Living Dangerously: The Song of Deborah

Gustave Dore's interpretation of the prophetess Deborah.

There's a term for the message of this morning's scriptural lessons: Risk-aversion.

Apparently, Jesus is not a fan. In fact, I think it's an understatement to say that he doesn't like it. Indeed, I think Jesus has an aversion to risk-aversion.

In the story of the Parable of the Talents, the easy interpretation is the need for us to put our natural gifts to work for God. You know: If you have a "talent" to play the piano (or teaching or caretaking or making money), use it to the glory of God.

That's an okay understanding - indeed, I've preached on it before - but I've come to know that it's a pretty shallow interpretation. A 'talent' - in the Hebrew world - was a measure of silver, worth about a thousand dollars.

Imagine! One talent = about a thousand dollars. That's a lot of money, even today!

In the story, a man was going on a journey and entrusted his property to his servants, ""to one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his ability."

When the man returned from his journey, he rewarded the servant who had taken risks with his investment and scolded the one who didn't, punishing him and casting him "into the outer darkness".

If I could rename this parable, it would be "The Year of Living Dangerously".

Which brings us to Deborah, of whom we hear in the first lesson (Judges 4:1-7)

Most of the great women in the Bible either are married to a great man or related to one. Sarah is primarily known as Abraham's wife, and Miriam as Moses' sister. Even Esther, who saves the Jewish people from Haman's attempted genocide, is guided by her adviser and cousin, Mordechai.

A rare exception to this tradition is the prophetess and judge Deborah, perhaps the Bible's greatest woman figure.

Deborah stands exclusively on her own merits. The only thing we know about her personal life is the name of her husband, Lapidot. "She led Israel at that time," is how the Bible records it. "She used to sit under the palm tree of Deborah ... and the Israelites would come to her for judgment" (4:4).

During Deborah's time, a century or so after the Israelite entry into Canaan, the valley in which she and her tribe lived was controlled by King Jabin of Hazor. Deborah summoned the warrior Barak and instructed him in God's name to take ten thousand troops and confront Jabin's general, Sisera, and his army's nine hundred iron chariots, on Mount Tabor.

Barak's response to Deborah shows the high esteem in which this ancient prophetess was held: "If you will go with me, I will go; if not I will not go."

"Very well, I will go with you," Deborah consents, but she can't resist gibing at Barak about the sexism of their society. "However, there will be no glory for you in the course you are taking, for then the Lord will deliver Sisera into the hands of a woman" (4:8-9).

Don't you just LOVE it? Smart. Wise. And, Feisty.

My kinda gal.

The battle takes place during the rainy season, and Sisera's chariots quickly bog down in the mud. The Israelites overwhelm Hazor's army, and inflict heavy casualties. Sisera, fleeing on foot, escapes to the Kenite camp, where Jael, the clan leader's wife, invites him to stay. He falls asleep in her tent, whereupon Jael lifts a mallet and drives a tent peg through his head.

Clearly, neither Deborah nor Jael were women you wanted to mess with.

The famed "Song of Deborah," in chapter 5, exults in the breaking of the Canaanite stranglehold over much of the country: "So may all Your enemies perish, O Lord," is Deborah's parting shot.

I'm still thinking about Deborah's march into battle with Barak. Yes, he held her in high esteem, but I suspect Barak was saying to Deborah, "Okay, I'm willing to risk my life on the word of a woman, but if I'm going to go down in battle, so are you."

Deborah did not have an aversion to risk. Indeed, in her day, it was risk enough to claim authority as a woman. Everything after that was just gravy.

Besides, she knew they had the enemy outnumbered: 100,000 of Barak's soldiers to Sisera's 900 chariots - and it was the rainy season.

Some people need an iron-clad guarantee - especially on the word of a woman.

It seems even Paul (in 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11) has something to say about risking security for God as he speaks about the return of Jesus coming "like a thief in the night".

"When they say, 'There is peace and security,' then sudden destruction will come upon them, as labor pains come upon a pregnant woman, and there will be no escape!"

Any woman who has ever experienced labor and birth will testify to Paul's words.

Becoming who you are and then being and doing what you are called to do is somewhat akin to being born all over again. And, again. And, again.

It's not exactly a pain-free process. Indeed, it's hard work.

C.S. Lewis puts it vividly: "It may be a hard thing for an egg to become a bird; it is a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while it is still an egg. We are like eggs, today, and we either must be hatched, or go bad!"

Being "hatched" takes great courage, but it is the only way to become who we are and do what it is we were meant to do. And that courage is the foundation for the courage required to take other risks to continue to be true to ourselves and what we are called to do.

We spend so much of our lives hiding our true selves, burying our worth and value from ourselves and squandering our gifts on being "reasonable" and "safe".

I'm still chuckling at today's story from StoryPeople:

"I don't have a whole lot of excuses for what's gone wrong with my life, she said. But the ones I do have are really good."

There is no safety and security in this life. They are but illusions we create to ease the uneasiness and disturbance that often comes to our souls when, in fact, that disturbance is often God's call to us to become who we were meant to be and do what we were created to do in this life, with this one gift of this one life we've been given.

Hillary Clinton was soundly criticized for saying, once, rather wistfully during her husband's campaign for President, "I suppose I could have stayed home and baked cookies and had teas, but what I decided to do was to fulfill my profession which I entered before my husband was in public life."

Well, she certainly did that and more, taking all the heat for her husband by taking on the first attempts at Health Care Reform.

She was the President's Deborah and he was her Barak.

And now, she is, perhaps, the best Secretary of State we've had in recent history. It's my personal opinion that she would have made one helluva President, but that's another story for another time.

It's important to remember that success is often born of many failures. If we don't take the risk of failure, we may never achieve our goal. Or, fulfill our lives.

St. Augustine, whose birthday it is today, once said,

"Hope has two beautiful daughters. Their names are anger and courage; anger at the way things are, and courage to see that they do not remain the way they are."

Deborah knew that. So did Jesus, which may be one reason he told such a harsh parable about "The Year of Living Dangerously".

There are parts of each of us in every character of that parable - elements of our psyche that understands the ones who took great risks as well as the one who was reasonable and played it safe.

There's also a Barak in each of us - willing to take a risk but wanting a companion along the way - as well as a Deborah - willing to risk our very lives on what it is we believe to be true.

Either way, if we are to know hope - if we are to hatch out of our shells and learn to fly - then we must harness both our anger and our courage.

I suspect that is the greatest challenge - and the greatest risk - of all. Everything after that is gravy.

In the end, however, we, like Deborah, may have our own unique song to sing.

After the Order of Melchizedek

The ordination of a priest

Ordinations are, for me, more of an opportunity to reflect on my priesthood in particular as well as priesthood in general than even the traditional renewal of ordination vows during Holy Week.

And so it was that, during the ordination of Lauren Kilbourn in North Carolina on Thursday night, I found myself deeply moved, once again, by what it is we purport to be doing when we ordain anyone to the Sacred Order of Priests.

I believe in the "priesthood of all believers". I believe that our baptism is our initiation in the priesthood of Jesus.

That's a pretty high consideration of the laity - more than some are willing to claim - but I find, recently, that I grow more and more concerned about the devaluation of the priesthood by a growing number of Episcopalians.

Perhaps it is a reaction to the abuse some priests have made of the order - arrogantly flaunting their status as "above" or "better than" others.

Some laity defer or surrender their own authority to that of the priest, even when the priest is in error on a particular point. They surrender this all on their own and yet some become angry at - and resentful of - clergy when they have done so.

Perhaps it is symptomatic of the general weariness of our culture about all authority figures who have squandered the trust of the people in a variety of ways - from abuse of power to abuse of children and women, to fiscal irresponsibility and even corruption.

Perhaps it is that we have lost our understanding of what a priest is and does that has led to my perception of the devaluation of the priesthood.

Indeed, I'm not sure I fully understood the role of the priest until I had been ordained about five years.

I am also reminded of the thinking of some that, whenever women become more integrated into roles that have been traditionally held by men, there is a devaluing of the position.

Conversely, when men become more involved in roles that have been traditionally held by women, those positions are not only held in higher esteem, they receive higher compensation.

Whatever it is, this attitude is finding its way into application of policies which express a cynicism about the role of priests.

Changes to Title IV canon, for example, assume guilt based on allegations and negatively impact the relationship between the priest and the bishop who, because of legal concerns, must suspend the role as chief pastor to the priest.

In this difficult financial climate, churches are feeling especially pinched. "Crunching the numbers" at year's end and trying to forecast figures for the next year's budget become an exercise in anxiety for many.

Clergy who wear black shirts with white collars become easy targets for the old red pencil - especially when it is difficult to articulate the "bang for the buck" to the managerial types among the laity in terms of productivity of priests.

So much of what we do is confidential - even the fact that we are meeting with someone - that an actual Very Busy day can look like a day at the beach in the priest's "official" day appointment calendar. Indeed, I still keep my pastoral counseling schedule in a separate small appointment book even though I no longer have a parish secretary or Senior Warden who might glance over at it.

Fearful of a diminution of the congregational pledge, diocesan types often find it irresistible to balance the diocesan budget on the backs of clergy who, for the most part, never came into this vocation thinking we were going to get rich.

Many of us live a sacrificial life, so we are used to making sacrifices for the greater good. Unfortunately, that is a posture which can be easily taken advantage of - especially when anxiety is heightened in tough financial times.

In the ordination service, we are made "priests forever, after the order of Melchizedek". That means that there is an ancient tradition in which priests stand.

In Genesis 14:18, Melchizedek offers a sacrifice of bread and wine. Christ therefore fulfilled the prophecy of Ps 110:4, that He would be a priest "after the order of Melchizedek," at the Last Supper, when he broke and shared bread with his disciples.

This is different from the Levitical order of Aaron, for whom continual sacrifices were required. Jesus becomes a priest after the order of Melchizedek and is sacrificed, once, and for all. 

Episcopalians take seriously Christ's command that the Apostles should "do this in memory of Me." As such, we continue to offer sacrifices of bread and wine as the "outward and visible sign" of the sacrament of the Eucharist. It is a reminder of Christ's sacrifice for us all.

On Sunday, Lauren will preside, for the first time, at the Celebration of the Eucharist. The preacher at the service of ordination was the priest from the congregation which had raised her up for the priesthood.

He began his sermon with story about the first time he had presided at Eucharist.

It was an outdoor service and he had very carefully set out the bread and the wine.  Just before the service was scheduled to begin, one of the acolytes came running in to tell him that some seagulls had come and ravaged the bread.

Thankfully, he had another loaf, but this time, one of the acolytes held it - all hunched over it during the service so that no other seagull might fly off with it.

Indeed, even as he presided at Eucharist, he found himself cradling the loaf in his arms, protecting that which would become the Body of Christ.

That image has stayed with him, low these many years later, as a symbol of priesthood. In his sermonic "charge" he challenged Lauren to be "fiercely protective", to "safeguard the vulnerable" and be a "guard and shield" to the Body of Christ.

That's as wonderful an image of priesthood as I've heard. It doesn't easily translate into productivity sheets. Neither does in justify, in some people's minds, the compensation we receive for our employ.

Indeed, what I have discovered is that, when one stands in solidarity with those who are most vulnerable in the world, we often take on the very oppression which is directed at the oppressed.

There came a moment in the liturgy, however, when those who were priests acted out our understanding of that in a most deeply profound and moving way.

It is traditional for the one to be ordained to prostrate themselves before the altar during the Litany of Ordination. Lauren didn't do that. To my surprise, however, she prostrated herself during the time when the bishop calls down the Holy Spirit by chanting that ancient hymn, "Come Holy Ghosts, our souls inspire". The congregation chants back, "And lighten with celestial fire".

I think we were all a bit surprised by that but slowly, one by one, we gathered 'round her, kneeling beside and around her on the floor. We were mostly women, there - and a few men - all ordained after the order of Melchizedek.

I was kneeling to her right and put my hand on her arm. Suddenly, Lauren reached up and was holding my hand. Tight. I opened my eyes and saw that one of the women clergy on staff at her church was kneeling besides the bishop, half hidden by his cope. She was holding her left hand.

I looked around and saw women lining her body on both sides, eyes closed, touching her body, chanting along with the rest of the congregations, knowing all the words by heart.

"That through the ages all along / this may be our endless song."

I felt the hands of other women on my back. I looked up and saw the smiling face of a woman who was a seminary classmate of Lauren, now a priest, who is confined to a wheelchair.

I knew she wouldn't be able to reach over and touch Lauren, so I reached out my left hand and held onto her shoe. I looked up and saw that she was beaming.

"Praise to thy eternal merit / Father, Son, and Holy Spirit."

The chanting ended, we all helped Lauren to her feet, and, as she kneeled before the bishop, we put our hands on her as the bishop prayed.

Again, that also doesn't usually happen. Usually, the bishop prays and then we all move in as the bishop says, "Therefore, Father, through Jesus Christ your son, give your Holy Spirit to Lauren; fill her with grace and power, and make her a priest in your Church."

Usually, after that, we all back off. Not so with this ordination. We continued to surround her, as if she were a loaf of consecrated bread we were fiercely protecting her from any unexpected evil passing by.

Indeed, we didn't take our hands off Lauren until everyone said a loud, "AMEN!"

Even then, we hovered.

We knew.

We understood.

It takes great courage to be vulnerable enough to fiercely protect the vulnerable and still not get mortally wounded.

It takes enormous strength to safeguard the weak and still keep your stamina and endurance.

It takes a strong faith to be a guard and a shield and not lose your own faith and belief.

That's not something you understand in the moment of ordination. It certainly doesn't happen overnight.

It is a gradual awakening to the fact that ordination after the order of Melchizedek means that, unlike the Levitial priesthood of Aaron which required endless sacrifices, Christ was sacrificed, once, for all - so our own spiritual lives don't have to be sacrificed on an altar to the God of Expediency and Efficiency and Productivity.

That does not forgive the requirements of the sacrificial life of the priest, but it means that the priest does not have to sacrifice herself because Jesus has already done that.

Being a priest after the order of Melchizedek does not mean that the priest saves anyone or is personally responsible for the salvation of anyone. Jesus is the only savior. Priests are His ordained representatives, allowing Jesus and the Holy Spirit to work salvific grace through us as vehicles.

Finally, being a priest after the order of Melchizedek means that Jesus has ever been, is, and will ever be the only totally perfect priest (Hebrews 9:7). We'll never achieve that perfection - not in our lifetime.  This understanding liberates us to be all of who we are, with our perfectly unique gifts and charisms to become midwives to a new creation.

We have a new priest in Christ's one, holy, catholic and apostolic church.

Indeed, since Thursday, we may even have quite a few more new priests ordained in the church.  I know of one that will take place on Saturday.

Note to my dear friend, Jonathan: I'll not be able to be with you physically, but I'll be there in prayer and spirit.

This business of being priest is an impossible vocation.

It's an impossible task and one that is almost impossible to explain.

It's certainly one that is increasingly impossible to justify to a culture that has eaten too much of the Bread of Anxiety and an institution that has said, "Peace, peace" when there is no peace - except that which passes all human understanding. 

Still, on reflection, I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Especially to a world that seems to value it less and less and would ask us to be compensated less and less for more and more of the impossible vocation to which we have been called.

I suppose that's not unlike those in the "priesthood of all believers" who are called to impossible vocations of teaching young minds, or making music or art, or laboring in fields to bring food to our tables, or the healing art of mending broken bodies or minds, or tending to our families, or struggling for justice amidst corruption and greed.

Perhaps that is the greatest challenge of the priesthood in these times: to lead the People of God to be faithful to our baptismal vows to "seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself" and to "strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being."

Then again, it has ever been thus for priests, who stand forever in the ancient priesthood, after the order of Melchizedek.

A new priest, for Christ's sake

Lauren Kilbourn

The car is packed with my suitcase, the tank is full of gas, and Theo and I are about to go on a seven hour adventure in my VW Bug.

I'm heading out this morning - 7 AM sharp - off to Durham, North Carolina where it will be both my privilege and delight to be one of the presenters of Lauren Kilbourn to the Sacred Order of Priests.

I've known Lauren only briefly. She arrived in the Diocese of Newark shortly after her ordination to the transitional diaconate and did a FABULOUS job in a ministry with youth.

We really connected at last year's Clergy Conference / Retreat. I felt I had met an old friend for the first time.  We've stayed in touch via email, phone and FaceBook.

Lauren has more integrity in her baby finger than some folks have in their entire bodies. She's smart and funny, brave and bold, and is absolutely passionate about Jesus and the work she is being given to do.

So, you'll forgive me if this occasion gives me reason to wax somewhat less than eloquent - once again - about this whole business of ordination and the institutional church. 

I'm really excited about the state of the church. I can't imagine a better time to be a Christian who is an Episcopalian.

Yes, yes. I know, I know. The church is facing financial challenges the Grande Old Dame of the Church of the Landed Gentry could never have once imagined.

We've been living on old, dead people's money for a long, long time and, in some place - fewer and fewer these days - for a long, long time to come. 

Then again, most of the people sitting in the pews of most Episcopal churches could never have once imagined themselves being members of The Episcopal Church - much less actually being welcomed through those great red doors.

And, many of the people presiding at Eucharist and having leadership roles in the councils and corridors of the church could never once have imagined themselves there.

The cost of the full embrace of diversity has cost us dearly. Our "numbers" are down, in terms of membership, average Sunday attendance (ASA) as well as the "bottom line" of our financial statements.

What we're losing in pledge and plate is made even worse by the amount of money we are paying in legal fees, battling over property issues brought to us by those who have left the church but feel their "purer faith" entitles them to keep the sanctuary untainted by the plague of the Dread Liberals with their Uppity Women and Queer Companions.

Never mind. What is it the Psalmist sings? Dying, yet - behold! - we live.

Indeed, I think our current "financial crisis" and decline in membership is causing us to take a long, hard look at what it really means to be a church.  We are reconsidering that which is essential about the church and redefining and restructuring for a new generation of people.

The "Little Prince" was right: That which is essential is invisible to the eye.

Which makes the task very difficult for the pragmatists among us.

I watched Bishop Gene Robinson on Rachel Maddow's show the other night. If you missed it, you can catch the link here. He had spent the day at Zuccotti Park and did, he said, what most bishops find difficult to do: he kept his mouth shut and his ears opened.

He listened. Hard. It's what all the prophets did - from Jeremiah to Isaiah.

What he heard, he said, was a cry for community.

A cry for community.

Having been there, I couldn't agree more. But, it's not just in Zuccotti Park. It's everywhere.

If you listen.

That, precisely, is the challenge of the next generation of priests.

Indeed, I think it has ever been thus in terms of the challenge of every generation of ordained leaders who purport to follow Christ: To take the frayed and tattered ends of a bunch of rag-tag Christians with not a lot of money who want to be together and do something to change the world and usher in the Realm of God in the name of Jesus.

The greatest leadership skill anyone of us can bring to this time in the Church's history is to listen to the cry of the people.  And then, to get them to listen to the teachings and promises of Jesus. And then, to work together to bring the vision of the Peaceable Realm into reality.

Yes, yes. I know. I know. It all sounds so romantic and poetic when it doesn't sound like a simplistic answer.

After twenty-five years, I know that to be true.  I haven't stopped working toward that vision of leadership in community. I won't stop working because I can see us moving closer and closer.

Fair warning.

I'm so excited to be taking the next steps with a new generation of ordained leaders - like Lauren - who will take on the mantle of leadership for her generation.

I will be one of several priests presenting her to the church for ordination. What she doesn't yet realize is that she is presenting us with an amazing opportunity to help us take the vision to the next step toward the Realm of God.

It's a journey of seven hours and centuries of time to get to this place of hope for the future.

Join me in that wonderful prayer for priests at their ordination:

May God who has given you the will to do these things give you the grace and power to perform them.

Boldness has magic

"You are so bold, young lady."

My mother sometimes said that to me.

Like it was a bad thing.

She would also say, "You have tone, young lady." Which meant that I had an 'attitude' about something she didn't like. That I was being 'disrespectful' in having an opinion of my own about a certain matter.

All of which was true - at least in part, depending on your perspective.

It's part of the task of being an adolescent to push at the boundaries and challenge the status quo so you can figure out where your newly emerging sense of self is going to land.

Psychologists call this "self-differentiation". It's an important part of the human enterprise which begins at adolescence in equal measure of rebellion and experimentation.

We then spend the rest of our lives trying to "mature" out of adolescence so we can "fit in".

I've begun to think that "maturity" is highly overrated. I suspect that if we recovered some of the good stuff of adolescence, we and the institutions we create and in which we serve might be better for this bit of "regressive recovery".

Indeed, I think we confuse "changing the status quo" with "rebellion" and the bold risks we take to achieve that change with the failures that sometimes ensue on the road to successful change.

Or, at least, we'd rather complain about the misery of status quo than take the difficult risks of what might lead to a new path and a new beginning.

I grow so weary of hearing cautious, mature adults tip-toeing around the harsh realities of our institutions. Everyone can see that the system is broken in our democracy. It started, I believe, when we began to give more and more power to institutions and less and less power to people.

The irony of the call to "less government" is that we have created a parallel power of corporations and big businesses upon which the Supreme Court has now bestowed "personhood". These corporations are now free to "buy" legislators and people in government power - which, oh by the way, takes away the voice of the people.

Likewise, in the institutional church, we've gradually changed the office of the episcopacy from "chief pastor" with "oversight" to Chief Financial Officer. In my humble opinion, we've given way too much power to the office of the episcopacy - most of which is not inherent to the office.

As I read the canons of The Episcopal Church, the real task of the bishop is to have and to hold the vision of the diocese for mission. The bishop is the one who sets the course of direction for the diocese, through the development of mission churches and diocesan programs that embody that mission.

In the system of checks and balances of our institutional government system, however, the bishop has no power to enact these programs or start mission churches unless Convention and/or Diocesan Council and/or Trustees (depending on the church/program being proposed) approves and allocates the money to be dedicated to that vision.

That's as it should be.

The only real power the bishop has is currency of trust and persuasion.

Oh, of course, that power can be used for good as well as for ill. We all know clergy (and some laity)  who have taken risks for the gospel who become diocesan pariah - unable to be elected or appointed in the "councils and corridors" of the institutional church.

If the bishop is a person of prayer and integrity and honesty and authenticity, s/he can get an entire diocese - indeed, the rest of The Episcopal Church - to follow her or him anywhere. I've seen it happen - and so have you - for good as well as for ill (Think: ACNA, AMiA, ACK, etc.).

People will throw pots of money at - and work hard to secure - programs that they can see have congruence with the vision.

Likewise, if said bishop makes a mistake, s/he can also get an entire diocese to forgive, re-strategize, and move on to the goal.

It takes courage to fail and then get up, dust yourself off, and try again.

That's the real measure of maturity, I think. To not take on the negativity of those who are anxious or afraid, but to be bold enough to believe in yourself and your dream and the people you are trying to serve.

The magic lies in the boldness of the vision and the trust the people have in the deep spirituality and honesty and authenticity of the person in the office of leadership.

That's the spirituality of a democratic system - of government or of the church. We all work for this idea of the "commonwealth".

When each of us contributes our little bit we can be so much bigger and accomplish so much more than any one of us alone.

The genius of democracy lies in the deceptively simple idea of "government of the people, by the people, for the people."

Those are words used by Abraham Lincoln on the occasion of consecrating a portion of the battlefield at Gettysburg, as he said, "as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that this nation might live".

And, what was that BHAG - that Big Hairy Audacious Goal - that people lived and died for? The idea that "all men - all people - are created equal". That includes people of different races and ethnicity, people of different creeds, people of different gender and sexual orientation, and people of all ages and physical abilities.

Lincoln had a vision of the resurrection of the country from the death and injuries of those who died at Gettysburg. He called it "a new birth of freedom".

He wrote:

It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

I think we can experience that "new birth of freedom" when we honor our past by dedicating ourselves to our foundational principles and beliefs.

I think we can do that in our government as well as in The Episcopal Church.

That, I think, is the impulse behind the "Occupy Wall Street" movement. That some churches and her bishops and clerics and laity have not gotten behind this movement is very telling. That some churches and her bishops and clerics and laity are involved in this movement tells another story - one that sounds more like the Gospel stories to my ears. 

We can talk all we want about "audacious hope" and "bold action" but unless we start living like we believe that, nothing will happen.

I think our nation - and our church, indeed, our world - could stand to recover the good parts of our adolescence.  Just a little bit of rebellion and just a dash of tone.

Part of the task of maturity is to discover that safety is an illusion.

Risk is a day-to-day reality.

Boldness has magic.

Don't believe me? Give it a try. See what happens.

Do one, small, bold thing today for something you believe in.  Push a boundary on the status quo. Have some "tone" in your voice when you do it.

Don't worry.

Your mother isn't here to scold you. 

You'll just enter the process of becoming more of who God made you to be, living into the baptismal vows we all took to grow into "the full stature of Christ".

I promise you: there's no greater magic than that.

Time Travelers.

Matthew 25:1-13

There's something about this morning's gospel (Matthew 25:1-13) that calls up for me every romantic image I have of the Middle East.

When you're there, in one of the countries of the Middle East, it seems as if time has stood still in the midst of pockets of progress and modernity. Or, maybe its that there are pockets of an ancient age and time in the midst of progress and modernity.

Many women still walk the streets in long robes, their heads covered in scarves that reveal only their eyes and foreheads while talking on cell phones or sipping coffee or eating cheeseburgers and fries under their veil.

I was in Dubai once, on a six hour layover flying home after a two week stay in Ghana. That was 2005 (or was it 2006?). We returned in the opposite path from whence we had arrived: Accra, Ghana to Lagos, Nigeria, to a six hour layover in Dubai to a direct flight from Dubai to New York.

I had traveled there with my friends Oberi and Phillip and a small group of other adults which was part of an educational opportunity offered by a university where we were adjunct faculty.

It had been a wonderful trip - from Accra to Cape Coast to Kumasi and Tamale, way in the North. We had seen and heard some amazing things, but mostly, I had grappled the whole trip with the tension between what I understood to be "primitive" and "modern".

Turns out, there's a fine line between them both, once you strip away your arrogance and understanding of "time" and how it's measured and used and lived.

I was thinking about this as I traveled through several time zones in order to get "home" to the World Capital of Progress and Post- modern Life. I had flown twenty some hours but had lost or gained some here or there, depending on your perspective.

It may have taken twenty hours to get to West Africa and then the Middle East but I had gone back centuries. On the way back, I wondered if we could fly fast enough to catch up with the post-modern reality that awaited us in the Northeast Corridor.

I was considering these things as I read this morning's gospel of the Five Wise and Five Foolish Virgins.

Jesus ends the parable with these words, “Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour".

As tempting as it is to talk about Harold Camping and his predictions about the end of the world, let me tell you about my little adventure as a Time Traveler in Dubai. Turns out, a lot can happen during a six hour layover.

If you're looking for a sermon or an exposition on the Gospel, you'll be disappointed. If you're looking for a good story, I think I've got one for you, right here.

My friend Phillip and I decided to do a little exploring around the airport in Dubai. It was in the early dawn hours of the day - not a lot of people around in the airport terminal - so we decided to go out into one of the local market places.

They are everywhere so it wasn't hard to find one. I wanted something more ancient-looking, where I might actually have to "haggle" for my purchase but, alas, most of the ones around the airport terminal are quite modern.

I did buy a burqa - a lovely silk thing which covers me from neck to toe. It came with a head covering an veil which I gave to Phillip to wear at his next Halloween Party but I kept the burqa which I still use for festive, dress up occasions.

Actually, it looks very liturgical. I remember I wore it when I traveled to EDS (Episcopal Divinity School) for a retirement party for Carter Heyward. Somehow, it seemed appropriate.

I also spotted a small kiosk selling Dubai coffee mugs. When I spotted one "on sale", I did a quick calculation and determined that it would only cost $5. Such a deal! No need to haggle over this one.

I scooped it up, made my purchase, chatting with the guy who wrapped my treasure so that it would make the trip home safely in my back pack.  The rest of my luggage was already on the plane.

He spoke perfect English, which was a surprise to me. He said he had spent some time in "Your New York City" but got homesick for Dubai, which was his home.

He was charming and lovely, if not a bit flirty, and I really thought nothing of it, but later, as you'll see, I wondered about him.

I tucked the mug into my backpack and met up with Phillip, who had purchased some exotic spices and a few cookbooks, listening to him as he told me all about the recipes he couldn't wait to try.

We got a cup of coffee and then headed back into the terminal where we met up with the rest of the group. All to soon, it was time to gather up our stuff, make one more trip through what seemed like pretty tight security - they even X-rayed our bags - and then boarded the plane for the long, direct flight from Dubai to Newark International Airport.

One of my bags, and one of his bags were "lost" in transit but the airport officials said they would have them returned to us within 24-48 hours. These particular bags were loaded with our treasures from Ghana - wood carvings and Kente cloth which we purchased in Kumasi, Ghana - and I admit that we were both a wee bit suspicious but grateful that it wasn't anything we needed immediately.

For several days, I used my Dubai mug for my morning coffee. I noticed that it had a bright pink bottom which seemed odd, but then again, lots of things seem odd when you return from a place that, in many ways, seems centuries away.

On the third day, I was drinking my coffee from of my Dubai coffee mug when it seemed not to rest so comfortably on the end table. As I examined the cup, lo and behold, the pink bottom fell off and, attached to it was a small electronic device.

"It must be a musical thingy," said Ms. Conroy.

"But, it didn't say that on the signs at the kiosk," I said. "And the guy who sold it to me didn't say anything about it being a musical mug."

"Of course not," said Ms. Conroy. "Why else do you think they were selling it for $5? It's broken."

I examined the thing more closely and said, "But, it doesn't look like a musical device. What do you suppose it is?"

Ms. Conroy sighed and examined it and said I suggested I bring it into the church to have my Parish Administrator - a really tech-savvy guy - take a look at it.

I washed out the mug and put it, the false bottom pink thingy and the electronic devise into my backpack and took it with me to the office.

"Hmm," said Randy as he looked at it, "You're right. It doesn't look like a musical device. Here's what I'd do," he said, "Take it to the Chatham police. Let them look at it. You can never be too sure. And if it is anything, you'll just be a good citizen."

I was a bit skeptical and feeling a bit foolish but, at 11 o'clock, right after our staff meeting and before I had to head into Newark for a Standing Committee meeting, I brought it over to the Chatham Police Station.

Well, these boys had never gotten a case like this.  Everyone from detectives to the Police Chief had to take a look at it and hear my story. They determined that, since no one really knew what it was, they had better keep "the evidence" and my handwritten story of how I came into my possession.

As I was driving to Newark, I got a call that, at 3 PM someone from "Morristown Intelligence" would meet me at the Chatham Police Station to "get my story".  I admit that I giggled at the term "Morristown Intelligence," but suddenly, this was becoming an adventure.

My trip to West Africa and brief stopover in Dubai suddenly became "my story" and my coffee mug became "the evidence".

Post 9/11 drama, I thought.

Next thing I knew, I was being interrogated by "Morristown Intelligence" followed by some of the boys from the local "Homeland Security" office.  

No, really. Interrogated.

I was shown pictures someone had downloaded from the internet of the airport at Dubai and a few of the markets around the airport where I made my purchases. "Is this where you were?" I was asked with deadly seriousness. "Yes," I said, that looks like the place."

"Do you recognize anyone in the picture?" they asked. Really? Seriously? I mean, these pictures were randomly taken off the internet, right?

"Oh," I giggled, "I think that's my friend's uncle Vinny. We all thought he was in a Witness Protection Program in Arizona. Who knew he'd be in Dubai?"

Turns out, it's not good to make jokes when the feds are "investigating potential terrorist activity". At least, they didn't think it was funny.

Then, one of the guys asked if it was true that I had a Jewish Congregation sharing office space in my church. Yes, of course, I answered. And, they use your worship space, too, right? Yes, I said, they worship on Friday night and Saturday and we have the sanctuary on Sunday. It all works out.

"So," I was asked, "would you describe yourself as a 'Jewish sympathizer'? "

"What?" I asked, startled by his question. What the hell does that mean, anyway?

"Why would you ask such a question?" I demanded, perhaps a little too forcefully with, perhaps, a bit more annoyance and righteous indignation than I intended.

"Well," said the guy in the suit, "It's one thing for a church to rent out office space, but it's quite another to have them use your worship space, don't you think?"

"Wait, wait, wait," I said, "What is this really all about?"

That was when one of the guys allowed as how the electronic device was actually a small transmitter.

"You have got to be kidding me!" I said.

"No ma'am," one of the guys said, sounding every bit like Detective Joe Friday of the Dragnet TV series of my youth.

"You, of course, destroyed it when you put it into the dishwasher, but up until then, it seems that it had been working just fine."

Get outta town! I thought. This is unbelievable!

"But, I went through security in Dubai," I said, "They X-rayed the bag with the coffee mug wrapped inside. Why didn't they see it then and stop me?"

One of the guys snickered. "Oh, probably because the guy you bought it from is related to someone in airport security. You know, Cousin Abdul and Cousin Aladdin," he smirked.

Just a little post 9/11 cop humor I suppose, with just a tinge of xenophobia.

I had some of my own. Actually, I got a bad case of the giggles, just thinking about it.

"What's so funny?" one of them asked.

"Well," I said, "I'm just thinking about what they may have heard in the rectory. I mean, do you suppose that, when they heard only women's voices they thought it was a convent or a brothel?"

My natural way of handling anxiety with humor started to kick into overdrive. "Do you think they thought (turn on fake Arabian accent): 'Ah, must be American lesbians. Evidence of the corruption of the West. Oh, what's that', they must have asked when they heard the dishwasher. 'Whirlpool bath? Hot tub? Really big vibrator?'"

I lost myself in laughter but, apparently, the humor was lost on them.

"Are you sure there isn't anything else you want to tell us?" asked the guy who looked and sounded like Joe Friday.

"No, sir, but I do have a question."

"Sure, ma'am," said Joe, "what is it?"

"What happens next? I mean, I've given you 'my story' and 'my coffee mug'. What will happen, now that you have what you need? I mean, to me?"

I was just a bit nervous. Several "G-men" in suits in a small room with no windows in a police station will do that to a girl.

"Well, it will take a few weeks to examine all the evidence and do the research, and we'll have to keep this mug, but I think you should expect that, while this case is under investigation, you'll be put on the 'No Fly' list. You won't be able to travel by air any time soon."

At this point, I had learned not to push it. "I see," said I, all good, serious, solemn, compliant citizen.

"And," said Joe Friday, "I wouldn't plan to travel back to Dubai for a few years. You don't want to raise any further suspicion."

"Further suspicion?" I gasped. "Are you kidding me? I could have just thrown this electronic thingy in the trash and not said anything to anyone. I'm trying to be a good citizen here. I'm not the enemy. I live here. In this community. I'm an Episcopal priest, for goodness sake."

"Yes, ma'am," said Joe Friday, "It's for your own protection, ma'am."

"Sure," I muttered, "just like the burqa, right?"

He looked at me a little puzzled and then said, "We'll be in touch. You have a good day."

About three weeks later I got a call from the Chatham Police Department. They had my mug. Would I like to come and get it, please? I walked over immediately.

One of the police guys I had previously worked with told me that the device couldn't pick up sounds but was apparently designed as a 'tracking device'. "They just put it in there randomly just to mess with us. Just to show us that they can slip small stuff like that into this country. "

I think I understood something then about primitive and modern and our suppositions about time.

Just a bunch of guys in turbans and long robes sitting around the cave, putting electronic tracking devices in the false bottoms of coffee mugs, showing the Western world what it's all about.

I heard the voice of Jesus say, “Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour".

And then, across the barriers of time and space, I distinctly heard the voices of ten maidens, dressed from head to toe in burqas.

Five of them were giggling.

What it's all about

Personhood.

It's the legal lynchpin of the Roe v. Wade decision.

The Roe decision defined "viable" as being "potentially able to live outside the mother's womb, albeit with artificial aid," adding that viability "is usually placed at about seven months (28 weeks) but may occur earlier, even at 24 weeks.

Some anti-abortion supporters maintain that personhood begins at conception, and should therefore be protected by the Constitution. The dissenting justices (White and Reinquist) in Roe instead wrote that decisions about abortion "should be left with the people and to the political processes the people have devised to govern their affairs."

The majority opinion allowed states to protect "fetal life after viability" even though a fetus is not "a person within the meaning of the Fourteenth Amendment".

The "Mississippi Initiative 26" - the “personhood” amendment on the November 8th ballot - aims to sidestep existing legal battles, simply stating that “the term ‘person’ or ‘persons’ shall include every human being from the moment of fertilization, cloning or the functional equivalent thereof.”

It would effectively end access to reproductive health care in Mississippi — including banning all abortions, with no exceptions for rape or incest or the life of the woman; some forms of contraception; and in vitro fertilization.

It also offers the frightening possibility that doctors would not be able to provide life-saving medical treatment to a pregnant woman, for example, in the case of an ectopic pregnancy.

(Click image to enlarge)

The amendment has been endorsed by candidates for governor from both major parties, and it appears likely to pass, said W. Martin Wiseman, director of the John C. Stennis Institute of Government at Mississippi State University.

Legal challenges would surely follow, but even if the amendment is ultimately declared unconstitutional, it could disrupt vital care, critics say, and force years of costly court battles.

Traditional leaders of the fight, including National Right to Life and the Roman Catholic bishops, have refused to promote it, charging that the tactic is reckless and could backfire, leading to a Supreme Court defeat that would undermine progress in carving away at Roe v. Wade.

Conservative Christian groups including the American Family Association and the Family Research Council are firmly behind the proposal.

One of the most alarming things about this amendment is that it would also enact in law a specific religious view about “personhood” that is in conflict with views held by most religious denominations and many people of faith — a clear intrusion by government into decisions of conscience.

The Mississippi initiative - as well as similar initiatives in Florida, Michigan, Montana, Ohio, Wisconsin and other states - seeks to declare a fertilized human egg to be a legal person, effectively branding abortion and some forms of birth control as murder.

Bad Science Makes Bad Medicine - and Bad Law

The executive director of Yes on 26, Brad Prewitt, has described the conceptual origin of personhood as being “the Bible, Genesis.”

He also says that “Personhood is bigger than just shutting abortion clinics; it’s an opportunity for people to say that we’re made in the image of God.”

The Christian Medical and Dental Associations, which reject the accepted medical definition of pregnancy as the implantation of a fertilized egg, say the amendment is based on “undeniable scientific and medical evidence as well as on clear recognition that God is the creator of life.”

Mississippi’s largest Christian denomination, the Mississippi Baptist Convention, is backing the personhood proposal through its lobbying arm, the Christian Action Commission.

"For us, it has never been a political issue. It is a moral and spiritual issue," the commission’s executive director, Jimmy Porter, says in a video, adding, "The Lord expects us to value life, even as he does,”

There's a word for this debate over personhood. It's called "theocracy".

You know - the same dynamic which is central to Sharia Law which also has these 'good ole boys' in a tailspin because they don't want someone else's religious understandings and beliefs imposed on them.

Can you say, "hypocrisy"?

Okay then, how about "patriarchy"?

Make no mistake, kids, this is what it's all about.

Whether Sharia Law or the Mississippi Initiative 26, it's the pathetic, desperate attempt to assert the "natural law" of the supremacy of men. We know that something is "natural" and "the law", of course, because it's in the Jewish and Christian texts as well as in the Koran.

It's a total disrespect for the life - and intelligence - of women and their ability to determine what is "right" for their bodies, their lives, their families.

These same 'good ole boys' would also deny a woman's ability to care for her child after it is a 'person' by cutting programs like food stamps, WIC, access to affordable health care and education.

It's insanity, is what it is.

Then again, I've always said that prejudice is a social disease that destroys brain cells.

Once the Supreme Court determined that corporations are people, did we really expect anything else?

If you are really "pro-life" then why not join forces with others who are trying to deal with the undermining reasons for abortions:

POVERTY. LACK OF EDUCATION. LIMITED ACCESS TO AFFORDABLE HEALTH CARE.

The fact of the matter is that the Mississippi Initiative 26 - if it passes - will not stop abortion. Women of means will simply go to another state for that service.

It will not stop women of poverty from seeking abortions, either. It will make it more difficult and add one more danger to her already perilous life. 

Can you say, "coat hanger"?

Of all the scary things about this proposed amendment is the inherent theocracy of the movement.

The fact of the matter is that there is no consensus on the question of “when life begins” — often even within a particular faith tradition.

Most religions hold that the decision about contraception and abortion must be a woman’s.

Check out this webpage from the Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice (RCRC) and see for yourself.

As long as there is no medical or religious consensus to the age old "chicken and egg" question - and, as long as this is still America where the foundational belief of freedom of religion prevails, allowing for the coexistence of other, equally valid religious views - the present law of the land protects everyone, no matter their belief or religious system.

And that, my friends, is what it's all about.

The Obvious Answer

It began simply enough.

A group of about ten clergy gathered for our monthly meeting. One of us was presenting a paper on The Resurrection.

It was a very good presentation, indeed, exploring what the synoptics and John and Paul had to say on the matter - with some good contextual explanations as to the theology of each disciple - as well as a little venture into myths and redactive, form, and literary criticism.

One of the comments made was that the Resurrection is less a cognitive and more an experiential experience.

I was reminded what my friend and colleague Robert Corbin Morris, who has frankly talked about his struggle with depression, once said: "We go to bed at night. We get up in the morning. It's an every day resurrection."

I also found myself scribbling notes to myself about difference and similarities between words like "revelation", "insight", "vocation" and "resurrection".

As I said, it was a very good presentation with much food for thought.

At one point I asked, "So, am I to assume that no one in this group believes in the 'bodily resurrection'?"

There were giggles around the room. The obvious answer was 'no' - not unusual for a group of Episcopal clergy.

Perhaps, however, the not-so-obvious answer was that, even if someone DID believe in the bodily resurrection, no one was going to admit it. Not in that group.

I offered as how I asked the question because, since I've moved to Delaware - or, more specifically, Sussex County, DE - there are three questions I'm often asked, whenever it is discovered that I am a member of the clergy.

The first is my least favorite question: "You're a pastor/minister, eh? So, what do we call you? Reverend? Pastor? Mother? Father?"

Sometimes the question is asked with a less than obvious snicker. More often than not, it's a genuine question because folks want to be polite and respectful and ordained women are - still - something of a novelty in these parts.

The second question is also like unto it on my popularity scale: "Are you born again?" Sometimes, it's: "As an Episcopalian, are you born again?"

I give the obvious answer: "Yes, I'm baptized."

That's usually not good enough - or, perhaps, too obvious - and, before too long, I find that I'm in the middle of a story of how that person "came to the true faith" and "committed my life to Jesus Christ". The obvious implication is that, as an Episcopalian, I have not.

I have learned not to engage in an argument but simply listen. That's the obvious pastoral thing to do because clearly, this person wants to be able to "witness" to someone about his faith.

The third question least favorite question is: "Do you believe in the bodily resurrection?"

The obvious way to answer this question is to throw it back with a question of my own: "Well," I ask, "what do you believe?"

It's obvious because, what I've discovered is that the question isn't so much a question as it is a test. I said to the group that I've learned that it's really not so much a faith question as it is a political question - especially here in the rural areas of Sussex County.

Actually, these three questions are not so much questions of faith as they are political questions. I believe that I'm being asked not so much because anyone wants to hear my answer because it's an issue of faith with which they have been struggling, so much as they want to hear my answer because they think they already know my answer (and, they are probably right on that), and want to argue with me.

Moreover, I think I probably get questions like these because I'm "from away" (as they say here), and because I'm ordained and...and...and... because I'm an ordained woman.

As such, I'm not only an oddity, I'm a threat to "traditional" (read: patriarchy) thinking. They want to know whether or not I will be teaching and preaching "the party line".

Well! One of our members took great umbrage at my statement. A younger man, he has, once before, challenged me on a statement I made which was prefaced by, "As a woman . . .". He said, "Well, I talk with lots of ordained women, and that's just not their experience."

Talks to lots of ordained women, he does. How 'white' of him, eh?

When I offered a further explanation - which obviously began to make some sense - he dismissed it with "well, it must be a generational thing".

Right. I felt the sting of that, but I let it pass.

This young man then went on to chide me about the fact that I was getting it all wrong. These were 'faith' questions, not political ones, he said. And, obviously, I was missing the mark.

Faith, he said, is not political.

Well, there were a few challenges to that statement from around the room which only served to make him obviously uncomfortable.

Finally, he said, "Well, no woman I know gets asked questions like that."

"Ah," I said, trying to diffuse the suddenly escalating tension in the room with some humor, "The obvious answer is that I guess I get these questions because I'm queer."

"No," said one of my colleagues, "It's obvious that you have weird neighbors."

We all laughed and moved on. It wasn't worth it.

Obviously.

Except, I find that I'm still sitting and stewing about it this morning.

Oh, not about that young man. I believe him to be a fine priest and a good pastor. He's young and he's smart and he's got 'career aspirations' which, I have no doubt, will find themselves in fulfillment. He's very committed to the institutional church - which I find a bit disturbing for someone as young as he - but, then again, so was I. Once.

He'll do just fine, I'm sure. There will come a moment when he discovers that we - as a church and as a nation - have not brought about parity and equality for women. In that moment, he'll have an opportunity to make a choice about what he's going to do about the truth he's learned.

And, it will change him. Or, not.

And the church will be better.  Or worse. 

Either way, I've learned that there is obviously nothing I can do, in the short term, to change any of that.  As the Buddhists say, "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear."

I guess I'm stewing about the obvious. Or, more specifically, what's obvious to me but not so much to others.

That's probably because I was brought up on the feminist aphorism, "The personal is political."

And, there's nothing more personal than one's faith. 

Except, perhaps, reproductive rights and abortion.

Or, the color of one's skin.

Or, one's gender and sexual orientation.

Or, one's age or physical ability or class status.

Which is why these issues are political.  It's also why religious organizations and denominations are so involved in all of these 'human rights' issues.

Jesus was frequently 'tested' on issues of the resurrection and sin and grace and the commandments. These were not questions asked because people were struggling with issues of faith. They were political questions, designed to 'trick' Him - or, at least, discover where He stood, politically, on certain issues.

I suspect women are 'tested' - or, at least, I am being tested - because women in authority in the church are a challenge - if not an out right threat - to the status quo.

The ordination of women, for some, is not about the change and transformation of the church.  It's really all about changing the faces at the top who will maintain the status quo while giving us all the illusion of change and transformation.

I understand. It's what comes with the territory. At least, it's been part of the religious landscape of my life for the past 25 years.

The obvious question is: What are we really afraid of?

The obvious answer is, I fear, obvious.

And, it has everything to do with death and resurrection. 

The love that remains

This morning, I added a dash of salt to the ground coffee beans before I poured boiling water over them.

My mother used to do that. She said it made the coffee less bitter. I said she should use a little less coffee and it wouldn't be so bitter.

"Oh, but your father likes his coffee strong," she'd say.

"But, it's still bitter," I'd say.

"Oh, but not as bitter as if I didn't add the salt."

After awhile, I started buying my coffee at the local Dunkin Donuts on my way to work.

It's funny what you remember about people after they die.

My father used to spend most of his Saturday mornings rebuilding the fuel pump in the car. Swear to God. Or, at least, that's what he said he was doing.

That was after he'd taken my mother to the grocery store. After they'd return and all the groceries had been put away, he'd take the trash to the dump.

He loved doing that. Going to the dump was one of the highlights of his Saturday. He'd talk to the guys who worked there. Sometimes, they would find something they thought he might be interested in. They'd put it aside for him, knowing he would be there every Saturday morning, and he'd bring it home.

This was a cause for great rejoicing in my house. "Look what I got at the dump," my father would announce as he held up a nicknack, or a porcelain tea cup and saucer, or a lamp, or a television set or radio which he'd later disassemble and save for parts.

"Bring it here and I'll wash it in Lysol," my mother would say. She washed everything in Lysol, which she kept on the shelf next to the large box of Oxydol, a huge can of Pledge, a large bottle of Murphy's Oil Soap, and her trusty refillable spray bottle of Windex.

Every good worker has their own tools of the trade.

Mother would wash down my father's treasure, muttering the whole time, "These people obviously didn't go through the Depression. They don't know the value of things. I don't know what's wrong with people these days. No values....no work ethic....."

She'd do this in between doing loads of laundry and other "Saturday chores" - like polishing shoes or ironing pillow cases and handkerchiefs  - while my father would go out to spend the rest of the day rebuilding the fuel pump.

I would see him through my bedroom window, bent over the open hood of the car which he parked just outside the garage where the light was better. Besides, the garage was filled with his tools of the trade - and boxes of the stuff he'd gotten from the dump.

I distinctly remember when car manufacturers stopped making fuel pumps. It was a sad day in my house. Still, my father would be out there, every Saturday morning after his trip to the town dump, wrench in hand.

"Dad," I'd say, "What are you doing? That car doesn't have a fuel pump."

"Well," he'd say, never lifting his head from the inside of the car, "things get loose". And, he'd keep on tinkering. I don't think he really knew what else to do.

This morning, when I looked out the window to check on my car, for half a second I swore I saw the hood of my car open, my father's form bent over into it. Tinkering.

Maybe it was him.

Maybe it's just that it's All Saint's Day.

One of the collects in the Burial Office in the BCP (p 492) begins with this prayer, "O God, who by the glorious resurrection of your Son Jesus Chrsit destroyed death, and brought life and immortality to light....".

I believe those words, and these, from the preface at Holy Eucharist, "... For to your faithful people, O Lord, life is changed not ended . . ."

Life is changed. Not ended.

I believe that with my whole heart.

As I've gone about my morning, from time to time I can hear my grandmother's voice singing one of her favorite fados - a Portuguese folk song of lament which speaks of one's destiny or fate.

Saudade (1899), by Almeida Júnior.

Some call it "The Portuguese Blues". That's really not accurate. It's more the sound of what the Portuguese call 'saudade'.

It describes a deep emotional state of nostalgic longing for something or someone that one loves and which is apart. It often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never return. It's related to the feelings of longing, yearning.

That's really what I'm feeling on this All Saint's Day: saudade.

Wiki describes it best:

Saudade was once described as "the love that remains" or "the love that stays" after someone is gone. Saudade is the recollection of feelings, experiences, places or events that once brought excitement, pleasure, well-being, which now triggers the senses and makes one live again.

It can be described as an emptiness, like someone (e.g., one's children, parents, sibling, grandparents, friends, pets) or something (e.g., places, things one used to do in childhood, or other activities performed in the past) should be there in a particular moment is missing, and the individual feels this absence.

In Portuguese, 'tenho saudades tuas', translates as 'I have saudades of you' meaning 'I miss you', but carries a much stronger tone. In fact, one can have 'saudades' of someone whom one is with, but have some feeling of loss towards the past or the future.

My faith in the resurrection is strong but so is my saudade.

I think that's utterly, perfectly human. And, deeply Christian.

Life is a precious gift, which is why, when it's gone, "the love that remains" triggers the senses and makes one live again.

As I drink my slightly-salted morning coffee, I hear my grandmother's voice and catch glimpses of my father, tinkering over his car.

The coffee is not bitter, but then again, my coffee never is. My mother's was, but not to her. Or, at least, not that she would ever admit. It was the way she learned to tolerate and live with the bitterness that was often her daily drink.

My grandmother's voice is still high and thin and plaintive, recalling her homeland as well the land she made her home but never quite fit in.

And, my father is still the very picture of vigilance and attentiveness to the small, seemingly insignificant details in life, rescuing that which others had tossed aside, seeing the value and the potential in what others considered trash.

These are lessons learned of lives lived as best they could.

Together, they form a trinity of remembrances of my soul on this day of all saints.

Yes, we are "... earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust....", and so our mortal souls yearn and recollect and long in saudade.

The gift of the resurrection and the joy of our faith is the love that remains.

Happy Halloween!

I spent the afternoon at my local community center, helping out with a Halloween Party for kids of all ages.

I decided to help out there because there are no Trick or Treaters in my neighborhood.

None. Zip. Zero. Nada.

I did buy a big bag of beautiful fresh apples, just in case.

I can always make a pie.

This is so very different from living in the tony suburbs of North Jersey where, it was not uncommon to spend $100 just in candy - and still have to close the doors and turn off the lights by 8 PM because we were OUT.

I'm learning that, in rural areas, this is often the case. Instead, residents tend to gather in schools or community centers and churches.

There are several churches in the area that are hosting teen Halloween Dance Parties tonight. Unfortunately, it has the "feel" of the church in "Footloose". They "allow" dancing but it's all a ruse to proselytize - vs. evangelism.

Whatever. Kids are so desperate to have a good time in community that they'll put up with all the crap from the adults. Sort of reminds me of hungry people who will stand in line for a hot meal and turn a deaf ear or smile compliantly while folks prattle on and on about "Jeeeesuss" and His love.

Which, of course, comes on condition of walking right and talking right and doing right - "right" being defined by "them".

It's funny, you know. In dealing with "monsters", some folk reveal exactly what is "monstrous" about human nature - and it has nothing to do with blood or gore.

Instead, it has everything to do with the images of The Divine that we construct out of our own political agendas to control people and gain power and authority for ourselves.

Talk about "trick or treat"!

Talk about "scary"!

And, don't even get me started on on the horror show that is Wall Street and the monsters of corporate greed and corruption.

I hope everyone has a "spooktacular" Halloween celebration - wherever you are and whatever you "dress up" to be.

If you'd prefer, there's always an Online Altar of Remembrance you can visit on Facebook.

And, here's one at All Saint's, Pasadena, in honor of Dia de los muertos.

I'm constantly in awe of the abilities of "social networking" to address spiritual needs of people who are increasingly isolated as the world gets smaller and smaller.

Here's another interesting application from Trinity, Reno, NV called "A Month of Gratitude" - another virtual community effort to "explore gratitude in your life".

I love this - even as the possibilities boggle my mind. I guess my religious imagination, as expansive as it is, is still not large enough to get my mind around the vastness of this concept.

Turns out, the "communion of saints" is much larger than the ancients who coined that phrase ever imagined it to be.

Sort of scary, in a way. Not in a Halloween kinda way, of course, but spooky in its own right.

Forget "Ghoolies and ghosties and long-legged beasties and things that go bump in the night".

Reality is still far, far scarier - whether or not people show up for it.

The hard sayings of Jesus

St. George’s Chapel, Harbeson, DE
(the Rev’d Dr) Elizabeth Kaeton
Proper 26A – October 30, 2011

It probably won’t come as a surprise that the Gospel passage we just heard is considered part of the “hard sayings” of Jesus. Call no one father. Or Rabbi. Or Instructor. Jesus also said to those who were to be his disciples, “follow me, and let the dead bury the dead”.

Jesus seems to have no respect for “family values” as defined by either his ancient culture or our post-modern one.

In Luke 8:19-21, Jesus is presented as turning away his mother and his brothers with the retort, "My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it." In Jesus' eyes, the only father to whom a son or daughter is accountable is a heavenly one (Luke 9:57-62).

These are disturbing, confusing passages for us. Make no mistake – they were just as disturbing and confusing to the ancient ears which first heard them.

So, what are we to make of these ‘hard sayings’? How are we to apply them to our own lives? Should we stop calling our rector “Father Max”? Should we change all the names on the benches in the churchyard? Is that what Jesus means?

Should we all live like hippies in a commune? Or, like some religious cult where everyone is “Brother” and “Sister” and all the lines of social convention are blurred?

I think there’s a clue at the end of this Gospel passage. Jesus says, “The greatest among you will be your servant. All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted."

You see, Jesus wants his disciples and all who follow him not to get caught up in and seduced by pride and vanity and power and authority.

More to the point, Jesus wants us to understand the primacy and supremacy and authority of the One God who created us all and all that there is in creation. That is the ultimate value of the family of God – the value we place on our relationship with God and each other in Christ.

It’s a difficult concept for post-modern, Western minds to wrap their heads around.

I have had the great privilege of having been several times to Hawaii and living and working among the people native to that land. From them, and from my experience with Native Americans and people in Western and South Africa, I learned that what Jesus is saying about family and ownership and titles has a deeper resonance with these cultures than with our own.

Let me give you an example and tell you a little bit about what I know from my travels to Hawaii.

For Hawaiians, there is a primal connection to the universe, to nature, to the land and the sea, a connection that comes from a deep spiritual as well as genealogical belief system. Nature is where it all begins for the Hawaiians. In fact, they call themselves keiki o ka 'aina– “children of the land.”

The 'aina (land) is not just soil, sand or dirt. The 'aina is a heart issue for Hawaiians. The very word 'aina brings forth deep emotion evolved from ancestral times when people lived in nature as an integral part of it. Humankind and nature were considered siblings born to the same parents at the beginning of time.

The word 'aina literally means “that which feeds,” and maka 'ainana, a term for the common class of people, means "eyes of the land." Thus, nature feeds humanity and humanity watches over nature in return.

The land gave the ancients everything they needed–not just food, but clothing, housing, weapons, tools, musical instruments, canoes–everything they crafted, wore and ate came from plants, animals or fish. Dependent on nature, they revered and respected it. Success depended on living in harmony with nature.

For Hawaiians, the stars in the sky are the Mother, the sky is the Father, the Earth is the Grandmother, the Kalo (Taro) plant is the elder brother, and the Islands are the Aunties and Uncles. Hawaiians trace their genealogy back to all things, the earth, sky, stars and the alo. Thus, the connection between 'ohana (family) and the 'aina (land) is very strong.

So, like the Native Americans in this land, and with many of the people on the African continent, when Westerners came to “buy” the land, this was as confusing to their minds as this Gospel passage is to ours.

No one “owns” the land – except for God. Neither does anyone “own” another person. The idea of “ownership” of land or person – even in marriage or through blood ties – is not something that is part of that culture.

We are all part of one family, one land. We belong to God.

Some call this being “primitive” or “uncivilized”. Others call it “innocence” or even "ignorance".  Either way, it created a situation which made the native people vulnerable.

As Desmond Tutu is famously quoted as saying, “When the missionaries came to Africa they had the Bible and we had the land. They said, 'Let us pray.' We closed our eyes. When we opened them we had the Bible and they had the land.”

I wonder how our common lives of faith would be different if we took these hard sayings of Jesus to heart.

I wonder, if we really listened to the Psalmist passage for this week’s Stewardship lessons, what might change. Psalm 21:1 – our Stewardship meditation for this week – tells us: “The earth is the LORD’s and the fullness thereof, the world and all who dwell therein.”

This is the basis of our understanding of Stewardship.

This is he basis for what Jesus is saying this morning. This is the basis for all of his “hard sayings”.

God is the owner of everything. We are but the stewards.

When we come to understand the order of the universe and who owns what, it is a profoundly humbling experience.

Stewardship becomes not just what we do to keep the lights and heat on, but what we do, in grateful thanksgiving, to return a portion to God of what God has so abundantly provided us.

Stewardship is, ultimately, an act of prayerful humility.

In an odd kind of way, the trick or treating of Halloween brings that lesson home for it, doesn’t it? We’re all kids on that night – all mendicants – asking for something sweet in the midst of some of the horrors and scary and hard stuff of life.

In the midst of it, Jesus gives us the sweetness of the Gospel. “The greatest among you will be your servant. All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted."

We are all fed by the land,

We are all the eyes of the land.

That’s pretty scary stuff – these “hard sayings” – when you consider it.

It makes us humble before the One God whom we exalt in worship and in service to others – with our time and talent and treasure.

And humility - true humility -  also happens to be the highest “family value” of the family of God.

Amen.