Faith in Progress

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