Youngbloods and Old Farts

I was away for Clergy Day in the Diocese of Newark on Wednesday. It was a fairly intense but highly productive day which was made enjoyable by the fact that it is always good to see dear friends and colleagues and meet and make new ones.

It's fascinating for me to see the Youngbloods coming up the ranks. They are, by and large, bright, well educated people in their mid-30's and 40's who are passionate about the Gospel of Jesus Christ and eager to make their own mark on the church.

You know. The way I was - and, perhaps, you were, once - more than two decades ago.

It's not that we old farts are any less educated or passionate, but what we learned in seminary has been tempered by experience. We've picked up a few skill sets over the years which makes us even more passionate about the Gospel. And, while we've either made our mark on the church or missed it despite our best efforts (however it is one measures leaving a 'mark' on the church), we still feel we have something to contribute to the work of mission and ministry.

There were two young, white males who stood up to speak who gave me pause. I've been considering their words carefully over the past few days, and find myself becoming more and more deeply disturbed.

The first was a young, white, heterosexual male, married and the father of two, who framed his remarks within the context of the "generation gap".

Have I mentioned how much I hate that? It is sooOOoo annoying to hear a thinly-veiled reference to the fact that what I am and what I have stood for and all the years of ministry I've done in the church are not only passe and irrelevant, but, in fact, I've had it All.Wrong.

Have you noticed that it's mostly Gen-Xers who do this? When its a white, straight male Gen-Xer, who has benefited from all the work of all the previous generations, well, there's something about that kind of arrogance and privilege that just sets my teeth on edge.

Yes, yes, I know. All generations do that. There's something, however, about hiding behind the quasi-social science language of "Baby Boomers", "Gen-X", "Gen-Y" and "Millennials" (Shades of "What's your sign, baby? You look like a Arius with a moon in Uranus.") to take your ageist pot shot that is especially annoying.

I mean, let us not forget that it was MY generation that said, "Never trust anyone over (the age of) 35". There's something clean and honest about that kind of prejudice, you know?

Anyway, he said that "Baby Boomers" care too much about The Institution and that Gen-Xers don't.

I have no idea where he got this information, but apparently, I've been wrong all these years about myself and many of my colleagues.  We've been fighting The Institution for as long as I can remember.  We've changed lots of things about The Institution in all of its many incarnations that it's no longer recognizable to our parents.

Well, he said, he doesn't give too hoots about The Institution. He said it with just a modicum of humility - which I suppose he wanted to convey lest he sound - oh, I don't know - too arrogant, even to his own ears.

He didn't care, he said, about the institutional church. He just wanted to be a priest and serve God and the people of God and had no interest What.So.Ever. in talking about anything pertaining to the institutional church.

How noble, right? Pure. Untainted. And, poor soul, woefully naive.

Indeed, the only consolation I got from his arrogance was the image of him, a few short years from now, landing smack-dab against the hard, cold floor of reality.

Happens to the best of us.

The one who really pulled my chain, however, was the other Youngblood who stood up to speak. White. No, actually, he was Very White. And, young. Looked like he was twelve. 

He actually said that - wait, let me get my notes so I can tell you what I wrote down - here it is: "The Diocese of Newark has been known for Social Justice. Maybe it's time to be known for something else. I mean, social justice was then. The question is: What's ahead for us now?"

Mind you, he said this with a straight face and in very reasonable, confident tones.

My friends had to hold me down so I wouldn't get up from my seat, walk across the room, and slap some sense into him with my bare hands.

Social justice, you see, is so.....so...."yesterday". It's all about doing something 'new' so we can be 'known' for that. It's all about 'brand' and 'marketing'.

God help us.

I know. I know. God will. God always does. Because the Gospel of Social Justice is God's "brand" not ours. It's timeless and ageless and doesn't need to be "marketed". It needs to be done.

What this poor, earnest young man doesn't understand is that justice isn't something you work for, achieve, and then go onto something else. It requires constant vigilance and persistence. It's a life-long struggle.

Case in point: Have you seen the picture of the religious people who were invited to testify before Congress about birth control and religious freedom?

Actually, the correct title of the House Oversight and Government Reform Committee, is, "Lines Crossed: Separation of Church and State: Has the Obama Administration Trampled on Freedom of Religion and Freedom of Conscience?"

Here's the picture which I nicked from Associated Press.

So, what's wrong with this picture?

Anybody? Beuler? Anybody?

Remember: the topic was birth control and religious freedom.

You may have, perchance, noticed that there are no women in the group. Not. One. Especially, not one who was either ordained or of childbearing age.

Republican Chairman Darrell Issa had refused to let the Democrats call any witnesses. All of Issa's witnesses are opposed to the contraception coverage requirement and are testifying about Issa's framing of the hearing: that it's about religious freedom, not health care.

Democratic Representatives Eleanor Holmes Norton of the District of Columbia and Carolyn Maloney of New York walked out in protest.

Maloney, before she left the hearing, took on Issa in her statement: "What I want to know is, where are the women? I look at this panel, and I don't see one single individual representing the tens of millions of women across the country who want and need insurance coverage for basic preventive health care services, including family planning. Where are the women?"

Atta girl.

Gee, now that Marriage Equality is becoming less and less debatable and is becoming, more and more, the law of more and more of the land, do you think there's any connection between that and the fact that - in 2012, for God's sake!! - we are talking about birth control?

Actually, we are talking about control - and power. Or, the sense of loss thereof. And, it's no coincidence that the people invited to testify about reproductive rights and religious freedom are all "men of the cloth".

See also: The Gospel of Social Justice and the need for constant, continual vigilance and persistence.

The first time I went to Lambeth in 1998, I took an afternoon off to spend some time with Bishop Derek Rawcliffe, a marvelous little imp of a man from Wales who served as Anglican Bishop of the New Hebrides and Episcopal Bishop of Glasgow and Galloway, and was, for a time, honorary bishop in Ripon and Leeds Diocese.

He was the first bishop in the Church of England to be honest about his sexuality.

Actually, he came out on television in 1995. He was dismissed the following year for conducting blessings of same-sex couples

Bishop Derek died last February. He was 89 years old.

When we were together in 1998, Derek took me on a special tour of Canterbury Cathedral. We went way, way down in the Undercroft (that's fancy-schmancy Anglican talk for basement) where there was a room filled with about 10 or 12 different stone altars - all side-by-each.

Seems that, in the ancient, medieval church, priests were under orders to preside at Eucharist daily. Sometimes, there would be several masses going on simultaneously.

It was all about them, you see. The clergy. The (of course) all male order of clergy. Didn't really matter whether or not people actually came to receive the Body of Christ. It just mattered that priests "performed their duties". As if they had all the power to make Christ truly present - whether or not the rest of the people were there.

Anyway, Bishop Derick took me behind the altars where "kids' had carved graffiti into the back of the stone columns and altars. Except, this graffiti was in Latin.

There were carvings that read "Claudius et Sylvia" in a heart.

Bishop Derick pointed out about six or seven of these before he pointed to his favorite. There, in a heart was "Marcus et Romulus".

"See?" he said, "People really don't change. People have always fallen in love. People have always wanted to proclaim their love publicly. And, the church has always tried to deny them blessing. But, we will not be denied by the institutional church what God has given us by bringing us together in the first place."

He scratched his head and rubbed his chin as he became quiet and pensive. Then, he said, "It's always amazed me that an institution like the church, which gathers itself around the incarnation of God's love should be so miserly in showing it."

That's because institutional memory is so short and the human craving for personal power and authority is so strong. Using cute little gimmicks like the quasi-social science of studying the difference in generations is about as helpful as Astrological signs.

Oh, it's sort of fun in its own way, and some of it actually has a ring of truth to it, but there are so many variables as to render it to the realm of parlor games - and, certainly not serious discussions about the church and politics.

As for the gospel of social justice, well, if you don't understand that as central to the mission of Jesus - along with repentance, forgiveness, reconciliation, healing, compassion and service - you just haven't been reading the Gospels. You simply don't get it.

What you've got, actually, is ego. Your own. In blindingly, consuming, copious ways.

It was ever thus with Youngbloods.

The good news is that Youngbloods grow up - eventually and inevitably - and all-too-soon become old farts like me.

When I begin yelling at them to "Get off my damn lawn," I'll know it's time to take my leave.

The other bit of good news is that you also learn to have patience. Well, some of us learn that better than others. I'm not exactly flunking but, in all honesty, I'd have to give myself a solid 'D'.

I have to remember that it takes maturity to finally 'get' that if you want 'peace' you have to work for 'justice'. And, and, AND....if you want justice, you have to work for peace.

The Youngbloods will get that. Eventually. Just like I did. And, perhaps, some of you, too.

Some of them already have.

We need both - justice and peace.

Just like we need Youngbloods and Old Farts.

God help us, every one.

Celebrating Women's Ministries

The closing Eucharist for the GOE (General Ordination Exams) was a special event designed by one of our chaplains, the Rev'd Dr. Katharine C. Black. Katharine is Priest in Charge of The Church of St. John the Evangelist, Bowdoin Street, Boston, MA, a former seminary classmate and someone I am pleased and honored to call my dear friend - proof positive that we're both still crazy after all these years.

Since the year 2012 marks the 35th Anniversary of the "regularization" of the ordination of women, Katharine proposed that we designate a special day on the liturgical calendar in Celebration of Women's Ministries.

She further suggested that we have it on the anniversary of the consecration of the Right Rev'd Barbara Clementine Harris, the first woman to be ordained bishop in The Episcopal Church.

Katherine proposed several wonderful hymns and wrote a collect prayer. I am delighted that she has given me permission to publish her sermon and the collect.

I am doing so in hopes that Katherine's "modest proposal" of a date on our liturgical calendar to celebrate Women's Ministries begins to spark some conversation which in turn will generate a movement to make this a reality.

In the meantime, enjoy the sermon. It's really quite wonderful.

LET US PRAY:

Gracious, energizing God, you fill your faithful people with gifts of leadership, hospitality, and kindness; we thank you for women in all ages, who have heard your voice, received your gifts, and responded as themselves to your call (in particular for the ordination of the Rt. Rev. Barbara C. Harris February 11, 1989:) fill us, too, with the fire and grace of their witness; through Jesus Christ our Saviour, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and inspires us, now and always. AMEN.

In the name of God who created us from love, saves us through love, and loves us now and always. AMEN.

GOE Set I: Liturgy. Design a Votive Eucharist for a Common of Women’s Ministries, naming date, texts, color, music, and other details of the liturgy, making it useful for a Variety of Women and Their Ministries. Include the homilette you’d preach. Limited Resources: BCP, EOW, BOS, NOAB, authorized hymnals.

A year ago, I realized it would be both nearly Barbara’s (Harris') 23rd anniversary and my 12th and final year here, so I asked for this occasion to consider with all y’all the necessity of the 11th of February being a Day on the Calendar to celebrate Women’s Ministries, in particular.

I was a Deacon when Bishop Harris was elected and ordained. I’d asked my seminary professor what the election would be like, and he said, “Boring. Episcopal elections are boring; you’ll need two books to last the whole time.”

the Rev'd Dr. Katharine C. Black

The voting went back and forth, until the 7th ballot. The rector for whom I worked was the lieutenant for the long-time diocesan faithful male priest, and the rector’d asked me to sit with AND vote with him. With as much ingenue sweetness as I could muster (even then,) I said I’d sit with EDS friends, with my historian friend, behind Sue Hiatt, architect of women’s ordination, and Carter Heyward the most frequent public face of those 11 women.

When Bp. Johnson said, “We have an election,” Sue and Carter looked at each other in wonder, sweetly, and then most people stood up, whooped and hollered. I turned to my friend, “Did you think this was boring? I thought it was pretty exciting.” “No, Katharine; this was not boring.”

Because Feb. 11th secured the knitted row after the ordained women’s row, it’s the date that makes most sense for celebrating Women’s Ministries. What color do you think should be used for this votive?

I think blue for Our Lady and all other women, but it’s Epiphany, so maybe green, so is this blue or green? Yes. (Note: It was teal)

What should the proper preface be? Of the Holy Spirit— “Who (by water and the Holy Spirit has) made us a new people in IX,” or Pentecost, (“lighting upon the disciples, to teach them and to lead them into all truth,”) or a Saint (1) “for the wonderful grace and virtue declared in all your saints,” or Apostles—although that may be cheeky, (“after his resurrection) sent forth apostles (to preach,”) or Baptism, (“you have) received us as your sons and daughters, (made us citizens of your kingdom,”) or the seasonal, Epiphany, (“you have caused) a new light (to shine in our hearts, to give the knowledge of your glory in the face of your Son,”) today—that—but in your doing such a liturgy, on 11 Feb, naming “in particular Bishop Harris, and... ” you might choose a more apt preface.

The hard part for me, was, of course, the scripture.

The Canadian BCP has such a votive, but its choices didn’t much suit me, and I’m not a Bible Baptist, so I sent out a plea to my bible churchy friends: to Mary Sulerud, Mary Callaway, Tony Lewis, John Hooker, Kathryn Piccard, Francine Cardman(Church History at Weston-Jesuit,), Sandi Rufo Civitareale, and other wise women and men. Several thought I was casting about for what to say, but really only texts.

Some suggested Bible women I didn’t know, to my shame: Rizpah, Vashti, and Jochabod. I’ve thought for years, that if Jews and, then Christians, had prayed instead of “in the name of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob,” or even “Sarah, Rachel, Rebecca, and Hagar,” but “in the name of Deborah, Jael, Rahab, and Judith,” a different sort of notice would have been given which might have simplified life for women for these eons.

Laurel Ulrich in Good Wives observes that it was such women’s behavior of “feminine strength and assertiveness” that was “proximately problematic for everyone in a woman’s sphere, running against the grain.” Naming such women aloud would have made them part of all our grain, to become whole grain— and we know whole grain’s better for us than just white....

People offered a range of texts. From Hebrew Scripture, the wives of the patriarchs, or wives and spares, and Hannah and Miriam, but I chose Deborah because she sat listening, was a fair judge until rudely attacked, and then found someone to destroy the enemy; patient, effective judging, and a decisive successful winning result— a fine model. The Epistle took choosing, because for almost every woman named, there’s a scholar to say a serious, “But...”

Ephesians, though, asks everyone to grow to adulthood and real maturity. That would help faithful living and mission in any/all worlds.

The Gospel choices were hardest.

The 11original Philadelphia women chose Mary Magdalene, but to me her story sounds like an irregular wife, less a woman of independence who met Jesus and continued as she was, in her best self; she’s almost more a companion—which isn’t a bad thing, but to me doesn’t add much to the Sara/Rachel/Rebecca models, oddly. Mary& Martha are fraught because of the “better” part in one text, and I can’t remember what Bp. Harris used.

This woman, the woman of Syrophonecia, comes in faith to Jesus, and he refuses to help her because she isn’t one of “his.” She refutes him, with her “Even the dogs deserve the crumbs under the table.” Whatever Jesus thought of himself after his baptism, healings, and other wondrous things he’d done, I doubt he expected a foreign woman to argue with him.

He heard her need, but more he heard that he had to expand his thinking and doing, beyond “his” sheep, and look around to help out in the whole world. Jesus, Son of God, Savior of the world, learned, changed his mind, grew, expanded and updated his vision, because a strong woman taught him more about his own nature than he’d known about himself—so she’s my choice.

Were you to do such a commemorative service, these are the elements you’d juggle.

What lists would you include in your “And in particular...” I’d start with Phillipa from In This House of Brede, by Rumer Godden, even though she’s fictional, Sr. Luke from The Nun’s Story, Willa Cather, Rose Macaulay, Dorothy L. Sayers, and P. D. James. They’ve taught me about vocation from the time I found their books.

Florence Li Tim-Oi

I know I’d make a day with Florence Li Tim-Oi, (even though she now has her own day,) with Sue Hiatt, Carter Heyward, and maybe Anne Robbins, the first woman to celebrate for GBEC.

I might have a music day including Kathleen Thomerson, Lesbia Scott, Cecil Frances Alexander, and Ruth Boshkoff. Maybe I’d have an NT day, with Mary, Mary Magdalene, Mary&Martha, Anna, Phoebe, Dorcas, and all, or a church history group of—who’d you pick—Monnica, Macrina, Clare, Hildegard, Joan of Arc, Hilda of Whitby, Margaret of Scotland? Maybe Joan of Arc should be in a Women of Politics day, with Queen Elizabeths I and II, Victoria, Mary Dyer, Eleanor Roosevelt, Frances Perkins, Jane Addams, and who was the first woman Senator, President of a major university or general/admiral?

Maybe I’d include the men who’ve been of support and help, Bp Ladehoff, and our bishops here, a flock of musicians and MC’s who haven’t batted an eye to play an octave higher for women’s chant, or to teach us patiently what we’d not been taught earlier because we’d never need such, to be thurifers, move in liturgical patterns as though when they taught us, it was as ordinary, as it now seems to some.

Holy Women, Holy Men does a fine job in coloring in many days on the calendar with people who’ve served in a variety of ways. The models for women have been expanded from the earlier common ones of young, beautiful, tortured, and suffering an early death, or celibate, plaster and emaciated.

Still there needs to be a Common of Women in Ministry date, and it should be on February 11th. Who’d be on your list? What lists would you develop? Women of Principle? Teachers? Unnamed women who just served?

Your best English teacher, and your kindergarten teacher who taught you to read, to love reading for life, your first woman math or science teacher, who taught women could do science as well or better—that gender didn’t matter for science. Or women artists? Mary Cassatt and who else?

Women poets— Emily Dickinson— “The supper of the heart is when the guest has gone,” a memorable thought on Eucharist, and Pattiann Rogers’ poem, “I have a need to adore,”—I fear leaving out individuals and categories.

Who’re yours? Who taught you to follow Christ as YOU are, not in someone else’s shoes or model? Who allowed you to follow Christ? Who helped you argue with, talk to Jesus to help him understand the world as it has become, so that he —with your work —your whole-hearted heart and mind’s work, play, and life—could further the coming of the reign of God?

Do develop your own observances for 11 Feb. remembering: “Life is short and we do not have much time to gladden the hearts of those who make this earthly pilgrimage with us. So be swift to love, and make haste to do kindness.”

It’s to our best selves we’re called. We give thanks for those who’ve prepared and are preparing a path for us, and for our own modest path-making, until Jesus welcomes us, each and all, into Paradise forever: Good News.

One million

When I was a kid, there was a MacDonald's not too far from where I lived. It was considered a HUGE treat to go there because....well, I don't know....probably because we heard the commercials on the radio and saw them on television and, oh my gosh, we actually got to go and eat at a place that must be famous because....well, I don't know....probably because we were there at the very place we heard commercials about on the radio and TV.

I remember when the sign under the distinctive golden arches read "One Million Served". My siblings and I were inexplicably excited and overcome with squeals of delight in the back seat of the De Soto car my father drove as we passed by the restaurant. We - WE - had been among those millions served a greasy hamburger with melted cheese on a sesame bun along with french fries drenched in ketchup that I still think are the best anywhere.

Somehow, that made us feel...oh, I don't know..."special" in a way. I guess because it meant that we had achieved a modicum of affluence to actually eat in a place where others had also been able to afford to eat.

We lived a very modest life and going out to eat - even at MacDonald's - was a treat almost akin to getting a good report card and being treated to a hot fudge Sundae at the local ice cream parlor.

I haven't noticed a MacDonald's sign in a long while - the golden arches are now part of the landscape of Americana, so who notices, anymore - but I believe that last time I saw one, it read, "Billions and Billions Served".

I say all this because, just last night, I noticed that my site meter reported that, as of July 29, when I installed the thing, I have had over 1 Million "hits" to my blog.

Over. One. Million.

In a little less than six years.

I'm astounded.

And, profoundly humbled and grateful that so many of you actually read what I have to say about everything from all things Anglican/Episcopalian, to religion in general and politics in particular, to gushing about my children and grandchildren, to reflecting on my life on the water, to sharing recipes to ranting about something or other in the news.

Beyond the obvious narcissism of blogging - I mean, it IS narcissistic to think that what I have to say about what I think might be of even passing interest to others - I blog what I write because it has become a spiritual discipline of sorts.

The habit of writing is for me what daily exercise is for others. It's part of what I do to sort out and make sense of what's happening in the world around me.

It's a form of prayer that keeps me centered and focused. I write about it, and then I can let it go. Or, channel my passion or my anger into some form of action - even if it's just keeping folks informed about an issue and urging them to take action.

When I started this blog a little less than six years ago, I naively thought I was doing so as a way to keep my congregation informed about General Convention.  Three years earlier, I had written daily emails to my Wardens who then shared them with others. My Parish Administrator at the time suggested that I set up a blog so that everyone could read it more quickly and we wouldn't have to Xerox everything.

He neglected to tell me that, unless you make sure the settings are such that only those who are invited to your blog are the only ones who read it, the whole world can tune in.

Imagine my surprise - and, no small amount of horror - when I began getting comments from people I had never met. And, not only in this country, but around the world.

Apparently, many people were very interested in what The Episcopal Church was doing at that General Convention. That's when I learned about "Google". Type in a few words, press 'search' and voila!

I'm embarrassed to admit my ignorance and naivete but that's the Gospel truth of it.

Now, Google has - as so many things do these day - transformed from a noun to a verb. I, like so many others, google several times a day. What would I do without it?

When I returned home from General Convention, I learned about a site meter and, curious as to how many people actually read this blog (since not everyone leaves a comment, thanks be to God), I check into it from time to time.

I've not always done well with blogging.  Mistakes have been made. I've written things I later regretted writing. I've actually pulled down a few posts after writing them. And, I don't post half the things I write - like my poetry - because they are too personal to send out into the blogosphere. 

More than the number of people who read this blog,  I'm astounded by the spiritual hunger that is out there in the world. I think some people read my posts because they are struggling with many of the same issues I struggle with and they are hungry, not so much for answers, but for a little companionship in the struggle.

Sometimes, I think blogs are the MacDonald's of literary form. They are fast food for those on the go. You can drive through a pick up a Mac Nugget of theology or a Big Mac of politics with special sauce of Anglicanism.

Little Miss Tiara

It's not anywhere as substantive as, say a Filet Mignon of Hemmingway or a Shakespearean Lobster bound between two fine, rich, leather covers, but it is, I think, it's own form of artistic expression.

So, here's to you, whoever you are, who come and sit by my fire and listen to my stories and rants and other ruminations of my heart and soul about life in general and my passions in particular.

Thank you for your companionship and your comments. Thank you for your loyalty and your love.

I've made some wonderful friendships over the past six years, some of which have been "consummated" over a meal and others which await an actual incarnational, embodied visit.

Despite the occasional hate-filled, nasty comment (which I've learned to 'moderate' so only I have to read them and you don't) I've learned that mostly, a stranger is just a friend I haven't yet met.

For all the successes and failures, for all the friends I've made, for the profound privilege of being a vehicle of the Holy Spirit, and for the love of God I've known incarnate in Christ Jesus, I give thanks and praise.

I have been truly blessed "billions and billions" of times 

What's in it for you?

Agnus Day

Of all the things Jesus said and did, texts like this one from Mark 1:29-39 are the ones that make me squirm in my stiff white collar. We'll hear it tomorrow morning in church.

Jesus had no Temple or Church. No office hours. No one made an appointment to come see him. He went out to where the people were and preached and taught and healed them where they were.

He collected no salary or pension or health or life insurance. No travel or housing or continuing educational allowance. No car, in fact.

He hoofed it on foot, walking all over Israel, from the North to the South and sea to shining sea.

In a way, I envy him. He never had to worry about the Three Killer B's of Parish Ministry: Budgets, Boilers and Bishops. (There are another B-words some use to describe some of the people in the pew - or the pastor in the pulpit - but since this is a family blog, I'll refrain from elaboration.)

St. Paul told the early church in Corinth: "For if I do this of my own will, I have a reward; but if not of my own will, I am entrusted with a commission. What then is my reward? Just this: that in my proclamation I may make the gospel free of charge, so as not to make full use of my rights in the gospel". (1 Corinthians 9:16-23)

What he means by this, I think (and whoever knows what Paul is really thinking), is that he didn't want to give anyone any ammunition to discredit him or impugn his motives for preaching the Good News.

You have to admit, it's a powerful argument.

When I was going through the ordination process, someone on the Commission on Ministry asked me, "So, what's in this for you?" At the time, I was shocked and deeply resented the question. I was angry and hurt that anyone would question my motives.

Understand, please, that I was the fourth woman to go through the ordination process in a diocese that had been intensely hostile to ordaining women. I automatically assumed that his question was filled with gender bias.

Perhaps there was some of that in there, but I was comforted when I later learned that he asked that question of all aspirants for Holy Orders who came before the COM.

It's a good question. It's an important question. It's a question everyone who is doing any kind of ministry - lay or ordained - should ask themselves and each other: Why you are doing what you are doing in the church?

What are you getting out of it? I mean, besides the fact that you love Jesus and want to live a sacrificial life of servant ministry? What's in it for you, besides the good feeling that comes from feeling good and righteous and noble?

Tough question, isn't it? Makes you squirm a little, doesn't it?

The thing of it is that, unless we get clear about our motives for ministry, we set up ourselves and others for all sort and manner of power dynamics and dysfunction.

Agnus Day

There's an excellent article by Bradley N. Hill in this month's Christian Century: "An elephant in the room?: How meeting agendas get hijacked".

When someone claims there is an elephant in the room it generally means a huge and hot topic present that is so volatile everyone tacitly agrees to avoid it.

"The elephant," Hill writes, "is an obvious but hard truth that is not being addressed, in part because to face, name and own the related issue would be frightening. Honesty becomes taboo. No one wants to cause embarrassment. The group prefers avoidance and feigned ignorance to bold but painful confrontation. It is a form of denial."

More often than not, however, it's more like crying wolf in the midst of sheep. Or, yelling "Fire!" in a crowded movie theater.

It's a power-play.

"As a result," says Hill, "the elephant crier takes over the meeting and the elephant - whatever it is, however big or small - defines the terms of engagement. We must deal with the elephant before we can do anything else. The elephant crier usurps the agenda and owns the floor......Either way, any other discussion is cut off because of the urgency of this "new" issue.

I submit that the real issue in these cases can be found in the murky baptismal water of motivation for ministry.

I know I'm going to sound really, really jaded when I say this, but here it goes: I suspect that all this talk in the church - well, these days, in The Episcopal Church - about mission is not about mission but a power-play that serves the institutional church.

Here's why I say this: A plan that seeks to 'restructure for mission' which limits the power of the baptized but not ordained is not an honest plan. It's not at all about mission but institutional preservation.

The presenting problem would seem to be declining membership and finances. Instead of putting our energies into dealing with the problem, we invite a herd of elephants into the room which are not the problem but may be part of the diagnosis of the problem.

Besides "not doing mission" - which is a valid issue, here are some of those elephants I've heard:

 * Liturgy and music and preaching have to be more 'relevant' - the definition of which changes depending on which elephant is crying loudest.

* We've got to "get back" to using *only* the BCP.

* We've got to have more "creativity" and use language that is not only expansive and inclusive but more reflective of the times.

* We have to have more "ethnic" music.

* The sermons have to be shorter - or, longer - and more expository in nature.

* The liturgy has to be "fun" or (gasp!) "entertaining".

* The younger generation is not just missing, it's members are missing because they don't have a youth group or a designated meeting room, or they're not allowed to 'tweet' or 'text' during the service, or the "music doesn't speak to them", or the service is not otherwise "youth friendly".

* We don't "market" our church. We need a mission statement that relentlessly appears everywhere on everything: the agendas of every meeting, the committees of the Vestry and even the budget has to be organized around the mission statement.

* Unaddressed issues of 'sin' - primarily among the leadership, staff or members.

* The congregation has never 'healed' from past disastrous leadership. They need 'time'.

* "Money follows mission". (This one makes me cringe. Every. Time.) If we just started doing the mission of the church - whatever that is - we'd have lots of money for the church. (As if those were two separate things.)

Mind you, these may be valid components of the reason congregations (and dioceses) are stuck and do not have something we like to call 'vitality' but, like 'mission', we're not really certain what that means.

We don't really have a consistent set of 'vital signs' to be able to determine whether or not a congregation has 'vitality'. Clearly, the old weights and measurements of ASA (Average Sunday Attendance), numbers of Baptisms, Marriages and Funeral, the number of children in Church School, and the Accounts Balance Sheet do not give the whole picture.

What if we looked at other standards, like, say, how many of the congregants feel that what they hear in church on Sunday shapes and forms what they do the rest of the week?

Or, how many of the church members have a strong sense that they are better equipped to be moral agents in their families, neighborhoods, and work and market places in the world because they are members of a faith community?

Or, here's my own, personal favorite 'vital signs' of a faith community:

How is 'church' defined - locally, diocesan, nationally and internationally?

How many would say that the church is a vehicle of transformation and healing?

Do the community members see themselves as servants of the Gospel of Jesus Christ?

Do the ordained leaders model servant leadership?

Do people in the congregation sense the living presence of the Risen Christ?

Is the focus of the church on what happens on Sunday morning or does what happen on Sunday morning shape and form what happens in the church - and the world - the rest of the week?

What risks has this community taken - what sacrifices has it (and it's individual members and leaders) made - for the Gospel?

Is the wilderness wild enough for them to confront their demons?

Is the desert dry enough for them to let die what needs to die?

Is the well deep enough for everyone who is thirsty to drink?

Is the spiritual food rich enough for everyone who hungers to be fed - and empowers and enables them to go out and feed others?

There are lots of reasons for church decline and financial difficulties, but crying 'mission' as the elephant in the room is to not confront some of the more difficult problems inherent in the fact that 'trickle down ecclesiology' - financial support of the institutional church at diocesan and national levels as the major focus of the church - has become *the mission* of the church.

Jesus came to save and heal others - not the church.

I remember hearing the rector of the congregation that supported me in ordination process preach, "The church that lives for itself, dies by itself." That is the picture that is emerging from the last Executive Council meeting. Clearly, that is the picture we'll be confronted with at General Convention in July in Indianapolis.

Clearly, that's not the picture we see in either Sunday's Gospel or in the snapshot Paul gives us of the early church in Corinth.

There's a little non-denominational evangelical church up the road from me that always has sayings on the church sign out front that sometimes makes me angry, sometimes makes me laugh, and sometimes makes me squirm.

This month, the sign reads: "Free coffee and eternal life at every service."

The gospel, says St. Paul, is "free of charge". He says that this is lest anyone question or impugn the motives of those who bring the Glad Tidings of God in Christ as we read it in the Gospels.

And the rest, as they say, is history. The Gospel was spread and the church grew and has lasted for centuries.

In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. And Simon and his companions hunted for him. When they found him, they said to him, "Everyone is searching for you." He answered, "Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do." And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons. (from Sunday's lectionary).

I know, I know. It makes me squirm, especially as I sit here typing this on my seven-year old $600 lap top in my nice warm home on the water, living frugally but comfortably on the pension I earned which is calculated by the income I received from working for the institutional church and the itinerant ministry I now perform.

Perhaps squirming is the beginning of the process of transformation. You know, the way you decide to begin to diet and exercise when you begin to feel too snug in your favorite jeans.

Perhaps transformation begins with the clarifying question, "So, what's in this for you?"

I suspect that question is the biggest elephant in the room.

The risk of being a brick

The Diocese of Newark, where I am canonically resident, is, at this moment, gathering in Parsippany, NJ at Annual Diocesan Convention.

Last night, Bishop Mark Beckwith gave his convention address. It is a great address. It is both passionate and inspiring. You can read it here.

He begins by telling the story of the Prophet Jeremiah.

The assignment from God to the prophet Jeremiah is a tough one. God asks, no God tells Jeremiah, that he has a prophetic sermon to preach: to “pluck up, tear down, overthrow and destroy – in order to build and plant.”

Bishop Beckwith goes on to say how "a variation of Jeremiah’s dissembling message is just what we have been hearing and seeing for the past several years" - in our economy as well as our educational, religious and social systems.

Yet, the bishop encourages the diocese to "Risk something big for something good."

I'm a risk-taker. I'm no stranger to it. I know it confounds and concerns and yes, annoys, those who have an aversion to risk - especially those who disagree with what I believe to be 'good'.

Oh, I'm sure I've been considered 'abrasive' by some - especially by those who like their women to be pink and soft, sweet and nice and, well, 'good' - by which they mean doing what others expect them to do. You know, like be a 'lady'.  Well, that's not going to happen any time soon, so just get over it.

I'd like to think that I've not be reckless. Rather, I'd like to think that I have been thought-full and prayer-full and care-full in my decisions.

Sometimes, those risks were small. Other times, those risks were big. In each decision to take those risks, I was not always certain of the outcome but I was very clear that God was calling me to take that risk for something good.

Whether the outcome has been good or not-so-good, I have found that 'je ne sais quoi' peace that passes human understanding in knowing that God has been with me every step of the way.

I have found comfort in knowing that, even if I didn't get what I want or that things didn't turn out exactly as I wanted them, it changed me and changed others.

Sometimes, we are God's bricks, building a road that brings us and others closer to catching a glimpse of the Realm of God.

This week end, across the miles to the "Left Coast", the good folks at All Saints Episcopal Church in Pasadena, CA are celebrating the 20th Anniversary of the first time their rector, George Regas, presided at the Blessing of the Covenant, this one made between Mark Benson and Philip Straw.

Susan Russell, so-called (by people who disagree with her) the "Archlesbian of the Episcopal Church" writes:

A 1992 editorial in The Living Church wrote of the service : “Undoubtedly similar events have taken place in clandestine circumstances but this is the first known “public” blessing in a prominent parish.”

Well, once again, The Living Church got it wrong. They often do. Mostly because they don't pay attention to things they don't want to see or admit.

Truth is, "public" blessings had been going on all over The Episcopal Church. It's just that this one caught the eye of the secular media. That tends to happen more on the Left Coast which is 'blessed' by the presence of lots of secular media.

Meanwhile, back - way back when - in Jerusalem, tomorrow's appointed Gospel allows us to witness another event of risk-taking. Jesus entered the synagogue in Capernaum and spoke and taught "as one having authority, not as the scribes".

He even healed a man with "unclean spirits" - a Schizophrenic, perhaps? - and everyone was amazed and kept asking, ""What is this? A new teaching - with authority!"

Clearly, Jesus did something good in healing the man with "unclean spirits".

The risk is that he did so without authorization from the local authority. 

In doing so, he also attracted the "media" of his day. Mark tells us, "At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee."

I'll just bet it did. And, I'll bet the 'living church' of his time didn't get the story right, as well.

Authority is a big issue in the church. In fact, it's huge.

I've told this story before on this blog, but it bears repeating. When I took General Ordination Exams, one of the questions was, "What is the difference between 'the good' and 'the right'?" One of my colleagues had a brilliant - and correct - answer, "God is good," she wrote, "and the bishop is right."

I think the issue of authority is often the biggest stumbling block to church growth. Bishops talk a good line about 'taking risks' but their job description to "guard the faith, unity and discipline of the church" often renders them highly aversed to risk.

Unless, of course, it is a risk which the bishop authorizes because s/he agrees that there is "something good" to be gained from the risk, and "cost-benefit" analysis is something to which s/he is willing to subscribe.

If not, you're on your own, pal. Which, I don't have to tell many of you, is a HUGE risk. It takes a mature, patient, wise and very courageous bishop to support and encourage her/his clergy (or laity) in endeavors which s/he may not see the good to be gained in outweighing the risks to be taken. Or, in an issue which s/he is in sharp disagreement.

It has been my experience that bishops often use the authority of their office in service of their vision. If your vision doesn't happen to fit in with that of the ecclesial authority, well, my experience informs me that you're in for a journey on some very rough baptismal waters.

Just ask George Regas about the fallout he got for blessing the covenant made between two men.

Or, ask the so-called "Philadelphia Eleven" and the "Washington Four" who felt called to priestly ordination even though it wasn't yet "authorized" for women in the Episcopal Church.

Or, ask The Rev. William Wendt who invited Alison Cheek to celebrate at St Stephen's and the Incarnation in Washington, DC., and was later charged, tried and disciplined for violating canons.

Or, The Rev Peter Beebe who invited Alison Cheek and Carter Heyward to celebrate at Christ Church, Oberlin, OH., and was charged and tried for violating canons.

Or, perhaps you might like to have a little chat with Jack Spong about his ordaining Robert Williams as "the first openly gay man" (tosh, of course) in The Episcopal Church and was formally 'disassociated' from his colleagues in the House of Bishops.

If Walter Righter were still with us, you might speak with him about his heresy trial for ordaining Barry Stopfel, another openly gay man, to the priesthood.

All of these people - and many, many more, too numerous to mention here - risked something big for something good. Each one has paid a very dear price because the highest risk they took was not so much the good they were trying to achieve; rather, the something good was also a direct challenge to the institutional authority of the church.

It has ever been thus in the church.

Just look what happened to Jesus.

The thing of it is that the decision about what, exactly, is "something big" is just as important as deciding what, exactly, is the "something good".

What seems a 'no brainer' for some can prove to be a monumental decision for others.

Here's the thing about authority: You have to claim it. Even when someone won't give it to you.

You decide what's right. You decide what's good. You decide what risk you're going to take for God as you know God to be revealed in Christ Jesus, having been guided by the Holy Spirit.

Sometimes, that's a bigger risk than the actual risk itself. 

And, the 'something good' it does your soul may be even better than the good you intended.

Sometimes, we are God's bricks, building a road that brings us and others ever closer to catching a glimpse of the Realm of God.

One brick at a time.

Dream a little dream with me

I'm fascinated by dreams. Always have been. Probably always will.

The unconscious mind is a vast, mostly unexplored space that often comes to life when we are asleep.

One of the most dramatic, life-changing things for me happened when someone I was seeing in therapy charged me with asking "The Dream Maker" to come and visit me when I was asleep at night.

"Ask her to give you an image of yourself doing what it is you think you are supposed to be doing," she said.

Sounds easy, right? Not so.

Well, first of all, I had to admit that there was something - or someone - known as "The Dream Maker". Well, maybe not 'admit' so much as accept the possibility of the existence of such a being who only exists in an unconscious state of mind. 

Then, I had to get past my sense of the ridiculous in asking this "Dream Maker" to "visit" with me - while I was asleep.

I mean, it sounds positively batty, doesn't it?

Finally, after having the dream, I had to be willing to wake up, write down my dream, and then share my dream with my therapist so together we might be able to interpret the images and symbols and actions in the dream.

It all seemed fairly daunting - when not flat out ridiculous - but I gave it a try.

At first, nothing happened. For weeks, it seemed, nothing happened.

Or, at least, nothing that I remembered or could report.

"Have you ever had a dream that you liked?" my therapist asked. "Or, one that perhaps you're not so fond of but it comes to you anyway?"

Why, yes, I said.

I have had this recurring dream that I am standing on a very tall building. I think it's in New York City but I can't really be sure. At least, I don't see any familiar landmarks, but it must be because that's the city I associate with very tall buildings. It doesn't seem to matter to me in my dream.

I'm standing very close to the edge and I can feel the wind blowing on my face and through my hair. I am not afraid of heights, but I don't especially like them. And yet, in my dreams, I'm without any anxiety or concern or fear.

I don't know what I'm doing there, up so high on that very tall building, but I know that I'm supposed to be there. I'm exactly where I ought to be. Of this, I am quite certain. Nothing else seems to matter.

I look down and I can see people on the sidewalk. They look very tiny, but as I move closer to the edge, I can see some of their faces.

A few people have noticed me, up there on the ledge, and they're talking to each other, pointing up at me, letting other passersby know what they see.

I can hear a murmur of concerned voices. Others are nervously giggling and saying derisive things. I step up to the ledge and stretch out my arms like wings. I hear some of them gasp. I am calm and unconcerned.

Slowly, deliberately, I move forward as the crowd gasps. Someone yells with great alarm, "She's going to jump!"

I wait for just the right moment - the right feel of the wind, the beating of my heart, the lightness of my body - and then, I lean forward as I feel my body leave the ledge and begin to fall into the sky.

I am floating gracefully as the crowd gasps, but as I get nearer to them, I pick up my head, lift my arms just so, and begin to soar upwards. I lean to the left and then to the right, gently swooping and soaring before I begin to return to the ledge.

I circle and circle and circle the crowd, to their gasps of concern and applause of delight. Someone says something about calling the police or an ambulance. Still, I soar and swoop and fly.

And then, my dream ends.

I've had this dream many times. Sometimes, I ask the Dream Maker for it to return. I know it is an anxiety dream. Risk-takers often get them. Well, not in this exact form, but the themes are there. I suspect it's one way risk-takers assure ourselves that we're going to be okay.

It's also quite grandiose, isn't it? I don't know how to take a risk without someone criticizing that you've over-stepped your bounds, or that you've got a 'big ego', or that you're selfish in not being concerned about others who care about you and your safety.

And, it's admittedly, unashamedly narcissistic. Then again, all dreams are. Jung said that we are every person in our dreams, and every person in our dreams represents a part of us.

I grew up hearing Cinderella sing, "A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you're fast asleep." Like all little girls, we were carefully taught to dream for our Prince Charming to come and sweep us off our feet and carry us back to the Castle where we would live "happily ever after".

What we learned is that "happily ever after" is a crock. And, we learned that you can't live someone else's dream, much less someone else's idea of what a dream is for you.

What I've also learned is that, if you can dream it or imagine it, you have a better chance of making it happen. In many cases, we do create our own reality - through our dreams.

Indeed, what I've learned is that, if you can see yourself doing something and you believe it, others will see it, too.

It's a very powerful lesson about the power of the unconscious and the power of dreams. As Cinderella sings:

In dreams you will lose your heartaches
Whatever you wish for, you keep
Have faith in your dreams and someday
Your rainbow will come smiling thru
No matter how your heart is grieving
If you keep on believing
the dream that you wish will come true

My grandmother would hear me sing that, twirling around in my stocking feet on her kitchen floor like the princess I dreamed I would be, and she'd harumph, "Wishes don't wash dishes."

She was right, of course.

Wishes and dreams don't happen all by themselves. It takes work - hard work, often, a lifetime of struggle - and sometimes even then, life sometimes seems to conspire to render our dreams foolish for even dreaming them.

Without dreams and wishes, however, life is dull and often seems meaningless. Indeed, without hope, we perish.

In one of the Morning Prayer Suffrages in The Book of Common Prayer, we say,

V. Let not the needy, O Lord, be forgotten
R. Nor the hope of the poor be taken away.

I'm afraid we in the Church have lost touch with the power of dreams.

Indeed, the problem with the Church is not lack of money or resources.

The problem with the Church is that we lack imagination and creativity.

Don't believe me? Here, read Bonnie Anderson, the President of the House of Deputies, and what she had to say as Executive Council convened today.

I believe that the best way to find out what the future looks like is to invest where we know that mission and ministry is already most effective and closest to God’s people.

Let’s reduce the amount that we ask dioceses to send to the Church Center. Let’s study the best use of the building at 815 Second Avenue with an eye to freeing up for mission the $7.7 million dollars that is earmarked for facilities cost and debt repayment during the next triennium. Let’s expect that dioceses and their networks know best how to build up God’s church and support ministry where it is most effective. And as we change the budget, let’s acknowledge that we also need to change our models of accountability and responsibility to be mutual and respectful of the entire people of God, not just those with ecclesial power.

MKL's 'I have a dream' in 'Wordle'.

Mutuality. Respect for the entire people of God.

This is the stuff of the dream of our baptismal vows.

It's time for us to roll up our sleeves and "follow our dreams to reach our goals and follow our goals to reach our dream."

Yes, it's scary stuff. Sort of like jumping off a tall building and expecting to be able to fly.

Edward Teller, a nuclear physicist once said,

When you get to the end of all the light you know and it's time
to step into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing
that one of two things shall happen: either you will be given
something solid to stand on,or you will be taught how to fly.

Actually, I think all dreams are little bits and pieces of God's dream in the first place.

Dreams are just an occasional peak into the mind and heart of the divine within each and every one of us. They happen when we're asleep because we couldn't bear the truth of them when we're wide awake.

So, c'mon, church. Have some faith.

Dream a little dream with me.

Who knows? We may just step out on that ledge and, together, learn to fly.

A New Norm of Greatness for the End Time

Painting by HiQi

I've been reading over tomorrow's lectionary texts for the Third Sunday after The Epiphany.

It's the 'end time' for Jonah in Nineveh (3:1-5, 10) as well as for Paul in Corinth (1 Corinthians 7:29-31).

In tomorrow morning's Gospel (Mark 1:14-20), Jesus says, "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news."

And then, he calls two more disciples: Simon and Andrew and James and John.

Last week, we heard him call Philip and Nathaneal.

I'm struck, once again, by the choices Jesus makes in calling some of The Twelve.

Well, all of them, actually.

Maybe because the end was, in fact, near, and pickin's were slim, but consider His choices:

Peter had a tendency to speak before thinking…

James & John had quick tempers… (Jesus nicknamed them Sons of Thunder - Mark 3:17)

Simon (the other one) was affiliated with a known terrorist group… (the Zealots were a pro-Israel terrorist group who attacked the Romans)

Matthew had a bad reputation as a tax cheat (and he was collecting the taxes)…

Thomas had, shall we say, "faith issues…"

They were uneducated, unsophisticated, and untalented.

The only possible exception is a fellow named Judas Iscariot.

I'm reminded of a little letter I found in my files the other day. I first found it when I was a member of the Commission on Ministry and used to use it when working as a consultant with Search Committees.

I suspect I'll have occasion to use it again, soon.

It's a little something from from Greg Ogden, in his book "Transforming Discipleship: Making Disciples a Few at a Time."

Jesus, Son of Joseph

Carpenter Shop

Nazareth

Dear Sir:

Thank you for submitting the resumes of the 12 men you have picked for management positions in your new organization. All of them have now taken our battery of tests; we have not only run the results through our computer, but also arranged personal interviews for each of them with our psychologist and vocational aptitude consultant.

It is the staff opinion that most of your nominees are lacking in background, education, and vocational aptitude for the type of enterprise you are undertaking.

They do not have the team" concept.

We would recommend that you continue your search for persons of experience in managerial ability and proven capability.

Simon Peter is emotionally unstable and given to fits of temper.

Andrew has absolutely no qualities of leadership.

The two brothers, James and John, the sons of Zebedee, place personal interest above company loyalty.

Thomas demonstrates a questioning attitude that would tend to undermine morale.

We feel that it is our duty to tell you that Matthew has been blacklisted by the Greater Jerusalem Better Business Bureau.

James, the son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus definitely have radical leanings. They registered a high score on the manic depressive scale.

One of the candidates, however, shows great potential. He is a man of ability and resourcefulness, meets people well, has a keen business mind and has contacts in high places. He is highly motivated, ambitious, and responsible. We recommend Judas Iscariot as your controller and right-hand man.

All of the other profiles are self-explanatory.

We wish you every success in your new Venture.

Sincerely yours,

Jordan Management Consultants

Hear me, now: This is not an argument for serving up yet another helping of mediocrity in the church's leadership.

I'm simply shaking my head at the choices Jesus made in selecting The Twelve and wondering, yet again, why He called the people he calls.

Then again, God called Jonah - a reluctant prophet if ever there was one - to deliver a message to Nineveh. Even so, he was successful.....

"And the people of Nineveh believed God; they proclaimed a fast, and everyone, great and small, put on sackcloth. When God saw what they did, how they turned from their evil ways, God changed his mind about the calamity that he had said he would bring upon them; and he did not do it."

......but Jonah was not pleased and sulked under a withering Fig Tree.

And, somehow - for whatever reason - after his death and resurrection, Jesus called Paul who had been actively persecuting the Jews - and especially the new followers of the man named Jesus.

Maybe that's why he had a penchant for overstating his case and being just a tad obtuse:

I mean, brothers and sisters, the appointed time has grown short; from now on, let even those who have wives be as though they had none, and those who mourn as though they were not mourning, and those who rejoice as though they were not rejoicing, and those who buy as though they had no possessions, and those who deal with the world as though they had no dealings with it. For the present form of this world is passing away.

"The appointed time" is always short.

"The present form of this world" is always "passing away".

Thanks be to God.

The only constant is change.

I keep hearing that wonderful quote from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Jesus gave us a new norm of greatness. If you want to be important, wonderful. If you want to be recognized, wonderful. If you want to be great, wonderful. But recognize that he who is greatest among you shall be your servant. That's your new definition of greatness. And this morning, the thing that I like about it, by giving that definition of greatness, it means that everybody can be great. Because everybody can serve. You don't have to have a college degree to serve. You don't have to make your subject and your verb agree to serve. You don't have to know about Plato and Aristotle to serve. You don't have to know Einstein's theory of relativity to serve. You don't have to know the second theory of thermodynamics in physics to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love. And you can be that servant.

I think that's the message Jesus was giving us in the calling of The Twelve.

I would add, "You don't need to be ordained in order to serve."

And Jesus said to them, "Follow me and I will make you fish for people."

Sounds so easy, doesn't it?

So, what are you waiting for?

Drop your nets - or, pick 'em up - and follow Jesus.

Just be sure to fasten your seat belts and make certain your crash helmet is on your head, securely strapped under your chin.

This Jesus-guy will turn your life upside down - especially with his 'new norm of greatness'.

That's a promise.

And, a warning.

"The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news."