Oils

Who knew there were so many ways to bless oil in the church?

I'm not talking about the industry that fuels 85% of my state's budget, but the oil used for different ministries in the church. 

I brought the subject up at the local clergy group and learned lots about how the Catholics and Episcopalians bless their oil with a lot more effort and intentionality than Lutherans do. Surprise.

We were discussing the Service of Healing at Shepherd of the Valley and how I was moved by the intimacy and delight of anointing folks with oil. It freaks me out and brings me joy every year. Maybe "freaks me out" is strong. It's incredibly vulnerable and intense to touch people on the head, look them in the eyes and remind them that they are God's beloved while dousing them with oil. 

No oil, but a picture from our first Easter Egg hunt in Juneau

My lovely Episcopal and Catholic brothers have a big shindig with the bishop and priests to get the oil blessed for all its different uses (baptism, confirmation, healing, and ordination are the ones I know but there could be more). I was a bit envious because I do like worship shindigs.

But no shindigs for me. 

I walked into the kitchen, pulled the olive oil out of the cupboard and the community prayed over it in worship. I did pour it into a pretty cup so I'm not totally tacky, but that's pretty much how we witness things becoming holy. 

The common is given a purpose as a bearer of grace and a prayer for the Holy Spirit to show up. Bam. Holiness. Now you're sacred. 

I'd probably even say the oil is holy when it's poured into the pan to fry the onions for summer lunch or eggs for food pantry breakfast. God knows there are many prayers uttered when we're prepping those meals and the Holy Spirit is bouncing off the walls when we're gathering around the table and there is food for all.

Bam. Holiness. Now you're sacred.

Okay. Maybe the "bam" makes it ridiculous, but as much as I would love more pageantry, I appreciate the simplicity of how Lutherans approach the sacred because it's not just about making common things into sacred vessels; it's also about us. 

Beauty

Cassie and I got to watch lots of birds today on our rainy hike. We didn't see any wolves or wolverines or bears so that made me happy. They're all supposed to be roaming the area according to the rampant stories on Facebook so we try to be aware.

We saw some trumpeter swans that were pretty impressive. Since I'm not a birder, they could have been any large, white bird with a funky call, but I'm going to put my money on trumpeter swans. 

And then we saw a bazillion Canada geese. 

For a moment, I thought how beautiful they were and then I remembered how foul they are. Seeing them fly off with such grace was breathtaking; thinking about the enormous amount of poop they leave behind is nasty. 

We despised the creatures back in St. Ignace. I taught Sophie to yell, "Go back to Canada" when we'd come across a gaggle at the playground. Unfortunately, one time, there was a crew of tourists from Ontario who might have been offended. 

Anyway, I stopped thinking about birds after five minutes. That's my attention span for them and I started thinking about beauty and foulness. 

Hannah and I watched The King's Speech the other night. It's a beautiful movie with Harvey Weinstein's name all over it. 

Harvey Weinstein is accused of doing horrific things to many women. He's left a stinky mess in this world and ruined countless lives. He's also created works of great beauty.

Does the beauty and value of art depend on the character of the artist? 

Hannah and I spent some time talking about that after the movie. If we suddenly realized that Hitler painted beautiful pieces under a pseudonym would we take the paintings out of museums and destroy them?

I don't know the answer. It really bothers me. I struggle because most of the folks we tend to label as pure are often boring artists and besides who gets to make the lines of who is pure enough. 

But I also don't want someone who is destructive to profit from and influence generations to come.

Can something beautiful and valued come out of something foul? 

This might seem like a silly philosophical query, but I think in this day where we are seeking to find and speak truth about abuse of power, we need to have some sense of how much of a person's influence do we erase. 

It is also about keeping people human. When I encounter someone, I try to see what is beautiful about them. I don't mean I'm only looking for nice pecs or pretty eyes; I look for what is delightful and of value in them. (Unless it's Hugh Jackman, then I am only thinking about his physical aesthetics). 

Beauty might be corrupted and hidden, but finding that spark of delight helps me keep them human and I do believe that's how we preserve our own and their humanity. 

Stained Skirts

I forget I'm female sometimes. 

It's one of the many things that define me, but I don't think of it as a primary aspect of who I am. 

My relationships and vocation are my primary definers and my female parts are down on the list.

Until I pull out two different skirts for Sunday and realize they both are stained with breast milk. 

It was disturbing and delightful. 


The disturbing part is the fact that for the last eleven years I've been pulling these skirts out, looking at them, neglecting to take them to the dry cleaners, and hanging them back into the closet. I don't even know where the dry cleaners is. 

Delightful because all the memories of trying to nurse in the sacristy (fancy name for the room that holds worship supplies) right before worship or having my kid cry in the middle of worship so my milk lets down. I once shot milk across the room when my kid got distracted while eating. Nobody talks about all the crazy things your body does while nursing and I'm thankful for the patience of my first congregations who got to learn about bodies with me. 

I'm also thankful that we all got to experience a glimpse of shalom like in Isaiah 66, "and you shall nurse and be carried on her arm, and dandled on her knees. As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you." Female bodies are a witness to how God works in this world even if they are revealing of the messier side of God.

The other day I got to sit through listening to a couple of white, hetero, male church leaders discuss female ordination. Even before the stained skirts, this was a reminder of my vagina and how some continue to think it makes me unfit for ministry. 

I don't engage these discussions; I just sit there practicing Kegels and trying not to scream or throw things. Engaging this debate is like arguing that rotary phones should replace the telegraph. Even though I love rotary phones, they are so last century. 

I gave up trying to prove my worth and calling a long time ago. I actually buy into the whole baptismal promises and moving of the Holy Spirit stuff. Now I strive for faithfulness in my relationships and vocation. That's much more the heart of who I am.

Devil's Club

I've got devil's club in my ass. 

Come on dad, it's slightly ironic for a pastor to have devil's club festering in her booty. Sorry I said "ass".

It's not overly pleasant, but could be worse. In case you are unfamiliar with this amazing plant, it is huge and covered with poky things that embed in your skin and fester. 

I don't mind them much. They're better than poison ivy. You will never accidentally wipe with a devil's club leaf.

But, if you are making your way down a hillside filled with devil's club and your dog runs into you, then you might end up sitting on a plant. Luckily I have reflexes like a cat, especially when pain is involved.

So now I'm laughing about the paradox of a pastor and festering devil's club. 

Even before my fabulous hike into the devil's club laden wilderness, I was excited today because the Juneau Empire highlighted a quote by Soren Kierkegaard. What a tremendous way to start a day (it would have only been better if someone had brought me coffee in bed). 

Boredom is the root of all evil - the despairing refusal to be oneself.

I love Kierkegaard. He was willing to stand up to the established church and preach the leap of faith instead of the adoration of virtue. He proclaimed the honest awareness of oneself instead of hiding behind a facade of righteousness.

And tonight I get to teach a class on sin. Love it! 

Especially since we'll spend time with another of Kierkegaard's quotes, "But too often it has been overlooked that the opposite of sin is not virtue. . . No, the opposite of sin is faith"

One's confrontation with one's own self reveals our disconnect, our sin, and leads to the leap of faith, the trust fall into the arms of grace. 

It's kind of like the first three steps in recovery that I'm paraphrasing for my theological motives: 
we're powerless over our sin, 
we believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to wholeness (sanity), 
and we made the leap of faith (decision to turn our lives over). 

I don't escape festering devil's club (metaphorically here) by being a better behaved person; I escape the festering by leaping into the arms of grace.