Prayer for today: Lord’s Prayer, New Zealand Edition

The Lord’s Prayer


Eternal Spirit,
Earth-maker, Pain bearer, Life-giver,
Source of all that is and that shall be,
Father and Mother of us all,
Loving God, in whom is heaven:

The hallowing of your name echo through the universe!
The way of your justice be followed by the peoples of the world!
Your heavenly will be done by all created beings!
Your commonwealth of peace and freedom
sustain our hope and come on earth!

With the bread we need for today,
feed us.
In the hurts we absorb from one another,
forgive us.
In times of temptation and test,
strengthen us.
From trial too great to endure,
spare us.
From the grip of all that is evil,
free us.
For you reign in the glory of the power that is love,
now and forever. Amen.

From
A New Zealand Prayer Book (Harper Collins, 1997), 181.

Friday Five: It is Well With my Soul Edition

Over at RevGalBlogPals, kathernnzj writes:


There are many perks in my life for which I give thanks and then there are some that make everything right in the world during the moment I am enjoying them. I’m wondering what a few of those things – five to be specific – are for you.

1. Hot water. Oh, how I love it. I can camp. I can go a few days, a week. But the glories of hot water. If I had to add a fourth to the Trinity, it would not be Luther. What’s better- a hot bath or a hot shower or a hot tub or a sun-warmed ocean? I can’t choose, for they each have their own glories. There is a special kind of giddiness, especially now that I am a mom, in closing the door and having my own steam haven. In those moments, all is well with my soul. (At least until I start making a to-do list in my head or I finish my book before I’m completely shriveled.


2. I love my family- my husband, our son, and our dog. When I come home and there are arms to greet me, tails wagging, a chorus of “Mamamamamama”- everything slides into place for me. Too often, I let the tasks of home immediately intrude, but I try not too- throwing myself onto the floor in the piles of Cheerios and dog hair to feel the love.

3. Romance novels. I cannot deny the giggly feeling of finishing a romance novel that had snappy, witty dialogue, well-written characters and a believable plot line. Oh, I read my theological books, my well-researched biographies, thick volumes of scientific research and slim volumes of poetry or essays on whatever, but occasionally a pink-covered novel with something purple (ahem) on the cover slips into the “to read” pile. I know I should demur and acknowledge a guilty pleasure, but I only feel guilty if I finished the book and it sucked. A well-written novel makes me glad I can read, just like good writing in any other genre.

4. Communion hymns. The swell of a congregation singing a song together, with heartfelt voices, stirs me like so little else. When people sing “It is Well with My Soul”, “Precious Lord” or my two favorites “Give me Jesus” and “Jesus Loves Me”, I feel overcome by the presence of the Spirit. I don’t belong to a tradition in which people are too frequently “slain in the Spirit” (pity), but I think many of us have been struck and hard during a well-timed communion hymn.

5. November foods. One of the exchanges for living in Alaska is that we have a gorgeous fall that lasts about 2.5 weeks, somewhere at the end of August to the end of September depending on where you are in the state. Then begins the holding patterns until winter weather. Nevertheless, we still get the *harvest foods* of November, which I love. Mmmmmm. I SO heart turkey, potatoes, cranberry sauce, apples, green bean casserole, variations on stuffing, and wild rice. I love egg nog with Thanksgiving. By Christmas, my head is full and food becomes a necessity, but in November, it’s still a luxury and I still have time to enjoy it.

Dirge Without Music

This poem has been on my mind all week as I prepare for a funeral and for All Saints Sunday:



I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, — but the best is lost.

The answers quick & keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,
They are gone. They have gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

Multiple Vocations

I find myself working alongside two Roman Catholic priests for an upcoming funeral and it’s very interesting. Though we’re very congenial and collegial, I feel keenly aware of the differences between us. I feel it mostly in the background of our conversations. I can’t make that meeting because I have to pick up my child. I need you to repeat what you said because my kid was yelling in the background. I’d like to go home so I can see my husband.

Regardless of the historical reasons for unmarried priests, there’s a chasm of understanding that can’t be breeched except through experience. There are host of things that I’d never thought about, no matter how open-minded I thought I was, until I had a baby, who then came to church. There are nuances to being married that you don’t know until you ARE married and then for 5, 10, 15, 20, 50, 60 years. There are heartbreaking losses that happen in miscarriage, divorce, the death of children, widow/widowerhood that you only understand once you’ve been there. That’s not to say that you can’t be compassionate to someone whose experience is different than yours. I’m not saying that my reactions and emotions are the same as another person’s who has the same experience set as I do.
The Roman Catholic Church treats priesthood as a special vocation, one that requires utter devotion. I feel, and I struggle with, the fact that I’ve been gifted with several vocations. My role as pastor is my vocation coming out of God’s gifts to me to help my neighbors. My vocation as a wife or spouse comes from my love for my husband, my desire to have a life with him and our work together in the world. My vocation as a mother comes from my love for my son and my amazed gratitude at his presence in my life (most of the time).
Do these vocations make me a better pastor? Not necessarily, but they make me a different pastor with awareness I wouldn’t have had otherwise. And, of course, I have blind spots that remain.
What’s my point? I guess as I work with these priests I hope that their vocation has been as fulfilling as they’d hoped and prayed. I admit my worries that I occasionally shortchange my congregation and, occasionally, my kid or my husband and, sometimes, myself. (Not usually all at the same time.) But in the end, I couldn’t pick one to give up without feeling as though I was tearing a part of my heart out. The fierceness of those simultaneous pulls helps me to believe in things that are beyond me, to believe in God’s work in the world, through the world, for the world. And I feel very grateful to be in a time and a place where I can respond to that pull in many and various ways.

Sabbath World

I recently finished reading Sabbath World by Judith Shulevitz. I had read so many good reviews of this book that I was a little unprepared for how scholarly it was. Surely a book that got that much popular press would be an easy read, I thought naively. It took me three months to finish the book because of the time necessary to read and process all that Shulevitz discusses from the Biblical and rabbinic history of the Sabbath through blue laws, Industrial Revolution Sunday Schools and the lack of and need for a space apart in modern time.

I’m still processing all that I read, but I want to share a part of the book that I found particularly meaningful.
“As God creates things, he moves from the lowest (the creatures of the sea) to the highest (humans, made in God’s image). As [God] ekes out the unites of time, [God] also ascents. Each day has more acts of creation than the previous one, and each is deemed to be good, but still, the stakes get higher each time. On day six, God creates man and woman, and that, [God] says, observing [the creation] with satisfaction, is “very good.” At long last, we get to day seven. We reach the end of the week.
Whereupon God rests. It seems an odd thing to do. As endings go, it’s pretty muffled…
When P [the priestly writer of the first creation account] had God withdrawing to the Sabbath, he must have imagined God entering this most sacred of all spaces [the middle of the Temple, the holy of holies]. Which makes the ending suitably grand, God enters his palace and ascends his throne. The medieval Jewish liturgists adored this image; they called the Sabbath “God’s Coronation”…
By stopping work on the [Sabbath], we imitate God when he stopped working on the world. We too enter the Temple. This image allows the rabbis, in the centuries after the Romans burned and looted the Jewish people’s most sacred space, to erect the Sabbath in its place. It is another of the ironies of the rabbinic Sabbath that it replaced a structure with a holy hole in its middle, for the holiness of the Sabbath lies in its being a not-doing in a not-place.”
(Shulevitz, Judith. The Sabbath World: Glimpses of a Different Order of Time. Random House. New York, NY, 2010. pp. 66-69)
Not-doing in a not-place. We have so little of that these days. Someone almost always knows where you are and what you’re doing. There’s so much constant activity that to stop seems a guilty pleasure. (“I turned off my phone for 3 hours yesterday!”)
We often forget that, through Christ, we are made co-creators with God. As an active part of creation, we are called to be participants in the shaping of God’s work on earth, which God can do with or without us. However, God constantly invites us to be a part of that work.
And part of that work is rest. Shulevitz’s point above is that humans aren’t the pinnacle of creation, the Sabbath is. A time of holy rest and holy remembering, of awe in the work that has happened and a hope in the work that is yet to be- this is what the Sabbath is for.
Yet we often find ourselves too busy for that kind of reflection, that kind of work stoppage. Our lives have become a kind of industrial production of rapid activities and chores, day after day. It’s easy to mistake busy-ness for business and importance. And we’re entering a season of intense busy-ness that will be lamented in the same breath as issued invitations, shared schedules and laments over lack of time.
We can choose rest. It’s right there. But we must remember to do it. We must decide to do it. We must want to do it.
Shulevitz says,

“Why did God stop, anyway? In the eighteenth century, Rabbi Elijah of Vilna (the Vilna Gaon) ventured this explanation: God stopped to show us that what we create becomes meaningful only once we stop creating it and start remembering why it was worth creating in the first place… We have to remember to stop because we have to stop to remember.” (217)

What we do, frantically and frenetically, won’t matter without reflection, without enjoyment, without remembering how it came about. The stories last. The moments last. The dinner gets eaten. The toy breaks. Batteries wear out and don’t get replaced. But the memory remains.
We still retain, in our bones, the memory of the Sabbath. And we long for it. Let us seek it, so that we may enjoy it. So that we may be found by it and overcome by the glory and holiness of rest.

No Words

Today I was mentally composing an entry for All Saints Day when I received a Facebook message that a friend had died.

Tom Busch (1947-2010) was the general manager of KNOM (Yours for Western Alaska) for 30 years (1975- 2005), including the years that I worked there as deputy news director (2002-2004). He passed away in his sleep, likely of a heart attack, on what would have been his 63rd birthday.
The news stunned me and I felt confused, initially, as to what to do or who to call. I called a friend I knew would want to know. I called my husband. I called another friend. I went to the store to buy food and then I went to visit Tom’s wife. Not being their pastor in this occasion freed me to do some of the helpful things that are usually outside my purview, because I have so many other tasks.
Tom’s dedication to KNOM made the station what it is today- an award-winning radio station dedicated to inspiring and informing a significant portion of the population of Western Alaska.
Tom died in his sleep, the way we all want to go. But I keep thinking about his wife waking up next to him, not the way anyone wants to wake up in the morning.
It’s hard after someone dies to think that things keep moving. How can you be expected to eat? To sleep? Why do things keep happening? Modern society isn’t as patient with grief as it was in years past (centuries past) and we have fewer visible signs of mourning, though it goes on well beyond a few weeks or months.
On this All Saints Day, I think of Tom’s work in Western Alaska and his well-deserved rest now among the saints in glory. I think of time stopping for him, even as it becomes eternal. And I think of time marching on for the rest of us, until we join him.
I want to say something profound, about the cloud of witnesses, about the chorus of angels, about the saints around the throne, but the words aren’t there.
Right now, what I think is that it would have been nice to have Tom for a few more years, in the world that I’m sure of, the reality I know.
What I believe, what I hope is true, what I hang my heart on is the Holy Spirit, the communion of saints ad the life everlasting. (Abide with me, fast falls the eventide…)
Too soon, Tom, too soon. Rest in peace and in the light of God.
Or in KNOM hotline speak: RIP, Tom. We’ll be coming soon. Don’t forget to leave a light on for us. We’re just running late. Love, all of us.

NaBloPoMo

Throughout the year, I think to myself, “Starting next week, I will write in my blog each day.”

And then Friday rolls around and, often, nothing has happened. Or, more precisely, everything happened but writing. It’s even possible, yea verily likely, that each week I’ve spent a significant amount of time thinking about writing, but not doing it because of procrastination, fear of not getting the perfect entry, other components of my work… You get the picture.
I’ve absolved myself of the psychological burden of feeling guilty about not writing. However, the truth is that I want to write. I want the discipline. I long for the mental work of composing readable sentences and piecing together logical sentences. (Most of my sentences are logical, yes?)
To this end, I’ve decided to sign up with National Blog Posting Month (henceforth: NaBloPoMo). I’ll be making a concerted effort to post every day of the month of November.
So of these posts may be beautiful, well-crafted, theologically sound treatises. Some of them will be crap I’ve posted for the sake of meeting this goal.
Almost all successful writers say the main key is just writing. So I will.

Friday Five: Comfort Media

The Friday Five suggestion comes from here.

Katherinenzj writes:

Friday, October 29, 2010

Revgalblogpal Friday Five: Comfort Media Edition

I don’t get to watch that much tv anymore, but I actually wrote today’s Oprah show down on my calendar. Why? Because she is hosting a Sound of Music cast reunion!!! Those of you who know me may be surprised that I would care so much about such a stereotypically girly flick, but I love it (although admittedly fast forward through the Reverend Mother’s rendition of Climb Every Mountain). I can watch this movie over and over and over again.

It seems no matter how many new movies, tv shows or books come down the pike I still have my ol’ stand by favorites that I can watch/read over and over and when I do they actually bring me comfort – like an old sweatshirt or a favorite food.

Today’s Friday Five is an opportunity for you to list five of your favorite ‘go-to’ movies/tv shows/books.



This is an interesting Friday Five for me because I just went, with my mom, to a Sound of Music sing-along. Revisiting that movie was interesting, but less comforting this time in seeing in newly re-digitized, big screen color. Suddenly the love story seemed less obvious and the national troubles in the background took more of my attention. On to my comfort media:

1. A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving) This story of a boy who knows exactly when he will die and thinks he knows never fails to evoke something new and deep in me. The theological, psychological, sociological, illogical aspects of this book all conspire to keep me from sleeping until I’ve finished it. Again.

2. A Walk in the Woods (Bill Bryson) Bryson’s dry wit and self-deprecating humor make me smile. This is my apple-pie of books. I know exactly what it will be and I like it like that.

3. Little Women (1994) Ah, Gabriel Byrne- making Professor Bhaer hot for 16 years and counting. Love this soundtrack, casting, costumes, everything. I could never love anyone as I love my sister… or anything as I love this movie.

4. Mamma Mia (2008) Honey, honey, how it thrills me. (Uh-hunh, uh-hunh) You may think the plot is lame, the singing weak and the whole venue beneath Meryl Streep, but when it comes to feel-good movies, this tops my list. The fact that I can sing along… well, that’s just a bonus. The great Greek scenery- a little whipped cream. A chorus of toned and tanned men in Speedos and flippers- the cherry on top!

5. Dave Barry’s Book of Bad Songs (Barry) I’m giggling even thinking about it. I cannot fail to read this book without tears coming to my eyes from squelched laughter. I even have funny memories around reading this book, including the time I read it in sushi bar and the three sushi chefs sang “Knock Three Times” to me.

Bonus: Come Ye Disconsolate (my comfort hymn) I think the title says it all.

And your five?

Dirts Works

2 Kings 5:1-17


The story of the healing of Naaman has lots of interesting details. The first is that God had given victory to him, as a leader of the Aramean army. It’s important to understand that victory for Naaman would have meant defeating Israel, God’s chosen people. At this time, it would have been understood that the victors of a battle had God’s favor and the losers did not.

Other important details:

1. If Aram had not defeated Israel, it is likely that Naaman would never have heard of Elisha. (One possible interpretation of this is that God was always, even prior to Jesus, trying to bring people into the fold of grace.)

2. The king of Israel believes the king of Aram is setting him to fail with an impossible task. If he does fail, he would expect the king of Aram to attack.

3. The Jordan was muddy river, barely a trickle in some areas, but the rivers of Damascus were faster, flowing clear streams. The idea of bathing in the Jordan seemed abhorrent and counterintuitive.

4. Having been warned often about the “easy” way, we often make things much harder for ourselves then they need to be. We often avoid conversations and tasks that aren’t that difficult precisely because we’re afraid of how easy they seem.

Focus:

Why does Naaman want to take two wagonloads of dirt back to Aram with him? What’s he going to do with two loads of dirt? The belief of most people during this time, around the Mediterranean region, was that the spirit of a region’s god rested in the soil there. Naaman is going to devote himself to the God of Elisha, the God of the Israelites, so he believes he needs enough of the soil to be able to have a hefty amount of the Spirit available to him and enough land on which to put a small altar or shrine.

In his eagerness to worship the God who cured him, Naaman is going with what he knows, which is that the dirt must house the God. The idea of a God who is bigger than the land, bigger than the sea, a God of all- that is beyond Naaman’s imagination. So he reduces, so that he can understand.

We often do the same thing. Because we are descendants of Naaman, we are a visual people, a tactile people. We need things to cling to, concrete items. The church, the stained glass, the paraments, the printed Bibles, all things to help us with our faith- to connect us to God. In fact, the reason we have water at baptism and bread and wine at communion is precisely because we need earthly elements. We need those concrete things and the concrete images of washing and nourishment, so that we have something to which we can attach God’s promises. Otherwise our best intentions go floating off into the ether.

Naaman could have left after Elisha refused any payment. He could have left with the best intentions of continuing to worship the God of Israel. But what would have happened a week later, when he slept in? Or a month later, when he was on troop maneuvers again? He would have forgotten, told himself that he would do it later, felt guilty and then gotten into that bad cycle of “Now I am so far behind, it would be embarrassing to try to correct it.”

So he takes the soil. But it will be work not to worship that soil, but to worship God.

In the same way, it’s the work of our faith, and I mean the labor of our faith, not to make the objects that inspire our faith what we are worshipping. Not the dirt, or the water, or the bread, or the peace and quiet or the rush of wind, not the healing or the peaceful death, but God and God alone deserves our thanks and our praise.

That’s the function of the Creed and the Prayers in worship. Words that do not come from us, but are familiar. Words that speak to our faith, draw us out of our own understanding, push us to the limits of what we believe could be true and then we dare to ask for more.

The depth of the Creed, the heartfelt nature of prayers, help us to realize that we believe in a God who cannot be contained in earth. A God who forgives us when our best intentions fall short. A God who commands us to pray, helps us with that prayer and takes those prayers to heart.

Naaman took two carts of dirt back to Aram, to remember his gratitude and to worship God. We use earthly elements and ancient words to do the same thing. To help us to stop, to thank God and to remember that the faithfulness of Christ has made us whole.

Amen.