Last April I spent an incredibly wonderful week with female colleagues -- other women pastors, all active in leading congregations. Following the theme of "Weaving Our Stories" we discussed scripture, prayed, worship, ate, and laughed together. We shared ideas for creative leadership, processes for writing sermons, and pictures of kids and grandkids. We had private space in which to reflect and recharge because, though you would never have guessed it from the noise level, many of us are introverts by nature.
In the midst of one of those conversation times I realized that I had never really taught my children about preparing for life. I taught them how to do their homework, but never how to prepare to learn in school. I never taught them how to prepare to take a trip or do their taxes. We taught them to pay bills, but not how to prepare and stick with a budget - to be honest, we didn't really learn how to do that ourselves until fairly recently.
We tried to teach them to enjoy being in nature. We took them camping in the deserts of New Mexico, the mountains of Colorado and the forests of Kentucky. One spring when they were 4 or 5, we went out every evening to check on the progress of the budding trees, trying to see how long it would take them to become leaves. I did my best not to cringe when they brought home worms and insects and snakes, even let my daughter bring the snake into the house. To her bedroom. Which was next to mine. We took them to the ocean and out in the snow. They had fun. But I'm not sure they ever connected with Nature as a way of healing their hearts and spirits.
I tried to teach them the difference between hurt and harm -- that there are things and people in life who will hurt you but who cannot harm you, permanently damage you, unless you let them. So there are a lot of things in life that we simply have to release. By the same token, there are choices we make and things we say that diminish who we are, to ourselves and in the world. It's important not to worry about what other people think and it's important to live in ways that are loving and kind, that have integrity and honor. I'm not always sure I was clear about those balances. And I'm still not sure how to handle true harm, malicious and intentional hurt, myself.
This isn't about beating myself up -- I did the best I could at the time, and to be quite honest, I'm not sure how much of those things I understood myself while they were young and impressionable. I just wish I could have taught them those important concepts so that they could have had them in hand as they became adults. But maybe those lessons can only be learned through experience. Perhaps the only way to prepare for life is to live it, one day at a time.
Monday, October 12, 2015
Tuesday, October 6, 2015
Reflections on the Sharing the Word
One of the truly new experiences for me in this new phase of my life is that we have to find a church! In college, I just went to the American Baptist Church in town because that was what I knew. In seminary I had class assignments or jobs in churches and as an adult churches found me.
But this past Sunday the Beloved and I visited a church. We had a good experience -- not perfect, but I certainly know better than to expect perfect. We were welcomed vigorously by a number of people beyond the "assigned" Greeters. Several people sat down to chat with us at the fellowship time following the service. The preacher gave an EXCELLENT sermon, and she did it all without any notes.
I am in awe of those who preach without any notes at all. I've only preached from a manuscript once that I recall (maybe twice), but I've always used what I referred to as a "thick outline" or a thought map or note cards. For one thing, I tend to be a "late writer" -- as in often writing early Sunday morning. I've been thinking about, working on the sermon all week, it's just that sometimes it doesn't come together until Sunday morning in the shower. That doesn't really give me time to memorize it, not even the outline.
I also don't trust myself enough to preach without notes. If I don't write it down I have both a tendency to wander as I speak extemporaneously and to forget important points I wanted to make until we're singing the closing hymn.
I offer all this because several people in the fellowship time asked us if we liked the service. I don't know how to answer that. "Oh, yes, we had fun!"? "No, you used non-inclusive language and I don't like singing without music and I do a different order."? My response was to smile and say, "Your pastor is an excellent preacher." And one woman said, "Oh, yes, isn't she? And she does it all without notes. It really comes from the heart."
This struck me because in one church I served a man continually told me I should preach without notes because he wanted me to preach "from the heart." And it bothered me. Why should preaching with notes, or a manuscript for that matter, not be from the heart? Does writing something down negate its sincerity, its authenticity? Are love letters not from the heart?
My preaching process has always been a kind of a mystical experience for me, which is to say I work on it with a heart and mind tuned to the Holy Spirit's guidance in what to say and how to say it. After a number of years I began to see preaching as a kind of performance art -- there was no way I could duplicate or recycle a sermon ("dip into the barrel") even if I wanted to -- the circumstances of who was listening and the time in which it was delivered were different and because it was from the heart, the sermon changed as well. Sometimes the tinkering was minor, but it was always different.
A sermon is an odd kind of a creation, and the best ones are born of a love for God, a love for scripture, and love for the people who are listening. The preacher can give it a liveliness in delivery that it does not have on paper; most sermons are average reading at best, even when they created electric reactions in their hearers. But a sermon that has been written and memorized so that it can be delivered without notes is no more "from the heart" than one that is read from a manuscript. A love letter, read aloud may be (may be) more authentic and sincere and can be read again when one needs to remember a word of encouragement, reassurance, and inspiration.
But this past Sunday the Beloved and I visited a church. We had a good experience -- not perfect, but I certainly know better than to expect perfect. We were welcomed vigorously by a number of people beyond the "assigned" Greeters. Several people sat down to chat with us at the fellowship time following the service. The preacher gave an EXCELLENT sermon, and she did it all without any notes.
I am in awe of those who preach without any notes at all. I've only preached from a manuscript once that I recall (maybe twice), but I've always used what I referred to as a "thick outline" or a thought map or note cards. For one thing, I tend to be a "late writer" -- as in often writing early Sunday morning. I've been thinking about, working on the sermon all week, it's just that sometimes it doesn't come together until Sunday morning in the shower. That doesn't really give me time to memorize it, not even the outline.
I also don't trust myself enough to preach without notes. If I don't write it down I have both a tendency to wander as I speak extemporaneously and to forget important points I wanted to make until we're singing the closing hymn.
I offer all this because several people in the fellowship time asked us if we liked the service. I don't know how to answer that. "Oh, yes, we had fun!"? "No, you used non-inclusive language and I don't like singing without music and I do a different order."? My response was to smile and say, "Your pastor is an excellent preacher." And one woman said, "Oh, yes, isn't she? And she does it all without notes. It really comes from the heart."
This struck me because in one church I served a man continually told me I should preach without notes because he wanted me to preach "from the heart." And it bothered me. Why should preaching with notes, or a manuscript for that matter, not be from the heart? Does writing something down negate its sincerity, its authenticity? Are love letters not from the heart?
My preaching process has always been a kind of a mystical experience for me, which is to say I work on it with a heart and mind tuned to the Holy Spirit's guidance in what to say and how to say it. After a number of years I began to see preaching as a kind of performance art -- there was no way I could duplicate or recycle a sermon ("dip into the barrel") even if I wanted to -- the circumstances of who was listening and the time in which it was delivered were different and because it was from the heart, the sermon changed as well. Sometimes the tinkering was minor, but it was always different.
A sermon is an odd kind of a creation, and the best ones are born of a love for God, a love for scripture, and love for the people who are listening. The preacher can give it a liveliness in delivery that it does not have on paper; most sermons are average reading at best, even when they created electric reactions in their hearers. But a sermon that has been written and memorized so that it can be delivered without notes is no more "from the heart" than one that is read from a manuscript. A love letter, read aloud may be (may be) more authentic and sincere and can be read again when one needs to remember a word of encouragement, reassurance, and inspiration.
Sunday, October 4, 2015
True Confessions
I really like TV.
I would like to think of myself as someone who is a little more sophisticated, a little more cultured, a little more oh, I don't know, engaged than your average TV watcher, someone who's beyond the mind-numbing lowest-common-denominator programming of most TV. Someone who reads, who is creative, who participates in society, who is "beyond" entertainment for the masses. But I'm not.
This fact was brought home to me by the fact that effectively we have been without TV for a good four months now. Getting packed up and moved out of our house, spending time in Europe, staying with my parents (where we watched a lot of baseball, but not much else), visiting friends and family, and now being two weeks in our new home without any broadcast source, I find I'm sad. I miss football. I miss "my" programs. I didn't get to see many of last years' shows because of work commitments and then I didn't get to see the reruns because I wasn't here. I've missed the first couple of episodes of the new season of some of my favorites: Dr. Who and Castle, NCIS and the Big Bang Theory. Fixer-Uppers. Usually when I can't sleep at night I turn on the NFL channel and it lulls me to sleep. These days I lie awake playing Every Word until my eyes are bleary and I still can't sleep.
And because the Beloved and I are really new here, it's just the two of us at each other's mercy. So we've played cards and computer games. We watched a couple of DVDs, but we've seen them all before and the ones I want to watch again are not the same ones he wants to watch again. I've pulled out the knitting, but knitting is something I do when I'm watching tv.
I'm making plans to connect with friends in other parts of the state, not too far, but close enough for regular "Let's go get a pizza" get-togethers. We're a little loathe to get too involved in the community because we are short-timers.
But I really miss TV.
I would like to think of myself as someone who is a little more sophisticated, a little more cultured, a little more oh, I don't know, engaged than your average TV watcher, someone who's beyond the mind-numbing lowest-common-denominator programming of most TV. Someone who reads, who is creative, who participates in society, who is "beyond" entertainment for the masses. But I'm not.
This fact was brought home to me by the fact that effectively we have been without TV for a good four months now. Getting packed up and moved out of our house, spending time in Europe, staying with my parents (where we watched a lot of baseball, but not much else), visiting friends and family, and now being two weeks in our new home without any broadcast source, I find I'm sad. I miss football. I miss "my" programs. I didn't get to see many of last years' shows because of work commitments and then I didn't get to see the reruns because I wasn't here. I've missed the first couple of episodes of the new season of some of my favorites: Dr. Who and Castle, NCIS and the Big Bang Theory. Fixer-Uppers. Usually when I can't sleep at night I turn on the NFL channel and it lulls me to sleep. These days I lie awake playing Every Word until my eyes are bleary and I still can't sleep.
And because the Beloved and I are really new here, it's just the two of us at each other's mercy. So we've played cards and computer games. We watched a couple of DVDs, but we've seen them all before and the ones I want to watch again are not the same ones he wants to watch again. I've pulled out the knitting, but knitting is something I do when I'm watching tv.
I'm making plans to connect with friends in other parts of the state, not too far, but close enough for regular "Let's go get a pizza" get-togethers. We're a little loathe to get too involved in the community because we are short-timers.
But I really miss TV.
Thursday, October 1, 2015
It Seems to Me I've Heard that Song Before...
For those of you who are under 40, the title of this piece is the title (and first line) of a song from... well, to be quite honest, I'm not sure when it was first popular. But my parents used to sing it when one of us made a promise about something which we had made at least once, and usually several times previously.
"It seems to me, I've heard that song before...it's from an old familiar score...oh, yeah, I know it well, that melody..."
It's probably unseemly, but it's what I thought of today with the reports of the Oregon campus shooting...the wringing of hands, the expressions of sympathy for the victims and their families...the cries of "How many more?"
How many more? As many, obviously, as we will tolerate.
Someone said that Sandy Hook ended the debate on gun control because we realized that we could live with many children being killed. Not like it, but live with it. Because we didn't change anything.
We pray for the victims and their families and ask God to end gun violence. I suspect the Almighty is asking us, "You can do that yourselves. What are you waiting for?"
Here's some modest suggestions.
1. Stop voting for people and parties that refuse to address rational, reasonable governance of guns. You have to register your car, why shouldn't you have to register your gun?
2. Engage in honest conversation about the issue. This does not mean just listening in order to respond, but at least SOME listening would be a start. Decide where the boundaries are set as to what is off the table and what we can talk about, think about, work on together. This can be done without demonizing each other.
3. Use common language about violence in our culture. Have you noticed that if the gunman is black he's a gang member, if he's middle eastern he's a terrorist, and if he's white he's mentally ill? (that is, I suppose, another rant for another day). But violence is violence, and we are extraordinarily tolerant of violence in our culture. Furthermore, we need to share some common language about what we accept and what we cannot accept. And yes, that means we all need to question our own presuppositions about what's acceptable and what's not.
For my part, I do not believe children should be sacrificed on the altar of the right to bear arms. I understand that that clause was originally put into the constitution to ensure that COMMUNITIES had protection from tyrants. But does it really function that way today? After all, even armor piercing bullets are hardly a defense against stealth bombers and radioactive missiles. And our communities seem to be far more dangerous when every person with a grudge and a perhaps tenuous hold on reality is walking around with a Saturday Night Special or a shotgun or whatever was used in Oregon today than they are promoting the general welfare.
Pray for the victims. Raise funds to help their families. BUT DO NOT ACCEPT THAT NOTHING CAN BE DONE BECAUSE UNLESS WE DO SOMETHING NOTHING WILL CHANGE. And we will have permitted it to be so.
"It seems to me, I've heard that song before...it's from an old familiar score...oh, yeah, I know it well, that melody..."
It's probably unseemly, but it's what I thought of today with the reports of the Oregon campus shooting...the wringing of hands, the expressions of sympathy for the victims and their families...the cries of "How many more?"
How many more? As many, obviously, as we will tolerate.
Someone said that Sandy Hook ended the debate on gun control because we realized that we could live with many children being killed. Not like it, but live with it. Because we didn't change anything.
We pray for the victims and their families and ask God to end gun violence. I suspect the Almighty is asking us, "You can do that yourselves. What are you waiting for?"
Here's some modest suggestions.
1. Stop voting for people and parties that refuse to address rational, reasonable governance of guns. You have to register your car, why shouldn't you have to register your gun?
2. Engage in honest conversation about the issue. This does not mean just listening in order to respond, but at least SOME listening would be a start. Decide where the boundaries are set as to what is off the table and what we can talk about, think about, work on together. This can be done without demonizing each other.
3. Use common language about violence in our culture. Have you noticed that if the gunman is black he's a gang member, if he's middle eastern he's a terrorist, and if he's white he's mentally ill? (that is, I suppose, another rant for another day). But violence is violence, and we are extraordinarily tolerant of violence in our culture. Furthermore, we need to share some common language about what we accept and what we cannot accept. And yes, that means we all need to question our own presuppositions about what's acceptable and what's not.
For my part, I do not believe children should be sacrificed on the altar of the right to bear arms. I understand that that clause was originally put into the constitution to ensure that COMMUNITIES had protection from tyrants. But does it really function that way today? After all, even armor piercing bullets are hardly a defense against stealth bombers and radioactive missiles. And our communities seem to be far more dangerous when every person with a grudge and a perhaps tenuous hold on reality is walking around with a Saturday Night Special or a shotgun or whatever was used in Oregon today than they are promoting the general welfare.
Pray for the victims. Raise funds to help their families. BUT DO NOT ACCEPT THAT NOTHING CAN BE DONE BECAUSE UNLESS WE DO SOMETHING NOTHING WILL CHANGE. And we will have permitted it to be so.
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