The Blue Bear in the Backseat 

I am an educated woman, who has lived a life full of joy accompanied at times with sorrow.....and currently have a blue stuffed teddy bear in the backseat of my VW bug to help with the void created by two homegrown sons off into the world and an exchange son who returned to his homegrown family. The void is deep and I'm doing everything I can to keep the rift from widening and taking everything in with it.

 Now, no worries here....I can deal and am quite capable of moving through this. And that is the point: to move through it I need to move through it...feel everything...see it all...wonder....weep...smile....recall. It is the beauty of having lived one way for 21 years and now having a new way for the next 40 years (+).

So, the house is cleaned and tidied, with all of their stuff in their rooms but their rooms ready for guests. The house already has a visual sense of a new way, but to the knowing eye there are wisps of ghosts lurking, haunting, billowing throughout every corner. I hope those ghosts stay for a long time.

The goodbye was as it should be, and better than if the plan had gone as originally sited. Instead of a day long tear stained farewell, it was a pragmatic, comfortable and known pattern of road trip wisdom. Upon arrival Turner greeted us with a "Oh hey!" as he approached and Bennett moved into the cloud of staffers. There was this moment, when they stood side beside, these brothers who have declared since boyhood that they were brothers and not friends, looking like twins....faces happy and open, bodies full and strong, spirits playful and wise. This is the goodbye scene that is embedded in my body and it is sweet. If I never see them ever again, I will always see them standing beside each other, brothers...sons....ready. 

Yet, we will see them again. And again and again. they will come home for 4 days here, a week there, and perhaps even for a year of post college, loan payoff living where we all get to experience the adultness of one another instead of parent/child interaction. When they come home, our arms will be wide but not empty, because our own living will have continued.

And continue it does. The house will be filled with the offering of spiritual direction and acupuncture...healing for spirit and body. We've already hit the trail with our bikes, and hit the bed with the intimacy of the house. We will have as much to tell Turner and Bennett when they come home, as we will have things to listen to from them. The blue bear in the backseat will one day be unnecessary, but until then.....

Blessed Be. We reap what we sow, and the ground has been fertile. Amen.

Revolution (a long sermon)

A sermon written for the Bethany Theological Seminary worship community February 2011
John 20 Revolution: I have seen the Lord

It has been an enlightening month at Bethany. We opened with an MA presentation on Discipleship through Eros rather than Thanatos, moved on to a peace forum with Kristy sharing her story of coming back to God as the Divine revealed itself through the Goddess. We delved into the first half of Malcolm X opening our selves up to a particular Black History in the United States, then another peace forum this time focused on research into white privilege and racism, then returned to the rest of the Malcolm X story as we looked at the racism that continues, even within us.
My body, mind and spirit are swirling into all kinds of new worlds, exploding the outer bounds of what I thought I knew. Contemplating all of this is powerful. We are fortunate beyond all imagination to be here, contemplating hard topics, uneasy topics, confronting topics, with most of us welcoming it all. One day, When you leave this place, this seminary experience, you will leave behind a community that is part of evolving understandings, led by God into a new kind of wholeness. Enjoy the variety while you can.

Enjoy it while you can because Revolutions bloody and changing are roaring through the world in Egypt, Tunisia, Bahrain, and Wisconsin. On Monday I was riveted to NPR as they tried to cover the latest uprising, violent in nature in Lybia ....information leaking out in spite of communication blackouts for western journalists...The norm is overturning and the dictating structures are falling.
Even in the heavens the planets Uranus, Chiron and Pluto are waging a riot of revolutionary energy...similar celestial configurations as were seen in the race tumults of the 50s, the Beatniks and Kerouac. The same cosmic alignments of the mid 1960s with Dylan and Janis, King and X.

Its all around us. Inescapable. The energy of change is moving in the church, and we feel it in this seminary. We can listen, be aware, learn and recognize that a change is coming to life....or we can run for the nearest locked room when we confront what we know to be true but cannot quite understand it.

I wonder what the planets were doing while Jesus was in the tomb! A revolution was astir as he loved and taught, then walked toward Jerusalem, as he was tortured and put on the cross, and as his body held the silence of death entombed in the waiting.
We have this day a marvelous flow of stories of encounters, surprising, unexpected, crazy making encounters between Jesus' most beloved companions and the Risen One standing with them. What a turning must have been occurring within their own bodies, minds and spirits! Fear, amazement, Love, loyalty, stunned wonder. The times, they were achangin' baby and these good people could hardly believe what they were seeing.

The story opens up with a mournful tomb watch with Mary Magdelene, Peter, and the Beloved. A visit to the dead. But the stone is moved, and the death rags were here and there....but here and there in such a way as to infer validation rather than vandalism. Validation of curious stories Jesus had told. Validation of resurrection. Validation that Jesus was God's heir, and now was the Risen Christ.
We move away quickly from the tomb with Peter and the Beloved....both close intimates with Jesus who hadn't fully gotten who Jesus was while Jesus was. But in this empty death chamber, both Peter and the beloved disciple get it, get something, they believe something.....? But what they believe about the resurrection cannot override their fear of the Jews and their own survival. they flee in the face of Divine truth, back to a locked room where others were hiding out as well. Hiding in fear. Hiding from the changes they knew were coming.

Staying at the tomb was Mary Magdalene, who rather than fleeing, stood. Rooted in place...at a loss for what to do. There was no body to care for. So, no ritual to perform. How would she mark this moment if the very things that were predictable and normal were taken away from her? That mixed with the grief of death and the shock, the SHOCK of a missing body....well I would be rooted too.
Rooted in the numbing moment of disbelief, unbelief, beyond belief. Where Jesus' body should have been Mary Magdalene saw angels. Peter and the beloved disciple saw discarded linen. Mary Magdalene saw angels......(ponder). Mary Magdalene saw angels, heard angels, spoke to angels. We read that part of the story as if its not even a little bit strange. Rooted in that moment of belief gone awry a gardener steps up and speaks. The human mind grasps for what is recognizable, normal and comforting, when everything else is out of whack.
The gardener speaks her name, and reveals the Christ. She knows her Rabouni in an instant, the very moment Jesus shows the Risen Self to her in the way she needed in order to know and believe.

Even though She is not to grasp the ineffable ascending Christ, she could believe the new, the change, the revolution of all that had been normal.

These stories within story continues and we're back to Peter, the beloved, and others. Jesus is on the heels of their fleeing and comes to a room thick with desperation and anxiety. A fortress of fear Pulsating with anticipation of the worst.
The worst doesn't come...Jesus comes to that locked room. Locked doors and solid walls are no match for the ascending Christ, the Risen One.
Jesus comes to that locked room of hearts locked by fear and says.............

“Peace”.

Not only does he say it, he breathes it. He is no longer flesh and bone, but mist and vapor and that vapor wafts over faces in that hiding place and they feel it. As on the day of creation, that cosmic revolution of newness when the Creator breathed life into humanity. Jesus comes to them just as they need him to. Jesus brings an encounter in a way for them to see. For them to see and believe.

Thomas is outside of all of this yet part of it. Thomas was somewhere else while the revolution came...Somewhere else while things were happening, and people were telling their stories.
Of course he doubted this new evidence, this new turn of events.
Wouldn't you?
Of course he didn't believe his closest friends that they had “seen Jesus”, would you?

Of course, he demanded that only his eyes, his hands, his own understanding could determine truth from fiction, sacred story from blaspheme.
Only his eyes would he believe, this latecomer, this absent doubter.
I don't really know how ascension works, however Jesus, who was likely in that moment spiraled into the great yaw of heaven's entrance..........comes back. Comes back to doors that are shut.
But Jesus' limiting-norm of flesh and blood have given way to the no-need-for-norm of the Sacred Realm, and finds Thomas and others inside. Jesus not only comes to Thomas, but he comes back to Thomas exactly as Thomas demanded. The Christ, now a heavenly ether, comes with wounds available for proof. And Thomas believes. But before this loving Lord departs there is a small rebuke. A rebuke that we all must hear today. “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

Life during seminary is one focused on stories of sacred encounters: stories of barren wombs made fertile, stories of spit and mud turned into sight. Stories of subversive dunkings in a German river, stories of a young Pennsylvania girl who saw visions, stories of God calling the unlikely...yes I'm talking about all of us in this room, and God using the limitless resources of all of creation and human imagination to make known the Grander, Amazing, Sacred Story.
The Mdiv students get to tell their spiritual autobiographies and the MA students get to choose topics for in depth research that almost always exposes part of their spiritual autobiography.
All the while you/we move through study and ideas with simultaneous purposes: the goals of the individual growth, and the preparation for a life of public ministry. We can get bound into one of either of those pretty easily....sacrificing our own personal challenges as we stay keenly focused on those we will serve....or diving too deeply into our own development that we seldom stop to consider the story of another. From the occasional class to the Masters, to Dmin or PhD work, we are engaging in significant education and reflective development on behalf of ourselves and all the people whose spiritual growth or social economic change will be impacted by our leadership. By your leadership.
And we are defining what is normative for ourselves and the church along the way. So, have you asked yourselves, “Whose norm will you preach or live by?” Be careful if you think “God's norm” is an easy answer...There are so many godly and conflicting norms present in this room, that it is amazing that we are not all at each others throats, demanding proof or vying for our standard to win.
Actually, that has been happening here, this year.... most years to some degree. ...But this year, there seems to be more proving
this over that,
authority over love,
tradition over inclusion,
my type of faithfulness over your type of faithfulness.

I want to know how we plan to unlock the doors,
how we plan to allow Christ to ascend,
when we're going to speak with angels in order to hear stories that conflict with our own. Stories of honest and earnest encounters with God. Stories from Kristy and Karen, and Malcolm X as they awaken untapped paths within me...within you.....paths that lead to unbidden encounters with the Divine ….
that make us look around to see if anyone else noticed what just happened. Encounters that we try to tell with words like “the presence of God”, “Eros”, “Ma'at”, “Christ's Peace”, “Incarnational”...with every word not quite enough.
We fear telling our deepest stories, because they may sound false, or deniable, or weird. I might not believe you. You might make light of my beliefs when I leave the room. And we stop the flow of stories within story because we fear. If fear is to be had, it should be of a bland and predictable path, born from living smack centered in the acceptable norm and never exploring outward.

It is to our advantage to listen to one another. It is to the advantage of all of creation to believe one another when we have seen the Divine in the multitude of ways that the Divine will come to us.

It is hard to trust someone else's story. We trust our own eyes. We trust our own experience. But we turn to some norm set long ago, like way back in the iconic churchly 50s or mid 1800s or early 1700s, to prove validity, when it comes to someone else's story. Testing it against tradition and text, as though current experience is an untrustworthy cousin. When confronted with something revolutionary, we are doubting Thomas all the way.

As far as revolutionary storytelling goes, we are still timidly flirting with the many storied realities of Postmoderism. A Postmodern reality allows us to critique the system of Modernity....that human structure and now uninspiring monovocal reality where those in power think they are speaking for all when they are really only speaking for themselves. The postcolonial movement and Aregentinian Enrique Dussel fuel some new ideas for me, that Modernity has been about a unified narrative, a singular world view where cultures and voices have been mowed down and squished into submissive invisibility, conquered by the western european Christian, mindset.

Postmodernism is not new. It is a revealing and validation of many stories of life, God, human triumph, refreshed understandings, stories that have been in existence for some time. It is as though the weighty stone of Modernism and the Norm God, is slowly being lifted by the shear strength of a host of voices filling their multitudinous lungs with the forgotten breath of life.. Up goes the stone and the cultures, narratives, and individuals that were squished and presumed gone, are springing back into their fullness.
Like linen turned to Angels,
Gardeners turned into the Divine.
One day, that heavy stone will be thrown off into the abyss, to reveal a beauty that will make us cry for its centuries of absence.
For it is all the glory of God.
The Beauty of the Sacred.
The encountered variety of the Creator.

Don't you want to hear someone else's stories of their encounters with God?
Our stories might blow us away, and in previous centuries might have gotten some burned at the stake.
But I, like you, know the sources of my holy encounters.
And incurious--disbelief cannot ….expunge.... the truth.... of the Divine..... from my experience. Or from yours.
When one says “I have seen God” we can respond with “Tell me more!”
When one names and metaphors the Divine in curious ways that are meaningful and life giving, we should say “Amen” with them.
Mature minds and wise hearts know when they are in the presence of narcissism, or predictable smallness, or when stories rise from growth and transforming development as God leads us onward.
Do we get to ask questions when your story does not confirm my stories? Absolutely. We better. We owe it ourselves, to a sister or a brother, we owe it to the world beyond these solid walls, so that all can learn to hear with interest, trust and awe.
When we judge, it is like Mary Magdalene's presumed impulse to hold on to Jesus, anchoring him to this known existence.
When we say “tell me more” it is like being caught up in the ascension toward a more heavenly understanding.
God is coming to us presenting life, comfort, salvation, challenges, power to forgive, revelation and revolution in just the way we need in order for us to get it. That is what our stories tell us.
And that is why when a sister says, that when she was about to walk away from God, God came to her as the Goddess, I believe.
That is why when someone shares that they felt God's direction and presence in the appearance of three blue jays...a story heard in last weeks joint chapel, I do not diminish it.

And if someone says that God comes to them in the masculine terms and images of what has always been, I will learn to honor it while praying for more encounters that blow their minds.
It is not our relational responsibility to disbelieve. It is to believe when one has said, I have seen.
I don't think I really know the best way for God to come to me. And I'm reasonably well versed in unprescribed encounters with God. My heart breaks for those whose holy encounters are not welcomed by the church or others, and they have to sit in silence. As rising and current church leaders, how will you walk with your people when the choice comes for someone to stay and disbelieve their own encounters with God, or leave in order to know God beyond the definitions of the status quo?

Without our combined experiences and trust for one anothers stories,
we will stay the same,
and nothing will change.
The norm will win,
and we'll mistake God for the Gardener.



Benediction:
The Infinite One
cannot be bound by our human limits of imagination,
but can be known in full bloom from the imagination.
The Source of Resurrection,
the Breath of Courage and Purpose,
the One who walks through solid doors
and speaks peace
is an ungraspable
yet knowable Sacred story.
Ether and mist,
air and breath,
wound and wholeness,
here and ascending.

Wonder at the river Jabbok

(written for a wonderful assignment in my class at Columbia Theological Seminary on Job/Proverbs/Ecclesiastes...even though this text is from Genesis)

Genesis 32:22-31

To get at Jacob's wonder, possible wonder, at the river Jabbok, we have to recall much of Jacob's life.
I think that wonder filled moments,
strike us largely because of our back-stories.....

Jacob has lived a life of scheming....either as a schemer apprentice, schemed against, schemer in chief......he is now about to face his own original sin face to face.

And he is scared. He sends before him everything he owns: gifts to appease what may be an vengeful brother...
why wouldn't Jacob assume Esau would scheme against him?.....
he sends his household across the river,
he sends the very people he loves the most, and stays behind.

Jacob stays behind and is alone

WHAM! The wrestling begins as though snuck up from behind.
Not after a time of quiet contemplation,
not after a time of sizing up the opponent,
not after a grief stricken moment of seeing the backsides
of his wives and children...

He was alone, but not alone. We don't know who he wrestled with: God, river demon, self, fear, the past, the future.....but he wrestled all night long, never giving up, never giving in....daybreak arrived and the persistent opponent, seeing no victory, seeks to be released.

Jacob the schemer wants something for his trouble:
he wants a blessing and demands a blessing.

The blessing that comes is recognition of who he is,
what his life has been,
and who he will be.
This, I think, is the point, the moment,
the terrible and awesome place of Jacob's wonder.

He was/is Jacob, the heel grabber, the usurper, the life long schemer.....
He is and is to be Israel,
the one who has striven with God....
or “God strives”.

There is the wonder: God strives
with him
through him
for him
in spite of him

This blessing has always been present,
but in the seeing of it,
the naming of it,
it becomes known.

When we become known, it is~
the way we speak of being at ONE with creation,
with the universe, with God......
...it is as if we've seen the face of God....
even if its with our own ineffable being and not our physical eyes.

Fuller states that “Wonder, by helping us to feel connected with 'something more' transforms our world into a living 'thou' that invites our full participation.” (Fuller 93).

Jacob doesn't suddenly redeem his scheming ways, in fact I think he already knows that if Esau does not kill him...this reunion is but a moment and not for a lifetime.....he is already scheming his next move.....

But at Peniel he is invited into a fuller participation, he has seen God,
he has been marked by his lifelong ways,
he has been renamed....
and God has striven with him at all points along the way.



Personally, I find wonder in this
as I continually recognize my own schemes
founded in insecurity or lack of trust,

as my own denomination enters the collective frey
of determining
if we will be a Jesus and justice centered welcoming people
or biblically faithful and accountable people.....(it seems those to wondrous things are incompatible)...

in all our corporate scheming God will strive
with us,
for us,
through us,
in spite of us.

And there is the wonder that I find beside the river Jabok.

Twitter

It has taken weeks for me to pull my ideas together to provide a thoughtful post on the new phenom of twitter.

Unlike Twitter.

Twitter rules by the free flow of ideas....as they sprout from our minds. Fun. Sure.

But very little that just flows from our minds is worth the attention it gets on Twitter. In fact, the immediacy of Twittering makes any attempt at thoughtful posts...well, outdated. By minutes.

I don't want to read what you are thinking if what you are thinking is simply verbal processing. I'll be that sounding board for my friends as they work through issues and struggles. I'll continue to be the driver in the car who talks to herself so that by the time she has arrived at a meeting or conversation the mental sludge has slipped away, leaving the processed thoughts. But for the masses, pull yourselves together before you put it out for all to read. And if you don't have anything worth reading, then twit not.

I want to hear your thoughts. I do. I want to hear the ideas that have taken the time to consider multiple sides, to consider what really needs to be said, that sets aside anger or other driving emotions that do not help public discourse.

Twittering is fun, presumably. Yet the good stuff, the stuff that might actually mean something gets lost in the, "I'm throwing away this used tissue" posts that surround the good stuff.

Twitter away. Meanwhile, I'll be 10 paces behind you: considering, thinking, and making reasoned conclusions. Hopefully.

Best of luck,
amysgr

Turner's Video

In an effort to distract myself from things I needed to do.....namely write a sermon and put off thinking about the impending departure of my oldest son....I spent Saturday afternoon putting this together.

Enjoy!

And, Turner? You are absolutely ready.

Much love,
Mother

mothering the president

"Washington is all in a tizzy over who’s at fault. Some say it’s the Democrats’ fault, the Republicans’ fault. Listen, I’ll take responsibility, I’m the president."
PRESIDENT OBAMA, over executive bonuses at the American International Group.

New York Times online ran this quote this morning. I'm feeling very protective of the president right now. He needs a mother. He needs someone to say, "Take what is yours, but don't take anyone elses." In many years of ministry, I always felt that a life long example of responsible living could help set people on a good path (those who were on rather wobbly paths, that is). But in hindsight, those who do not know how to claim what they are responsible for, will simply allow others to take the responsibility. Example is not always enough. Teaching must have a place in the change.

I think that President Obama is offering a fearless example of stepping up and showing everyone that taking responsibility when things are going awry does not signal weakness or ineptitude. But those who live in fear of losing their power and position need lessons, not just examples. How do we get the dems or the repubs to take their own stuff without the other side doing a "nana nana boo boo" at them?

The other night, I was blamed by my beloved son for being the reason he couldn't possibly get his home work done. It made me mad. And so I told him so. I said, that the reason his homework isn't done is because he played on the internet all day, and waited until 6pm to figure out just what he had to do. All day I had offered gentle reminders about getting homework done. All day he said, "Im a man with a plan." In the end, the plan failed and I was blamed. He was angry that I had the nerve to stand up for myself and not take what was not mine to take. He was still mad later because he just didn't want to see how it was his own fault.

I fear that each time President Obama takes the responsibility for something someone else really did, he only teaches them that they can still get away with it. It is enabling action. Those who wont' come forth and say, "No Mr President, it wasn't you. These are the reasons this failed..." will cower in their corner offices, hoping nobody notices who is truly at fault.

Yes.....to taking responsibility for what you've done.

Mr. President, lead without fear, with courage, with openness.....and teach others how to do the same.

amysgr

smart power

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/22/opinion/22kristof.html?partner=permalink&exprod=permalink This link is to a New York Times article by Nicholas Kristoff.

This mix of soft and hard power is what Professor Nye calls “smart power” — an update of Teddy Roosevelt’s notion of speaking softly and carrying a big stick — and it seems to be an emerging theme of the new administration.

Kristoff refers to a melding of Soft Power and Hard Power....both of which were referenced in the Inaugural Address. It is, well, powerful. It is a balance of brain and brawn which may lead to lessening the brawn once the brain finds third ways of conflict management.

...just me on a NYT roll......

amysgr