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.

Uniformly

Yesterday (9/14) was the second anniversary of my ordination. It's hard to believe it's been two years since all those hands and prayers pressed down on me. I remember other pastors talking about how heavy that felt on their ordination. It didn't to me at the time, but I suspect the weight increases over time.

I had particular reason (and time) to reflect on my own vocation yesterday as I sat in an Anchorage courtroom and waited out a jury selection. Despite having a relatively low draft number (so to speak), I was not selected. I did not try to get out of service. I try to fulfill the duties of citizenship, since I do enjoy its privileges. A few people asked if I was going to wear my collar and I said I wouldn't. I didn't because I don't wear it on a day to day basis. It's not really part of my wardrobe and not totally expected from my community.

However, there was another collar in the jury pool. A late-middle-aged man wore a black shirt with the little white tab shining prominently at his throat. He looked like a priest out of a book a picture book. In one of the toddler books of opposites around my house, a picture of this man would have been "a priest" and a picture of me would be "young upstart".

Of course, that's not really the way I see myself, but sometimes... This gentleman made to questioning where he revealed that he was an Orthodox priest, had been for many years and felt he would be an excellent juror because he's used to listening to people and thinking things through. When asked about wearing his collar, the prosecuting attorney gestured to an airman in the room and said, "It's like your uniform?" The priest said, "It's what I put on every day." The attorneys referred to him as "Father" and he was seated on the jury, wherein I'm sure he'll do an excellent job. His only concern was that people might find it difficult to disagree with him and he wanted people to see him as a regular person.

As I listened to him, his thoughts about his collar and how the lawyers spoke to him with care, I reflected on my own thoughts about my collar. In general, the shirts for women aren't very comfortable. The cotton ones bind and the microfiber ones are pricy and not easily replaced, which doesn't translate well to picking up toddlers or any number of things I do on a daily basis.

My experience, though, tells me it's not the collar that makes a pastor. It's not even the ordination, though that helps. It's the time. The time you spend in prayer and reflection. The time you spend listening. The time you spend sitting. The waiting time. The talking time. The travel time.

I wear a collar to early morning hospital visits and to "official" events. I wear one for most church services and for some house calls. There are also people, in the church, for whom the collar is a barrier to communication. I don't wear it when I thin raspberry bushes, when I take a walk, when I stop by after work.

I did promise to wear my collar every day for a week at once point and I need to uphold my end of the bargain. I feel eyes go right to it when I do wear it, but maybe I need to feel that. And maybe people need to see a wider variety of people in collars these days.

I keep thinking of the priest saying, "It's what I put on in the morning." If that was a question, (What do you put on the morning), I would answer, "Christ."

That's the most important part. The remaining question is, am I willing to let everyone see that?

Koinonia and Social Statements

I recently finished reading the ELCA's Draft Social Statement on Genetics (found here). It's broad document, like most social statements, that seeks to provide a biblical and ethical framework for discussions around the topic of genetics. When people hear the term genetics, they may believe the conversation is linked to heritability within human or animal populations, but the conversations around genetic research stretch into farming, global communication, insurance, social service programs, cloning, artificial reproductive technology, food distribution, medicine... and on and on.

As with most of the ELCA's social statements, the draft social statement on genetics offers a few strongly worded passages on the church's stands and, also, much acknowledgement of the reality of sin in the world and in our lives.

At the conclusion of the statement (p. 35) is this passage:

Since the earliest days, Christians have claimed to be part of a koinonia. They have understood this Greek word to carry dynamic and layered meanings of "mutuality," "fellowship," "community" and "union." Together these meanings suggest a fundamental commitment to shared participation and a "holding in common."

Christian mutuality (koinonia) is not a goal or an end in itself but the means and evidence of being held as one in Christ while sharing in God's love for each other. Such mutuality is grounded in God's love for each other. Such mutuality is grounded in God's grace to each member, even though all fall short of deserving it. God's love is the basis, model, source and motivation for mutuality in the Christian church (John 13:31-35).

Of everything that I read in this statement, these are the paragraphs that will stick with me, especially the difference between community as means and community as an end.

I often hear of calls to make church like it used to be. I realize this comes out of people's longing for a time they felt they understood, with less change, with more familiarity. We frequently try to envision a future for a congregation that looks much like our not-too-distant past without really considering the way the world and we have changed between now and then. Through that kind of goal-setting, our hope is achieving the community we once knew or thought we did.

However, if we recognize koinonia, or Christian community, as our means, rather than our end goal, it changes how we look at our church life. If we understand that we are called together to support one another, in certainty and uncertainty, with our eyes toward the fulfillment of our faith as the end goal. The existence of our community of faith is evidence of the continued work of the Holy Spirit, granting and stirring up faith, and we discover and celebrate that evidence together.

This sharing in community is what keeps us going. It is what's kept the church going for, lo, these 1980 years or so as we await the return of Christ, in whom is our beginning and our end.

Blest be the tie that binds our hearts in Christian love. That tie is koinonia and it lasts and keeps us going, through all kinds of changes, until the end comes.

Burn Out

A couple weeks ago the New York Times published this article on clergy burnout. Among other things, it mentions, "Members of the clergy now suffer from obesity, hypertension and depression at rates higher than most Americans. In the last decade, their use of antidepressants has risen, while their life expectancy has fallen. Many would change jobs if they could."

In response to the article, a minister in the United Church of Christ offered his thoughts on the issue in an op-ed piece, saying: "In this transformation, clergy have seen their job descriptions rewritten. They’re no longer expected to offer moral counsel in pastoral care sessions or to deliver sermons that make the comfortable uneasy. Church leaders who continue such ministerial traditions pay dearly. A few years ago, thousands of parishioners quit Woodland Hills Church in St. Paul, Minn., and Community Church of Joy in Glendale, Ariz., when their respective preachers refused to bless the congregations’ preferred political agendas and consumerist lifestyles.

I have faced similar pressures myself. In the early 2000s, the advisory committee of my small congregation in Massachusetts told me to keep my sermons to 10 minutes, tell funny stories and leave people feeling great about themselves. The unspoken message in such instructions is clear: give us the comforting, amusing fare we want or we’ll get our spiritual leadership from someone else."

I've thought about both pieces since they came out and wondered how to respond. I've had many people comment in my short career as a minister that they don't want to see me get burned out and that I should conserve my energy. At the same time, I love my job and holding back (on anything) isn't in my nature. I think ministerial burnout comes from two directions.

The first is something that I can prevent. I'm supposed to be in 16-mile mountain race/walk/hike in two days. I'm marginally trained, but looking forward to the effort and to feeling that my body is my own after 9 months of pregnancy and 12 of breast-feeding. However, my one-year-old has had a stomach bug (now clearing up) this week and I stayed home for 3 days with him. My husband's truck went into the shop this morning and I just heard that we should weigh our options between getting a new (to us) vehicle and repairing this one. And an hour ago, I received a call about a congregation member in the hospital- nothing major, but still at 90...

I could easily say that it just doesn't seem like I should go on Saturday. I shouldn't spend the night away from home. I should stick around in case I'm needed. But I'll always be needed. There will always be something. And if I yield to the somethings every time, then I will never do things I want to do for myself. I will never get rest from a job that doesn't quit. I'll never refresh my mind, body and spirit. I'll push the wax of my energy until the wick sputters out and then I'll sit in darkness, wondering how I got there.

In this sense, I have the power to prevent burnout and I have to claim that power.

The other way to prevent clergy burnout is for laity to realize their role and part in ministry. Often we can lose sight of the fact that the pastor is supposed to be working alongside the faithful for the good of God's creation. In particular, pastors are to hold out the example and offer guidance, assurance and consolation as people of faith move forward in their vocations and avocations, in imitation of Christ.

If the pastor does all the work, the congregation can become like children, believing that it will all be done for them, or they make become angry, because they are never allowed to enter fully into the covenant with God through their own actions. Burnout can be prevented by clergy stepping back and allowing the laity to step forward and do some of the work of the church. Faithful people can help their pastors by doing that work.

And it's not simply the work of visitation or occasionally helping with worship. It's the work of praying for the ministry of the church, of making bold decisions for missional direction, of welcoming people, of stopping gossip and criticism, of engaging in Biblical work and outreach.

Clergy must find joy in their ordination vows and realize the God-given limitations of their human nature. Laity must realize the joy of their baptismal promises and the growth that comes in working toward fulfilling them.

Only you can prevent forest fires. And burnout.