Today, I Cried

For a long time, I have seen a certain hand-made book on a shelf at the Book Arts Center, and coveted it.

I realize that a "Book Arts Center" is an odd and mysterious place, perhaps one you never knew existed.  At the Book Arts Center I learned to make a couple of basic hand-sewn books, and learned a little about the construction and history of books, as well.  And at the small gift shop, where the tools for making your own books are sold, I also saw this book.

It was called "Sightings."  Inside it there were beautiful small poems and colorful drawings.

I wanted the book because it was beautiful.  It was art.

I also wanted the book because of its title.  When I saw the title, "Sightings," I thought of God-sightings, and trying to teach my congregation how to see God in their lives.

But, it is a hand-made book.  It would have been an extravagance.  There were other books more extravagant, of course (some that took my breath away), but this one was just enough out of my price range to make me sigh.  So I just coveted it, and looked for it on the shelf every time I went into the book arts center.  It was always there, although sometimes they moved it to another location so I would have to hunt for it.

But, this month was my birthday.  My husband has known that I have coveted this book and he gave me the money so that we could go get it.  On my birthday we went to the book arts center, ate lunch at the small cafe and hunted for the book in the gift shop.

We didn't find it.

I asked the clerk to hunt for us.  They said that they were sold out.  I asked if they could find out if the artists had more, or if the edition was sold out.  They said they would try.

Then the emails began.  They were indeed sold out.  There were no more copies.  I sighed and asked the "hail Mary" question:  if they found out that someone didn't want their copy, would they give me a call?  That was it.

And then I started getting emails from one of the book artists.  There were, indeed, no more copies, she said, but one:  the artist's proof.  Would I like to see it?  I might not like it, but if I did, she would sell it to me, for slightly less than the finished book.  She told me about another of her books that I might like, and I told her why I had a special affection for "Sightings."

She said, "If you decide to purchase it, I will tell you the story about it."

So today, I went over to the book arts center, and found the artist, and she showed me the book.  The pages are stitched together, and the title is hand printed in marker.

She told me that she first began to think about this book when she was taking care of a friend who was dying of cancer.  And while she sat with, cared for, her friend, she started to see, and to write, and to draw, what she would miss, if she was dying.

My eyes started to hurt.  I have sat with many people who were dying.

Today, I officially announced that I have taken a call to another congregation, to people I have just met, and to places I have only seen once or twice.  I am thinking about what I will learn, and who I will meet, and what we will do, together.

And I am thinking about what I will miss.

Sometimes, many times, that is just where I see God.

But, it makes my eyes hurt.

The Things We Do

This morning I got up early and put on my suit and my clerical collar.  Even though it was a hot and muggy day, I was dressed up to go out to our city's National Cemetery for a graveside service for one of our congregation's World War II Veterans.  A genuine war hero he was, as well as a beloved father, grandfather and friend.

I stopped into the office first to check in on our Senior Matins group, who were having coffee and fellowship.  I also saw a number of the Vacation Bible School children arriving for a day of fun activities.  I had time to have a couple of brief thoughts about Sunday's sermon.  "Discipleship," I wrote down on the cover of a manilla folder.  Not much to go on, but better than nothing.

Yesterday I had spent part of the afternoon drawing eyes with the children.  We were instructed each to take a small mirror provided for us, and to look carefully at our eye.  Then we drew large, dark outlines of our eyes on large pieces of paper.  The inside of each eye would be a collage of colors we found in magazines.  We were encouraged to see all the different colors inside our eyes.  They aren't just "blue" or "green" or even "hazel."  Take a look, and you will see.

This morning, though, after writing "Discipleship" on the manilla folder, I got in my car and headed out to the cemetery.  The honor guard fired their guns; the lone bugle played "taps"; the family received their flag. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.  In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life.  Still, we wept.

Later, I went over to the apartment of one of our elderly members.  He is making the transition from his home to a nursing home, and he wanted us to look at some of his books, to see if the church might want any.  Some belonged to him, some of his wife, some were from his father.  Another member of the church brought him back over to his home so he could be there while I went through his bookshelves, paging through the books, admiring them, choosing just a few.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Still later, I stopped in to see someone who is homebound while recovering from a fall.  We shared communion and prayed; she said she is a terrible invalid; she is not good at being idle.  We talked about the rain; I saw old silhouettes of her children when they were small, and portraits painted by a friend.  "Not very good," she said, but I could see the resemblance.

Tomorrow I will go to my office, and see the word "discipleship" written on the manilla folder.  I will have meetings where we will try to look into the future like the children study the colors of their own eyes.  I will play with the children, and pray with those who are lonely, and see what I can see.

Flecks of dust, shards of a life, beautiful fragments of colors:  a collage of lives.  Sometimes that is what I think ministry is like:  it is living with this collage of lives, and somehow seeing, in the midst of it all, God's dream.

Of Making Many Books

Last week I stumbled into a very large used book sale.  It was set up at an old Border's bookshop, a huge building that has not yet found a new tenant.   For the past couple of weeks, this empty store has been filled with tables and and unimaginable number of cheap books.  Former bestsellers.  Novels.  Books on prayer (there was a very large religion section).  Cookbooks.  Self-help.  History.  You name it.  Most of the books were fairly recent titles, but there were a few of the older and most interesting vintage editions scattered about as well.

Once in awhile I will go into an antique store that has a large book section, and be overwhelmed with the number of old books, most of them old books that I have (often) never heard of before.  A few may have enjoyed a brief celebrity; most of them were deeply obscure to me.

There are so many books in the world.

I didn't grow up around a lot of books.  At least, there weren't a lot of books in our house.  There were a couple of Bibles, a couple of books of Fairy Tales, a few little golden books.  It's not that my parents didn't value reading:  we went to the library a lot; we just didn't own most of the books.

The library then was an amazing place to me.  There were so many books, so many stories, and I wanted to write them too.  I wanted to write stories like the ones about Betsy and Tacy, or the ones about Jo and Meg and Beth and Amy.  I wanted to write stories like the ones about Pippi and the Moffats and the Nancy Drew.

I always thought it was the stories, or the words, or the knowledge that attracted me.  That's why I liked books so much.  I liked the infinity of what you could discover inside a book.  I liked the worlds that opened when you opened the covers.  I liked the sentences that piled up, one after another.

But, as it turns out, it's more complicated than that.

I spent last Wednesday evening making books:  small books, it's true, but making small blank books out of paper and waxed thread.  I simply folded and poked holes and stitched together simple covers and pages.  I used simple tools:  an awl, a needle, a bone folder, and paper.  I learned that books had a head and a tail, a signature or a section, leaves and volumes. I learned a pamphlet stitch and a Japanese stitch.  

I loved making books.

I always thought it was the contents that I loved:  the stories, the sentences, the knowledge, the images. But I loved the covers and the spine, the stitches and the thread, the paper and the feel of everything in my hand.  I imagined how the structure of the book and the contents are inextricably connected.  For example, the simple folded book that folds out like an accordion:  that should be a story about a journey, perhaps, or a treasure map.

As it turns out, I love the whole book:  body, soul and spirit: the weight of it in my hand, the stitches, the paper, the words and sentences too.

Body soul and spirit, it is all art.  We are not containers; we are whole and holy, stitched together with care, every single last atom of us.

On the Road Again

After a brief stop in Albuquerque where I met friend and blogger Paul and had yummy appetizers, we are back on the road again, headed out to Mesa Verde, somewhere I have heard about for many years, but never seen. 

Last night we also had a dinner (which I for one didn't really need) at the Church Street Cafe in Old Town.  We walked around the town (most places were closed, but a few were still open), and found a little shop that featured artists from New Mexico, especially as they painted religious folk themes.  I was captivated by a little display for Vicente Telles, and had to buy a tiny piece of art by him, called Mater Dolorosa.

As we exited, the shopkeeper called out, "thanks for supporting local artists!"

Yes.

We watched fireworks from our hotel room.

Got up early to eat a little breakfast in the downstairs cafe, and listen to the latest on the Casey Anthony trial.

Now we will be traveling scenic routes all day, cameras and journals in hand, until we get to our scenic destination.

My hope during the next few days:  that I will see the beauty in the local artistry, that I will support local artists, and that I will find freedom to be one.

Unanswered Questions

So we went up to the City by the Great Lake on Sunday afternoon. We went to see Earnest Younger Stepson, a serious sociology student at the University by the Great Lake.

On Monday, we made stops at a couple of local antique stores that we like to haunt. They know us so well at one of the stores that they asked where our partner was (they meant Scout.)

I had a good time looking through old children's illustrated books. I was this close to getting a hardcover copy of Elizabeth Enright's book, Thimble Summer. And there was a cute children's picture book, so exactly post-war, called "Betty and Bob Go to Church." I wish I had a picture of the dust jacket. Alas, I did not purchase that one either.

One of the proprietors, a bookseller who thinks I have good taste, took down some of the names of the authors I was looking for: Ingri and Edgar D'Aulaire, Maud and Miska Petersham, Masha, Pelagie Doane. I especially like to find Bible Story books and prayer books.

At one point in our conversation he looked at me and said, "Are you a minister?" When I answered in the affirmative, he asked, "What has happened to the church lately? It seems that young people don't like the old songs any more. They want all this praise music."

My husband writes contemporary church music, so I am somewhat of an apologist for new music in church. He said he doesn't have a problem with new music, but ....

".... why forget about 20 centuries of tradition?" I completed his question for him.

He is a member of a small main-line congregation in town. I can tell he loves his church. They are wondering about their future. I would have loved to stay and talk more with him about 20 centuries of church tradition, about the growth in both the Pentecostal churches and also the growth in unbelief, otherwise known as "atheism."

(This could be a whole separate post, but Pentecostalism is the fastest growing religion in the world. We have to stop considering people like Sarah Palin out of the mainstream.)

I would love to have talked more about the mission of the church, and how in the era of "Betty and Bob" it was just assumed, and how we can't do that any more. I would have loved to tell him that 20 centuries of church music, prayers, literature and art are a part of a vibrant faith that is worth passing along.

The truth is, I don't have all the answers. But I think being part of the conversation is a great first step.

In those 20 centuries of tradition, what do you value, and why? What songs, prayers, and works of art live for you?

This is one of the reasons I bought a digital camera

Seen on a house in a nearby neighborhood....

She's So Artistic

In all humility, I don't think I am so artistic, but LJ and Fran seem to think so, and so they have honored me with a prestigious award. But with privileges also comes responsibility, so I need to post and follow these rules as well.

Here are the rules:
1) Pick five blogs that you consider deserve this award for their creativity, design, interesting material, and also for contributing to the blogging community, no matter what language.
2) Each award has to have the name of the author and also a link to his or her blog to be visited by everyone.
3) Each award winner has to show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her or him the award itself.
4) Award-winner and the one who has given the prize have to show the link of Arte Y Pico blog, so everyone will know the origin of this award which is here: Arte Y Pico.

Here are the blogs I would like to honor:

1. Barbara, at Views From the Road, has incredibly funny, interactive, thoughtful posts and great blog design. There's always something new I can learn from her!

2. Freshly Ground Lutheran is an artist as well as a pastor. You can see her art on her blog. You can also see pictures of her dog (which is a plus as well). Also, her reflections are honest wrestlings of a serious Christian.

3. Heart of a Pastor just moved over to wordpress, something that impresses me greatly. Also, his blog looks better than ever, and is as thoughtful as ever.

4. Still Fruity. Lindy's posts are thoughtful, her photos of Rowan are the best ever, and her sidebars are about the most fun and informative anywhere!

5. Singing Owl. Serious Pentecostal theology in living beautiful color. Highly recommended.

Now -- pass it on, everybody!

Hassler's Night

Minnesota novelist Jon Hassler died last week. His funeral will be tomorrow at the Basilica of St. Mary here in Minneapolis. I found out that a member of my parish, raised Catholic but married to a Lutheran, will be singing at his funeral. It seems that her aunt was married to Mr. Hassler.

The first book I read by Jon Hassler was Grand Opening. I read it in my mid-twenties, I think, and was instantly enchanted. It's the story of a family that moves back to the father's small home town to open a grocery story. So they will have two grocery stores -- the "Catholic" one and the "Lutheran" one. I found Grand Opening to be a kinder, gentler Main Street. There were plenty of critiques of small town small-mindedness and prejudice, but there was an underlying affection that made those critiques much easier to take.

After Grand Opening, I moved backward to Hassler's first novel, Staggerford: one week in the life of a high school teacher. Then I read the novel that I think is still my favorite: Simon's Night, about an old man who checks himself into a nursing home after he makes some unfortunate mistakes in his kitchen. Simon's Night is both poignantly sad and funny, at the same time. I remember that the small Lyric Theatre here in my hometown adapted it for the stage.

The summer I married, I went to a 2-day writing workshop at Mount Carmel Lutheran Camp near Alexandria. Our workshop leader was Jon Hassler. Besides spending a lot of time journaling that weekend, I remember him talking about his Parkinson's disease, his gratitude for his wife, and making jokes about the Catholic at a Lutheran camp. (Why don't you get Garrison Keillor? he asked. We like you better, was the answer.)

I read a review of his life recently that said he was a "middle-brow" author. Probably correct. Also, they noted a book I haven't read, North of Hope, as his best. Now, that goes on my reading list.

He was a lovely example of an artist working out his faith in stories. His themes are universal: love, sin, redemption, sacrifice, loss. He made me wonder again, as I have off and on throughout my life, whether I too can work out my faith in stories.

Maybe, in the end, it is the only way we can work out our faith.

Advent Calendar

Image from here

Husband and I were antique shopping Sunday afternoon and came across some beautiful, unused Advent Calendars. One thing about them: none of them had anything to do with Jesus.
It has never been obligatory for an Advent Calendar to be about Jesus. While I think of "advent" as a religious word, "Advent Calendar" is not.

I believe the concept originated in Germany in the 1800s. Many Advent Calendars had a small piece of chocolate behind each door.

I got a beautiful Advent Calendar at the Metropolitan Museum Art when we were there in November. It is just as much about the art as it is about the nativity. (can't find a picture of it on line, though I did find this nifty one:)

Image from here

Anyway, my apologies to Olive lovers. And enjoy your Advent calendars, religious or otherwise!

Images of the Prodigal Son

I don't know why, but it seems that I am into art this fall. First, it was the St. John's Bible, art that is being created right in front of us. Now, it's "Images of the Prodigal Son", a collection by a man named Jerry Evenrud. The collection is now on display at the museum of Biblical Art in New York (which I didn't even know existed.) There is also available a book of images and essays by former Luther Seminary Pastor Robert Brusic.

This Sunday Pastor Brusic will be coming to our adult forum to share some of the images and his thoughts with us.

I hope that it is yet another way for us to "get into" the Bible, and discover all the facets of this great parable.

(Image above is from the collection)

The St. John's Bible

Today, for confirmation, we had a special presentation. We had a man come from St. John's College and Benedictine Abbey to tell us about the St. John's Bible project. So we had all of our 7th through 9th graders and invited adults from the congregation as well.

I don't know how many of you have heard of the St. John's Bible. It is the first handwritten Bible commissioned since the 1500's. It set to be completed in 2009, and is housed at the Benedictine Abbey in the middle of the prairie lands of Minnesota.

The primary artist for the St. John's Bible is Donald Jackson. He is the chief calligrapher for Queen Elizabeth. When he was 12 or 13 years old, he set as one of his life goals to make a handwritten Bible. Now he is in in his 50s and the end of his goal is in sight. Our presenter said that in England, he is as famous as a rock star! Imagine!

Everyone sat in rapt attention to hear the story of the paper, the quill, the inks, and all of the things that were chosen especially so that this Bible would last 1500 years. We saw some of the artwork and talked about the possible meanings of the images. For example, in one of the pages, where some of the parables of Luke are pictured, there is also an image of the Twin Towers. The artist wanted to send a visual message that we will never overcome evil with hate and violence, but through the love and forgiveness which Jesus lived and died.

The first image he showed us was that of creation. He had us look in silence for 2 minutes, and then turn to the person next to us and tell them what we saw. As we discussed the creation, we saw images both ancient and modern, the seven days of creation, and the "big bang", and a thin ribbon of gold in each day, to represent the presence of God.

At the end of the presentation, the presenter invited people to stay and look at a replica of the Gospels and Acts. For twenty minutes after the end of the program, youth and adults looked at page after page of images and calligraphy.

The book, when completed, will be divided into seven books. One book, all put together, would weigh over 400 pounds. It will be two feet tall and three feet thick.