From RevGalBlogPals, kathrynzj writes: This Friday Five posts the day after my return from a phenomenal BE 4.0 experience. I am so thankful for the women who pursued the idea of this virtual community, continue to keep it vital and active and had a vision of creating space to meet in real life (irl) and made that happen too!

I like words and I recently discovered Save the Words, a website which allows you to adopt words that have faded from the English lexicon and are endanger of being dropped from the Oxford English Dictionary.

When you adopt a word, you agree to use it in conversation and writing in an attempt to re-introduce said word back into regular usage.

It is exactly as geeky as it sounds.

And I love it.

A latibule is a hiding place.


Use it in a sentence, please.

After my son goes to bed, I pull out the good chocolate from my latibule and have a “mommy moment”.
The perfect latibule was just behind the northwest corner of the barn, where one had a clear view during “Kick the Can”.
She tucked the movie stub into an old chocolate box, her latibule for sentimental souvenirs.

I like the sound of latibule, though I think I would spend more time defining it and defending myself than actually using it. Come to think of it, I’m not really sure how often I use the word “hiding”, so the occasions for working latibule into conversation are probably few and far between.

Nevertheless, it’s worth thinking about words and their lifespan. They come into being and are used for a few years or decades or centuries and then fade away.

In a book I was reading recently, the author used the words “forestall” and “pitfall” in their medieval contexts. When people were lined up on market day, occasionally they would conduct their business in the line and then leave. This was “forestalling”- they did the business before they reached the stalls, thus depriving someone (somewhere) of the taxes or additional profits from the sale or trade. A pitfall was dug between opposing armies, probably under the cover of night, so that the charging army would stumble or fall during a charge at the light of day.

Those words are used in entirely different contexts today. (But they’re still in use, unlike poor latibule.)

Can words be “saved”? (A unique use of that word on this blog.)

Should they be?

We know that our language evolves based on usage, changing definitions, and different linguistic needs. And other parts of our lives do as well.

There is no latibule big enough to keep change out, away or from happening. How do we handle it?

Is there anything that doesn’t change?

Jesus Christ is the same, yesterday, today and forever. Hebrews 13:8

There’s no latibule to keep him out either.

Chief Justice Roberts wrote that two primary factors required a ruling in favor of the church. First, he said, its speech was on matters of public concern. While the messages on the signs carried by its members “may fall short of refined social or political commentary,” he wrote, “the issues they highlight — the political and moral conduct of the United States and its citizens, the fate of our nation, homosexuality in the military and scandals involving the Catholic clergy — are matters of public import.”

Second, the members of the church “had the right to be where they were.” They were picketing on a public street 1,000 feet from the site of the funeral; they complied with the law and with instructions from the police, and they protested quietly and without violence.

“Any distress occasioned by Westboro’s picketing turned on the content and viewpoint of the message conveyed,” Chief Justice Roberts wrote, “rather than any interference with the funeral itself.”

All of that means, the chief justice wrote, that the protesters’ speech “cannot be restricted simply because it is upsetting or arouses contempt.”

Rachel Held Evans is a writer, blogger and speaker. Essentially, she does what I’d love to do if I weren’t loving what I was currently doing. (Or something like that.) She wrote the following on her own blog today: 

This post was inspired by a few things:  

First, the brilliantly titled Epic Fail Pastors Conference, born from the question “What if we offered a space that is gutsy, hopeful, courageously vulnerable for pastors to let go of the burden to be a Super Pastor?” Second, a candid talk from David Felton at Big Tent Christianity about how pastors are often afraid to share what they are learning about the Bible and Christianity with their congregations for fear or recourse. (David recalled one pastor who reached retirement and said, “Now I can finally say what I really think.”) And third,the increasing number of pastors who contact me to say that they have doubts too, but can’t tell anyone about them.

Dear Pastors, 

Tell us the truth. 

Tell us the truth when you don’t know the answers to our questions, and your humility will set the example as we seek them out together.   

Tell us the truth about your doubts, and we will feel safe sharing our own. 

Tell us the truth when you get tired, when the yoke grows too heavy and the hill too steep to climb, and we will learn to carry one another’s burdens because we started with yours. 

Tell us the truth when you are sad, and we too will stop pretending. 

Tell us the truth when your studies lead you to new ideas that might stretch our faith and make us uncomfortable, and those of us who stick around will never forget that you trusted us with a challenge. 

Tell us the truth when your position is controversial, and we will grow braver along with you. 

Tell us the truth when you need to spend time on your marriage, and we will remember to prioritize ours. 

Tell us the truth when you fail, and we will stop expecting perfection. 

Tell us the truth when you think that our old ways of doing things need to change, and though we may push back, the conversation will force us to examine why we do what we do and perhaps inspire something even greater. 

Tell us the truth when you fall short, and we will drop our measuring sticks. 

Tell us the truth when all that’s left is hope, and we start digging for it. 

Tell us the truth when the world requires radical grace, and we will generate it. 

Tell us the truth even if it’s surprising, disappointing, painful, joyous, unexpected, unplanned, and unresolved, and we will learn that this is what it means to be people of faith. 

Tell us the truth and you won’t be the only one set free. 

Love, 

The Congregation 

This week’s prompt: 5 perks/gifts of ministry (for me)

1. Flexibility: Part of the reason I’m writing on Saturday is because I took Friday off (for the most part). I worked on Monday and so I shifted my schedule. Though there are occasional very, very long days- they don’t occur with horrible frequency. I can also work early in the morning and late at night, which allows a little more time with my family than another 40-50 hour a week job might. It’s a gift and I’m grateful.

2. Music: People assume the pastor will sing hymns all the time. So I do. Sure, Sondheim is a little more difficult to explain, but… how can I keep from singing?

3. Debate: I like to discuss, vigorously, the Bible. Frequently. Ministry gives me the frequent and vigorous options.

4. Teaching: I like teaching. I like seeing someone grasp a new thought or idea. I like watching the truth be absorbed. I like thinking about things in a new way so that I can teach more effectively.

5. Location, location, location: I like to be where I know that the Spirit is. The most tangible locations are at the beginning of life and the end, at the Table and the Font, at quiet lunch and boisterous potluck and many other places. Whether cutting back raspberries, weeding, vacuuming, dish washing, walking or dog blessing… one of the perks of ministry is being invited into seemingly simple spaces and watching God make the conversation sacred. I try not to get in the way.

That’s one of the mottos of the university from which I received my Master of Divinity. It’s an interesting construct, given the perception that many universities, especially in the Ivy League, are unpatriotic at best and downright Communist at worst. As the wife of a soldier and having been known to occasionally vote for a Republican, I can report feeling a little alone, shall we say, but not terribly.

Yet I always think of this motto when called upon to do one of my least favorite tasks in ministry: signing a marriage license.

I hate it. And each time I do it, I feel like I’m betraying Someone.

The thing is, my primary devotion is to be to God. This means, with regard to marriage, that I need to bless the unions of people who I feel are embarking together on a journey of companionship, devotion and dedication to God, God’s desires and God’s expectations.

No pressure.

When I sign a marriage license, I’m acting in some capacity as an agent of the State. The government recognizes my authority (even as a religious figure) and allows me to sign off that two people have committed their lives together and, through this act, should receive whatever recognition and benefits come from the State to married people.

I don’t want to work for the State. If I had wanted that, I never would have changed my major from political science. (Lo, these many years ago…)

I’m a big fan of the privatization of marriage, but that’s a different post.

My issue here is that my job is to consider the spiritual aspect of a union, to encourage a couple as they make promises to one another in front of others, to encourage others to support them in the promises and in this endeavor. My allegiance to God means I might bless couples who aren’t recognized by the state as such, even while drawing stricter boundaries around what it means to be committed to one another. The state doesn’t care if you forsake all others, God (and, thus, the Church) does.

When the State comes in, then they can say who is really “married” and who isn’t.

I don’t want to be a part of that.

When I think of “For God, for Country and for Yale”, I think about the fact that my allegiance to God is supposed to be light years ahead of my allegiance to the United States, which comes still before my allegiance to Yale.

I’m weak and I’ve never yet told a couple to go ahead and see a judge for the legal side of their marriage- that I’d cover the spiritual side.

But each time, I press down on those carbon copies, I give a little sigh.

I guess church and state aren’t quite separate enough for my taste.

Each day I consider that what I do is for God and I must remember that.

Less often, but still frequently, I consider what it means to be an American and the rights and privileges that entails.

And once in a while, I consider that what I do reflects on Yale.

I’m reading Ken Follett’s Pillars of the Earth right now and it’s stirring up all kinds of things within my head. It’s a novel about the building of a cathedral, among other events, in 12th century England (1100s). The discussion around the monks, priors and religious life both frustrates me and makes me realize that not as much has changed in the church as one would think. I’ll write a different post about my reaction to peasants/lay people helping to build the cathedral in exchange for forgiveness of sins, something else is moving me right now.

I read this part earlier this morning:

Sermons were becoming more common in churches. They had been rare when Philip was a boy. Abbot Peter had been against them, saying they tempted the priest to indulge himself. The old-fashioned view was that the congregation should be mere spectators, silently witnessing the mysterious holy rites, hearing the Latin words without understanding them, blindly trusting in the efficacy of the priest’s intercession. But ideas had changed. Progressive thinkers nowadays no longer saw the congregation as mute observers of a mystical ceremony. The Church was supposed to be an integral part of their everyday existence. It marked the milestones in their lives, from christening, through marriage and the birth of children, to extreme unction and burial in consecrated ground. It might be their landlord, judge, employer or customer. Increasingly, people were expected to be Christians every day, not just on Sundays. They needed more than just rituals, according to the modern view: they wanted explanations, rulings, encouragement, exhortation. (Follett, Ken. Pillars of the Earth. Penguin Group, USA. November 2007. p. 533) 

Wow. That’s what I feel like I’m working with now- 1800 years later. Except I don’t know that I ever had an idea that the Church was landlord, judge, etc. (though sometimes a church is). Even in this hardscrabble English village, people know there is something more they can get from their ecclesial experience.

Somehow, though, we’re still in this framework. The Church provides certain services, particularly to its members, and eyes the rest of the world (and life) with suspicion or from a distance. Even now, when churches are struggling, the greatest concern is turning inward and being sure we continue to care for those who are already inside. Yet, that’s hardly what Jesus did, encouraged or commanded. The Bible consoles, but it also charges, convicts and creates.

I think we are, again or still, in a time and place where people don’t want empty ritual. They want meaning, understanding and purpose. But those things come with a price. They mean examining God’s desire for the world and trying to align ourselves with that desire (as opposed to aligning God with ourselves). “Explanation, rulings, encouragement [and] exhortation” all come with great pressure to the preacher and to the congregation.

The leader must seek God’s vision and be brave in proclaiming it. The congregation must realize that what they are hearing is meant to stir up, not smooth down, move forward, not put down, and open conversation, not shut it down.

I don’t preach to indulge myself, but because the Word doesn’t sit silently within me. It agitates me until it comes out- in one way or another. (If you’ve ever talked to me, you understand how that happens eventually.) However, I can indulge myself in preaching- I could fall more easily to consolation than challenge and, thus, neglect the exhortation- that part that’s supposed to get people (you) moving.

“Increasingly, people were expected to be Christians every day, not just Sunday.” I know that. I think congregations know that. Am I equipping people to live that way? Are we encouraging one another to live that way?

Indeed the church has lasted beyond the 12th century because of the people who carried the Word out and forward. There are always mysteries about faith, but we don’t have to be mysterious about faith. The more open, the more focused, the more determined we are to carry the gospel into the far corners of the earth, the more we realize that the Spirit has gone ahead of us and goes with us yet.

We have to move beyond the rituals. We’re still working on that.

For once the Friday Five plays to my strength: my love of books.

So tell us what you’re reading, what you would and would not recommend–five books or authors! And if you don’t want to do that freestyle, here are some questions:

1. What books have you recently read? Tell us your opinion of them.


I recently read True Grit (Charles Portis) and was amazed at the swift plot, the sharp language and the clear characterization of the novel. It’s held up well. I’ve also read The Fortune Cookie Chronicles (Lee), The Partly Cloudy Patriot (Vowell), and Bucolic Plague (Kilmer-Purcell). 

2. What books are awaiting your available time to be read?


I’m currently working on It Must Have Been Something I Ate (Steingarten) and Pillars of the Earth (Follett), as well as well as A Field Guide for the Missional Congregation (Rouse). In the soon to be read pile are Weekends at Bellevue (Holland) and Deadly Sins- a collection of essays from the New Yorks Times Book Review.


I have a continuing ed event in February combined with a little vacation and I’m looking to read Storyteller (Sturrock) (the biography of Roald Dahl), The Outlander (Gabaldon) (can it REALLY be as good as I’ve heard) and Hillel:If Not Now, When (Telushkin). 


I also just received notice that I’m going to get a copy of Fortunate Sons (Leibovitz) to review, so I’ll have to get to that at some point. 
3. Have any books been recently recommended?


I recently crossed my 1000th book threshold (since 2002) and received many recommendations including The Boneshaker (Milford) and Shantarum (Roberts). 

4. What genre of books are your favorite, along with some titles and/or authors you like best?


I like travel narratives (Bill Bryson), historical/Biblical fiction (a la The Red Tent) and well-written biographies (Edmund Morris’s Theodore Rex). 

5. What have you read lately that you have a strong urge to recommend? (or to condemn?)


I really enjoyed reading My Life in France, Julia Child’s autobiography. Her voice has such enthusiasm and a great deal of joie de vivre shone through the book. It helps to know some French. 

I recently read True Grit, the novel by Charles Portis and went to see the new film adaptation. I remembered not loving the John Wayne version and I’m smitten with the new one. I’m already scheming for a way to see it in again in the theater.

The soundtrack to the movie is spare and slightly haunting. Throughout the movie, the background music is variations on the the old hymn, “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms”. If you know this song at all, the chorus “Leaning (on Jesus), leaning (on Jesus), safe and secure from all alarms” is probably the most familiar part.

In the book, Mattie Ross is a staunch Presbyterian. You don’t get that so much in the movie, though she does say that the only that’s free in this life is God’s grace. Yet the song plays throughout the movie with seemingly no connection to Jesus.

Thus I’ve been trying to ponder what the “everlasting arms” in the movie are. The positions of the Federal Marshall and Texas Ranger? The bond of people who’ve made a contract? The good against the bad (though that’s not the clearest line)? Is it a reference to God that I’m missing? (Perhaps the Coen Brothers are intimating that while we may well take matters of earthly justice into our own hands, we are still leaning on Jesus.)

The question of whether or not “everlasting arms” could be the marshall or the ranger is an interesting one for me. I was thinking recently of what to say to my child about what to do if he gets lost (when he can talk). Who do I tell him to go to? Though most, nearly all, police, teachers, pastors/clergy and strangers are trustworthy, I have personal experiences that make me queasy about each of those as a category. I know many fine individuals in each of those groups, though. Thus, I’m hesitant to assume that a Federal marshall or a Texas Ranger are worthy on the authority of their badges.

And maybe that’s something along the lines of what Mattie learns as well. She’s a cynical and skeptical young woman, but in order to avenge the death of her father, she has to rely on men she hires on faith- the faith that they will do what they promise, fulfillment through character, not just job description.

In the end, what one person does reflects on a whole profession. And each of us is more than our title. We go forward and forward and forward, knowing that nothing is free except the real presence and the felt absence of the grace of God. True grit, indeed.