God’s transformative help.

The purpose of a religious community, organized or disorganized, is to give us a framework in which to practice as we become who God is calling us to be. Nicodemus’s religious community was about understanding and following the rules, but religion is not about head things—not really. It’s not about the doctrines and the intellectual belief system. Not one of those fruits of the Spirit comes from the mind. It’s about transformation, it’s about becoming, it’s about a way of living, it’s about learning to trust. It’s about making room for the wind of the Spirit, and letting the grace of God change your life.

And so we’re back to the question: what difference does it make to you, in your own life, inside and out, every day, in the world, that you are a follower of Jesus? What does your life, transformed by God’s grace, look like? Paul advises us in Romans 12, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect.”

No pressure, of course.

We are to be transformed, to day by day reveal more of God’s image and glory, to allow the Spirit to nurture and grow us into trees that bear fruit for the kingdom. What does that look like every day? Paul continues, “Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are. Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.’ No, ‘if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink. Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”

Of course, much of that sounds like it’s somewhere in between crazy and impossible…but nothing is impossible with God. When we stop seeing faith as a set of intellectual propositions, when we outgrow religion as a structure designed to keep us in line, and when we practice following Jesus every day, we can finally let the wind of the Spirit blow us out into the wide, mysterious world, and we’ll see it as the kingdom of God. And then, friends, with God’s grace living inside us, God’s glory will shine out from us, and the result will be more than meets the eye.

May it be so. Amen.