Faith in Progress

Christmas Day (Year A) December 25, 2010 Luke 2:1-14 Opening presents on Christmas morning when I was a girl was always a slow and wondrous thing. They were opened one at a time, each of us taking turns, with lots of hugs and appreciation in between. When it was my dad’s turn he would hold up the gift, turn it around, shake it and feel it and try to guess what it was. He was really good at it – it was very hard to surprise him. He would have done really well at our recent moms’ group Christmas gathering. It was a White Elephant party, or some people call it a Yankee gift exchange. Where each person wraps up some wacky item that has been taking up space in their house and they get piled together. (These should be the kind of gifts about which my father would jokingly exclaim: “Ahh…. Just what I always knew I never needed!”) Then everyone draws a number and in order you can either pick a new unwrapped gift and open it, or you can choose to steal something that someone else has alre

Advent 2, Year A December 5, 2010 Advent is about waiting, and preparing ourselves. And so I love this morning’s Old Testament reading from Isaiah with its reassuring promises: The wolf shall live with the lamb…. The cow and the bear shall graze, their young shall lie down together…. The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp…. They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea. Now that is a promise worth waiting for this Advent season. I picture my children cuddling with Aslan from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. What a sweet Christmas card photo that would be! And on a day like today I really wish we had one of those pull down screens so that I could project onto the wall a painting of Isaiah’s vision by a Quaker artist and minister from the 19th century named Edward Hicks. It’s got to be out there somewhere on Christmas cards. Hicks painted what he called “the peaceab

Last night we had a gathering at the Church - dinner and the St. Nicholas story.  It was my bright idea, so it was up to me to tell the story.  I have a complicated relationship with Santa Claus.  I think kids get too focused on Santa and Jesus goes out the window.  Plus, there's so much about Santa that seems like really terrible God theology.  (Like, he's always watching from afar and sees what you're doing wrong or right and deciding how to reward you based on that.  But he's not someone you're actually in relationship with.  Ugh.)  In my house, I talk about Jesus and murmur vaguely if asked about Santa.  Last week, my 4 year old asked, "So is Santa real and the Grinch pretend?"  Me: "Uh, I wonder... what do you think?"  (Thank you, Godly Play, for the wonderful resource of "wondering questions" as a valid way to deal with difficult questions from children!) Anyway, I intended to use the Godly Play story of St. Nicholas, because

For several days this week I met up with four seminary friends for a reunion/retreat in Lexington, Virginia.  We stayed at a house that one of the women had visited before to help lead a spiritual retreat in the past.  I'm not sure why, but I'd expected a run down farm house - something adequate and decent with Shrine Mont like facilities.  (No offense, Shrine Mont.)  Instead, it was one of the most amazing and comfortable places I've ever stayed.  Abundant rooms, beautifully furnished with beds and pillows more comfortable than mine at home.  A three-story tower with 360 degree views of mountains and farms.  A huge modern kitchen with every accoutrement I could imagine.  A living room with enough chairs and couches for all of us to sprawl out on centered around a huge hearth for cozy fires on the rainy days.  And a gas outdoor fire and another fire pit on top of a hill for the nicer days.  A porch with a bunch of swinging chairs.  A labyrinth etched into the wild grass wit

November 14, 2010 25 Pentecost, Proper 28 (Year C) St. Aidan’s Episcopal Church Isaiah 65:17-25 Our first reading this morning is one of my favorites. I love this vision of the new heavens and new earth that God is going to create. It was written 2500 years ago, and it’s still, to me anyway, just as wonderful a promise as it must have been then. Still a tangible picture of how things ought to be. No more weeping; long healthy lives, homes and fruitful work all around; a closer relationship with God; peace. I can’t think of anything I could add to make the list more ideal. But the problem with beautiful visions like this is that by their very nature they make you long for them to be fulfilled. And they make you wonder what’s taking so long. And they might even lead you to start doubting the faithfulness of the promisor. I’ve been thinking about God’s promises a lot recently in conjunction with our Godly Play stories for the Sunday School kids. I’ve been sharing a shortened versio

23 Pentecost, Proper 26 (Year C) October 31, 2010 St. Aidan’s Episcopal Church [I'm afraid something will be lost in the print version, since you won't get to see me run and climb my makeshift tree in the middle of the sermon, but here goes...]   You’ve heard of the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous, the 4 stages of cancer, the 5 stages of grief. Well, today in Luke’s Gospel we get the 5 stages of Being Loved by God, courtesy of Zacchaeus. Stage 1 – We are who we are We aren’t given too many details about Zacchaeus, but it’s enough. Enough to know quite a bit about him, and even more about what everyone must have thought about him. He’s exceedingly rich, which from the Gospel of Luke seems almost enough in itself for him to be doomed. Remember a few weeks ago when we we’ve heard Jesus’ story about the rich man in the fires of hell who wanted Lazarus to come give him a drink of water? Things do not usually go well for the rich in Luke’s Gospel.  Plus, Zacchaeus is also a

On Wednesday I went to St. Alban's in Annandale for one of the Listening Sessions that the Diocese of Virginia has been having to let people share their thoughts about the blessing of same-sex relationships.  I thought there might be a couple dozen people there and figured they'd probably be the most strident voices from both sides of the issue.  But I was pleasantly surprised.  First, by the turnout.  There were hundreds of people there.  A lot of priests and a lot of lay people and they seemed to come from all over this part of the Diocese - churches big and small.  But second, and more importantly, by the tone of the gathering.  We started and ended in prayer, which always helps.  And then we broke up into smaller groups (mine was up in the choir loft) to discuss 3 given questions using the Indaba listening process.  Indaba is a Zulu word for the process of decision making by consensus and I'd only heard about it but hadn't seen it in action.  After each question, th

In my last post I wrote about my plan to put some of the decorated pumpkins from the St. Aidan’s Oktoberfest as decorations around the altar this past Sunday. got nothing but positive comments from the congregation. Our wild bumpy pumpkin and the smaller decorated varieties got their fifteen minutes of fame and are now back at home on our porch where they belong. But the experience led me to thinking about the many ways in which secular and sacred intersect. The more I think about it, the less I think anything can be truly secular. But Halloween is an interesting test. I love this holiday, always have. My friends and I trick-or-treated until people started giving us dirty looks. And now I love that having kids legitimates my dressing up and going door-to-door again on Halloween. I think pretending and wearing costumes is good and healthy for kids’ imaginations, plus trick-or-treating is one of the rare opportunities to actually connect in person with our neighbors. But I’m never q

So we're once again nearing another holiday with some dubious pagan connections.  Halloween is just around the corner, along with all the trappings.  Kids dressed up in all their finery (my three have chosen to be a rock star, an alien and a cow this year - an interesting combination).  Pumpkins with their fiery orange glow.  Way too much candy too easily accessible (I told my husband if he opened the package I'd be in trouble, and sure enough...).  Spooky spiders and masks decorating the stores. At St. Aidan's this weekend, we'll be celebrating our annual Oktoberfest which will include not only an oom pah band, bratwurst and good beer, but also Halloween-inspired crafts and pumpkin decorating.  It's that last bit that has led me into a little trouble.  I signed up for altar flowers this Sunday planning to bring a bunch of those decorated pumpkins.  They'll be dunked in glue and then peppered with feathers, puff balls, and all the glitter a kid could hope f

Proper 22, Pentecost 19 October 3, 2010 Luke 17:5-10 One of my guilty weekend pleasures is reading Date Lab in the Washington Post Sunday Magazine. Each week, Date Lab reports about two people who have been set up by the paper on a blind date. There is always a brief bio about the two people, based on their answers to questions asked in their applications for Date Lab. One question that often appears is what superpower they would pick if they could. No one has ever mentioned it in Date Lab, but I think this morning’s Gospel story includes the superpower my husband might choose if he could. The power to miraculously transplant trees. Jesus tells his disciples that if they had faith the size of a mustard seed, they could uproot mulberry trees. He says something similar in Matthew’s Gospel, “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it would move; and nothing will be impossible for you.” It’s one of the many passages

In seminary, there was a group of folks that would bring drums to campus and sit and play when the weather was nice.  Before long, they were generally surrounded by a big crowd of impressed on-lookers.  I don't know about the rest of the people watching, but I always assumed that drumming was something that only very hip, talented, coordinated types of people could do well.  But then, at the St. Aidan's campout this past weekend, we brought in a woman to lead us in a drum circle.  She started us out easy -- tapping our toes, snapping, clapping.  Then moved us on to easy rhythm instruments -- sticks, shakers, cow bells.  But then we finally got to delve into the dozens of beautiful drums we'd been eyeing.  Tall and short, metal and wood, natural and painted.  We each got to pick one and she taught us how to make a beat with the flesh of our hand and a tone with our fingers.  She taught us how to stay on the beat, how to riff our own rhythms within the beat, how to listen t

Pentecost 17, Proper 20 Luke 16:1-13 September 19, 2010 Last Sunday I headed to Shadowlands with nine high schoolers from the youth group to play Lasertag. I put on the heavy pack, picked up my phaser and joined the group in the dark warehouse. I started lurking around corners and up into the walkways overhead, seeking someone to aim at. Sometimes I’d feel the vibration that meant I’d been hit. But every once in a while, I got to be the aggressor instead. And I have to say, it was pretty exhilarating, even if almost everyone I shot was either a parishioner or a little kid at a birthday party. “Good shot” my screen would announce. At the end, we came out into the lobby to wait for our scores. (I came in 18th the first round, but then developed a shrewd and defensive strategy for the second round and came in 8th place.) As I came out of the dark room and re-entered reality, the oddness of our activity hit me. Here we were, a church group, pretending to shoot each other. And, as if

11 Pentecost, Proper 14 Hebrews 11:29-12:2 August 15, 2010 (The congregation got involved in this sermon, which made for a great conversation!) Near the end of our parish retreat last weekend, my daughter and I walked the outdoor labyrinth at Shrine Mont. They’ve built it out of rough rocks into this beautiful clearing in the woods. It’s not entirely dissimilar from our labyrinth here, but bigger, so it takes longer to walk. And because it’s built with rocks rather than tape, the path feels much more structured. Somehow, it seems more like cheating to veer off the path. I was watching Sophie’s face as she walked and wondering what she was thinking when sometimes the path seemed to be taking her further and further from the center. But she was smiling as she walked and seemed to trust that she’d get there eventually. It made me think about faith. Our reading from Hebrews this morning is all about faith. But “faith” is a tricky word. It means different things to different peopl

Join us for next year's St. Aidan's parish retreat, August 2011! Sunday morning service at the Shrine As someone commented, "It's like being in Mayberry!" Candlelight service across the pond Hay ride (sans hay!) Swimming in nearby Lake Laura Kids enjoying each other Hanging out on the porch Kids' Drama Program with Heather Sanderson Eating at Shrine Mont

August 1, 2010 Pentecost 10, Proper 13, Year C Luke 12:13-21; Ecclesiastes 1:2, 12-14, 2:18-23 Raise your hand if you know what these are? How many of you have them? Anybody wearing them right now? Well, for those of you who don’t know, these are Silly Bandz. (That’s bandz with a “z”, mind you.) These rubber-band-like plastic bracelets come in all kinds of shapes – animals, princesses, dinosaurs, flowers, food - even letters. You can stretch them out, but they always, rather disturbingly, return back to their shape. And they seem to be everywhere. One day I was in Bed Bath and Beyond with my kids and Sophie noticed a huge bin of silly bands near the register. She really wanted some. She said that almost all the kids in her class had them. They would wear a bunch of them and trade them during recess. We’d recently started her on an allowance and so I told her she could use her own money to buy some if she wanted to. So she proudly came home with a pack of 24 princess-themed Silly

Tomorrow I'm officiating a sermon for someone I've never met.  It is for a 97 year old woman who was a life-long Episcopalian but had moved from her home town in the last few years so her son (Roman Catholic) went looking for an Episcopal priest to do her funeral.  It is a strange, but beautiful, position to be in.  I get to see pictures of this stranger, who is my unknown sister in faith.  I get to hear stories about her life -- her adventures, her sorrows, her quirks.  And I get to be with her family in this time that is so poignant for them as they remember and love and celebrate her.  For some sacraments I find that knowing the person really matters.  In marriage ceremony, I feel more joyous the more I know the couple and know something about their love and support for one another.  In baptism, I feel much more confident when I know that we as a congregation really and truly will be able to do all in our power to support this person in their life of faith because we really

July 18, 2010 Pentecost 8, Proper 11 Luke 10:38-42 Part of my process before going to seminary involved answering a bunch of essay questions for the Diocese. One of the questions asked which biblical character I most identified with. I cheated and used two – the two sisters we read about this morning – Mary and Martha. I must admit that my answer was partly a calculated one. I didn’t want to pick anyone too righteous or too unrighteous, just in case that might set off red flags. But it was mostly a real answer. I have strong Martha tendencies, but in my heart I’d like to be Mary. And maybe because I identify with her, this story makes me feel sorry for Martha. Here she is, welcoming Jesus into her home, along with all his disciples. There’s no telling how many people we’re talking about here, because Jesus has all sorts of folks following him around. Those dusty feet trodding all over her clean carpets. Those loud voices taking over her house. And she’s doing her best to make all

5 Pentecost (Proper 8) June 27, 2010 Luke 9:51-62 We have this great soft Bible that I used to bring to church for the kids before we got to this place with all the cool art supplies in the back. Just a handful of stories but all can be manipulated by little hands. The good Samaritan with Velcro bandaids you can put on his wounds. Fish that can snap off and be put into the disciples’ net. You can get Jonah in and out of the whale, put baby Moses in his basket, button Joseph’s pretty coat. And the story of Lot’s wife. She is a sort of popsicle stick – one side pretty and smiling and the other side unhappy and sort of sandy, like an emery board. The kids had recently rediscovered this little bible and when they got to the page about Lot’s wife they clearly didn’t have a clue what it was all about. Dylan thought the story was about a person who turned into an angel. So I told them the story about Lot who lived in this city where the people were really awful – hurting each other and