....The Lion Shall Lie Down with the Lamb

a vision of the kingdom of God....

....where even the goats will be called "blessed."

A Short, Boring Post About Books

Just wanted to let everyone know that yes, I am still reading, plugging away on the reading challenge I've given myself. It's an eclectic list today, so I may leave any great comments for another time.

Here's where I've been lately:

35. Ask, Thank, Give, a book about Stewardship, in conjunction with our Fall Stewardship campaign.

36. In Dying, We are Born, a short, provocative book about congregational renewal. Very thought-provoking.

37. The Blessing of the Beasts, a great and wonderful illustrated book about a cockroach and a skunk who want to go to the Animal Blessing Service at St. John the Divine Cathedral in Manhattan.

38. The Healing of America, T.R. Reid. Reid went all over the world, checking out the different ways that different countries have achieved fairer, cheaper, universal coverage (or not.) Lots and lots to think about. Made me mad (among other things.)

Why I Don't Have a Picture of Scout Frolicking in the Snow

This morning we woke up to thick big snow flakes falling on the lawn. It's the kind of snow that melts into your foot when you walk on it. It's the kind of snow that gets our dog, Scout all excited. Being part husky, she loves snow and ice; she loves running and rolling around and sticking her face in snow drifts when they are available. (Even she draws the line at about 20 degrees below zero, though; the ice hurts her paws.)

This morning we woke up to the sound of a dog whining and whining as if to say: "I want to go out and play in this RIGHT NOW." I wanted to wait until it was light enough to catch some pictures, or a short video of her frolicking. Such joie de vivre! So I put up with her whining as long as I could, and then let her out, quickly following her with my trusty digital camera.

However, she didn't run and frolick. She ran to one particular spot and started sniffing and pawing and licking. She picked up something and ran with it, something which at first looked like one of the big sticks she likes to carry around.

But it wasn't a stick. It was a dead rabbit.

I didn't think you would want pictures of that.

However, here is a picture of Scout looking not like a sociopathic killer, but instead like our best friend, comforter and household part-time entertainer. Here she is becoming one with the new rug in "her" room. She also obliged me by sleeping on the bed for awhile each night that my husband was gone, even though I think she likes her own bed better.

For some reason, I'm willing to put up with the "sociopathic killer" part. I wonder why.

A Few Small, Good Things

It was just another normal Sunday in October: on Saturday morning, it suddenly became autumn, the temperature dipping below freezing. There was just enough snow to get the dog all excited, but it was gone by the evening. On Sunday, I noticed a curb full of leaves. We sang the hymn "Sing to the Lord of Harvest" this morning: part of our month-long Stewardship Emphasis.

One of our senior high students gave the "Stewardship Talk" this morning. I asked her if I could reprint her message here, but it turns out that she spoke virtually without notes, on the subject of stewardship, and on the mission trip this summer. She spoke about the ice cream she desperately wanted one evening, and the autistic boy who managed to communicate to her that he wanted ice cream as well, and how she decided to use the $5 for him rather than for herself. She talked about stewardship as the choices we make, and the lessons her parents have taught her, and about giving as "stimulating our faith economy." (I loved that little phrase.)

The Sunday School Children sang: "What can One Small person Do?"

At ten o'clock there was a baptism, an almost one-year-old girl who slept in her mother's arms throughout most of the baptism, even though the water was cold, if I do say so myself. She sleepily opened her eyes as the pastor showed her the candle and said, "Let your light so shine before others.... so that they may see your good works and glorify your father in heaven." Then she leaned back on her mother's shoulder.

Her big brother, four years old, was standing right underneath her, and watched her face in wonder and delight during the baptism. He looked positively entranced; he couldn't take his eyes off of her, almost proud, it seemed, of his little sister. Watching his face, I was aware that this was a view that only the worship assistant and I could glimpse.

I saw a family that I hadn't seen in several years at church this morning. I still remembered their names.

And I spoke with someone who is familiar with my blog, and has good things to say about my writing. If only my preaching could be as powerful as my writing. That is one thing what I'm musing about this evening.

And, do you think better preaching can transform a congregation?

Fresh Basil and Mint

Tonight I got home late from a meeting. Even though it was far into the evening, I had a mission before me -- I had heard it might freeze tonight, so I went out and clipped off as much of the basil and mint as I could get my hands on. It's in the refrigerator so far; I don't have long, though, before I have to figure out what to do with it, other than pesto.

For a short while, though, it was sitting on the kitchen counter, and its only job was to fill the whole kitchen with those fresh, slightly exotic smells. The smells leaked onto my hands and into the living room a little bit, too. (the basil, I guess, was an overachiever, aroma-wise.)

****

Earlier in the week, I had the opportunity to attend a preaching seminar at the local seminary. Called A Celebration of Biblical Preaching, the event featured daily worship, keynote lectures and small group workshops. The first workshop I attended was called "The Essential Sermon", by the new preaching professor at the seminary. I remember one line in particular from his presentation: He had been a parish pastor, then returned to school. He and his family were looking for a church home, but were not finding an easy time settling down. Someone asked him, "What do you want a sermon to do?" He answered, "I want the sermon.... to break my heart." He made me think: What do I want a sermon to do?

Another highlight was when someone asked Anna Carter Florence what she thought about churches that put worksheets in the bulletin, with fill-in-the-blanks for sermon answers. "Oh, no parishoner left behind!" she answered.

It was great to be on the seminary campus; I remembered how much I loved being a student. I loved getting ideas and writing papers, studying Greek, the camaraderie among the students.

****

I'm thinking about the smell of the basil and the mint, filling the kitchen tonight, and the hope of the flavors unleashed in yet-unknown recipes.

I'm thinking about preaching a sermon, hearing a sermon, and the question: What do I want a sermon to do?

I want the sermon to fill the room with a certain aroma, an aroma of something fresh from the garden, and an aroma that promises flavors unleashed in yet-unknown corners of the world.

Can a sermon have an aroma? Can a sermon have a flavor? An aroma of life? And a flavor of justice and mercy, mercy and justice?

I'm bringing the basil in from the garden, in the nighttime, when it is already dark. I'm gathering hope, before it is too late.

Even though I preached at three Services....

....the highlight of my day was blessing the animals at 2:00 p.m this afternoon.

It was cold-ish and overcast (but not raining) this afternoon as we assembled out on the front lawn; 50-odd people (some Lutherans, some not), and their assorted animals (dogs of all sizes, more cats than usual, and --- a koi-fish, a hamster and a GOAT). We sang, we read scripture, we prayed, and then we marched down the hall to the chapel to do the actually individual blessing.

I like that we don't make them stay out on the lawn. We let them in. They are God's creatures and they don't have to stay out on the lawn. They can come into the holy place. (Well, the lawn is holy too, but you know what I mean.)

It was quite a kick to hear the goat bleating! And one little dog, a pomeranian, I think, totally freaked out when he met the goat. (The goat's owner said that next year, there might be a chicken!) Right before the service started, I saw one of the cats sort of slink by me as if it was trying to escape. Later, during the fellowship, the same cat sat curled in the corner of the room, keeping his own safe space.

Scout did not get to come this year. My husband had another service at the same exact time at his church. He had to play there. HOW DARE THEY?

For a brief homily, I shared a bit about Francesca and Martin from the story The Blessing of the Beasts. In case you didn't know, Francesca is a cockroach, and Martin is a skunk. Francesca, you see, would love to attend a Blessing service, but her whole family warns against it. "That's only for the cute, cuddly animals," they say....

Did I say before (I think I did) that I love that we have the animals come into the chapel? At first people were worried that the animals would somehow be a problem -- they would be messy and smelly and unclean. But you know what? We haven't had a problem.

So far, I do not have pictures. But I'll be sure to post some -- especially if I have one of the goat.

How One Moment You can Be Going Along, Feeling Fine, and Then Suddenly: Not

As I type this, I'm sitting in bed, surrounded by Kleen-ex. My ears are crackling, which I think is a good sign. I've got a cold, and I'm desperate to feel better: there is much that needs to be done (aside: this is a problem, when you don't have time to be sick; but I fear that it is not just my problem.)

Last week, though, I was going along smoothly; there didn't appear to be any bumps and there were several small high spots. (Ok, my car does need a tune-up, but that doesn't fit the profile.) At my noon Bible study last Wednesday, we had a new member. As we were introducing ourselves around the circle, she turned to one of our members and said, "I want to tell you how much you helped me several years ago." This person had had a personal tragedy then, and one woman in our Bible study, a single woman, had simply sat by her at worship, every single Sunday, for nine months. That's all. But it was exactly what this woman needed. "I've come to church by myself my whole life," she said, "and I'm ok with that. But this was exactly what I needed."

I kept thinking and thinking about what I could do for a children's sermon last week. I kept looking at the gospel, with its emphasis on stumbling blocks, and also on James, and healing. I had a hard time thinking of anything simple enough for the children. Finally, near the end of Saturday, a glimmer of an idea came to me. I bought a couple of kinds of ribbon and cut pieces off of them. I put the piece in the baptismal font and invited the children up on Sunday. I talked about prayer, and the different things we can pray for. I had the children share when they prayed and what they prayed for. Then I said that when they were baptized, God gave them promises, and one of the promises was, "You can come to me any time." To remind them about this, I tied a piece of ribbon on each wrist. (I had help from a confirmation student.)

During communion, one of the assistants whispered, "Are there any pieces of ribbon left?" for your children? I asked. "No, for me," she answered.

Sometimes, it's the simplest things we need to know.

So I've been putt putt putting along nicely these last few weeks since Rally Day, and feeling pretty good about my progress too. (Except that my car needs a tune-up, I think; there's this funny noise I'm hearing.)

With no warning, I was awakened early Tuesday morning with a sore throat. I kept pushing along, albeit more slowly, on Tuesday and Wednesday. There were things I had to do, pieces to write, church services to plan, people to call (not call on; I didn't do that.) That pesky sermon, the one that somehow interconnects the Gospel reading from Mark 10 with our Call to stewardship.

Yesterday afternoon, I gave up.

Because of stewardship, I've been thinking about how everything is a gift; creation is a gift; relationships are a gift; children are a gift. They aren't gifts we get to do anything we want with, though. They are gifts to hold lightly, not to hold on to. Or, let go of.

Yesterday afternoon, I gave up. Maybe that's a gift, in a way, too.

Though I still need to write that sermon.