Over the past few days I've seen little blips online about various politicians who claim that Josh Duggar is being persecuted by the media because he is an "anti-gay warrior" (and his abuse of his sisters wasn't really abuse because in biblical times they would have been of marriageable age); that climate change is not the result of human activity, but God's punishment for us allowing gay marriage; and that the US has ONE culture and you'd better buy into it or get out.
What are you people smoking?
Let's be clear about this. Females were considered marriageable at an earlier age in biblical times. This is true. They were also considered property and were bought and sold as such. But just to be perfectly clear, it was not considered acceptable in Hebrew culture to grope your sister. It was your job to protect her from that kind of behavior and to avenge her if it happened. To break that kind of taboo was to be like "the pagans."
There is a little truth to the idea that climate change is punishment for sin, but consequence is probably a better word and the sin is our wanton use and misuse of natural resources in our world, specifically the gluttonous use of resources by so-called "First World" peoples. Our insatiable appetite for more drives a greater and greater use of raw materials and energy, our refusal to abandon the use of non-renewable, polluting energy sources is sinful. And climate change is the result. And the way out of sin is repentance -- to STOP and turn around and go in a new way. We have got to get serious about this NOW.
As a sidebar here, I am so sick of people picking a few passages out of Leviticus as their definition of what it means to be Christian (and I'm pretty sure our Jewish brothers and sisters are less than happy with that kind of misuse of their sacred scripture as well). If you want to call yourself Christian, try reading the Gospels first, and see what really ticked Jesus off. It wasn't sex that got him crucified.
Finally, anyone who's lived in a number of places in the US (and I don't mean moving from Middlesex County to Bergen) knows that there is not one culture in the US. Move from NJ to California and it is a whole different world. The Upper Midwest is NOT identical to New England. And Texas? Please. Each of these places was originally settled by people from different places and they have kept many of the attitudes and traditions of those earlier settlers. They have been shaped by the people who came there later, and by the weather and by whether they are areas where people have long established roots or are transients, arriving and leaving within a few years' time (when I lived in California a lot of our neighbors worked for IBM, which they said meant "I've Been Moved."). The Air Force base down I-495 is a whole lot different than Southie in Boston.
Yes, the majority of us speak English. But English is itself one of the most hybrid languages imaginable, borrowing words and syntax from the language of the Angles, Saxons, French, and Germans, among others. Pure English is an oxymoron (and this is from a Grammar Maven). And if you want to get biblical about this, the faithful are repeatedly told that they are to welcome foreigners as an act of grace that reflects God's dealings with them. Hospitality is holy.
So maybe climate change is because we've outlawed slavery or considered females to be of equal value with males, right? Or maybe we should reinstitute the laws and cultures of the Puritans since they were the first to settle here...oh, no, wait, that would be the Spanish in St. Augustine and California...or the indigenous people who established a culture here thousands of years before...
Take your choice.
Saturday, May 30, 2015
Friday, May 29, 2015
What I Did for My Retirement
I keep thinking about that old Cheech and Chong routine where the kid is supposed to read his paper on "What I Did for My Summer Vacation": "The first day of vacation I got up. I went downtown to look for a job. Then I hung out. The second day of vacation I got up. I went downtown to look for a job. Then I hung out. The third day of vacation I got up. I went downtown..."
The first day of retirement I got up. I went down to the office to clean it out. In the early afternoon my dad fell and cut his head open on the concrete, so I took him up to the ER. So I spent the first day of retirement in my office and at the hospital...kind of like a day I might have expected at work!
The second day of retirement we drove Mom and Dad home to PA. The third day of retirement we drove back to MA. Yesterday I cleaned the house, went grocery shopping, made cupcakes for my brother-in-law's birthday, and did paper work.
I didn't expect to feel differently, but I don't even feel like I'm on vacation. I've been waking up at 6, bright eyed and bushy tailed. I did force myself back to sleep this morning, so I didn't get up until 7 (so lazy!). Every now and then I think, "I don't have a job!" and get highly anxious, but then it passes.
I did get up yesterday and walk because I want to establish some kind of routine, however suggestive it may be. I also want to write regularly and I need to figure out when the best time for that will be. This morning it was thank you notes and more packing, doing errands and planning for the summer's adventures.
The first day of retirement I got up. I went down to the office to clean it out. In the early afternoon my dad fell and cut his head open on the concrete, so I took him up to the ER. So I spent the first day of retirement in my office and at the hospital...kind of like a day I might have expected at work!
The second day of retirement we drove Mom and Dad home to PA. The third day of retirement we drove back to MA. Yesterday I cleaned the house, went grocery shopping, made cupcakes for my brother-in-law's birthday, and did paper work.
I didn't expect to feel differently, but I don't even feel like I'm on vacation. I've been waking up at 6, bright eyed and bushy tailed. I did force myself back to sleep this morning, so I didn't get up until 7 (so lazy!). Every now and then I think, "I don't have a job!" and get highly anxious, but then it passes.
I did get up yesterday and walk because I want to establish some kind of routine, however suggestive it may be. I also want to write regularly and I need to figure out when the best time for that will be. This morning it was thank you notes and more packing, doing errands and planning for the summer's adventures.
Thursday, May 21, 2015
The End is Near
So. I have one more "normal" work day and Sunday's Pentecost service before I am officially retired.
Today's plan is to finish packing up my office (sharing books with two colleagues who are coming to glean from what will not travel with me), move everything out (transporting it in my Mazda 3), make my final farewell visit with a shut-in, and decorate the sanctuary for Pentecost. Oh, and write the sermon. Yeah, probably not going to happen.
Those of you who know me know that I am a somewhat demonstrative person. I wear my emotions very close to the surface. I am worried about getting through this without a full-fledged meltdown. Not a two-year old's "I don't want to go" tantrum - because I DO want to go, I am anticipating a wonderful new adventure and I'm excited to begin. But saying good-bye in a worship service that is thickly-layered with emotion to a group of people I have come to love and maintaining the demeanor of a worship leader is looking like a daunting task. I've left churches before, but I was generally going to another church, or knew I'd be taking "a break" but going back soon. This time I am closing a door in a far more definitive, far more permanent way. I do not believe I will ever be the Pastor again. And in or out of work, I have been a Pastor for the last 31 years.
And they want to sing "the song": Blessed Be the Tie that Binds. Now on an ordinary communion Sunday, standing in a circle around our worship center, looking at that extraordinary array of faces and cultures and stories, it is hard for me to get through one verse of Blessed Be the Tie. I tried to talk my lay leader into doing "We Are One in the Bond of Love", which we've been singing most weeks as our response to the benediction for some time now. But no. He wants The Song.
How I will do this without breaking down, I do not know. I'm not talking tears trickling from the corner of your eye and a few sniffles. I'm talking face-hiding-snot-on-your-hands sobbing. Sharing this fear in a colleague group yesterday, I was reminded that we do our most significant ministry from our own brokenness, that Henri Nouwen's image of the Wounded Healer is our model for helping others and our willingness to share our weakness is an opportunity for the grace of God to work through us (and in spite of us). I don't think my folks who are first generation Americans will have a problem with it, though my African-American members and my Euro-Yankees may be very uncomfortable. I just don't know. And I'm not sure I have a whole lot of control over the moment.
So I guess the only choice is to let go, as I must let go of them in every other way except the love that I have for them.
We have signed papers to begin accessing a pension. The house is in escrow. There are packed boxes in the basement and more things to give away now that we're not showing the house to potential buyers. One more sermon. The end is near.
Today's plan is to finish packing up my office (sharing books with two colleagues who are coming to glean from what will not travel with me), move everything out (transporting it in my Mazda 3), make my final farewell visit with a shut-in, and decorate the sanctuary for Pentecost. Oh, and write the sermon. Yeah, probably not going to happen.
Those of you who know me know that I am a somewhat demonstrative person. I wear my emotions very close to the surface. I am worried about getting through this without a full-fledged meltdown. Not a two-year old's "I don't want to go" tantrum - because I DO want to go, I am anticipating a wonderful new adventure and I'm excited to begin. But saying good-bye in a worship service that is thickly-layered with emotion to a group of people I have come to love and maintaining the demeanor of a worship leader is looking like a daunting task. I've left churches before, but I was generally going to another church, or knew I'd be taking "a break" but going back soon. This time I am closing a door in a far more definitive, far more permanent way. I do not believe I will ever be the Pastor again. And in or out of work, I have been a Pastor for the last 31 years.
And they want to sing "the song": Blessed Be the Tie that Binds. Now on an ordinary communion Sunday, standing in a circle around our worship center, looking at that extraordinary array of faces and cultures and stories, it is hard for me to get through one verse of Blessed Be the Tie. I tried to talk my lay leader into doing "We Are One in the Bond of Love", which we've been singing most weeks as our response to the benediction for some time now. But no. He wants The Song.
How I will do this without breaking down, I do not know. I'm not talking tears trickling from the corner of your eye and a few sniffles. I'm talking face-hiding-snot-on-your-hands sobbing. Sharing this fear in a colleague group yesterday, I was reminded that we do our most significant ministry from our own brokenness, that Henri Nouwen's image of the Wounded Healer is our model for helping others and our willingness to share our weakness is an opportunity for the grace of God to work through us (and in spite of us). I don't think my folks who are first generation Americans will have a problem with it, though my African-American members and my Euro-Yankees may be very uncomfortable. I just don't know. And I'm not sure I have a whole lot of control over the moment.
So I guess the only choice is to let go, as I must let go of them in every other way except the love that I have for them.
We have signed papers to begin accessing a pension. The house is in escrow. There are packed boxes in the basement and more things to give away now that we're not showing the house to potential buyers. One more sermon. The end is near.
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
Leave-taking
I had intended to pay close attention to all that was involved in the leave-taking process as I retire, especially during the last 100 days. We all know what good intentions pave. I am now 12 days from the end, and I'm comprehending (that is understanding in a wholistic way) what I "knew" -- that it is a little death, that changes who I am and how I understand myself, and how I am related to people I have loved.
I made it through Christmas Eve (when my Beloved and I knew I would be retiring, but no one else did) without any emotional issues. I made it through Holy Week with just a little gulp on Good Friday. I've been purging and cleaning and working my way through the house, my office and my calendar. I made it through the last Communion and even singing Blessed Be the Tie that Binds, looking at the faces of my beautiful, diverse congregation.
I was in denial.
Now it is real. I nearly lost it in the middle of listening to the Time with Our Children last week. I had a colleague come in and take books yesterday. I gave away left-over objects that I've used to reinforce the message of a sermon or to make a prayer focus more concrete.
Now there is a heaviness in my heart, the kind you feel when you sit at the bedside of someone who is dying. It's not necessarily sad -- endings are often a blessing. But it is that whole bag of emotions that comes when one life ends and a new way of living in the world begins. No, perhaps it IS necessarily sad if the relationship has been good. Maybe it's better to say that the sadness is not "evil", not something to be avoided, not something that is inherently destructive.
At any rate, I have one more memorial service, a retirement party, one more service with baptisms, an entire office to evaluate and to pack up what is essential, then a final worship. And the traditionally significant 12 days in which to do it.
I made it through Christmas Eve (when my Beloved and I knew I would be retiring, but no one else did) without any emotional issues. I made it through Holy Week with just a little gulp on Good Friday. I've been purging and cleaning and working my way through the house, my office and my calendar. I made it through the last Communion and even singing Blessed Be the Tie that Binds, looking at the faces of my beautiful, diverse congregation.
I was in denial.
Now it is real. I nearly lost it in the middle of listening to the Time with Our Children last week. I had a colleague come in and take books yesterday. I gave away left-over objects that I've used to reinforce the message of a sermon or to make a prayer focus more concrete.
Now there is a heaviness in my heart, the kind you feel when you sit at the bedside of someone who is dying. It's not necessarily sad -- endings are often a blessing. But it is that whole bag of emotions that comes when one life ends and a new way of living in the world begins. No, perhaps it IS necessarily sad if the relationship has been good. Maybe it's better to say that the sadness is not "evil", not something to be avoided, not something that is inherently destructive.
At any rate, I have one more memorial service, a retirement party, one more service with baptisms, an entire office to evaluate and to pack up what is essential, then a final worship. And the traditionally significant 12 days in which to do it.
Saturday, May 9, 2015
Thoughts on Mothers' Day
Once again, the FB world is full of posts reminding us that not every female on the planet will have a Happy Mothers' Day, that we should not assume motherhood is the highest aspiration of every female, that not all of us had saintly mothers.
I get it. As a woman who struggled with infertility, for whom Mothers' Day was quite literally the Worst Day of the Year (I even created a Mothers' Day liturgy by that title), I know it's hard. As a pastor who has walked with people struggling with deep psychic and spiritual wounds inflicted by cruel mothers, I understand. As someone who has a loving but still sometimes challenging relationship with her own mother, I'm realistic. But really, can we all just lighten up a little bit?
I know that Mothers' Day has become a commercial bonanza...Diamonds for Mom? Really? But so has Christmas, and very few people are in favor of pretending it doesn't exist. And since Mothers' Day began as a call to MOTHERS to stand against war, so I think it has some pretty decent roots worth celebrating.
And mothering is not an easy job to do at all; very few of us do it perfectly. I used to celebrate Mother's Day by making it the one day of the year on which I refused to do laundry. Since I've always worked on Sundays since my kids were old enough to pour cereal into a bowl, I've never had breakfast in bed on Mother's Day (nor any other day on which I wasn't sick). Heaven knows I was far from a perfect mother -- probably even from being an above average mother. But even being an average mother is hard work, and Mom deserves a word of thanks for that; and if Hallmark has to remind us to do that, it says something about OUR self-focus and not their greed.
If your biological mom or your legal mom was an abject failure, I truly, truly am sorry. And I'm pretty sure that there was probably some woman, a grandmother, an aunt, a teacher, a neighbor, who took you in and nurtured you so that you grew up to know what was desirable in a mother. If you weren't able to have children, if you lost children, my heart breaks for you. I have wept those tears. And surely there are children out there that you know who need someone to just love them and encourage them without expecting anything back. If your children have special needs that make it impossible for them to make a paper flower or sign a card or dial a phone, I know that you weep for dreams that will never be fulfilled...and that you love them with all your heart none the less.
And if you never had the desire to be a mother, and followed through on that inclination, I applaud you! A lot of bad mothering was done by women who were forced into motherhood by social expectations -- you did us all a favor by being true to your soul.
The point is, I guess, that mothers are imperfect and kids are imperfect and we rarely have relationships that are mirrored in the commercial world. "May your Mother's Day as complicated as our relationship...Sometimes I love you." "You're a mediocre Mom, but I know you're doing your best." No one gets out of this world without their heart being broken. If we outlawed every holiday that someone else found hard to deal with there would never be any celebrations in our world. And God knows we need celebration. Sometimes we need to celebrate with and for others even when we can't celebrate for ourselves. For their sake. Because that's what being human is all about.
By the way, I'm the kind of person who refuses to repost those statuses that demand that you share them if you have a heart, if you love your country, if you want to go to Heaven, if you are proud of your children...I HATE being told that I have to do something to prove that I am who I am. So if you don't want to wish anyone a Happy Mother's Day because your own mom is dead or was awful or because you can't be a mom or lost a child...don't. And if you do celebrate in some way, don't shame the people who don't. But do find some way to share some love and gratitude and joy. Because without it life is pretty grim.
I get it. As a woman who struggled with infertility, for whom Mothers' Day was quite literally the Worst Day of the Year (I even created a Mothers' Day liturgy by that title), I know it's hard. As a pastor who has walked with people struggling with deep psychic and spiritual wounds inflicted by cruel mothers, I understand. As someone who has a loving but still sometimes challenging relationship with her own mother, I'm realistic. But really, can we all just lighten up a little bit?
I know that Mothers' Day has become a commercial bonanza...Diamonds for Mom? Really? But so has Christmas, and very few people are in favor of pretending it doesn't exist. And since Mothers' Day began as a call to MOTHERS to stand against war, so I think it has some pretty decent roots worth celebrating.
And mothering is not an easy job to do at all; very few of us do it perfectly. I used to celebrate Mother's Day by making it the one day of the year on which I refused to do laundry. Since I've always worked on Sundays since my kids were old enough to pour cereal into a bowl, I've never had breakfast in bed on Mother's Day (nor any other day on which I wasn't sick). Heaven knows I was far from a perfect mother -- probably even from being an above average mother. But even being an average mother is hard work, and Mom deserves a word of thanks for that; and if Hallmark has to remind us to do that, it says something about OUR self-focus and not their greed.
If your biological mom or your legal mom was an abject failure, I truly, truly am sorry. And I'm pretty sure that there was probably some woman, a grandmother, an aunt, a teacher, a neighbor, who took you in and nurtured you so that you grew up to know what was desirable in a mother. If you weren't able to have children, if you lost children, my heart breaks for you. I have wept those tears. And surely there are children out there that you know who need someone to just love them and encourage them without expecting anything back. If your children have special needs that make it impossible for them to make a paper flower or sign a card or dial a phone, I know that you weep for dreams that will never be fulfilled...and that you love them with all your heart none the less.
And if you never had the desire to be a mother, and followed through on that inclination, I applaud you! A lot of bad mothering was done by women who were forced into motherhood by social expectations -- you did us all a favor by being true to your soul.
The point is, I guess, that mothers are imperfect and kids are imperfect and we rarely have relationships that are mirrored in the commercial world. "May your Mother's Day as complicated as our relationship...Sometimes I love you." "You're a mediocre Mom, but I know you're doing your best." No one gets out of this world without their heart being broken. If we outlawed every holiday that someone else found hard to deal with there would never be any celebrations in our world. And God knows we need celebration. Sometimes we need to celebrate with and for others even when we can't celebrate for ourselves. For their sake. Because that's what being human is all about.
By the way, I'm the kind of person who refuses to repost those statuses that demand that you share them if you have a heart, if you love your country, if you want to go to Heaven, if you are proud of your children...I HATE being told that I have to do something to prove that I am who I am. So if you don't want to wish anyone a Happy Mother's Day because your own mom is dead or was awful or because you can't be a mom or lost a child...don't. And if you do celebrate in some way, don't shame the people who don't. But do find some way to share some love and gratitude and joy. Because without it life is pretty grim.
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