Son of a Preacher-Mom

Oh, the things I can just imagine continuing to come out of my children's mouth since they're exposed to me as both a mom (woman, of course) and the church and sayings of the church.

Just spoken by Little Guy (who will be 3 exactly one month from today) while he was looking at the razor I bought at Target today: *cue singsong voice* "When you have a new razor, give it to Christ the Lord..."

Oh my goodness. Too funny.

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

From RevGalBlogPals:
"There is something so nostalgic about this time of year, at least in the Northern Hemisphere. The nights grow cooler, crops are harvested, for some of us the leaves are beginning to change colors. The scent of smoke is in the air, pumpkins are in the stores (or on wagons, or in roadside stands for those of us in the country). I'm thinking of putting away my summer clothes and pulling out the sweaters. And I have a tub of Fall-themed items that my husband just lugged up from the basement. I'm looking for my scarecrow."

For this week, let's share some memories along with some hopes and expectations.

1. Share a Fall memory.
Each fall, my mom would take one Saturday to make applesauce with my sister and me. We would stop at Blessing's Farm Stand to buy Granny Smith apples from him (a stand that is now defunct; he has passed away and his farm has been sold; the barn torn down and the silo in ruin), then we would go home, stew the apples on the stove, and then mash them through a conical masher-thing, into a very fine applesauce below. I used to love to eat the sweet-tart applesauce while it was still warm, just freshly made. Delicious!

2. Your favorite Fall clothes--(past or present)?
I LOVE Fall clothes of all types! And favorite fall colors would definitely be the oranges and golds that mark the season, though I don't wear those colors in clothing! When the seasons turn, you can find me in greys, browns, plums, and blues, just like most of the rest of the year, but I love getting the sweaters out! I MUCH prefer fall dressing to the clothing that is required in the dog days of summer -- boots, and jeans, and sweaters, hurray!

3. Share a campfire story, song, experience...etc.
My favorite campfire experience would have to be of making s'mores. My parents live on a farm, and each fall they find a way to host a hayride of some sort. When I was growing up, they'd have one for their adult Sunday School class at the United Methodist church we attended; then it was for the youth group at the UCC Church we transferred to; one year I had a hayride gathering for my friends from school; another time it was my parent's "card club" (or social group, as it were!) I LOVE toasted marshmallows and s'mores, so campfires always meant that for me!

4. What is your favorite thing about this time of year?
I love so many things about fall. My favorite seasons are fall and spring--I love the "in-between" temps and the transitional feeling, though I'd be happy if the seasons lasted all year, and that we could just skip summer and winter! Probably my favorite favorite thing is the food -- I love eating heartier meals and stews, I love that apples are in season and all that goes with that, and I love pumpkins and spice-flavored breads, cakes, and pies. Ah, not a time for dieting!

5. What changes are you anticipating in your life, your church, family...whatever...as the season changes and winter approaches?
I am not sure of many "new" changes, more just continuation in my new call, where I began in July, and increased involvement as we get into the programmatic time of year and away from the rest of summer. I'm looking forward to continuing to bond with the people in the church, and hearing their stories and grower closer to them.

Slightly off-topic: I'm also looking forward to my son's 3rd birthday in a month or so, and hopefully soon he will be potty-trained!

Sadly, I am not much of a cook and so I don't have a recipe to share, other than to encourage you to eat apples and pumpkin pie!

A Start for Sunday

As I'm working toward this Sunday's sermon, I'm thinking on this passage from Mark 9:38-50:

John said to him, "Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us." But Jesus said, "Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterwards to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us. For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward.

"If any of you put a stumbling-block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea. If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life maimed than to have two hands and to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire. And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life lame than to have two feet and to be thrown into hell., And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into hell, where their worm never dies, and the fire is never quenched.

"For everyone will be salted with fire. Salt is good; but if salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another."

Here are some lines that I jotted down which may or may not end up making it into my sermon...or they very well may end up taking over and being the main idea:

"Good deeds done without being done in Christ’s name are still good deeds. Good works done without being labeled “Christian” are still good works."

For Irene, on Her Baptism

I wish that every person could at least one relationship that is of the nature of the one that I had with my grandmother. I’m not sure if my parents felt it when I was born, and was in the room with her, or if it developed as I grew older, but there was a soul connection between the two of us that is unique and for which I will be forever grateful.

I used to love the stories she’d tell me about the things I did when I was little, how I’d pat the floor next to me when I was sitting down with my pile of books to read, so that she would sit down and join me, or how I’d call her on my play telephone, just as I’d call many other people, and have long and involved conversations with them.

When I think back to the moments that I spent with her, I don’t always even remember what we did, or specific words of wisdom that she gave me, I just remember enjoying her company, feeling her love, and being cared for by her. Sure, I know that she drove me to piano lessons, and she always had a stash of red gummy Swedish fish in the dining room, and that she would make me a snack of blueberry Eggo waffles on the afternoons I stayed with her after school. I remember her hand-rolling pot-pie noodles on her kitchen counters, every counter spread with flour first, and I remember her making the BEST mashed potatoes I have ever eaten.

But there was something more, there was a connection beyond the activities, beyond the words, and I pray that either of my children might find that with at least one of their grandparents, or even with my husband or me, or with more than one of us.

I’ll never forget one day when my dad, my grandma, and I were sitting at the little table in the patio room, just the three of us, and I felt at complete peace. I just felt complete, as though the three of us were all connected, that there was some sort of unexplainable thread of being that linked from each of us to the next, that we were whole because we had each other.

And I suppose that I thought that Grandma would live forever. I was completely shocked when she died, and yet her death helped me make some very important choices in my life. It was in my time of grief that I declared that I would attend seminary, and soon.

In college, I had an advisor who suggested that for certain professions, one should be of a more advanced age and have more life experience, or wisdom, I suppose, before undertaking the training for that profession. He thought this applied to such roles as college professor, for himself, and pastor, for me. When I suggested that I might go from college straight to seminary, he discouraged it.

So, I found myself one year out of seminary, working in a job that I both loved and loathed, wanting something more, and suddenly, over the course of one weekend of ill health, my grandmother was gone. And it seemed as though my mortality was staring me in the face, which is a phenomenon that many of us encounter when we lose someone we love. And, what was I doing with my life? Even though I was only 21 years old, I felt as though I needed to make a more significant contribution to society, and to do it soon.

As I heard the stories that my cousins and uncle and family and friends told over the days leading up to and including the funeral, I learned of how many lives my grandma had touched as an elementary school teacher; I would say that it seemed as though maybe 75% of all those who had gone through the Northeastern School District in Manchester and Mt. Wolf had had her for the fifth grade, or perhaps another year at some point, and remembered her fondly. I also remembered the stories of how Grandma attended Millersville University to prepare to be a teacher, and then began her teaching career upon graduation. She had taught for most of her life, and even though she began young and learned a lot as times changed and she matured, no one ever mentioned that it would have been better had she waited until she was in her forties to begin.

I can’t say that I am grateful to Grandma for dying when she did; I wish she’d been there at my wedding—she liked Don from the very start, and I knew that after she first met him, if I went to visit her without him along, she would ask, “Where’s Don?” and look mournful for a few minutes until she accepted the fact that I was all she was getting that day.

When Jack was born, and my cousin Robin came to visit, she looked at Jack’s little hands and remarked, “Grandma always said that Emily (her daughter)’s fingers were like little matchsticks.” And I felt my breath catch in my throat—I wanted Grandma to be there to hold Jack, to comment about HIS little fingers, to know him, too.

But I’m grateful that I had 21 good years of knowing my Grandma, and of having that connection with her that I cherish so much, and that inspired me to suggest that we name our daughter Irene, after her.

The letter of James today says, “Who is wise and understanding among you? Show by your good life that your works are done with gentleness born of wisdom.” It seems as though Grandma lived by this verse, though I’m not sure how familiar she was with it. It is my prayer that this might be a guiding sentiment for Irene’s life, and for all of ours, as well. James goes on: “the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace for those who make peace.” And the passage for today ends by saying, “Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you.”

What wise words for all of us as we prepare to make the promises of the baptism covenant. For Don and I will make promises on Irene’s behalf today, promises that she will be exposed to this community and to the Word of God so that she might grow in relationship with God and that she might learn how to live out her faith in the world. But baptism is not just about the baby and the parents. Baptism is about the gathered community, who pledges to support the family and the child as well.

In other countries, we hear the adage: “It takes a village to raise a child.” And we might think of it as a quaint notion for countries less developed than ours. But even if we’re not aware of it, of course it still takes a village. And already I see that St. Peter’s Lischey’s will be a big part of that village for both of our children.

When Jack was baptized, we were at Trinity Church in Hanover, because I was a member there and my dad was still serving as Associate Pastor. Even when we talked about the promises of the congregation in the sermon that day, we knew that they were symbolic promises, made on behalf of the communities of faith that would some day nurture Jack, but that Jack would not be growing up within the actual congregation of Trinity.

But here, at Lischey’s, you will be Irene’s community of faith, and also Jack’s, now. And so the portion of the baptism liturgy that involves the covenant between the congregation and the child takes on a special meaning today, as you promise to support Irene, to nurture her fledgling faith, to love and care for her as you do all the children in the midst of this congregation, as you did a few months ago with Allison, as you have with countless children in the past. These are promises not to make lightly, but to be spoken with intentionality, and a vow of endurance that we, as both parents and congregation, will see these things through.

It is fitting that in the Gospel lesson for today, we encounter this passage: “Jesus sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

As you welcome the children that come into this congregation to be baptized, you are welcoming Jesus himself. And as you grow in faith with the children, you know that Jesus walks alongside you. The beauty of baptisms within the gathered congregation is that they give all of us the opportunity to affirm our faith and reaffirm our baptismal vows as we witness the baptism of one who is new in our midst.

Now as Irene prepares to receive her baptism in a few minutes, I offer the following pledges and prayers for her, which I believe also apply universally to the way that we all feel about our children and those we care for, which I also offered to Jack at his baptism. These prayers answer the question, “What kind of life? What kind of life do we intend for Irene? What kind of things do we hope for her, and for each one of us?”

Well, dear Irene, these are some things that I hope for you:

• That you would find the kind of joy that you bring to our lives, and that you would be able to some day have a sense of just how much joy that is
• That you would live boldly, without fear, and be able to take find a way to serve God doing something you feel passionate about like justice, or fighting against poverty, making the world a better place for your generation and those that will come after you.
• That you will love others and be compassionate, following Jesus’ example
• That you would find within you the special talents and gifts which God has given you, and that you would use them to the Glory of God and for your enjoyment. That you would not get too wrapped up in being expert in anything, but that you would sing, or dance, or play sports, or do algebra with a dedication to that work because it’s something God has given you the ability to do.
• Now having said that, I hope that you would know just how precious your life is, before piling on any accomplishments or characteristics. Just because you exist, you are loved unconditionally, and there is absolutely nothing you can ever do to change that.
• That you would never, ever doubt this love, even when your dad and I are being too busy, even if we forget to tell you enough
• And most of all, most of all, I hope that you would never wish to be anyone else but you. God “knit you together in your mother’s womb,” specially, just the way you are, the way you are meant to be. You may not end up being the fastest runner, or the best singer, or the smartest or most talented, but who cares? That’s not the point. You are you, just as God has intended you to be. You are loved, cared for, blessed, and wonderful, because you, like each one of us, are of God. Amen.

Ring the Bells that Still Can Ring...

I know this is probably old news to so many of you, but yesterday was truly the first time I'd listened to Leonard Cohen's "Anthem" the whole way through, and read all the lyrics. I'd heard quotes from it before, but never stuck it out. Here's a beautiful version of it from YouTube, and the lyrics follow. I hope that it nourishes your spirit today.

"Anthem"

The birds they sang
at the break of day
Start again
I heard them say
Don't dwell on what
has passed away
or what is yet to be.
Ah the wars they will
be fought again
The holy dove
She will be caught again
bought and sold
and bought again
the dove is never free.

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.

We asked for signs
the signs were sent:
the birth betrayed
the marriage spent
Yeah the widowhood
of every government --
signs for all to see.

I can't run no more
with that lawless crowd
while the killers in high places
say their prayers out loud.
But they've summoned, they've summoned up
a thundercloud
and they're going to hear from me.

Ring the bells that still can ring ...

You can add up the parts
but you won't have the sum
You can strike up the march,
there is no drum
Every heart, every heart
to love will come
but like a refugee.

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.
That's how the light gets in.
That's how the light gets in.


[ www.azlyrics.com ]

Wow, I Won!

So, see that cool button over there on the right, with the apple, for the Cool Mom Picks Back to School Shopping Guide?

Well, that cool button won me $450 worth of shopping credits at Moxie Kids and Em Tanner Designs. (It's $200 and $250 at each site, respectively, or I might have them swapped.) Anyway, I am so grateful! And excited and honored! Yay!

Just had to share...that's my happy news for the week!

Can We Talk?

“Can we talk?”

When I read over the lectionary Scriptures for today, I felt a burden had been placed on my heart in dealing with them for the sermon.

Lately, when he hears me sigh, my son Jack will say, “Mommy, why you said ‘huh’?”

I’m pretty sure I let out a pretty good ‘Huh’ on this week.

Now, you could probably say, Why even mess with the lectionary Scriptures this week, then? Why not just find another beloved passage to work with, preach another sermon, wait until these passages come up in another three years and deal with them then? But part of the value of following the Lectionary is having to deal with passages that we might not want to deal with, at times when we might not want to deal with them. Yes, there is value in that.

So, I come before you today, and I ask, humbly, Can we talk?

You might wonder why these passages make me ask this. Well, I have to tell you what’s been weighing on my heart the past few weeks, what has been getting me riled up in my spiritual life and in my secular life, in my time of keeping up with current events, and in my time of personal prayer. And, I’ll confess to you what this is—it’s certainly not something I thought I’d be talking about on my – what? – sixth? Sunday here.

So, I’ll stop hemming and hawing and just utter the phrase: health care reform.

I know you don’t want to hear this from the pulpit. I know there might be some of you whose knees just kicked out reflexively, and you’re ready to stand up and walk out that door. But wait, stay with me; I promise, I’ll be gentle. Because what I want to say is not that I have a solution that you should all buy into or that I endorse the views of one side or the other. What I want to say is, Can we talk? Here, at St. Peter’s Lischey’s, in Spring Grove, in North Codorus Township, in York County, can we talk?

Can we talk about what we hear when we read these lines from Proverbs 22: “The rich and the poor have this in common: the Lord is the maker of them all. Whoever sows injustice will reap calamity, and the rod of anger will fail. Those who are generous are blessed, for they share their bread with the poor. Do not rob the poor because they are poor, or crush the afflicted at the gate; for the Lord pleads their cause and despoils of life those who despoil them.”

What do you hear in this passage? Who do you think of when you think of the poor? Who do you think of when you think of the rich? Which one are you? And what does it mean to sow injustice? One person’s injustice is another person’s justice – that’s why we need to talk. One person’s definition of rich is another person’s poor. Where do we end up on this if we don’t talk?
That’s why I say today that it’s the heath care debate that I’m concerned about. I don’t want to talk about health care plans or options or reform—I’m having a lot of trouble with the way the debate is happening.

We are not talking—people, across the nation, are not talking. We’re yelling, and pointing fingers, and wishing ill on our adversaries, and what really makes me SAD more than anything, is that some of the meanest behavior is being done in the name of God, in the name of Christ.

Again, I ask, can we talk? Because some of what is being done, or being suggested, does not seem to me to follow the teachings of the Scriptures. It’s just a slinging back and forth of beliefs and retorts and ill-will, but there’s no conversation. So, can we talk?

Last week, the letter of James told us that “every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father.” James goes on: “You must understand this, my beloved: let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger, for your anger does not produce God’s righteousness.” Today, James goes on to caution us against favoritism among our Christian brothers and sisters, and then he says, “Listen, my beloved brothers and sisters. Has not God chosen the poor in the world to be rich in faith and to be heirs of the kingdom that he has promised to those who love him… You do well if you really fulfill the royal law according to the Scripture, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ But if you show partiality, you commit sin and are convicted by the law as transgressors… For judgment will be without mercy to anyone who has shown no mercy; mercy triumphs over judgment.” He continues, “What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but do not have works? Can faith save you? If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace, keep warm, and eat your fill,’ and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that?”

What do you hear in this passage? What does it say about judgment? Likewise, what does it say about mercy, about kindness, about sharing? Are there exclusions? Are there exceptions? Is there something contextual we’re missing? You might say, “I don’t know, Pastor, you tell me.” But what I’m saying is, Can we talk? Can we talk together about what we think this means in our life together, in our context together? I’m not here to preach at you, but to preach to you and minister with you.

I don’t have a monopoly on the meaning of the text; I only offer my interpretation based on the training I’ve received and the time I’ve taken in prayer and study to work on this. But what do you have to say? Can we talk?

Today we dedicate our Christian Education program for the new school year, and we install the teachers who will spend time with our children, and with our adults, time in learning and study, learning the basics of the faith, the foundational stories that we all remember from our youngest years, reading closely over the Scriptures with more critical thinking as we get older. What do we want to teach our children? What do we want to teach our grown-ups? Aren’t we going to teach them to engage in dialogue? Aren’t we going to teach them to listen respectful both to their teachers and to each other as they discuss what the Bible passages mean to them? We, here, together, in this environment, can promote that kind of spirit of loving conversation and even debate, seeking to speak the truth in love (maybe it was a good thing that passage came up earlier in the lectionary for us a few weeks ago) and to discern what the truth really is for us, together.

I’ve been hearing in the news this week about a pastor, Steven Anderson, from Kansas, who is praying for God to kill President Obama. He preached a sermon just last week entitled, “Why I Hate Barack Obama,” and in it, he prayed for the President’s death. He is the preacher at a Baptist church, and has the opportunity to influence many people who are in his congregation and hear his sermons each week, and he is using his platform to suggest this kind of hate?

I just can’t abide it, and that’s why, only six weeks in here, I’m risking irritating you, dear people of Lischey’s, by using the gift I’ve been entrusted with here—the pulpit—to invite us to converse together in love. I promise, I will not be political each Sunday; I will not even be political once a month; I will listen to you, whether or not I agree with you, and I will mostly preach the Good News that is found in Scripture each week. But right now, at this particular moment in time, at this juncture in public discourse and in history, I need to use this moment to invite you to talk with me, to talk with each other, to talk with your friends and family, to promote love, not divisiveness.

We all want to hear the good news in Scripture, but we must also hear the challenge. What are we hearing today? We’re being reminded that to God, there is no distinction in favoritism between rich and poor; in fact, if we read the Bible closely, we see that quite a bit of the time, the poor fare more favorably than do the rich, throughout the Old Testament, in the Gospels, and in the Epistle lessons.

So what is the Good News for us today? It is that if we walk in the ways of the Lord, if we do justice, and love mercy, and deal kindly with the orphan, and the widow, and the poor person, and the stranger, we are in good shape. If we listen to each other and we speak the truth in love to each other and we work together at showing peace and kindness, we are in good shape. If we encourage others to stop yelling and start listening, to bridle their tongues and open their ears and hearts, we are in good shape.

The Prayer of St. Francis says this:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.


O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Let us remember these words as we carry on with our lives of service this week; let us seek to quell heated discussions and hateful remarks in favor of sowing seeds of love and peace wherever we go. Let us hear the quiet voice of God, calling us to be gentle and kind with each other. Let us answer the question: “Can we talk?”

I hope we can. I believe we can. I know we can. Amen.

Everyone Should Read This

Please, my friends, take a moment to read this open letter by Brian McLaren on Sojo.net, and pass it on. VERY well-written, and sorely needed reasoning right now!