"My Mom Hates Me"

I heard a young woman I know well say words similar to these recently.  With knee-jerk speed, I shot back, "your mom does NOT hate you."

The thing is, I know why this young woman might say these words.  Her mother recently had to say some difficult words to her, and do something difficult for a parent to do. And yet, I know that her mother doesn't hate her.  In fact, her mother loves her very much.  Her mother, and in fact, many of us, are worried about her.

She's been making some bad choices for a long time:  lying about where she's been, partying with her friends when she says she's studying, not doing the work she needs to do in order to graduate from high school.   She's on a road leading nowhere, and doesn't seem to know it.  She seems to think she's living the high life with "friends", but the people who really love her know it isn't true.

When I think about this young woman I know and worry about, I can't help thinking about the prophets.  Especially Jeremiah.  Jeremiah spoke almost unremitting words of judgment to the people of Israel.  He kept telling them they were heading toward a fall.  He was suspected of being a traitor.  He didn't promise prosperity, rainbows or cheap grace.

It makes me wonder, did the people say, "The Lord hates us"?

I'm told that popular preacher Joel Osteen is fond of saying, "God is not mad at you."  Now I know why he might be saying this; there are a lot of people out there who experience only God's judgment in their lives.  They are sure that God is unhappy with every move they make.  But it's not exactly true that, "God is not mad at you."

Sometimes God is angry with us because God loves us, because God sees us heading down a path to nowhere.  Sometimes God has to speak hard words, give ultimatums, because we don't love our neighbor as ourselves, especially if they're poor, or don't look like us, or are weak and easy to take advantage of.  Sometimes God is angry with us because we think we're living the high life, building bigger barns, but we're really on a collective road to destruction.

I remember talking to a confirmation group a few years ago about the 7th commandment, "You shall not steal."  I had been really moved and angered when I was in high school when I heard that grocery stores in poor neighborhoods charged the people more for groceries, simply because didn't have the mobility to go shop at another store if they didn't like the prices.  (This was the explanation of my high school teacher in the 1970s.)  I shared this with my class, and asked, "is this stealing from the poor?  Is this breaking the 7th commandment?"  And one of the students said, "It's not stealing.  It's GOOD BUSINESS." (Sadly, he also opined that it is their own fault that people are poor.)

Right now, I'm thinking about our inability to create racial equity, our unwillingness to work toward opportunities for all of us.  If we don't work toward a world where everyone has a future, we're on a collective road to destruction, and we don't see it.  We don't see that our futures are connected.  We don't see that the choices we make in our personal lives, and in our collective lives, are leading to death, not life.

And yet, God loves us.  God loves us like I love this young woman, and want her to walk down a different road, a road that leads to life, making choices not just based on what feels good right now, but what will lead to a bright future.

It's always hard to hear words like our gospel for Sunday:  "I come not to bring peace but a sword."  "I come to bring fire."  This is not the same Jesus who has held children on his knee, and cleansed lepers, and fed thousands.  Who is this Jesus? 

But it is the same Jesus.  And it's because he has held children, and cleansed lepers, and fed thousands that he also says these words.  it's because he loves the poor who pay too much and the grocer who charges this much, because he loves the boy who is tempted to join a gang, the girl who is trying hard to learn English, and the congregation who closes their eyes and doesn't see them -- it's because Jesus loves them all that he speaks words like these.  "Can't you see the signs?"  He asks us.  "Can't you see the signs?"

Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace

Nothing about my life is perfect right now.

For example:  recently I've been having trouble doing my most regular form of exercise, walking the dog.  My heel hurts, sometimes terribly, and I end up limping like I'm about 30 years older than my actual age.  I haven't been to the doctor yet, but I think I have something called plantar faschiatis.   

I'm knitting another pair of socks, in the odd moment or two, at the end of long days.  I'm still working the basic pattern, with different colors and weights of yarn.  The first pair came out all right, except the kitchener stitch.  The second pair, with exactly the same pattern, stretched out way too big.  The third pair are not exactly the same length.  They all have the little holes that I haven't learned how to correct, although I've tried a few suggestions.  None of these socks are monstrosities, but, they aren't perfect either.

As everyone knows, my dog is also not perfect (although there are times when I think she is nevertheless, the best part of my life).  She was Possessive as a puppy and, although she's much better now, she still has Issues.

I'm currently serving a church in a first-ring suburb, a church in a changing neighborhood, a community with growing diversity, poverty, a growing immigrant population.  I find many things about this stimulating.  I want to be a part of a church that is diverse in age, ethnic heritage, race.  But, this is easier said than done.  So, my congregation is not perfect.  (I'm not either, so I suppose it's a good fit.)

I'm thinking a lot about social justice, the call to do justice in our community, to stand against racism, to stand for equity, to work on behalf of the little ones.  I believe in this.  I try to do it.  I fail a lot.  Sometimes I feel like quitting.  I especially want all children, no matter who they are, who their parents are, where they are from, to have a chance to thrive.

But deep down, what I'm really passionate about, even more than justice, is grace.

Nothing about my life is perfect.  I'm not going to do all the things I want to do with my life (although I still habor a couple of hopes).  I'm going to keep failing, and I need the courage to get up and keep trying, despite my aching feet, despite my roomy socks, despite my church full of sinners (like me).  And the over-the-top, never-ending, over-flowing grace of God is the only thing I know that gives me enough courage to keep going.  The only thing. 

Grace -- God's love to those who waste their whole lives, to those who try with good intentions, to the clueless and the earnest, to the mean and the lowly and the hopeless and those clinging to false hopes.  God's love to Marcus Borg-loving liberals and tongues-speaking Pentecostals and everyone in between. 

I have to preach grace.  But then, say, "Just do it."  Do justice.  Love kindness.  Fail at it, but do it.

After all, what have you got to lose?

"Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom."

Two Favorite Stories, or "things that make you go hmmm"

About Benjamin Disraeli:

A young lady was taken to dinner one evening by Gladstone and the following evening by Disraeli. Asked what impressions these two celebrated men had made upon her, she replied, "When I left the dining room after sitting next to Mr. Gladstone, I thought he was the cleverest man in England. But after sitting next to Mr. Disraeli, I thought I was the cleverest woman in England."

From Aesop's Fables:

The North Wind and the Sun

A dispute arose between the North Wind and the Sun, each claiming that he was stronger than the other.  At last they agreed to try their powers upon a traveller, to see which could soonest strip him of his cloak.  The North Wind had the first try; and, gathering up all his force for the attack, he came whirling furiously down upon the man, and caught up his cloak as though he would wrest it from him by one single effort; but the harder he blew, the more closely the man wrapped it round himself.  Then came the turn of the Sun.  At first he beamed gently upon the traveller, who soon unclasped his cloak and walked on with it hanging loosely about his shoulders:  then he shone forth in his full strength, and the man, before he had gone many steps, was glad to throw his cloak right off and complete his journey more lightly clad.

I am thinking a lot lately about leadership, or, more properly, about leading (an action, not a status).  Somehow these stories say something about leading.

Bonus blessings

We are here in Chicago for the weekend, attending the baptism of my mother-in-law's 6th great-grandchild.  She got to ride along with us this trip.  We left early yesterday (Saturday) morning, took our time driving, and have had one whole day here to feast and celebrate and worship together.

Someone from my church asked me if I did the baptism.  I had to smile. The extended family on my husband's side are Missouri Synod Lutheran, so no, they did not ask me to do the baptism.  I told my sister-in-law about the comment, and she said, "Well, that would have been nice, wouldn't it?" 

This should tell you something about my husband's family.

I'm enjoying the weekend away, although, to be truthful, we are spending a lot of it in the car.  It's not that I don't want to be at my church; I missed them this morning.  However, the fact that I wasn't preparing a sermon for this weekend meant that I could spent some time on a few other parish responsibilities this week.

(On the other hand, in this pre-interim transition time, securing a supply preacher, communicating with them about our services, and preparing everything for them to be here takes a fair amount of time too.)

(I learned something from the supply preacher this weekend.  When I called him, he said that preaching would not be a problem.  However, doing the rest of the service has become more difficult and stressful lately as every church does not use the same worship format any more.  And said something like, "What can we do about that?"  I thought at first he was saying that he couldn't do it if he would have to lead worship, but he was really saying, "how can we make this work?"  And I learned that leadership is not always about simply saying, "Yes", or "No", but about answering the question, "How can we make this work?")

I always enjoy visiting my husband's sister.  She has the gift of hospitality.  She's a great cook,a great reader, and a great conversationalist. She always makes us feel at home. 

There was the bonus this particular weekend of having the baby fall asleep while I was holding him last night.  I was rocking him in one of the rocking chairs, and singing a couple of songs, including "Beautiful Savior."  He was fussing a little, and then he rested his arm on my chest, and his head on his arm as if it was a pillow, and pretty soon he was fast asleep. 

That alone is worth eight hours in the car.

In the Old Days, we Used to Have Poetry Parties

Here's a poem that's been haunting me for quite a while:

Muted Gold

For Abraham Rich

My father died just as my plane touched down.
He taught me journeys don't happen in straight lines.
I loved him wihtout ever needing words.
Is memory a chain of alibis?

He taught me journeys don't happen in straight lines.
His father sailed  Odessa to Boston Harbor.
Is memory a chain of alibis?
The story I choose a net of my own desires?

His father sailed Odessa to Boston Harbor.
Dad worked beside him in their corner store.
The story I choose a net of my own desires?
I wish I'd known to ask the simple questions.

Dad worked beside him in the corner store.
They shelved the tins of black beans, fruit preserves, and almond cakes.
I wish I'd known to ask the simple questions,
he'd have stayed with me and gossiped over toast.

They shelved the tins of black beans, fruit preserves and almond cakes.
What colors did they wear, what languages were spoken?
He'd have stayed with me and gossiped over toast,
now he's smiling but I can't summon the thoughts he's thinking.

What colors did they wear, what languages were spoken?
Was it a muted gold, a world of shattered feeling?
Now he's smiling but I can't summon the thoughts he's thinking.
I pack his clothes away, mark them for Goodwill.

Was it a muted gold, a world of shattered feeling?
What good will it do to dwell, I hear him say.
I pack his clothes away, mark them for Goodwill.
but I hold fast to one old T shirt, butter-smooth, and brilliant.

What good will it do to dwell, I hear him say.
He much preferred to glide along life's surface.
but I hold fast to one old T shirt, butter-smooth, and brilliant
and tell a story by moonlight, to try to keep him with me.

He much preferred to glide along life's surface.
I love him now with images and words,
and tell a story by moonlight, to try and keep him with me.
My father died just as my plane touched down.

-Susan Rich

From
Beloved on the Earth

Why Interim Ministry is Good, Mostly

Though we haven't chosen an interim minister yet, our congregation is going to use the services of an interim minister while we go through our current pastoral transition.  And I think this is a good thing, mostly. 

I think of two situations that illustrate the pitfalls inherent in calling a pastor without a time of interim:

1.  A beloved pastor leaves suddenly for a new call.  The congregation is heartbroken, and angry and confused, and maybe feels betrayed.  There is perhaps a knee-jerk reaction that the church needs to get someone just like the pastor who has left, to replicate the experience which they thought was so good for them.  It's not difficult to imagine the problems this could cause, as no two pastors have exactly the same gifts.  As well, the church which loved the pastor may not have dealt with their feelings of anger and betrayal, and might take them out on the new pastor.

2.  A pastor leaves a pastor call where there has been conflict and dis-ease, or where the congregation is foundering.  A knee-jerk reaction on the part of at least some of the congregation might be for the next pastor to be the EXACT OPPOSITE of the one they just had.  If the congregation has a little more time to think about it, they might realize that this wouldn't be the best idea.

A good interim period forces the congregation to wrestle with the mission God has given them, to consider their own leadership, and not just the leadership of the pastor.  Effective ministry requres a partnership between clergy and lay leadership, and an understanding of the uniqueness each.

HOWEVER, I recently read this post over at the blog 8th Day Planner, and am pondering that there may also be pitfalls in interim ministry.

It seems to me that congregations in interim might get the mistaken impression that there is a Holy Grail of Pastoral Leadership, That Perfect Pastor for them.  Also, a period of interim might be mis-interpreted as a period of internal reflection, and give the mistaken impression that a congregation needs to have Everything Worked Out Internally before they can turn outward to their community and the wider world.

But a healthy congregation is one that is doing what God calls it to do:  loving their neighbors, doing good in their community, doing justice, loving kindness.  You can't get healthy and then reach out.  If you are a congregation, you get healthy (at least in part) BY reaching out. 

When In Doubt, Sing

(Thanks to Jane Redmont for title)
(I wrote this to be read at a funeral I could not attend, because I was on vacation.)

Long ago, I read an article by a man whose son was seriously ill.  He recounted keeping vigil by his son's bedside many evenings.  He didn't know what to do.  He didn't feel he had the words to pray.  In fact, he admitted that sometimes he didn't think he had the faith to pray.  So, he sang.  It surprised him, he said, that he found himself singing, and that he found it comforting to sing.

We have been doing a lot of singing these past few weeks.  And praying.  Since hearing of K's diagnosis, perhaps there have been times when we didn't have the words to pray.  I know I have felt that way.  But the Spirit helps us in our weakness, with sighs, and sometimes with songs.  Some of the songs you sang for K lately were Blessed Assurance, Children of the Heavenly Father, Beautiful Savior.  Perhaps you sang in harmony.

I thought I knew K. pretty well.  After all I've been K and D (her husband)'s pastor for twelve years.  I knew she was a tireless advocate for VEAP (a food/clothing/housing agency).  I knew she played the bells.  I knew she had a quiet strength and grace.  I knew she and D loved music, because once in awhile I would run into them at a concert at Orchestra hall.  I knew she was a leader in our congregation, admired by many.  But I didn't know that she was the first woman to be the President of our congregation, that she loved to knit, that she liked to sing the harmony parts on all the hymns.

She liked to sing the harmony parts on all the hymns.  There's something about knowing this that lifts my heart.  today there is singing in harmony, and there is praying in harmony, because the Spirit helps us in our weakness, with sighs and with songs too deep for words.  Today we commend K. to the loving arms of her Savior, the one on whom she has relied for her whole life.

I will miss you today, but I'll imagine hearing the bells play, and I'll imagine hearing the organ soar, and I'll imagine you all singing.  In harmony.  I hope you do.  Because at just such times as these the Spirit helps us in our weakness, and our songs become our best prayers.