Can you imagine not having art in elementary school? No finger paints. No glitter. No construction paper projects? I couldn't either until I accompanied a group of staff volunteers from Trinity Wall Street to PS140 on the Lower East Side. This is just one of the schools in Lower Manhattan that Trinity has partnered with under its All Our Children initiative to provide enrichment opportunities in areas the schools are lacking. It was almost the end of the school year, and these young children had not had art in their classrooms all year beyond what the teacher was able to fit in from time to time between required subjects if, that is, there were any art supplies to be scrounged up. Some of the graphic arts folk from Trinity accompanied the Faith in Action team (of which I am a part) for a morning of marble painting, paper-ornament making, and pipe cleaner fun (for the younger ones). The enthusiasm of the kids was matched by that of the adults as projects came to life, and young faces lit up with delight as the stack of folded paper really did create an ornament or the marbles in the box really did mix the paint on the paper. Things I always took for granted, that all kids know how to use scissors and glue, for instance, were not the case here, and I can't help wondering what the end result will be of the lack of art and creative projects at this age as the children grow older.
My summer internship at Trinity is providing me training in areas of pastoral leadership that I will need once I'm finished with seminary and (God-willing and the bishop and people consenting) I am ordained. Granted, this is not your ordinary, struggling-to-keep-the-lights-on parish as are so many in the Episcopal Church today. But I've discovered that Trinity faces many of the problems every other church faces, just on a much larger scale. It is, though, just a church, and it's filled with people trying to make sense of a world filled with pain and doubt and fear by embracing a Gospel of hope that sends them out into the world to make a difference. Also in my first week, I was privileged to meet this year's Trinity Transformational Fellows, three South African women recognized for their work in HIV/AIDS communities who were provided with a generous grant and sabbatical time over the past year to improve their skills, network with others doing similar work, and to simply rest. This is the kind of financial support of vital ministries that Trinity is uniquely situated to provide, and it is exposure to this kind of ministry and such a wide variety of people that will likely be invaluable to me over the long course of my life in ordained ministry.
Of course, Trinity is also very much engaged with the Occupy Wall Street (OWS) movement which has heated up once again as the hearings for those who trespassed on Trinity property are scheduled for this week. I arrived early this morning to protesters camping in front of the church, and last week, the service was disrupted by a protester shouting in the middle of the Eucharist. In the month I have been here, I've spoken with many of Trinity's clergy and staff about Occupy, and I've become even more convinced that the church was committed to working with the leaders of the movement and still supports the general message that the way financial empires control our economy is unjust and negatively impacts millions of very human lives every day. What I also have learned is that Trinity long ago lost control of the narrative and has been hammered repeatedly with negative publicity over its refusal to allow the movement to camp out in church-owned Duarte Square, even though it had opened its doors to the movement, providing hospitality, meeting space, Internet access and pastoral support from the very beginning. The message that isn't getting out is the good that continues to flow into the surrounding community, in schools and prisons, and around the world in New Orleans and Haiti, Panama and Burundi, as well as areas of conflict in Congo and Sudan. Many people whom I love and respect share the OWS opposition to Trinity Wall Street and no doubt question my presence here. To them I would say, if nothing else, I am getting quite an education!
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Two down, one to go!
Today, I finished the last of my exams for this term and submitted the last paper due. Ah, two years of divinity school are behind me! There is not, however, much time to rest on my laurels, because the summer that lies ahead promises to be extraordinarily busy, challenging, and, undoubtedly, exhilarating.
I begin a parish internship on May 14th at Trinity Church, Wall Street in lower Manhattan. It's one of the largest and most well-heeled Episcopal churches in the US, so if I'm going to get on-the-ground church experience over the summer, this will be an ideal place to do it. Many smaller churches slow down considerably in the summer months, and if I am going to gain practical experience, I certainly need to go somewhere that stays at least somewhat busy. The other reason I want to go there is that Trinity has a Faith in Action program that includes local, national and international reconciliation programs, so at least part of my work will be in this area that holds such interest for me. While I don't yet know exactly what I'll be doing, there will be no lack of work to do. I'll be living in a dorm at General Theological Seminary where I have sublet a room from a student there, and on Friday and Saturday, I'll be at home in PA with my poor, hard-working husband!
While I'm looking forward to living in the big city for the summer, I'm a bit hesitant about living in Chelsea, the neighborhood where Seth's studio was located when he was at NYU's Atlantic Studio. I spent a lot of time with him walking these streets and coming to his shows, grazing our way through the Chelsea Market when we got hungry. I don't know. Maybe this is an opportunity to continue to heal, to perhaps to mourn in a new way. I've pretty much avoided New York since he died, so this does present something new for his grieving mom.
As if this did not provide enough for me to work through and on this summer, I am also attending an Excellence in Preaching Conference sponsored by the Episcopal Preaching Foundation. That's at the end of May in Richmond, VA. Then in mid-July, I leave for Capetown, South Africa for a three-week training seminar at the Institute for Healing of Memories. More on these events later.
With all the busy-ness of school and life since spring break, I haven't had as much time as I might have liked to write about the Holy Land trip. Just about every paper or reflection that I have written for school has included a story or a reference of some kind to what is happening in Israel-Palestine. I follow the news from there, checking at least the headlines in Haaretz daily. It usually makes my blood pressure go up. I am haunted by the stories we heard and the things that we witnessed (beyond even the life-changing visits to the holy sites). I thought I might share some of the stories here, starting with an amazing wife and mother facing challenges peculiar to her time and place:
I begin a parish internship on May 14th at Trinity Church, Wall Street in lower Manhattan. It's one of the largest and most well-heeled Episcopal churches in the US, so if I'm going to get on-the-ground church experience over the summer, this will be an ideal place to do it. Many smaller churches slow down considerably in the summer months, and if I am going to gain practical experience, I certainly need to go somewhere that stays at least somewhat busy. The other reason I want to go there is that Trinity has a Faith in Action program that includes local, national and international reconciliation programs, so at least part of my work will be in this area that holds such interest for me. While I don't yet know exactly what I'll be doing, there will be no lack of work to do. I'll be living in a dorm at General Theological Seminary where I have sublet a room from a student there, and on Friday and Saturday, I'll be at home in PA with my poor, hard-working husband!
While I'm looking forward to living in the big city for the summer, I'm a bit hesitant about living in Chelsea, the neighborhood where Seth's studio was located when he was at NYU's Atlantic Studio. I spent a lot of time with him walking these streets and coming to his shows, grazing our way through the Chelsea Market when we got hungry. I don't know. Maybe this is an opportunity to continue to heal, to perhaps to mourn in a new way. I've pretty much avoided New York since he died, so this does present something new for his grieving mom.
As if this did not provide enough for me to work through and on this summer, I am also attending an Excellence in Preaching Conference sponsored by the Episcopal Preaching Foundation. That's at the end of May in Richmond, VA. Then in mid-July, I leave for Capetown, South Africa for a three-week training seminar at the Institute for Healing of Memories. More on these events later.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
With all the busy-ness of school and life since spring break, I haven't had as much time as I might have liked to write about the Holy Land trip. Just about every paper or reflection that I have written for school has included a story or a reference of some kind to what is happening in Israel-Palestine. I follow the news from there, checking at least the headlines in Haaretz daily. It usually makes my blood pressure go up. I am haunted by the stories we heard and the things that we witnessed (beyond even the life-changing visits to the holy sites). I thought I might share some of the stories here, starting with an amazing wife and mother facing challenges peculiar to her time and place:
Dina Nasser is a public
health nurse and senior health advisor on infectious diseases to the
Palestinian Authority. She is married to an American and has three children,
and they have all lived separately for the past four years because her husband
has been denied a permit to reside in Jerusalem where she lives and works, and
if she moves to Bir Zeit, fifteen miles north of Jerusalem where he lives, she forfeits
her right to live in Jerusalem along with the attendant privileges of residency
in the city as opposed to residency on the West Bank. The children live with
her but attend a co-educational Friends school in Ramallah. A spirited and
charming woman (as were all the Palestinian women we met), Mrs. Nasser’s
exasperation and frustration with her situation are palpable as she has
repeatedly tried to obtain a family reunification permit but has been denied
each time. She calls the closing of Jerusalem, which occurred as the
Palestinian Authority was established and the Oslo Accords signed in 1993,
“silent ethnic cleansing.” The Israeli authorities, she claims, throw around
the word “security” in such a way that “even a lawyer can’t challenge them.”
Monday, April 9, 2012
He is not here! He is risen!
The long Lenten fast is over, and I am slowly returning to electronic media and connectivity with the outside world. I must admit that it was somewhat soothing to be so undistracted, and I wonder if that kind of Zen-like calm can continue now that I am not under self-imposed restriction. We shall see. In case you weren't aware, I was active in one venue as the Yale Divinity School Travel Seminar blogger. You can read all about our two weeks in the Holy Land here, including additional posts by Dean Harry Attridge about the history of the land and Director of External Relations, John Lindner, on current geopolitical events in Israel and Palestine. When I have a moment to gather my thoughts, I will include some of my own reflections on the trip and our experience of the conflict there, but for now, suffice it to say that it was an amazing and transformative experience for all of us pilgrims.
And on to Easter. It is the highlight and culmination of all that Christians proclaim - the resurrection of Jesus Christ and the profound implications of that for those who believe. How can we continue to live complacent, self-focused, and self-indulgent lives when God has upended the world order and turned a symbol of tyranny - the cross - into one of liberation? If we confess Christ crucified and raised from the dead, the only appropriate response is to take on that life ourselves, the one in which the human person of Jesus proclaimed Good News to the poor, the imprisoned, the marginalized, and the suffering. We are all brought into the embrace of those arms stretched out on the cross (to paraphrase a good Episcopal prayer), so there is no 'you' and no 'me' but only one community in the body of the risen Christ. Let's think about that the next time we think our actions have no broader implications!
I have to say, also, that Easter is very hard for me. Since Seth died, it's been pretty much a white-knuckle experience, trying to keep myself from tumbling into the abyss of grief. When we sing "Were you there when they laid him in the tomb," I am immediately taken back to standing next to his grave on a cold February day as his casket was prepared to be lowered into the ground. I never understood Mary, the sorrowful mother, quite so well as I have since losing my own son. And when we sing our joyful alleluias on Easter morning, there is such a tinge of sorrow laced within the rejoicing because the one I love so much I still cannot see or hug or hear. So on this Easter Monday, while I can say with my lips that I will be reunited with Seth someday, this mother's heart still grieves.
The Lord is Risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia!
And on to Easter. It is the highlight and culmination of all that Christians proclaim - the resurrection of Jesus Christ and the profound implications of that for those who believe. How can we continue to live complacent, self-focused, and self-indulgent lives when God has upended the world order and turned a symbol of tyranny - the cross - into one of liberation? If we confess Christ crucified and raised from the dead, the only appropriate response is to take on that life ourselves, the one in which the human person of Jesus proclaimed Good News to the poor, the imprisoned, the marginalized, and the suffering. We are all brought into the embrace of those arms stretched out on the cross (to paraphrase a good Episcopal prayer), so there is no 'you' and no 'me' but only one community in the body of the risen Christ. Let's think about that the next time we think our actions have no broader implications!
I have to say, also, that Easter is very hard for me. Since Seth died, it's been pretty much a white-knuckle experience, trying to keep myself from tumbling into the abyss of grief. When we sing "Were you there when they laid him in the tomb," I am immediately taken back to standing next to his grave on a cold February day as his casket was prepared to be lowered into the ground. I never understood Mary, the sorrowful mother, quite so well as I have since losing my own son. And when we sing our joyful alleluias on Easter morning, there is such a tinge of sorrow laced within the rejoicing because the one I love so much I still cannot see or hug or hear. So on this Easter Monday, while I can say with my lips that I will be reunited with Seth someday, this mother's heart still grieves.
The Lord is Risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia!
Monday, February 20, 2012
A Holy Lent
I invite you, therefore, in the name of the Church, to the
observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance;
by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and
meditating on God's holy Word. (Book of Common Prayer, p. 265)
observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance;
by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and
meditating on God's holy Word. (Book of Common Prayer, p. 265)
Ah, yes. Lent. Here we go again, right? Self-denial, dirge-like hymns, unrelenting solemnity. Is that really what this is supposed to be about? Well, no. Not exactly. Granted, from its earliest days, the forty days of Lent (not counting Sundays which are always the Lord's day!) have been a time of prayer and fasting in order to prepare believers for the Passion of our Lord. Catechumens were prepared for Baptism and the body of believers engaged in acts of penitence and piety. These days, faithful folk tend to observe Lent by "giving something up," some perceived vice like alcohol or chocolate (really? chocolate as a vice?). Many reverse that and take on something new like service in the world or contemplative practice, or, for those who like to combine physical well-being and suffering, an intense exercise program.
All of this is fine. Whatever helps people shed some of the ordinariness of life to focus more intently on their interior life is a good thing. I'm not sure all of these would help me prepare for Holy Week, but the prevalence of taking on some Lenten discipline at least indicates that people understand that their lives are too full, perhaps teetering on the edge of control, and some still, small voice is calling them to take a step back.
It is in this spirit that I will be observing a sabbath rest from social media. I am a very frequent user of Facebook and, more recently, Twitter, and am not 'giving them up' because they are a bad thing. In fact, I thoroughly enjoy connecting with friends, sharing articles and items of interest, and keeping up-to-date on the goings-on of friends near and far. No, I am taking this sabbath to free up time for me to observe a Holy Lent, to spend more time in prayer and contemplation without the distraction of status updates. The intent is that by Maundy Thursday six weeks hence, my "status" will be ready to fully enter the great triduum with a full heart and clear conscience.
One other Lenten tradition from the early days of the church is reconciliation of penitents and those estranged from the church. This theme of reconciliation will be much on my mind as Tim and I travel to the Holy Land for two weeks during Lent, over YDS's spring break. This is not just a tourist adventure, although we are both very excited about walking the roads where Jesus walked. Led by the Dean of Yale Divinity School and renowned New Testament scholar, Harry Attridge, this will be a learning experience as well as providing opportunities for interfaith dialogue among leaders of the three major faiths that claim this land as holy. I will be coordinating and writing the blog for this trip, so if you are interested in following this journey, check our website beginning on Ash Wednesday.
To each of you, I wish a rich and peaceful Lent. Until my return to other media, check this blog, the Divinity Travel Seminar blog, and, if you want to reach me, send an e-mail to me at elaine.thomas@yale.edu.
Create in me a clean heart, O God, *
and renew a right spirit within me.
and renew a right spirit within me.
Cast me not away from your presence *
and take not your holy Spirit from me.
and take not your holy Spirit from me.
Give me the joy of your saving help again *
and sustain me with your bountiful Spirit.
and sustain me with your bountiful Spirit.
I shall teach your ways to the wicked, *
and sinners shall return to you.
and sinners shall return to you.
(Psalm 51:11-14)
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Super Bowl Sunday? Not so super this year...
True confession: I love football. Actually, just about any sport will do, and yes, I love watching the Super Bowl. I'm not much for parties because I really like to pay attention to the game (and the commercials!), but this year, my heart just isn't in it. I'm in New Haven, and watching with Tim is so much more fun than watching alone. I'm also here with Boudreau who is having another ACL surgery tomorrow. You may recall that, at this time last year, he had the right knee repaired. Now it's his left. This is such a brutal and long recovery, and I just hate to put him through this again.
The really odd thing, though, is that, once again, this is happening around the anniversary of Seth's death. It will be three years on Thursday (February 9th), and in some bizarre kind of way, Bou has needed intense attention at this time for the second year. Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but his is the dog, after all, who would be greeted with a gleeful "Brother!!!" every time Seth walked in the door. So when Boudreau needs extra love and attention, is in pain or recovering, there's a very close connection with Seth in my mind. Poor boy. He's bears an awful lot of emotional freight for me. I've often wondered if he has any sense of Seth's absence. For me, caring for Bou certainly gives me a sense of closeness in remembering my son. So I'll see Boudreau through this recovery, unable to imagine what I'll do with myself when the time comes that he can't be nursed back to health.
After I drop him off with the surgeon tomorrow, I'll head out to the Berkeley Middler Retreat at Incarnation Center in Ivoryton, CT. I'm so looking forward to some quiet time, and Bou will be in good hands until I pick him up on Wednesday. There are so many emotions swirling around this time of year, it's really quite serendipitous that Reading Week arrives just in time. I can't say that I'll be getting much reading done for school, but I will have time to just be. And that is enough.
The really odd thing, though, is that, once again, this is happening around the anniversary of Seth's death. It will be three years on Thursday (February 9th), and in some bizarre kind of way, Bou has needed intense attention at this time for the second year. Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but his is the dog, after all, who would be greeted with a gleeful "Brother!!!" every time Seth walked in the door. So when Boudreau needs extra love and attention, is in pain or recovering, there's a very close connection with Seth in my mind. Poor boy. He's bears an awful lot of emotional freight for me. I've often wondered if he has any sense of Seth's absence. For me, caring for Bou certainly gives me a sense of closeness in remembering my son. So I'll see Boudreau through this recovery, unable to imagine what I'll do with myself when the time comes that he can't be nursed back to health.
After I drop him off with the surgeon tomorrow, I'll head out to the Berkeley Middler Retreat at Incarnation Center in Ivoryton, CT. I'm so looking forward to some quiet time, and Bou will be in good hands until I pick him up on Wednesday. There are so many emotions swirling around this time of year, it's really quite serendipitous that Reading Week arrives just in time. I can't say that I'll be getting much reading done for school, but I will have time to just be. And that is enough.
Friday, January 6, 2012
Feast of the Epiphany 2012
Epiphany.
ἐπιφάνεια (epiphaneia), Koine Greek epi (preposition) + phanein (infinitive, to appear).
'Tis the season in which Jesus was revealed or manifested as Messiah, the awaited and Anointed one. The Orthodox call it ἡ Θεοφάνεια (Τheophaneia), or God-appearing (theos + phanein). Western Christian churches mark it as the date the Magi came from the East, bringing gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, and it is a season in which God revealed God's self in the person of Jesus the Christ. In the lectionary for the season, we read about Jesus' baptism as the dove descended on him and God named him the Beloved (Matt. 3:13-17, Mark 1:9-11, Luke 3:21-23, John 1:29-33), the first of his signs at the wedding in Cana (John 2:1-11), the calling of Philip and Nathaniel's confession (John 1:43-51), other stories of healings and exorcisms (this year in Mark 1:14-45), and the presentation in the temple (Luke 2:22-40), ending with the Transfiguration (Matthew 17:1-9, Mark 9:2-8, Luke 9:28-36). All of this is to set the stage for all that happens in Jesus' earthly life, pointing toward his death and resurrection.
That's all pretty dramatic for a new year, isn't it? Even though our liturgical year began on the First Sunday of Advent, we secular westerners are more inclined to inaugurate a new calendar year with popping corks, dropping balls in Times Square, and resolutions to improve ourselves by losing weight, quitting bad habits, taking up an exercise routine, and other sorts of self-indulgent pursuits of which 80% fail by January 20. By the liturgical calender, Jesus had already performed all kinds of signs and wonders by then.
I long ago gave up on New Year's resolutions. Why take on another task over which to beat myself up when I, too, fail to fulfill it? However, looking at the season of Epiphany in which we start our new calendar year makes me wonder how I might also be an 'epiphany' of sorts. How do I show forth my love of God and neighbor? How do I manifest the Christ that dwells within me? These are not questions for setting up resolutions but are eternal questions people of faith have asked for centuries. Teresa of Avila wrote, "We shall never learn to know ourselves except by endeavoring to know God; for beholding His greatness, we realize our own littleness; His purity shows us our foulness; and by meditating upon His humility we find how very far we are from being humble."
How does one show forth God? For Teresa, it would be to clothe oneself in humility before God. This, of course, was not original with Teresa, for we find it Paul's letter to the Philippians:
If then there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves.(Phil. 2:1-3).
Humility, huh? I'm tempted to be like the man holding onto a branch for dear life after falling from a cliff, waiting for rescue, when God tells him to let go, and he asks if there's anyone else up there! It isn't my strong suit, this humility, yet it is a constant theme. "Clothe yourselves with humility" it says in Colossians. But wait, there's more!
As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord* has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ* dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God.* And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him. (Col. 3:12-17)
Compassion, kindness, humility, meekness and patience? Not my top five attributes, I'm afraid, yet I am to clothe myself with them. It's not about making a resolution to do these things or practice these things. It's about becoming them, wrapping myself in them as a cloak. And giving thanks for all of it. And just how am I supposed to accomplish this? One day at a time. Mindfulness. Prayer. The courage to change the things I can. At least I don't have to do it alone, because "nothing will be impossible with God" (Luke 1:37). And at least I have the singing part down.
For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice.
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
~T.S. Eliot, "Little Gidding"
What an epiphany.
ἐπιφάνεια (epiphaneia), Koine Greek epi (preposition) + phanein (infinitive, to appear).
'Tis the season in which Jesus was revealed or manifested as Messiah, the awaited and Anointed one. The Orthodox call it ἡ Θεοφάνεια (Τheophaneia), or God-appearing (theos + phanein). Western Christian churches mark it as the date the Magi came from the East, bringing gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, and it is a season in which God revealed God's self in the person of Jesus the Christ. In the lectionary for the season, we read about Jesus' baptism as the dove descended on him and God named him the Beloved (Matt. 3:13-17, Mark 1:9-11, Luke 3:21-23, John 1:29-33), the first of his signs at the wedding in Cana (John 2:1-11), the calling of Philip and Nathaniel's confession (John 1:43-51), other stories of healings and exorcisms (this year in Mark 1:14-45), and the presentation in the temple (Luke 2:22-40), ending with the Transfiguration (Matthew 17:1-9, Mark 9:2-8, Luke 9:28-36). All of this is to set the stage for all that happens in Jesus' earthly life, pointing toward his death and resurrection.
That's all pretty dramatic for a new year, isn't it? Even though our liturgical year began on the First Sunday of Advent, we secular westerners are more inclined to inaugurate a new calendar year with popping corks, dropping balls in Times Square, and resolutions to improve ourselves by losing weight, quitting bad habits, taking up an exercise routine, and other sorts of self-indulgent pursuits of which 80% fail by January 20. By the liturgical calender, Jesus had already performed all kinds of signs and wonders by then.
I long ago gave up on New Year's resolutions. Why take on another task over which to beat myself up when I, too, fail to fulfill it? However, looking at the season of Epiphany in which we start our new calendar year makes me wonder how I might also be an 'epiphany' of sorts. How do I show forth my love of God and neighbor? How do I manifest the Christ that dwells within me? These are not questions for setting up resolutions but are eternal questions people of faith have asked for centuries. Teresa of Avila wrote, "We shall never learn to know ourselves except by endeavoring to know God; for beholding His greatness, we realize our own littleness; His purity shows us our foulness; and by meditating upon His humility we find how very far we are from being humble."
How does one show forth God? For Teresa, it would be to clothe oneself in humility before God. This, of course, was not original with Teresa, for we find it Paul's letter to the Philippians:
If then there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves.(Phil. 2:1-3).
Humility, huh? I'm tempted to be like the man holding onto a branch for dear life after falling from a cliff, waiting for rescue, when God tells him to let go, and he asks if there's anyone else up there! It isn't my strong suit, this humility, yet it is a constant theme. "Clothe yourselves with humility" it says in Colossians. But wait, there's more!
As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord* has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ* dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God.* And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him. (Col. 3:12-17)
Compassion, kindness, humility, meekness and patience? Not my top five attributes, I'm afraid, yet I am to clothe myself with them. It's not about making a resolution to do these things or practice these things. It's about becoming them, wrapping myself in them as a cloak. And giving thanks for all of it. And just how am I supposed to accomplish this? One day at a time. Mindfulness. Prayer. The courage to change the things I can. At least I don't have to do it alone, because "nothing will be impossible with God" (Luke 1:37). And at least I have the singing part down.
For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice.
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
~T.S. Eliot, "Little Gidding"
What an epiphany.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Advent 2011
How time flies. As of today, I am halfway through my divinity school studies and sit here wondering where the time went. Scripture studies, theology, dead languages, history, preaching, pastoral care - it's all mixed up in there together, working on me in ways I may not fully understand for some time to come. But I am very content as I relax here for one last night in our New England 'vacation home' before heading back to PA tomorrow.
I remember how it felt when I was a child and school would let out for Christmas break - unbounded joy and excitement, freedom, anticipation. That's something of what it is now, but there is more depth, more satisfaction, more anticipation. There is a gladness for a break from all the studies and reading mingled with gratitude for the opportunity of engaging in those studies. There is the anticipation of what next semester holds mixed with the longing that is Advent as I await the One who is and is to come. My life seems so pregnant with meaning and expectation for God only knows what.
My last sermon for preaching class was on the Annunciation. I did a first-person account, donning a Mary-blue shawl and speaking in the voice of an elderly Mary, reflecting on her life and her lack of understanding of just what it was the angel was asking of her. She said 'yes' anyway. The point of the sermon was that we are all called to say 'yes' even if we don't really know what it means, trusting in the One that calls. This has been my contemplation this Advent. I don't know what all of this is about, not really, but I have no doubt that my life is exactly where God would have it be. If you're going to be at St. Peter's in the Great Valley on Sunday, you'll get to hear that sermon!
I'll be journeying home tomorrow, looking forward for time to relax, to spend with friends, and preparing for our trip to Sedona, AZ, for Christmas week. Peace, love, and blessing to all of you in the holy Advent.
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