Anarchy

I'm thinking about anarchy. 

Some of it is the sunshine and heat; my brain melts in such conditions.

Some of it is our recent bishop election. Lutherans gather as geographical synods once a year and this year in Alaska we elected a bishop.

When we finished this year's election, someone asked me what I thought. I love our bishop. I think she is a faithful and steady servant so my immediate response was not to critique her or the process, but I did question the nature of hierarchy. I'm just not sure out current leadership structure will see us into the future.

Finally, some of my thoughts come from an article out of the Christian Science Monitor with the sub-heading, 

Spontaneous mass protests in the former Soviet state of Armenia have ended a deceitful power play by a longtime ruler to stay in office. In throwing off their fears, Armenians showed others in repressive countries how to ‘live in the truth.

I'm fascinated by spontaneous gatherings of people who show others how to "live in the truth." 

A leader in Armenia was later raised in the midst of the protests and I want to believe that will be helpful to good order, but I can't say history has many examples of new leadership that doesn't imitate the tyranny of the old leadership.

It also made me think of a story we learned when we visited the DDR museum in Leipzig last summer. A group of students in 1956 in communist East Germany sat in silence for six minutes at the beginning of class after the Soviets crushed the revolt in Budapest. It was a spontaneous act of solidarity with the protestors in Budapest . The principal yelled at them for their silence, the head of the education department yelled at them, and finally the Stasi interrogated the students to find out who the leader was. 

But there was no leader. They all just knew it was the right thing to do. And then they all escaped to the West together. Even when they were interviewed after the threat was over, there was no leadership they could point to.

What creates the sense of trust and fellowship in a group of people that frees them to risk their lives to live in truth?

 I don't know the answer to that question, but I think it's an important one and I'm pretty sure the answer is not hierarchies (it's probably also not anarchies). 

Leadership is important for good order, but I do think in the church (and probably our nation) leaders can repress the creation of spontaneous communities who have a sense of the truth and are willing to risk witnessing to it. Leaders tend to take charge and leave folks feeling impotent and disconnected.

Confirmation youth making stoles for ministry

I'm not sure what that means for pastors. I was taught pretty early on that I'm not in charge and it's not my church, and on my good days I see myself as a trainer, observer, and student of scripture. 

Sometimes, on my not so good days, when my ego butts in, I see myself as "right" and "in charge." 

That's probably the best place for my anarchical tendencies to start dismantling hierarchies and then I'll worry about the rest of the church and world.

Jurassic Park

I'm working on a screen play for Jurassic Park XX. After 19 failed attempts for humans and dinosaurs to coexist, developers decide on the next best thing. . .


A THEME PARK WITH CHICKENS!

They are T-Rex's closing living relatives so it is a perfect evolution.*

But naturally, the chickens also give into their wild instinct and the climax of the movie will be a chicken flying a helicopter and me doing some Die Hard kind of action moves to save the world from chickens gone wild.

You see, I love my chickens, but I also know they would probably be happy to eat me. My chickens are carnivores. I saw a dozen eggs at the store that highlighted the fact that the chickens were vegetarians and I felt sad for those chickens. It's not as bad as being stuck in a tiny cage, but I'm pretty sure after watching my chickens rip a shrew apart that they are one step away from Velociraptors.

If I only deliver leftover veggies to them from dinner they give me the look like the old lady in the "Where's the beef?" commercials. Meat makes them happy.

It sounds like a good idea to have vegetarian chickens who don't fly helicopters, but that's not who they are (well, maybe the helicopter part).

I'm slowly figuring out how to love things and people for who they are without making them conform to how I think they should be. I'm slowly releasing my agenda

for this world and figuring out how to delight in the mystery of the moment.

How do I enter relationships without insisting people or chickens be who I want them to be?

My answer to myself: Meet people where they are and let the relationship transform us both. 


That's my new motto next to "Don't let chickens have access to helicopters."

The problem is that some folks, or maybe I should say all folks some of the time, act like assholes or worse are incredibly dull.

How do you meet behavior like that without letting it sap all your energy or destroy any chance at relationship? 

There are times we need to confront behavior that is destructive to relationship, but it is for the sake of the relationship, not for my agenda or romanticized notion of who that person should be.

There are times I have to give my beloved creatures a good talking to for digging up the garden or wandering into the neighbor's yard. Some of the confronting is for safety, but some is because destroying my plants does test my love for them and make me think about dissolving our relationship, especially when they follow it up with pooping all over the porch or screaming at me through the dog door. I have to set good boundaries so I can keep loving them.

I'm pretty enamored with a recent quote I found by Leonardo Boff about Dostoevsky. He writes, "For Dostoevski, the opposite of the beautiful was not the ugly, but the utilitarian; the spirit of using others, and thereby stealing their dignity."

Meet people where they are and let the relationship transform all. Let go of who you think they should be and allow yourself to discover who they are. Confront what is destructive and forgive what is annoying. That's how the chickens and I coexist.

* The analysis shows that T-rex collagen makeup is almost identical to that of a modern chicken - this corroborates a huge body of evidence from the fossil record that demonstrates birds are descended from meat-eating dinosaurs," said Angela Milner, the associate keeper of palaeontology at the Natural History Museum in London. "So, it is very satisfying that the molecules have provided a positive test for the morphology." (Who Are You Calling Chicken by Alok Jha, The Guardian)

Read More Books

Two things:

1. I learned at a blogging workshop to number things

2. I think that's silly, but I also learned to set a schedule for writing so I commit to writing every Monday. 

Blogging on a regular basis brings me delight and pushes me. Most of it is a "waste of time", but I've found that often  right in the middle of wasting time I see things new or make connections I otherwise would have missed. 

Here's the thing that feels a little self-promoting and weird. My blogs don't always fit into Facebook's algorithm so people don't get notification that I've posted something if it doesn't fit into what you normally read. I know it's slightly embarrassing to admit that you read this blog, but I've added a button so you will get notified when I post about my next favorite bodily function or chicken story that doesn't fit your demographic.

3. I hate tennis shoes. Seriously, I am self-conscious when I wear tennis shoes so when I ran into a door at the Festival of Faith and Writing I couldn't laugh it off like I normally would, but suddenly felt horrifyingly embarrassed and almost cried. 

The flight of ciders also made up for the door incident

It's all because of the tennis shoes. I struggle matching colors anyway and I don't understand how to coordinate them with the rest of my clothes, but I'm also strangely fascinated by how they make my feet look so I tend to stare at them. Hence, why I ran into the door and nearly knocked myself silly.

4. Other than that incident, the Festival of Faith and Writing was tremendous and inspiring. Often clergy continuing education events tend to be soul sucking. You go, hear the church is dying, get several tools to help it survive, and then return to the real world of death and dying. I tend to walk away with a mix of guilt and despair, which is why I go to the Festival of Faith and Writing in Grand Rapids. This celebration is mainly librarians and I get to be inspired, stretched, and imagine a different way to tell our story.

Here are some of the authors and books I walked away with:

Kwame Alexander told delightful stories about being affirmed in his being, even in a world that so often discounts young African-American men. He spoke of his friendship with Nikki Giovani, one of my favorite poets, and had us giggling hard. I picked up both Crossover and Rebound but I refuse to stand in line to get books signed.

Nikki Grimes was a hoot and a half and I bought Words with Wings because of her eloquence in defending the power of day dreaming.

Kate Bowler could be my new favorite person. I'm going to encourage everyone to buy Everything Happens for a Reason and Other Lies I've Loved.

Sandy Eisenberg Sasso is a rabbi who's written some fabulous resources for teaching children Bible stories in a way that you don't have to unteach them. I bought three books from her that I hope to incorporate into our storytelling.

Carrie Newcomer is a fabulous musician and storyteller so you should buy her CD right now, but I don't think people buy CDs anymore.

5. Read more books and listen to more music. Turn off the TV or computer and curl up with a book. In some ways, I think that's the healthiest thing we can do to sustain the church. Read, daydream, imagine.

Labyrinth

It takes about four miles of hiking to get my brain to rest. I finally stop running lists and for the four miles back my brain can wander to more fun places, like singing Long Black Veil in response to the wild winds.

Hiking is good for my brain, but the labyrinth is good for my heart. 

The church has a beautiful Chartres labyrinth we lay out in the sanctuary through Lent. It was created about six or seven years ago by a whole host of folks connected with the church and each experienced the process as a slightly different metaphor.

People can get a little freaky about labyrinths and their role in one's faith journey. I'm not a freak about it. I am a freak about many things, but this isn't one of them.

The labyrinth is a lovely metaphor for life grounded in God's grace. There are no dead ends or wrong turns; there are twists and turns but ultimately you end up in the middle where you can rest and delight in a warming sun beam. 

We had sun this year beaming into the middle of the labyrinth so it was especially delightful. We also had a crew of kids who enjoyed putting obstacles on the path, but it fit the metaphor well so I rarely picked them up. 

The funny thing this year is my beloved son found a mistake. 

There was a curve that missed getting drawn so a whole section of the labyrinth had been cut off. 

I've walked the thing over a hundred times and never noticed. It got fixed and was kind of a hoot this year to wander into places unexplored. 

And again a lovely metaphor because I feel that way in my life. 

I've gotten to wander into this unexplored territory being married to law enforcement. That's been a whole new reality and adjustment. There are teenagers in my house preparing to leave my home and venture on their own. That's a new adventure. Then there's these flashes of heat and irritation that leave me opening windows and snapping at things I've long ignored. I'm not sure what to call that.

When I feel discombobulated, I just keep imagining how all those unexplored sections are still grounded in and leading to grace. 

That metaphor lets my heart rest.

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.