Zoo Days and Holy Days

Yesterday began with a list. "Pick up the car with the repaired tire." "Run by the church to scan and send something." "Finish prepping for Saturday's Quiet Day." "Insurance blah blah." "Grocery store." "Etc. Etc. Etc."

Yesterday began with a list.
And a phone call from my sister.

The phone call from my sister led to ditching most of the list and heading to the zoo. Time spent with family is always time well spent. Time spent at the zoo is always time well spent. Time spent outside when the weather is perfect is always time well spent. Holy days.

This morning began with a Quiet Day. I led my sisters at church through a day of reflection and meditation. Quiet. Study. Reflection. Holiness.

Nils is sleeping. Carolena is painting. It is a holy day indeed. Holy days abound.

If You Give Casey a Nativity Scene

If you give a mouse a cookie, she'll want a glass of milk.

People always check out nativity scenes.

And then people always look back up from mine and glare at me in shock. "Why is baby Jesus already in your manger?! It isn't Christmas yet!" and sometimes they even go so far as to start shuffling magi farther "east."

It happens every year. Every. Single. Year.
Evidently this is something akin to being a Grinch before his heart expands a bit. *gasp* Baby Jesus in the manger from the get-go! The horror!
And I don't know what I usually say, but it isn't this:

If baby Jesus isn't in the manger and the wisemen wait until Epiphany to get there... THEN...

Then why are Mary and Joseph there? Shouldn't they be traveling?

And if I remove Mary and Joseph too, then we've just got a nativity with shepherds milling about.
BUT WAIT!

If I'm planning to put wisemen in the nativity then there shouldn't even be any shepherds. Because if I have magi tucked away to make their grand entrance for Epiphany then we're going with Matthew's version of the nativity so it's a no-go on shepherds. And, actually, if that's the case, and I have a Matthean nativity scene then it isn't a manger scene at all! Matthew says magi visit the "house" (2:11). Hmmm... so if I'm going with wisemen then we ditch the entire manger gig all together. BUT...

But if I'm sticking with a Lucan nativity then we'll go with a manger scene... and instead toss the magi and bright star. BUT THEN the shepherds don't arrive until AFTER Jesus' birth so now we just have an empty barn. Except that people didn't have barns like we think of barns, they kept animals in little caves in the hillside so I've got to find a big rock and carve that out instead. SOOOOO...

So if baby Jesus isn't in the manger, and the wisemen are waiting until Epiphany, THEN why are Mary and Joseph not also on the road? Why are there shepherds milling about the manger scene? Who is making an appearance, shepherds or magi?! Should this all be taking place in a house or a small hill-side cave? AND WHY DOES MY NATIVITY HAVE A ZEBRA AND A GIRAFFE IN IT?!?!?!?!?!



gasp for air. gasp for air.
breathe.
breathe.

*evidently* I can't go for the "accuracy" of the timing of baby Jesus and the magi.

So, yeah, when you come to my house on December 6th, baby Jesus and all the gang (shepherds, magi, zebra, and giraffe) are all there in the very American Gothic style barn... just exactly as it happened so very long ago.

And if you ask me why baby Jesus isn't hidden away to be placed in the manger on December 25, I'll probably just laugh, and tell you that while I really don't care at all what other people do with their nativity scenes, mine just have to stay complete, because... to put it simply... I really overthink things.

Rejoice! Rejoice!

Sometimes a few days at home is just what the doctor ordered. And no, I don't mean my own grown-up life-in-suburbia two-kids-and-two-cats home. I mean home home. ET phone home. Big Money Texas. Beaumont, y'all. There's just something about driving down I-10 and seeing a huge alligator welcome you to Beaumont that just screams... well, I'm not sure what that screams actually... something.

Ah, yes, a few days at home with my family was wonderful. I slept in my own room. Well, for like five seconds. I slept in Hunter's room for two nights as I crashed while tucking in C and spent a few sleepless nights shushing N from Kelly's bed as well. Evidently we like to leave my mother with sheets to wash on every single bed. Sorry, Mom. Carolena came home talking about how the Piney Woods make you sneeze to which I like to respond in a weird creepy Cajun/country/made up accent, "Yyyeeeeppp, that's liiife behiiind the piiiine currrtain. I was born in that there briar patch."

I never claim(ed) to be normal.

We ate fabulous food (but awesomely not toooo much of it), danced the Charleston (because, duh), played games (nope, other people did that. I read BFrank's bio), and were just happy to all be together.

But, as all good things must come to an end, Saturday morning arrived and the piney woods had taken their toll. My sinuses have forgotten how to survive in such extreme circumstances. My children were exhausted. My mother was remembering her own Benjamin Franklin research ("fish and visitors" you know). So we loaded up the plethora of Coke glasses I'd reclaimed from the attic (I'm sure Chris is thrilled) and headed home.

We came home with a pile of dirty laundry (because I did not heed my mother's advice to wash it before leaving) and arrived to a completely empty refrigerator. So I started a load of laundry and hopped out to the grocery store.

Chris tossed our bags into our bedroom and we started hauling down the Christmas decorations. A tree was purchased and decorated. Lights were strung up outside. I pulled out white paper and started cutting out snowflakes galore. I have priorities after all. The laundry will eventually get done. The grocery buying can wait. But the joy and anticipation of Advent? The excitement and wonder of incarnation? The mystery of love and God among us in a hurting and war-torn world? Yeah, I'm ready to get into that. So we pulled out the things that we claim as "Christmas" and started pouring them all over our household. There is so much in this world that I can't control. There is so much anger and hate and hurt. But you know what I can control? Whether or not there is a 7ft tree taking up residence in the living room. Yeah, we're ready for Advent. We're ready for a season of hope. A season of reflecting on peace, on Emmanuel.

So this morning we awoke to a twinkling Christmas tree. A good-smelling-happiness-inducing slice of Advent. A reminder of hope. A reminder of peace. A reminder that God is with us. Nils stares at it in impish wonder and joy. His face glows in merriment that can't be contained nor described. "Tree! Tree!" he exclaims while dancing and pointing. Carolena sighs and stares dreamily at its twinkling lights. They know nothing of the hurt and pain of the world. They know only of love and comfort and joy. Children at Christmas time. I'm just ready for that.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.

The Life of the World to Come

I have always been so immersed in a church community I can't imagine life without it.

That's not true. As far as that goes, college was a bust. I was lonely and yearned to know people who weren't my own age. Though I later served as a campus minister, I certainly wasn't involved in the student center while a student. I wanted to know people who were my elders. That's always been one of the greatest things about church for me.

From Mrs. Purden's cookies to the world's warmest smile on Bill Barth's face each Sunday, St. Mark's gave me a home church in which I was raised by generations of Episcopalians, not just my parents. Ironically (because she was the world's most fabulous clergy spouse) I always wanted most to be like Marie Calcote (ironic because I too am now a clergy spouse... though decidedly not the world's most fabulous). I knew people well who weren't kids, who had already "been there" and "done that" and who weren't my flesh and blood family. Church family is a very powerful thing.

Without a church (or synagogue, or mosque) how would someone know people in other age groups? Perhaps they don't. What a loss. I'm not talking about religion right now - I'm talking about relationships. What a true loss to not have friends in other life stages.

Many... most? of the people I hold dearest in my current parish are considerably older than I am. They are the ones who welcomed me into my church home with loving and open arms. They are the ones who offer me the wisdom of having survived. When I show up on a Sunday looking tired and haggard, they smile knowingly and laugh saying things like, "Yep. I remember those days. It will get better." When I have news to share of successes, they never wonder self consciously if I am passive aggressively competing with them (peers, I never am, I don't care). They just celebrate my successes with me. And their stories are fabulous. Stories about raising their own children, most of whom were born before I was. Stories about falling in love and getting married in a whirlwind of weeks. Stories about staying married through the thick and thin. Stories about losing loved ones and pain and moving and new jobs and hardships. There is most definitely a wisdom that comes with age.

A friend (who is not yet an old man) is dying right now and I'm at a loss for words. Well, am I ever truly at a loss for words? There are many things to say about his character (upstanding), his love for his family (endless), his love for God (inspiring)... all of that... but for me, when he was still able to attend church, he was the person who shared with me a similar love of learning. I knew that each Sunday we would stop and talk. Like most people we would inquire as to one another's families and all that jazz, but the heart of our friendship, the real meat of why we "click" is that we have the same passion for learning. We would fly through all of the niceties of conversation and then one of us would excitedly say to the other, "Guess what I learned about?!" or ask one another a question about the other's studied topic and then the conversation would really take off. I've missed seeing him these last few months. I didn't realize how accustomed I'd grown to our... nope... that's not true at all. I have actually cherished that friendship since day one. 

And I have meanwhile heard news of another (much older) friend's medical diagnosis. They too are someone who I make a point to sit by when the seat next to them is empty. I heard of this yesterday and won't blog more about it. Suffice to say, I'll miss this person as well.

Since Chris became a priest he has done an insane amount of funerals. It wasn't until now, in this parish, in this family, that they really started taking their toll on me. "But wait!" I want to cry out "These are my friends! my family!" Our last church was huge. And I worked for another church. I never knew, or really knew, any of the people whose funerals Chris was presiding.

To be honest... I much prefer this. Because the richness of friendship far exceeds the hardship. The beauty of knowing each other, the joy of learning from one another, the love we share with one another in friendship - all of that truly outweighs the heaviness of death.

And with great hope, we look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come. 

My Open Letter to the Church

If there is one thing Millennials hate it's being told what to do. I know. I myself am somewhere in the upper range of Millennials (1983 - hollah!). And I loathe being told what to do. Ask anyone. Ask my mother. Ask my husband. Ask my old boss who used to frequently lay tasks on my desk only to be met with a screeching, "No! You do it!" He had to get a job in the bishop's office to hide from me and my wrath. Thus far my demands that the Rev Canon Newt now rehire me as his right-hand gal have been unfruitful. Of course, I've applied for my job to be to sit next to him while we wear matching sweater vests and I smoke a pipe looking thoughtful. Perhaps he just doesn't realize yet how necessary this position is.

All this is to say: Don't tell me what to do. I do what I want.

So why is the Church bending over backward to get us Millennials in the door? Eeew. Gross. Hello every denomination in America, have you ever heard of playing hard to get? Okay, I'm kidding... a little... but not entirely. Hear me out...

From my viewpoint it seems like getting my generation into the doors is all the American Church wants to talk about lately. "Wah, wah, Millennials aren't going to church. *cry*"
Church! Pull yourself together! So someone doesn't like you! It happens! You are acting like the teenage girl whose boyfriend breaks up with her and she won't stop calling him. Oh honey, that isn't how you win him back. For heaven's sake child, hang up the damn phone. Put a cool washcloth on your eyes so they don't look puffy in the morning. Slather on some makeup and don your most fabulous outfit. Then go to school and be the most beautiful, charming, and interesting person there. That'll have him regretting his decision to ask Tammy to prom instead of you.

Church... do you see what I'm getting at here? You are spending so much time chasing after the Millennials, and trust me, you look desperate. Who wants to hang out with the desperate girl who wont stop calling? No one. That's who. I said something along these lines to a friend recently and her face showed her instant disapproval: she was appalled. She kindly said, "but what about the Great Commission?" Yep. What about it? Have the Millennials not heard of Christ? Is the Church meeting in a secret undisclosed location that only they are not allowed to know about? The Millennials are uninterested because the Church is uninteresting to them.

Yep, I said it. And I'll say it again: the Millennials are uninterested because the Church is uninteresting to them. Do I need to say it in all caps?

Here's the thing Church with a capital letter C: you don't have to chase after this generation of young people. They know you exist. They just aren't that into you. And that's okay. Because someday they will be interested, and you'll still be here. Right here waiting with open arms for the prodigal son generation to return.

So, what to do about this "uninteresting" thing, eh? We can't just leave that big awkward elephant standing here in the room can we? Here's the deal... young people are bored by headlines like "Millennials Leaving the Fold" which is what I saw when I clicked on cnn.com this morning. Strangely enough, Millennials aren't that interested in hearing about Millennials. We feel suffocated by that. We don't like being bossed around so when we hear that the Church is frantic to get us... well... you see how that's going. What are we interested in? Authenticity. People and groups who don't try so hard to impress us. Millennials' current viewpoint of the Church is that it's a place that is trying desperately to get their attention. The way to get Millennials in the door is in fact, to stop trying so hard to get them in the door. And for Christ's sake (literally), stop talking about trying so hard to get them in the door. Church, do you get what I'm saying here?

So the Millenials didn't ask you to prom. It happens. I'm not going to be the friend who hands you a Twinkie and a Dr. Pepper and tells you "you're better off without him." You aren't. And the Millenials aren't better off either. We need each other. We're better together.

So, now what should you do about it? Put a washcloth on your eyes and stop calling them. Let them come to you. They know where you are. Stop stressing out over where they are. Just be you. Be the Church. The Church doesn't have to be pushy and clingy and desperate for this generation to like it. Ironically, here's the trick to getting Millenials to like you: don't worry so much about whether or not they like you. They know you exist. Yes, part of our identity as the Church is to evangelize. We have Good News and we need to share it. The thing is though, that sharing it with Millennials doesn't mean calling them in tears every fifteen minutes wondering if they want to reconsider the break up yet. Sharing the Good News with Millennials requires actions speaking loudly. It requires invitations that aren't desperate sounding. Invitations that are genuine and sincere. Millennials aren't interested in the Church the media portrays - you know that Church - the one hyperconcerned with empty pews. Millennials aren't interested in a Church that talks about evangelizing to Millennials. They are interested in a Church that is busy evangelizing. Now, go do your thing. Evangelize. Feed the hungry. Visit the sick and lonely and imprisoned. Welcome the sinner. Heal the broken. Church, you are beautiful.That is what makes you interesting. You are interesting in your depth. In your mystery. In your strength and peace and confidence. You are beautiful in your Truth. You are beautiful in your hands and feet and the work that they do in the world. These are the things that make you interesting. Focus on those things and the Millennials won't be able to help but start knocking down your doors.

My Open Love Letter to Beth Bojarski

One day recently (so, like, in the last year or so) Kelly asked me to name people who have been largely influential in making me who I am today (obvious choices not included). Now, if you know Kelly at all then you know that this question was not one that merited a casual response. Kelly wasn't looking for an off the top of my head reply. She wanted an in-depth analysis of the most influential people in my life. Who were these people? How did I meet them? What impact did they have upon me? Give specific examples as to how am I living out that influence today. I don't remember if I passed the oral portion of the examination, but I've decided to submit the written part here.

Her question was intriguing. One I've thought about since that day. I thought about sending a letter to my most influential person, but I like the public nature of blogging. Plus, the drug my neurologist has me on makes my fingers go numb (an expected side effect) and thus lengthy letter writing will not be in my portfolio in the near future. It also makes for some interesting Bodypump classes - try doing a million clean and presses with numb hands. It's weird.

So... without further ado... surprise Beth! You are the first person that popped in my mind when Kelly asked me that question. Why? Because you are perhaps the person who I have most purposely looked up to and tried to learn from in my adult life. Surprised? Perhaps. Let me get everyone on the same page...

Beth was one of the first people I met when Chris and I moved to Virginia in 2006. The very first person in fact. She was our next door neighbor and was outside wearing a superman t-shirt and ready to help unpack our u-haul when we pulled up. She met us with a smile and a welcome basket from the seminary and a promise to always have an open door should I need to borrow an egg. Although... now that I type this out that was right around the time she went vegan... so... hmmm... Beth and a bunch of dudes unloaded our trailer for us and then sat down with a cooler of crappy beer and welcomed us to the neighborhood.

Getting a picture of how cool she is already?

Unfortunately for me, I met Beth before I had my "aha moment" in 2009 when I realized I was the "common denominator" in never making friends. *cough* More on that later if any one is interested. Or not. I'll summarize it for you: I had a moment of clarity when I realized I never made friends because I never tried to be anyone's friend. Tricky.

Fortunately for me, Beth is pretty damn cool and kept reaching out to me anyway despite my tendency to stay firmly put in my hobbit hole. So, here is how Beth influenced who I am today:

The first way that Beth impacted who I am today was a very specific occasion. Beth had a weekly gathering at her apartment (see, she knew how to make friends! sheesh) and at one such gathering the conversation turned catty. Beth was not one to normally partake in making fun of other people behind their backs (another thing I tried to pick up from her), but that particular night she said something rude. Who cares what she said? Who even remembered? It was just one comment among many that were said by a bunch of girls. The next day I found an email in my inbox from Beth sent to everyone who had attended. In it she acknowledged that she'd said something she regretted and wished that she could take it back. She apologized to everyone for hosting a party that ended up turning sour. I was 24 at the time so a bunch of girls sitting around and making fun of someone behind their back didn't seem to me like a party turning sour. That's just what a party was, right? {*see note above about how I did not yet know how to make friends at this time*} Beth's email in terms of my needing an apology didn't matter. But it changed my life! It was the first time that someone had reached out in reconciliation in that particular way. I knew that none of us needed Beth to apologize for her comment, she had needed to apologize. A year or so later I was at a party and made the same mistake. Sorry to burst your bubble people but seminary is a fish bowl. Seminarians say mean things when in a fish bowl. I found myself back home after the party and regretting the thing I'd said and the way I'd potentially made other people feel uncomfortable with my having said it (I'd made fun of a classmate). So, I took a page from Beth's book and sent everyone an email. And it was freeing. From then on I've done my best to always reach out in reconciliation when something is eating at me and that has been life changing.

Which leads us to my second point: Beth is one of the most genuine and openly honest people I've ever met. Perhaps the most genuine and openly honest person I've ever met. She is caring and compassionate and willing to share those feelings. But more than that she is willing to share the whole gamut of feelings. She doesn't hold back, but she does so in a way that is holy, in a way that invites others in and allows them to be a part of something holy. She showed me how to speak my mind no matter what the emotion. Being in school and a small group with Beth I saw her interact with a variety of people in a variety of situations and was amazed by her ability to voice her opinions in a way that didn't diminish the opinions of others. She stood firm in what she felt and believed, but didn't try to stomp on someone else's feet in giving voice to her thoughts. I saw her speak openly to friends when she was concerned for their well-being even if it was going to be an uncomfortable conversation. I saw her share her fears, her triumphs, her mundanes of life - and it was all beautiful - and I realized, that sharing one's life, one's whole life with people is in fact truly beautiful. Beth's ability to be so open and honest gave me the desire to live my life in the same way and it is something that since meeting her I have actively pursued. What I've found is that it's freeing and has opened new opportunities in my life for friendship and love. I have found that more often than not that sharing with people results in "me toos!" and closeness and community and friendship. Sure sometimes it's uncomfortable, vulnerability is... well... vullneerrabblee... but it's so worth it. Beth gets credit for teaching me that sharing one's full gamut of emotions allows others to share theirs and opens up new paths for friendship and depth and holiness.

On a lighter note, Beth taught me how to layer! Ha! Literally. With the first cold snap we had in Virginia Beth found me wearing a t-shirt and a coat. I remember very clearly her saying to me, "Can I ask you a question? Have you ever heard of layering?" And I've survived cold weather ever since. Turns out you can be in the snow and not be cold. Huh, who knew?! Perhaps every Texan needs a friend from upstate New York.

So, Kelly, there you have it. Beth Bojarski wins as the non-relative non-teacher non-obvious-choice for most influential person in my life. Hands down. No contest. No one else even comes close. Unfortunately for Beth the winner of this contest receives a none-expense paid trip to Tejas where they can revel in right-wing hysteria, eat large quantities of beef, and throw away unused paper products just to remind the trees who the boss is around here. I jest, of course... I jest... I'm kidding... a joke... right? *sigh* 

Tis a Gift to be Simple

We live in a Mardi Gras world. We love gluttony and overindulgence. We prefer things to be fast rather than to fast.

Confession: I love Lent.
Confession: I've slacked off on my lenten disciplines for the last few years.

The earliest Christians observed Lent as a period of fasting and prayer and preparation in order to align themselves with Christ and best prepare for the celebration of the Resurrection. Celebrating the Risen Lord and new life is so deep and real, a period of preparation is set aside leading up to Easter. Kind of like our pre-season warmup. Okay, I shouldn't use sports references. I have no idea if that's what Lent is like.

In the past, I've been known to give up things like chips, or cokes, or whatever. Then, one year I gave up complaining. And it was transformative. The tricky thing about fasting from something like complaining, is that at first you'll be really bad at it. I found myself retrospectively taking back complaints. Then, gradually, I stopped myself from vocalizing a complaint. Eventually, by Easter, I had eliminated many complaints from even popping into my head in the first place.

Lent is a time for us to concentrate on being more like the person who God intends for us to be. In some ways that is universal. God wants us to be people full of mercy and grace. Full of hope and life and love. In some ways it is deeply personal. God calls me to be a person who is creative. He has given me a heart for social justice. These are the two things I am going to concentrate on this year. Creativity and compassion.

I guess if you want to put it in language of "fasting" - then I am going to fast from inaction. I prefer to view it in terms of what I'm "taking on" this year. I'm going to do something creative every single day. Whether its blogging, or painting, or constructing, I am going to use my creativity every day. When I'm being creative I feel more like the person God created me to be. I'm going to take on more active compassion. I am always full of ideas about how to show mercy to others. I am going to act on these ideas.

And let's not forget about the R word: repentance. Repentance is at the heart of Lent.
Repent, for the kingdom of God is at hand! (matt 3:2)

If we truly repent, then we turn away from our sin. It is like we literally, physically, turn our bodies away from what it is that distracts us and turn our faces back to God.

This is the point of Lenten practices. To put aside those things which hold us back. To repent from them. To turn our faces back to the Risen Lord.

I don't think there is anything wrong with fasting from material things. Really, I don't. We give up tv every single year. There is something holy about turning off the tv and spending more time together as a family. Giving up chips and cookies is actually a great fast and a way to become more like the people God wants us to be. But, I want to propose that lent is more than just choosing something to abstain from. It is more than just giving up cokes and spending forty days waiting for Easter so you can pick the habit back up. It is about transformation. It is about setting aside those things which defile us and taking on those things that change the world. It is about working to look more like God's people. So, do God's people eat chips? Yes. Do God's people watch tv? Sure! But we are also called to be people who live in charity, and mercy, kindness, and grace. We are expected to fight for justice. I think if we work to take on these things, it will indeed be a very holy Lent.

Mooning You

Do you ever look at the moon?

I love to stare at the moon. With dinner and baths and tucking in and early to bed early to rise nonsense, I rarely see the moon at night. But, at 4somethingam when I leave my house for the Y (which arguably could be "night") I love to stare up at the moon. Other people are hustling and bustling in and out of the Y and here's old Luna Lovegood staring up at the sky.

Last week the moon caught my eye. Its enormity, brightness, and overall beauty... I just couldn't look away. "I want to go there!" I thought. I found myself thinking about this one action of staring at the moon in longing and how it really tied me in with humanity. I thought about how for so long humans longed to go there. What is that beautiful place? What will we find when we arrive? Generations and generations of people have stared at the moon in wonder. And then we finally got there and it was a big barren rock.

{Que Debby Downer music.}

The moon, while cool, is a big desolate rock. Space travel? Fascinating. The moon? Eh. What makes the moon enchanting is the fact that it reflects the light of the sun.

And then it hit me... we are not the moon.

Christ says, "You are the light of the world. A city on a hill can't be hidden." (Matt 5:14) Bam! Just like that I understood that we are nothing like the moon. The moon in and of itself is not all that interesting. Stand far away and watch the light of the sun reflect from it surface? Yeah, I can dig that. I like to look at that everyday. But go there? Hang out? Grab some drinks and start a long term relationship? Well... sorry moon... I, uh, have a previous engagement... some dude is bringing me to the movies.

We aren't the moon. We are a city on a hill. We give light. Sure, we are beautiful because we reflect God, but we are also beautiful in and of ourselves! We are a city on a hill for Christ's sake! Show up on the moon and you want to go home. Trudge all the way up a hill to a well lit city? Bring me my slippers and a bag of Doritos. I'm staying for there the long haul!

Now, let me take off my astronaut space helmet and put on my southern-pastor's-wife-teased-bleached-hair. You were created in the image and likeness of God. You are beautiful. You aren't the moon! Your beauty isn't surface value. You aren't just reflecting the fabulousness of others. You are a city on a hill! You have light and depth of your own! You bring beauty into the world. You are a place where people want to stay. So, be the city that God created you to be. Shine brightly with your own light. Be confident in who you are and who God made you to be.

Now think about this combined with the fact that God, the source of all light and life, dwells within us... and your head might explode.

Go in peace to love and serve the Lord!

Expectant Waiting

For a pregnant woman, the last weeks of waiting are some of the most intense. The fear of childbirth and the unknown of when it will begin. The excitement of the baby finally arriving after so much waiting and waiting and waiting. The feeling of knowing it could be "any day now" or weeks of still more waiting.

In the gospel of Luke when we find Jesus anticipating his arrest and coming passion (ch 22), the Greek word translated "anguish" or "agony" leads us to view Jesus with every muscle tensed. That's the "agony" described. Agony is not a very good translation into English - but alas, I cannot think of a better single word either. It's not agony like the agony of stubbing your barefoot toe on concrete. Agony in this sense is more like a runner. He is like the last person in a relay waiting for the baton. Every muscle is tensed. The anticipation is palpable.

I like to see this particular agony like that of the last weeks of pregnancy. Every emotional muscle is tensed waiting. Could today be the day? Am I going to make it all the way to lunch? Will I go to bed in my own bed tonight or be in the hospital? Will we have a newborn here in a few days? Or next week? Bags are ready and by the door. A crib is set up and the nursery is clean. A carseat rides around empty in the car.

This is Advent.

This is how we are to await the second coming of Christ. Like a woman awaiting the birth of a child. Like a runner poised to grab the baton for the final lap. We are supposed to live in such a way that our spiritual muscles are tense with anticipation. Like the parents who paint the nursery and wipe off every surface in anticipation of their newborn child. Like the father who glances at his wife's enormous belly and decides to go to bed a little earlier just in case he's awakened during the night to rush her to the hospital. Advent is the first season of our church calendar year and it should not surprise us that this first season reminds us of how we are to live out our lives. We are to live in anticipation. We are to live in this type of agony. Waiting. Watching. Preparing. Living our lives in advent as we make our song, "Oh come, oh come, Emmanuel."

Giving Thanks Without Giving Anything?

This Thanksgiving was very low key in our house, which made it a little odd, but full of thanks and love nonetheless. That day I had time to reflect upon Thanksgiving and it occurred to me that we, as a culture, treat Thanksgiving Day as Opposite Day. We set aside a national day of giving thanks, and then what do we do to practice this thankfulness?

We get together with people we love rather than people who are disenfranchised. Is this thankfulness? Well, yes, but perhaps not in it's entirety.

Then, we cook a ton of food and eat it. We eat all day until we are full. We call that appetizers. Then, we sit down to a Thanksgiving feast and stuff more food into our already full bellies. Once the meal is over, we take some time to lie on the couch and "make a little room" for dessert, which we then indulge in freely. Is this thankfulness? No, I believe this is called gluttony.

Then, that evening and the next day we (not my family in particular, but culturally speaking "we") crowd into stores for Black Friday. We push and shove and heap things into our arms. We buy and buy and buy. Is this thankfulness? Nope, I'm pretty sure this is hoarding.

What a strange way for us to spend our day of thankfulness. As far as I can see we don't do anything that exhibits thankfulness other than offering thanks before one of our meals that day. Our Thanksgiving doesn't actually look like giving thanks does it?

All of this has led me to think that it might be impossible to truly give thanks by taking instead of giving.

Tidings of Comfort and Joy

A few years ago when I was pregnant with my firstborn I found myself on the phone with my sister, complaining about all of the annoying things people say to pregnant women. "You look so big!" Wrong. "You look so small!" Wrong. "Any day now?" Wrong. No matter what anyone said, unless it was "You look fabulous," it was the wrong thing to say.

After listening sympathetically to my woes Kelly responded, "Casey, people just want to be a part of a miracle."

And my head exploded.

She was right. No one knows what to say to a pregnant woman (except me: just tell them they look good and then shut your mouth). Everyone flounders and says stupid things. People reach out to touch their bellies. Everyone just wants to be a part of the miracle.

We say that the Episcopal Church welcomes you. What we don't mention is the caveat: the Episcopal Church welcomes you... until you start celebrating Christmas earlier than we have deemed appropriate and then people start to lose their shit.

Until recently, I would watch my neighbors string up their lights in mid-November and shake my head, "It isn't even Thanksgiving yet!" I would hear the carols playing in stores and roll my eyes, "Ugh, don't people observe Advent?!"

Last week we were driving home and passed a few houses decked out for Christmas. I inwardly cringed, but then I heard Kelly's voice echo in my head (how does she DO that?!), "Casey, people just want to be a part of a miracle."

People just want to be a part of a miracle.

People just want to be a part of a miracle and they are looking for it in the wrong places. Each year we put up more decorations and bake more cookies. We turn on the Christmas music a little earlier and watch just a few more Christmas movies. Those things are fabulous, and certainly fun, but do not in and of themselves bring us to the miracle of the incarnation.

One of the overlooked aspects of Christmas is that the Church stole a lot of our Christmas traditions from others. Sure, the incarnation part is significant to say the least and wholly ours, but the huge winter party complete with tree trimming - that was originally pure paganism. No one even knows when Christ was born. We took some traditions from "the world" and work to make them holy. It's kind of our thing.

So why do we get so worked up when people start celebrating too early? People just want to be a part of a miracle. Plus, get ready... not all churches observe Advent. Gasp! Perhaps, instead of blasting them on Facebook and shouting about how it isn't Christmas yet, we should offer them grace. Perhaps we should stop worrying about the world stealing our Christmas celebration (much of which we conveniently forget has always belonged the world) and instead work to make this time holy. Why don't we work to celebrate Advent and Christmas in such a way that people look at us and know that there is something more going on then just a big winter celebration?

It is easy to point out the problems with modern Christmas. It is difficult to find solutions. Nonetheless, here is what I propose:

• This year, let's focus on holiness. Instead of being annoyed with others and the frantic Christmas present buying and all of the excess, let's focus on silent nights. Holy nights.
• This year, let's forget about that damn Elf on the Shelf. Everyone knows that Santa does in fact bring presents to the "bad kids" - let's stop the b.s. on that one and instead teach our children the truth: Santa brings presents to everyone because all kids are actually good kids.
• This year, let's not worry about what others are doing during Advent. Put up your tree, sing Christmas carols, do all that jazz in December. But then... celebrate Christmas. Celebrate the twelve days of Christmas (they start on Christmas Day!) with acts of love and charity. Christmas is so much more than celebrating Jesus' birthday. It is celebrating incarnation, the moment when the Creator stepped into his creation. We are an incarnational people. Let's celebrate Christmas by being just that. 

My plan for our family to celebrate Christmas this year is to set aside the 12 days of Christmas as days to reach out to others in love and charity. Days to focus on being incarnational people. I plan for us to have projects for each of the days of Christmas to make it a time that is holy. Cookies for the garbage truck driver, food for the food bank, bird seed scattered to the birds, each day we'll find a way to bring peace, comfort, and joy to the world during this season.

This year when I see people celebrating Christmas "too early" or in ways that I think to be shallow or irreverent, I will remember that people just want to be a part of a miracle. People just want to be a part of the miracle, so let's shower them with tidings of comfort and joy.

By Water and the Holy Spirit

There are many arguments in the universal Church for and against infant baptism. I think both sides make good arguments and ultimately parents have to choose what they think is the best decision for their family. For our family, that means we baptize our babies. 

The sign of God's covenant with Abraham was circumcision. This took place on the eighth day of life and in the words of one of my favorite seminary professors it was the liturgical equivalent of promising God, "we are going to raise this child in the faith and we mean it." Amen.

We are going to raise our children in the faith and we mean it. Amen.

Baptism is the sign of God's covenant with us through Christ. Unlike circumcision, it is inclusive for all people (Women! Holla!) and for that I am thankful. I believe that in baptism we receive the gift of the Holy Spirit and that is a gift that I would not deny my children. I certainly can't fully wrap my brain around baptism and the grace of God nor would I ever claim that. If complete understanding of that holy mystery is required for baptism then none of us could be baptized.

 

The Episcopal catechism (yes, we have one and it's awesome) describes baptism saying, "Holy Baptism is the sacrament by which God adopts us as his children and makes us member of Christ's Body, the Church, and inheritors of the kingdom of God." As a parent, I willingly offer my own children to be adopted by God. We offer them with the hope that in our church family we will find a community of believers who will help us in our desire to raise our children as faithful followers of Christ.

My children received their first communions on the day of their baptisms and are welcome to share with us in that banquet anytime. I do not want my children to ever recall a time when the body and blood of Christ were denied them. I do not claim to fully understand the Holy Eucharist but what I do know is this: I believe that contained in the elements is the life giving Christ. I believe that Eucharist is a taste of the heavenly banquet. I believe that in sharing one bread and one cup we are united with the saints of God who have gone before us, live today, and will come tomorrow. I believe that the bread and the wine are holy food, and that is something I want my children to know they are always welcome to.

 

Nils Morgan, we receive you into the household of God. Confess the faith of Christ crucified, proclaim his resurrection, and share with us in his eternal priesthood.