Because My Dog is More Popular Than I Am...

Yesterday was a beautiful day. After a quick descent into autumn, it soared up into the 70s on Sunday. Even though after church we just had to take our naps, we couldn't let the day pass without getting ourselves and yes, Scout, out into it. She is feeling better lately, although I still have to give her the full course of the antiobiotic. We should be done in a couple of days. I am also gradually transitioning her to another food, a kind of half-homemade, half-prepared brand called Sojourner Farms. She was doing all right on the semi-raw diet, except that 1) it's kind of icky, and 2) I was concerned about whether she was getting all the right nutrients. I did like that I didn't have to deal with so many additives. The vet shared my concern about that and thought we should try more red meat with Scout. "She seems like she might be a red meat kind of dog," he said. Also, he said she should be getting more exercise.

So ... we live for our dog, you know. (Well, at least I do.) And Sunday was an opportunity that could not be passed up. So after the mandatory naps (which left me a little groggy, I'll admit) we packed up the dog and headed up to Lake of the Isles, where there is a great little dog park and walking paths.

We were waylaid at first, because my husband wanted to get a cigar, and then he kept thinking we were going to Another Lake, The Lake Where He Always Smokes A Cigar. So we drove around in circles for awhile, until we got to the right place, to the dog park where Scout used to go almost every day. She hasn't been for over a year.

The woman with the smart, frisbee-obsessed Border Collie recognized us right away, even after all this time. "Nobody came in the morning any more," I explained, my excuse for not showing up. We really went to play with other dogs and owners. There's no point in coming if we're the only ones.

In the meantime, after some initial sniffing, Scout starting making up to other dogs and people and pretty much ignoring us, as was her habit always at the park. She's fun to watch, as she solicits pets from most of the people, and checks out which might be the most fun dogs to play with. But she has an issue with coming when called, another reason, now I remember, why we stopped coming to the park. She had a brief interlude of fantastic obedience, during a time when she got ALL of her food by hand. She got NOTHING unless she obeyed. And, as the food-obsessed dog she is, she obeyed.

We have both backslid since then.

A few people asked what was wrong with her side. "Hot spot," I said. Pretty much everyone knows what that means. People always ask what kind of dog she is. "Golden retriever, Husky, probably shepherd," is the standard reply. Many people comment on how friendly she is. She is always smiling. She has no self-esteem problems.

After the park, we took a walk around the Lake, meeting more people and a few more dogs, including a 9 week old puppy. Husband said to me, "Do you know those people?" "No," I replied. "They just have dogs."

After we came home, we decided to keep being social butterflies. We went out to eat at a place we have never been before, Broder's Pasta Bar. It's not too far, and turned out to be a fun place. I even had a glass of wine.

And then, I got a call from RevDrKate, in anticipation of our RevGal brunch meet-up, which took place today. More on that later.

Next morning, I let Scout run in the yard, part of the "more exercise" orders from the vet. She promptly picked up a tomato (I know, it's too late for them) and ran around the yard with it, playing keep away until I came back with breakfast. That Scout! She's "high maintenance."

But I love her.

Sunday Sermon

It occurs to me that there is probably a way to copy my whole sermon from the computer at church rather than re-typing it, but I haven't figured it out yet. My next project.

Note on sermon: please visualize a large cardboard box, in the middle of the chancel, with a sign on it: "lost and found", and overfilled with items. The first paragraph is given not from the pulpit, but from in back of the box.

Lost and Found

Recently I've been looking around in our church's "lost and found" basket. Is everyone here aware that our church has a lost and found basket? Every once in awhile I mislay something I'm fond of -- a nice pen, a coffee mug, a book I've been reading -- and I check out the lost and found here at church to see if anyone else found it and returned it. I have never found the item I'm looking for in the lost and found.... But I have found a lot of item items, really quite a variety, some small things and probably easy to replace, like this box of Pampers wipes, and some, I thought, anyway, quite valuable -- like this cell phone I found. Now there are also some things that are valuable to some people but not to others: when I saw this white sheet, I immediately thought, Oh, I know what I could use that for! But I don't have a current use for a mini etch o sketch or a matchbox truck, or even, sadly, one glove. One person might not have any use for a notebook like this, and another might think "wow! this is just want I need!" and there might be an item here in this box which would cause great rejoicing for someone. You never know.

What do all these things have in common? They are all things which have been lost but have not yet been claimed by someone. They are "lost and found" but they haven't been "found" by someone who is willing to take them home and claim them as their own -- not the umbrella or the winter cap or the sweatshirts. They haven't been found by the original owner -- or at least, by someone else willing to call them "useful" or "valuable" to them. It could be that these items were just not so valuable to the person who lost them -- or it might be that the person was a guest here -- and even from out of town -- and just can't afford to fly back to look for whatever the lost items was.

So what does the church's "lost and found" have to do with our gospel lesson today? What does the story of the "lost sheep" and the "lost coin" have to do with a box full of "stuff" that it appears no one wants? At first glance -- nothing. We clearly have a case of a sheep that is so valuable that the shepherd is willing to leave the others to find it and return it to the flock. and we have a story of a coin that is so valuable that the woman won't cease sweeping the floors and searching the shelves until she find it. And then there is the party afterwards. That's important too. The shepherd and the woman are so overjoyed that they found the lost item, it is so valuable to them, that they throw a big party to celebrate. "In the same way, there is joy in heaven over every sinner who repents."

But I think this box and the story do have something in common. and I want to start with the story of the woman and the coin to show what they have in common. Of course, it's a little easier in this case, because the "coin" and all the things in this box are inanimate objects. the story says the woman has ten "silver coins." In Greek, those would be "drachmas" -- each would be equal to about a day's wages. That's actually not a lot of money. To lose one drachma would not be a huge tragedy -- for some people. for a rich person, a lost drachma, a lost coin like this one, would not be a cause for worry. But this woman only has ten. It's probably her whole savings -- maybe even her dowry, the money she would take into her marriage. So the drachma isn't so valuable, but it's valuable TO HER. That's important. the one coin that she searches and searches for may not be valuable to everyone, but it is valuable to the woman. In that way, it is like the items in the "lost and found" which are valuable to someone -- but not to everyone.

But what about the 1 sheep lost among 100? That's a little more puzzling. One hundred sheep would have been a huge amount in those days. It would be three times as many sheep as most people had. so it would be hard to imagine a farmer leaving his 99 sheep to go after just one lonely and lost sheep. It is only 1 100th of his flock! One sheep- would NOT be that valuable -- like MOST of the things in the lost and found box, that no one took the time to come looking for. It is much more prudent to rejoice and stick with the 99 sheep he has than to go out looking for one sheep. It's actually a surprise that he even misses it. But he does. The shepherd misses that one lost sheep, and leaves the 99 to go out and look for it. So when Jesus says, "which of you would do this..." actually probably none of them would do it. None of them would risk 99 sheep for the sake of one. Just like hardly anyone comes back to find what they lost in the lost and found.

To the Pharisees, the tax collectors and sinners are just like most of the items in the lost and found, just like that little silver coin, or that one stupid sheep that got itself lost. they are not worth bothering with. They are not righteous. They may be called "sinners" simply because they are poor, and they don't have the means to measure up to all of the requirements of the law. to fulfill the law, at least one of the things you have to do is give. If you can't give, you aren't righteous in the eyes of the law. OR they might be considered sinful because of their lifestyle. They live a less than upright life (and you can use your imagination about what that might mean). And of course the tax collectors were sinners plus. They were working for the enemy: Rome. But they were also cheating their own people, collecting more than they needed to in order to line their own pockets. Why should Jesus have a party with them?
Why should Jesus hang around with them? Why should he go looking for them? They are not worth his time. They not that valuable -- just like some of the "stuff" in this box.

There are people like that around us, too. People who don't seem too valuable -- at least in the eyes of the world. Maybe it's because they're poor -- people who are homeless, and live at the edges of our society. Or they're immigrants, struggling to get by. Or maybe it's because of their "lifestyle.' They've done something or things that others don't approve of. They don't live a righteous life. For some reason of another they just don't measure up. They're not worth bothering about -- at least in the eyes of the world. Tax collectors and sinners. Not righteous. That's one way of looking at it -- Or -- you can look at it another way -- they are people who have not yet been claimed by One who would find them useful -- and valuable. People who are no valuable in the eyes of the world -- but who are valuable to God. Like notebooks and sweatshirts and umbrellas and one glove -- ordinary things, small things -- ordinary people, small people -- lost and waiting to be found. Like you and me.

I heard a story recently a bout a woman who lost something very valuable, very precious to her. She was coming home late at night, after an evening out doing errands. It was early in December, so maybe it was even Christmas shopping. There was a light sprinkle of snow covering the ground. As she reached for the door, her wedding ring caught on the edge of the door frame, and the diamond popped out and fell into the snow. How could she find such a small item in the middle of the snow-covered yard, in the dark? She felt panicked, but almost without thinking she grabbed two flashlights, and began to shine them throughout the yard. And do you think she would give up without finding the diamond? No -- she searched and searched until she found it -- and she found it because the light of the flashlight made it glitter, even in the midst of the snow. and you know what else she said? She said that it wasn't the cost of the diamond that made her search, although I'm sure it cost some money. It was what it meant to her: that's what made her search. She said it was a miracle. I agree with her. Maybe she had a party. I'll be she wanted to.

My friends, in God's eyes, every single one of us here is a diamond. God was willing to come here to search and to find us, to get down in the dark and the snow and cold to find us and to claim us as God's own. God came down to the darkness and the coldness of our world, to find us and to call us his own -- diamonds -- even thought we're really more like -- the one glove, the notebook, the umbrella -- all of the items in the lost and found, all of the items that it seems nobody wants. God came here to find us and to claim us and also -- to put us to use. God calls us to go out and find others -- those who are not here yet -- and to get out our flashlights -- and to go out into the dark world and to claim them as God's own -- to call them diamonds. God calls us to find the lost items in the "lost and found" and to rejoice and celebrate, put the tablecloth on the table and have a party (coincidentally, one of the items in the lost and found is a tablecloth).

And then, may it be said of us, just as it is said of our Lord Jesus Christ, "these people welcome sinners, and they eat and drink with them." AMEN

Summer was so Long Ago...

We just got some pictures developed from our vacations in New Mexico and the North Shore. It's been cold the last couple of days. There was frost on the car windows this morning! It seems that summer was so long ago, and passed so quickly.

I think I'll remember Gooseberry Falls the most. I've been there more than once, but it was great to go there with neice M, Scout and my mom and dad, who had never been further north than Duluth before. And it was good to walk across the falls, although, as I may have mentioned before, I am bad at these sorts of things.

I am not good at taking risks. I like to play it safe. Sure, I went to Japan once, a long time ago. And I have done a couple of other things too: I ran an inner city program one summer for children. It didn't quite crash and burn, but it wasn't pretty.

As a pastor, I think most people would prefer we don't take too many risks. But I suspect that, for the future of the church, we pastors need to want some things, for ourselves and for our churches, so badly that we are willing to risk failure, willing to fall into the water, scrape our knees. We need to want to get to the other side so much that we are willing to do something risky to get there.

But it's hard for me. It's hard for me even to imagine what I want that much. I didn't learn to ride a bike until I was 12 or 13, because I was afraid of falling down. Finally the shame of not knowing how overcame the fear of falling, and I spent a week with my best friend, riding a smaller bike until I could get on the tall one. At the falls, I think it was because I wanted to be with my niece. So I did what I didn't want to do.

Right now, I am trying to keep the image of the falls in my head, and asking myself the question, "What is it that I want so badly, that I am willing to risk failure? That I am willing to fail and keep failing until I succeed?" What am I willing to walk across the falls for? I don't know yet, but I am willing to keep asking, and to keep walking, until it is clearer.

A Passion Monologue

I need your help. I wrote 5 Monologues based on the Passion narrative in Mark a couple of years ago. They were called "Unnamed Witnesses to the Passion." I also wrote 6 Monologues based on the Passion story from John. I would like to get them published, but I don't have any ideas. If you do, please pass them along. As well, I'd like feedback. Here is one of the Unnamed Witnesses to the Passion:

The young man who ran away

One thing I remember is how dark it was that night, how really dark it was. It seemed like the night was a good place to hide while I was watching, the whole time watching from a little distance. I want you to know that I had been following Jesus for awhile before this. I wasn't just watching because I knew something bad was about to happen. I'm not one of those people who is just waiting for tragedies to happen so that I can watch. No -- I had been "hanging around" for awhile and listening to Jesus teach and watching him heal -- but it is safe to say that I wasn't one of the main disciples. I followed, but from a distance. That's me -- I like to follow, but from a distance. I don't want to get too close. I just had the feeling that there was something dangerous about Jesus -- and you know, I was right.

The thing I remember most about Jesus is that when I heard him preach, it always seemed like he was talking straight to me, like he knew me. He knew just what I was hoping for, and just what I was afraid of -- what made me hesitate. This is what drew me to him, but it's also what help me back. He made me feel vulnerable, exposed, like there was no place I could hide. I always followed at a distance, wanting to hear but not wanting to get too involved. So there I was, on the night he was betrayed, watching and listening just like I always did, except this time, somehow I ended up just a little too close to the action. I saw everything -- I saw the prayer he prayed and how everyone fell asleep. I saw how lonely he was, in the dark. I saw Judas coming toward him, and I saw the soldiers descending on him like he was going to fight back. I mean, the disciples weren't an army. There were a couple of fighters in the bunch, but mostly they were fishermen. I just seemed so incredible. They were treating him like he was a criminal. And then I felt a hand and I knew that I had gotten a little too close this time, and I ran away. Just like all the others. My heart was beating wildly, I was so scared -- scared of being caught, but also scared of being so close, so close to the action. And I ran away so fast that it didn't even matter to me that I lost my clothes. I was naked -- running away in the dark -- running for my life.

Jesus was dangerous -- everyone was right about that. In fact, He still is. I almost died that night -- me, who doesn't like to get involved. I'm the one who likes to play it safe. And there I was, in the middle of things before I knew it. And there I was, vulnerable and exposed, just what I didn't want to be -- ever. That's the way it is with Jesus. He doesn't allow you to sit on the sidelines. Before you know it, you are right in the middle of something. Anyway, that's the way it has been for me -- ever since that night. Ever since I stopped running away. Ever since I started following him.

Oh, I feel like running away sometimes, still. Life isn't easy, you know. But it's useless. I can't help it. I start listening again, and it seems like he is talking to me, and he knows all my hopes and all my fears, and my heart is beating wildly again. just like that night. That's how I know he's dangerous. And that's how I know he's alive -- and so am I.

And that's the way it is...

In Japan, they have a saying, "only a fool doesn't catch a cold."

So, I have a cold. I suppose that, in a way, that's a good thing, because it means I'm not a fool.

I blame my brother. He had a cold when he came to my mom's birthday party on Sunday. He tried really hard not to touch anything or anyone. But I have a cold anyway.

All I really want to do is sleep (and sneeze). But there's a lot to do. I could make a list. But I'm too tired.

And, Scout goes back to the vet this afternoon for her check-up.

Sermon from September 23, 2001

Note: this was preached the week after the Sunday after 9/11.

"The New Normal"

Perhaps you've been hearing, like I have, the phrase "getting back to normal" this past week. At the opening of the stock exchange, and the reopening of certain streets in Lower Manhattan, as some people return to their jobs, our nation is "getting back to normal." Or perhaps you've heard these same commentators, or government leaders, urging us to "get back to normal." They mean, I suppose, that we should start up our daily routines -- mow our lawns, feed our children, go to work and to worship, to shopping. And in a sense, we are getting back to normal. The twenty-four hour news coverage is over, unless you are watching CNN or the Fox News Network. Television has returned to regular programming, with interruptions for brief updates and speeches. We have begun watching our favorite sports teams again. Regularly scheduled meetings are not canceled any more. I hear airplanes flying over my home -- their regular flight path -- again. In a sense, we are returning to normal life, settling down from a sudden feeling, a week ago last Tuesday, that maybe the world was coming down around us.

But when people urge us to "get back to normal", there's always long pause, like it doesn't sound exactly right. Then there's an effort to define themselves. Once I even heard someone say -- "but it will be a new normal." Yes, people will go back to work, they'll go back to the ordinary routines of their theirs, they'll go back to balancing checkbooks, and worrying about their children and watching sports and listening to music (instead of news reports) on the radio. But it will not be the same somehow -- and I'm not sure we even want it to be the same -- because the images that we have seen since Tuesday, September 11th have changed the way we look at the world, and perhaps the way we behave in the world. It has been a defining moment for us as a nation. Now that we have experienced this kind of terror, this kind of hatred, this kind of destruction, unleashed -- how can "normal" be the same?

From now on there will be a new normal. Those who are interested in defining these things point to a loss of innocence, or a loss of a sense of security in our lives as Americans. There is also a new patriotism around us -- as flags wave from homes and cars, are displayed on highway overpasses, sold on street corners, waves by children carrying signs that read: 'honk if you love America.' There is a new sense of unity: we don't ask if those who display the flag are conservative or liberal, Catholic or Jewish or Muslim. There is a sense that we are all in this together -- even though we are not sure yet what "this" is. There is a new sense of fear as well -- with broadcasters speculating about new and creative forms of terror which had been unknown before, with airline passengers putting up with inconvenience for security's sake, with some foregoing airline travel at all. There are fears regarding our economy, and fears regarding strangers among us. Just a few days ago Northwest Airlines took three Arab Americans off of one of their flights. The reasons: the other passengers had voted that they wouldn't ride with them. The three took a Delta flight.

So this "New Normal" that we talk ab out can be positive or negative, with both positive and negative consequences for our nation. If September 11 turns us into a fearful nation that drowns out dissenting voices, that would be a terrible conversion. If September 11 turns us to vengeance rather than justice, that would be a terrible conversion. If September 11 makes us forget that our most precious freedoms are the freedom to speak, to worship, to gather, to work, that would be a terrible conversion. If September 11 makes us into our enemy, that would be a terrible conversion.

But is on September 11 we gained a new sense of unity, a new sense of appreciation for diversity, and for the freedom that has led so many people from so many places here, that would be positive. If on September 11, our eyes were opened not only to evil, but also the preciousness of each human life, that would be positive. And if after September 11 we return to our normal lives determined to do something of values, to do something courageous, that would be positive as well.

As Time correspondents put it last week: "When one world ended at 8:45 on Tuesday morning, another was born, one we always trust in but never see, in which normal people become fierce heroes and everyone takes a test for which they haven't studied. As President Bush said in his speech to the nation, we are left with both a terrible sadness and a quiet unyielding anger. He was wrong, though, to talk of the steel of our resolve. Steel, we now know, bends and melts; we need to be made of stronger than that now --" but there is no material substance strong enough -- now that we have realized how truly vulnerable we are.

It seems to me that this would be our faith community to know a "new normal" as well. What do I mean by that? I mean this would be a good time to go about our normal activities, to go to work and to feed our families, help our children with their home work and pay the bills. This would be a good time to go about our normal activities -- praying and serving and working and resting, but seeing the world in a new way, and acting in the world in a new way. This "new normal" for us would not simply come about because of September 11, but in response to the defining moment of our lives -- the death and resurrection of Jesus -- who we call both son of God and son of Mary. What does the story of his life and death say about our world, about us, about God?

--First -- this story says that the one who is stronger than steel, the God who is immortal and invisible, became human, became vulnerable, for our sake. God became one who knows and experiences our agonies, who suffered and died at our own hands. --Second -- God did this because for some reason God loves us -- all of us -- friends or enemies. As the author of 1 Timothy writes: "Christ Jesus, himself human, gave himself a ransom for all." -- Third -- as it turned out on the third day after Jesus' crucifixion, the love of God was stronger than the hate that put him to death. We know this -- even as we grieve -- even as we search for understanding -- even as we struggles with our fears.

What does this new normal look like and how can it help us in the days ahead? In all humility I can'[t tell you exactly what it will look like. But I have a few glimpses -- a few postures. First, the new normal will look like people on their knees. Not in humiliation, but in prayer and remembrance, in confession and in vulnerability. It is a position of strength, not weakness, that at the same time we remember our wounds, we also confess our sins, that we pray both "forgive us our sins," and "as we forgive those who sin against us." From our knees we recognize our vulnerability . We see that along with all the other members of the human family, we are dependent on God. From our knees we confess our vulnerability, our blindness, our attachment to material things, our lack of trust in God. From our knees we realize that God alone is our refuge and our strength, and that God's mercy is our only hope. And on our knees we know that God is merciful.

The new normal for Christians will also look like people who are sitting -- sitting and learning, sitting and listening. We will sit across table and speak with people and pray with people who are different than us. We will study God's word and learn more about the God who was willing to come here, to become one of us, and to fight for us by dying. We will learn more about the God who, like a fireman on a mission, ran toward death and destruction in order to rescue us. We will learn about the God who hates injustice -- whose wrath burns against those who cheat the poor. We will learn about the God who loves all people -- including our enemies -- and desires for them to come into his care. We will also sit and learn and absorb and we will want to understand -- we will have a passion to understand -- to understand God, to understand God's son -- to understand all the people that God loves.
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The new normal for Christians will finally look like people who stand up straight. The "new normal" will lead us out to serve one another, support one another, love one another. The new normal will life us up and give us God's strength -- stronger than steel -- both to fight and to love. The new normal will lift us up to re-build what has exploded -- but to rebuild on the foundation that is Jesus Christ. The new normal will give us courage to befriend and protect our neighbors who are persecuted because of their religion, and to give comfort to our neighbors who are broken and grieving. But mostly, the "new normal" will be people standing and serving and going and giving -- being faithful in small things, in ordinary ways, in their ordinary lives.

To kneel, to sit, to stand -- these are ordinary activities. We kneel to bathe a child, to plant flowers, to scrub floors. We sit to eat together, to work and rest, to listen. We stand to show respect for an elder, to give someone our seat, to go and do something. These are ordinary activities, ordinary postures. They are also the postures of worship. As we engage in these ordinary postures -- singing, praying, listening, learning, serving -- we live a "new normal", putting our lives in the hands of the one who died and rose for us.

Even in the midst of these uncertain times, we can trust him. Especially in the midst of these uncertain times, we can live for him. For his love is stronger than steel that bends and melts, his love is stronger than hate that destroys and explodes, his love is stronger than fear that runs away -- and he lives for you.

AMEN

A Few September 11 Thoughts

Things I remember:

*It seemed very quiet all week. We live near the airport, and are used to constant airport noise. There was an eerie silence.
*There were prayer vigils all over town, both on Tuesday evening, and on Friday.
*There was a sense of unreality.
*On Sunday, we changed the songs for worship. After singing the opening, Ken Medema's "Lord, Listen to your Children Praying", we sang two verses of "America the Beautiful" at our 10:00 worship service. Then, the patriotic song seemed like a prayer.
*For about two weeks, the church was full, with some people we didn't know, and people we didn't know well somehow finding it compelling to be there. After that, church attendance started to return to normal.
*There was talk about the Mall of America being a possible future target.
*Two weeks after September 11, my sermon title was "The New Normal." I took it from an article from Newsweek magazine. I'd like to go back and read it now. I have a feeling that "the new normal" turned out to be different than I had first imagined. But not in a good way.