Faith in Progress

One of the Day School classes agreed to play the parts for an Advent Pageant at chapel tomorrow. We'll have all the players -- Mary and Joseph, the magi, the shepherds with their sheep, and the angels -- but won't get to Jesus' birth. Everyone will be on their way, still waiting for the moment of birth. It's a funny place to be. Last night the contemplative prayer group at St. Aidan's experimented with some Ignation prayer of the imagination. We read through Luke's nativity story and then inserted ourselves into the story. Someone became a shepherd complete with her border collie in awe of this baby who was so baby-ish (it is so hard to imagine the incarnation, with God becoming one of us, even at our most vulnerable). Someone became Mary feeling scared and alone (we often beatify Mary so quickly and forget how terrifying the birth experience must have been for her, so far from home and loved ones, so young). Someone became a shepherd that didn't neces

In Day School Chapel this morning, I asked the kids if they could remember what season the church is in now. A few said "Fall", many said "Christmas", but a few helpful souls proudly cried out "Advent!" Next I reminded them that Advent means "coming" and asked who is coming that we are waiting for this season. Thankfully, everyone called out in unison "Jesus!" (No matter how carefully this question is phrased, it is hard to avoid "Santa" as an answer.) I told the story of the angel appearing to Mary and then in a dream to Joseph telling them about this child Mary would bear. Like us in this season, Mary and Joseph had to wait and see what would come. I love their participation in this great plan of God's. The way Mary says, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word." And Joseph seems to be a pretty quiet man, but he wakes from his dream and takes Mary as his wife as the

Preached December 6, 2009 Luke 3:1-6 At the 8:30 service, we only have two readings, so the given lay reader for the week reads either the Old Testament or the Epistle reading, depending on what is being preached. If we’re preaching on the Gospel, the reader can choose which reading he or she would like to do. Invariably the decision boils down to either the length of the readings or the number of names that are hard to pronounce. When I was reading this morning’s Gospel during our staff meeting this week, I started feeling sorry for the poor sucker who would have to end up reading this one. The length is fine, but oh the names! Tiberias, Ituraea, Trachonitis, Lysanias, Abilene, Annas, Caiaphas, and Zechariah. Of course, I soon realized that since it’s the Gospel reading, that poor sucker would be either John or I. I was joking that you could pretty much just skip that whole first sentence where all the hard names show up. After all, what do we care who all the rulers were in a

Last night we had the first of our Advent series of Monday night prayer gatherings. We always open the Church, and the labyrinth, on Monday nights for contemplative prayer. By candlelight, we'll have a reading, then silence, then some kind of short prayer service. During Advent we thought we'd intentionally make the gatherings more welcoming to newcomers by picking a few types of prayer methods and introducing them before starting in. As it turned out, our group was not flocked with newcomers. But what I'd prepared in anticipation of being an introduction ended up being a much-needed (for me, anyway) refresher. We chose lectio divina and I read from Martin Smith who speaks in such poetic language about how you can find yourself absorbed into the repetition of a phrase from scripture and let it become "like the beating of wings by which a bird rises into the air." My prayer is rarely that graceful and gentle. More often than not, it is dotted with head jerk

Next Sunday will be the first Sunday in Advent. "Advent" itself means coming, and, theoretically, at least, during the four weeks of this season our time is spent waiting and longing and expecting. But boy is it hard to wait. I took my kids to National Harbor earlier this week and they already have a mammoth, ball and star strewn Christmas tree hulking over the Awakening statue. Mount Vernon is bedecked for Christmas too. The people in that house on Collingwood with the incredible lights have been out staking up lights for weeks. The post-Thanksgiving sales in the malls have already started. How do we wait and long and expect when the world around us keeps pushing us ahead? There's a definite disconnect between the Church and the world all the time, but it's much more glaring than usual this time of year. Starting this Sunday and lasting throughout this season of Advent, we'll begin hearing stories about the Israelites waiting for the fulfillment of God&#

This school year I've been having fun with the Day School kids in Chapel. John will play his guitar or banjo and lead the kids in fun songs and I teach them great stories from the Bible, using as many props as I can muster. We're a good combination, I think. It has been interesting deciding which stories to tell the kids, deciding how to craft them so as not to traumatize the the children, thinking about the message/theology I hope to leave them with. I came up with a year plan that walks through some of the great Old Testament stories for the first few months, then will start into the great New Testament stories by delving into the birth narratives for Advent. Yesterday, we talked about Samuel anointing David as the next king of Israel. First, I talked a little bit about prophets, then a little bit about King Saul who had started out listening to God but then stopped listening and started doing his own thing. And then I morphed into Samuel, traipsing to Jesse's house

Pentecost 23, Proper 27 Psalm 127, Mark 12:38-44 I’ve been wondering this week whether John intentionally chose the pinnacle of stewardship season to head off on vacation. We’ve been hearing from parishioners about their pledging decisions, reading articles in the e-news and receiving letters at home. Next week you’ll get a pledge card. And the Gospel for this morning is clearly intended in our lectionary cycle as a vehicle for a fall stewardship sermon. The widow who gave all she had left to live on to the Temple treasury and was praised by Jesus for her faithfulness. Preachers everywhere are using this story for all it’s worth this morning. A friend forwarded me the letter her church had sent seeking pledges last week that quoted this gospel story. The letter talked about how the widow gave her best and how many of the people of that church clearly were not giving their best because their average pledge amounts were too low. Playing up the guilt factor to the hilt. The pr

Here it is, stewardship season, and the rector has left town and left me in charge. The nerve! The subject of money and pledging is uncomfortable anytime, but especially now with the economic climate. I suppose it would be possible to avoid the subject in Sunday's sermon, but not easily given the lectionary reading -- the poor widow and her mites from Mark 12:38-44. And it does seem important that the Church be part of the conversation about how we think about our money. Otherwise, the dominant voice is that of our culture, with commercials urging us to buy things we don't need, telling us we aren't attractive and successful enough without more stuff. Unfortunately, the Church doesn't always have this conversation responsibly. Sometimes we do exactly what Jesus warns against in the Gospel story, giving more respect to the "scribes" of our day, applauding the people that give the most out of their abundance. Sometimes we use guilt or bad theology to ope

Each week on Wednesday mornings we have Chapel for the Day School kids. Roughly 100 little 3-6 year olds gather together for 25 or so minutes. John is in charge of the music and I've been telling them some of the great Bible stories. This morning was Moses leading the people out of slavery in Egypt into the Promised Land. It turns out that Halloween season is a great time to find cheap frogs and bugs to rain down from heaven. I had to tone down the story a bit -- this group isn't quite ready for the killing of the first born, and while the Red Sea parted for the Hebrews and closed for the Egyptians, we didn't talk about all the army drowning. I have to admit, I like the story better this way. All the promise and redemption and deliverance without all the blood and gore. If only all of life and faith could be that neat and tidy.

My rector, John, suggested that we should both have blogs to link to our Church's website. I find the idea sort of daunting, given that my only blogging experience is our family blog that we update with pictures about once a month, if we're lucky, and never can get anything looking quite right. But, like life and faith, surely blogging too can be always in progress.