A book review, of all things!

Lyn G. Brakeman, God is Not a Boy’s Name: Becoming Woman, Becoming Priest (Eugene OR: Cascade Books, 2016).

In a previous life, I wrote book reviews as part of my job.  It’s been 16 years since I did one outside of a seminary assignment.  So why am I writing this?  Why am I introducing a new element into this blog?  Simple: Lyn asked me, and I wanted to read her book.  I’m glad I did.

Lyn’s memoir takes us through her journey from little girl playing communion under the dining room table to her hard-won ordination as an Episcopal priest, and beyond to her experiences in an around the Church.  Her story is both distressing and inspiring, and not only because of what she goes through.  While she experienced God’s presence as a young girl, that intimate bond was violated by a man who looked like the God of the picture books, a man who violated her.  She makes personally clear the cost of identifying God too closely with a particular gender or race or role: when the people who serve as the model for that picture fail us, we often lose God along with them.  Can anybody say, “Amen?”

Lyn is searingly honest about herself and what she experienced.  Born to an alcoholic father, married to and divorced from an alcoholic husband, filled with confusion about her own use of alcohol, she takes us through all the places “respectable” women aren’t supposed to go.  As she does she paints a picture of the first generation of feminist women in the Episcopal Church.  

Feeling called to the priesthood in the early 1970s, she applies to enter the ordination process as soon as women are canonically allowed to be ordained.  But “canonically allowed” and actually included are two very different things.  She faces rejection after rejection by the relevant committees and bishops.  She wants to give up, but the Spirit keeps pushing her along, mostly through other people.  Finally, in 1988 (I think), she is ordained, only to find that the road continues to be rocky for those whose priestly call doesn’t fit within parish boxes.  Can I get an “Amen?”

The most distressing thing in this story is how common it was, and is.  This week I talked to a new female priest, a fully competent and flourishing human being, who found herself challenged by a committee that was, I suspect, threatened by her considerable gifts.  The pattern of misunderstanding and bias is stubbornly resistant to change.  The Episcopal Church’s Committee on the Status of Women, on which I served, labored hard to change this and provide resources for congregations and dioceses to educate themselves, as well as resources for women seeking ordination and call.  (Let’s just note that this committee has now been defunded.  No comment.)  And now, forty years in, there is the added challenge of complacency.  We aren't done, people!

But with dismay, there is inspiration.  Lyn’s persistence, and the support of the people around her, has enabled her to serve others in many ways.  All the people who keep pushing, not only for advancement within the institutional Church but also for the Church beyond the institution, bear witness to the Spirit working among us.  Lyn’’s journey to personal wholeness reminds us, as her ordination bulletin stated, that “the glory of God is the human being fully alive.” (What would Irenaeus think if he knew who used his words, and to what ends?)  The Spirit is stronger, more persistent, than any wall.  Lyn’s life is testimony to the divine/human urge to renew creation.  The light does indeed shine in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it.

If you’re looking to get a glimpse of hard reality and enduring hope, order this book!  Lyn gave me the Amazon link, but I try to stay away from them: I’m sure you can find it for yourself.  And please, pray for stories such as hers (and mine) to become part of history.

Companions' Retreat

Thanks to everyone who wished us well for Mary Mag Day.  We had a wonderful celebration, and then immediately packed up and went to the Catskills for a five-day retreat with the Covenant Companions.  After our plans for a stay at a retreat house fell through, we rented a house: easy!  We shared preparing meals, setup and cleanup, and leading worship.  It turned out to be a great way to build community.

On the first night we rejoiced as Lorraine Coscia-Ackerman made her first annual covenant commitment.  After a year as a Candidate, we agreed that she is ready to begin to share in leadership and active contribution to the Companions network.  Lorraine also served as our "kitchen honcho" for the retreat, and did a great job.

We also were thrilled to receive Dario Ghersi as a Candidate for Covenant Companionship.  Dario lives in Omaha, where he is a professor of bio-informatics.  After nine months in the Covenant Group, he desired a deeper commitment.

We missed our fifth Covenant Companion Candidate, Amy Malick, who had other commitments that week, but we were able to Skype her in for some of the conversations and conferences.  It's almost impossible to find a time when everyone can make the trip, so we're grateful for the technology that lets us be together in other ways.

So what did we do?  We shared stories, to get to know one another more.  We spent two days in silence, reflecting on questions Shane and Elizabeth asked and conference talks they delivered.  We discussed reading we had done, and we told more stories around a campfire.  We took walks, together and alone.  We challenged one another to grow into the full stature of Christ.

If you are curious about the Covenant Companions, please feel free to contact us.  If you want a community to support you in intentional living and mission, if you feel a resonance with our Charism and Covenant, we'd love to get to know you and talk with you.

And if you are simply listening and praying for us, thank you!  This is only possible through prayer.  Pray that this field may grow and bear fruit in the lives of all who need the message of new life.  Thank you and bless you!

Happy Mary Mag Day - Again

Happy Mary Mag Day again!  Thank you to everyone who is writing to wish us well.  

This has been a big year for us.  Last year Elizabeth and I made our life vows, so this is our first year as vowed Companions.  The first Covenant Companion Candidates began this leg of their journey last year, so today is an anniversary for them too.  Their beginning was also the start of a new chapter for Elizabeth and me, as we became “formation directors” for others and devoted significant time and thought to how these others were growing.  It’s been a joy to watch them develop, and painful to let someone go.  Now, as another person steps forward into that circle, we continue to learn together.

This past year has given me more insight into Mary’s story, and mine.  I’m seeing more and more that healing is not a one-time event.  Like the blind man who needs another application of mud, i need continual encounters with Jesus to heal old wounds and grow new parts of me.  I imagine she followed so closely partly because she knew she needed daily doses of God’s love.    

Any illusions I might have had that healing means erasing the past have shriveled this year.  I’ve had many chances to encounter my continuing limitations and fears.  They call me to encounter the past again, not to be captured by it, but to be equipped to move on.  I regret many things in my past, but I also cherish my unique history as the vehicle of God’s grace.  

In this light, Luke’s designation of Mary as one from whom seven demons had gone out shows up for me in a new way.  I’ve loved this at times, as I identified with her; at other times I’ve resented what could have been intended to delegitimate her status among the disciples.  But today I’m mindful of Paul’’s response to the Corinthians when they want to know his credentials: he tells them just how broken he has been, just how much he has lost, just how foolish he has let himself look for the sake of Christ.  He reminds them that our faith is not about how wise or strong we are, about how deserving of God’s praise or people’s admiration: God came for the messed-up, broken, sinful, lost ones.  Mary is exhibit A.  Her history shames those who still think in terms of “purity,” but it shines like a lamp for those who know they need help.  I’m one of those.

I’m not alone in this.  Mary is our matron because we relate to the brokenness and foolishness that needs, and receives, the healing touch of Christ.  Today, I invite you to look into your broken places and give thanks for the space that God might fill.  And pray with us the Companions’ Prayer:

Pour into our hearts, O God, the Holy Spirit’s gift of love; that we, clasping each the other’s hand, may share the joy of companionship, human and divine, and draw many to your community of transforming love; through Jesus Christ our Savior.  Amen.

Happy Mary Mag Day!  We will be celebrating this afternoon with an outdoor (we hope!) Eucharist and potluck supper.

For those who can't be with us, please share in rejoicing in the God who creates and renews each of us, and our world.  Pass it on!

Here's a link to our monthly newsletter:

In Lieu of a Sermon, July 10 2016

Last Sunday I preached and presided at St. Gregory’s Church in Woodstock, NY.  I usually post my sermons, but this time I can’t.

Early in the week I had a sermon outline.  Then the shootings started.  By midweek I actually had a sermon, not great but OK, centered on Colossians 1:1-14.  I was a little disappointed with it, but it was a busy week and I was filling in.

Then Friday hit.  It wasn’t the fact that this time police were shot; it wasn’t that the earlier deaths didn't matter.  My rope just snapped.  I threw out the sermon.

I didn’t try to write another.  I had time.  I just knew I didn’t want to go in with nicely packaged words.  I usually write to gather my thoughts, and I love the process of writing, but this was not a time for that.  I needed to speak from my heart, and to listen to their hearts.

Off I went on Sunday, with a slip of paper.  I know some of what I said.  I know what I saw in their faces.  I felt deeply privileged to be there that day.

At the risk of returning to too many words, I have some things I want to say now.

Last year I read Shelly Rambo’s book, Spirit and Trauma.  She writes powerfully about the ways that trauma lingers even into “resurrection” moments, and she uses the insights of trauma theorists and healers to read Scripture.  Ever since I read it, I’ve been aware of trauma in a new way.

Last weekend I thought about the question of why the United States is so violent.  It’s not just about the availability of guns; it’s about why we think we need them.  It’s not just racism.  Racism is real, and yes, making guns available leads to increased shootings.  These are both easily documented.  But why do these cluster here?

I think part of the answer is that virtually all of our ancestors came here fleeing some sort of trauma.  For some it was religious persecution; for others it was economic hardship and famine; some were sent as prisoners; and some were enslaved and brought here by force.  Even Native Americans have this history, as invaders enslaved them and drove them from their land.  Trauma is deep in our soil. 

People who came as voluntary immigrants came to a place where things would be better, and often they were - even when they were hard.  But they did not leave the trauma behind.  Trauma gathers in our bones and our muscles, in our adrenal glands.  Our ancestors carried the pain of the world to this place, to this “beacon of light.”  All the pain that people can inflict on one another lives in our cultural DNA.  

The only way to overcome this is to get very intentional about loving and forgiving.  We will not end our trauma history, but we will come to terms with it and not be ruled by it.  We have to start over.  We have to love.  We have to forgive; not to excuse, not to ignore, but to release ourselves and one another from the cycle of hate.

How?  Well, I missed an opportunity (many, really), but others showed up.  I planned to be at a prayer vigil last night, but someone else needed me.  As it turned out, the group I needed to be with wanted to talk about race and how to be part of the healing.  So we were six people who were trying to open our hearts.  

Was it enough?  Nothing is enough, but everything matters.  

Another friend called to talk about creating a workshop using tools we teach in another context in order to initiate conversations around reconciliation - conversations our group has used for decades in Israel and Palestine, and in Northern Ireland.  

Is that enough? No, but everything matters.

With enough leadership, people can do this.  People did it in South Africa, and in Rwanda. People do it in their towns and their homes.  It’s not a one-time process - the transformation is never permanent - but it’s real.

Please, be a leader today.  Don’t wait for someone else to go first, or go big, or have a plan.  Just please, seek opportunities to love and forgive.  Cry for one another and with one another.

The future of the world depends on this, people.  No kidding.  Jesus has already intervened.  God has already given us what we need.  Now we get to choose whether to live in the reality of love or stay trapped at Calvary, fighting over whose fault it is.  Jesus is waiting for us to catch up.  Step into resurrection.

Sermon, June 26, St. David’s Church, Kinnelon NJ

Galatians 5:1, 13-25; Luke 9:51-62

I entered a 12-Step program a few years ago, and for the first few months I sort of dipped in my toes.  I tried to stop on my terms, but it wasn’t enough.  So I asked someone to sponsor me.  The first question she asked me was, “How much recovery do you want?”  I hadn’t anticipated that.  I said what first came to me, what felt true: “I want it all.”  So she laid out a plan of what I was to do: not only what not to eat or how much to eat, but also a regimen of phone calls, reading, writing.  I was shocked, but I couldn’t say no.  I wanted what she had, so I did what she advised.

I was worried that all this reading and writing would interfere with my prayer life.   But over time I came to see that God was in this work too, calling me to further growth and healing.

Much later I wondered, what would she have done if I had said I wanted a little recovery?  What if I had said, I want to lose weight but don’t bother me with emotional or spiritual growth?  What if I had said I would do some things but not others?  

I don’t know what she would have said.  But I know what the result would have been.  I would have missed out.  I have peace and serenity because I do all those things she told me to do.  

I imagine Jesus asking these people on the road: “How much new life do you want?”  I hear him asking me, and you.

I hear Paul asking the Galatians, “How much freedom do you want?”  I hear him asking me, and you.

How much do you want?  

Do you want to follow Jesus?

Do you want to follow enough to do what he did, walk as he walked, live as he lived, and die as he died?

How much?

Jesus’ responses to these would-be-disciples is very different from what we often find in our churches, and in our other organizations.  So often it seems we’re so grateful people show up, we decide to make it easy for them.  Rather than say, “This is the way; walk in it,” we are tempted to change course or pave the path to make it more accessible.

We can err in the other direction as well.  We can set the course in stone, lay down the rules, and push out those who stray from the path.  We can set up committees to write the guidebook, and outline penalties for deviations.  This is what the Galatian church is up to.  They have been listening to people who tell them that the only way to follow Jesus is to observe the commands of Torah.  They are prepared to say to those who disagree, “It’s my way or the highway.”

In both cases, we’re driven by what Paul would call “the flesh.”  When Paul writes about the “flesh,” he does not mean the body.  The body for Paul is holy and good, part of creation.  By “flesh” he means the drives and behaviors that originate in our fearful, self-centered hearts.  Today we might call it ego.  That part of us is always putting other things in front of God.  For some it’s physical pleasure, but more pervasive is the anger, the arrogance, the pride that give rise to divisions.  All these are of “the flesh.”  Acts of terrorism, political posturing and deliberate obstruction, shunning of those we fear or disagree with; all these are of the flesh.

No rules can eliminate the works of the flesh.  No walls, no laws, no codes can fight the flesh, for that lives inside of us like weeds among the wheat.   Only the Spirit of Jesus can weed out the works of the flesh.

Following Jesus means putting down my maps and guidebooks, as well as my conditions.  It does not mean abandoning guidance, but rather looking for guidance through the Spirit.  It means following this one commandment, to love your neighbor as yourself.  It means becoming slaves to one another, serving one another.

Our translation tells us to “live by the Spirit,” but the actual word Paul uses is “walk.”  He promises that if we walk in the Spirit, we will not fall prey to the flesh.  This is not a command; it’s a promise.  Paul is inviting us on the road.

But, as Jesus makes clear, this is a costly road.  This is not a pleasure cruise: Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem, where he will meet suffering and death.  He is not on a triumphal tour of the colonies; he is walking the road of transformation.

Do you want to follow him?

How much do you want it?

It’s important to note that Luke doesn’t tell us what the three individuals decide.   We’re left to imagine their dilemma, for it is our dilemma.  The details vary, but the choice remains.

Sometimes in the Gospels people want to follow Jesus after they’ve been healed, but he sends them home.  Who knows why he chose certain ones to go with him, and others to return and share what had happened to them?  And it’s not obvious to me which path is harder.   Jesus goes to scary places, but those who follow at least know they’re with him.  Those who return home on their own have the hard work of hanging on to the truth they’ve found among people who may not believe it, or welcome it.  Over time, the harder road may be the one that leads home after a transforming encounter.

It seems there’s no easy road once we’ve met Jesus.   We are no longer ignorant of this possibility, the possibility of new life.   We have to decide how to follow.  Even the decision to turn away is now a decision we have to live with.  

Listening for Jesus’ direction is hard, slow work.  Much of the time we aren’t sure whether we’re on the right track.  But if we move slowly and listen, we will get signs.  We’ll know from the peace that comes, from the joy and the love.  We’ll get feedback from others as they notice our growing patience and gentleness.  Self-control becomes more regular.  At some point, the fruit of the Spirit starts to ripen.  We find that wherever Jesus is, is home.  Wherever love is, God is.

Walk this way.  Follow.  God is with you.

Sermon, St. John's Episcopal Church in Cornwall, June 12 2016

Galatians 2:15-21; Luke 7:36-8:3

Thank you for letting me share this worship with you.

I’m thrilled to be here with you when the Gospel mentions Mary Magdalene; the only time outside of Easter through the three-year cycle.  The Companions of Mary the Apostle journey with her as she journeys with Jesus.

Historically, the Church conflated Mary with this sinful woman.  Gregory the Great named that woman’s sin as prostitution, and so we got the belief that Mary was a prostitute.  We have no biblical evidence for that, but you can see how the rumor got started.

I want to defend her from that charge, to say she wasn’t a prostitute, but Jesus calls me to a deeper response.  Jesus would say, so what if she was?  

“Her sins, which were many, are forgiven.”

She comes to Jesus, she enters this room unbidden and unwelcomed, and she dares to wash and anoint his feet.  She cries over his feet.  This is so deep, so intimate, and yet mysterious.  

Are these tears of remorse or tears of gratitude?  Or both?

Were her sins forgiven because she has shown great love?  

Or, is she showing great love because her sins were forgiven?

Does she know herself to be forgiven before Jesus says it in front of the others?  If so, how does she know?

Maybe she heard Jesus’ sermon in Nazareth, where he announced good news to the poor.  Maybe she believed him. 

Maybe she heard the sermon on the plain (Luke 6) and heard herself comforted.   Maybe she heard other people calling him a friend of sinners, and she dared to hope that he would be her friend.  

Somehow, somewhere, she found hope that Jesus would receive her, and she acted in faith.

And maybe she heard about those other women, who accompanied Jesus, who served Jesus, and thought, “I can do that, too.”

Somehow, she must have heard that this man would accept her and heal her.

Her sins, which are many, are forgiven.

But there’s more than one sinner in this story.

Just before these verses, Jesus has been talking to the crowds.  He complains that they don’t get what he’s up to: they call him a glutton, a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.

The next thing we know, Simon has invited him to his house.

What’s up with that?  What would make a Pharisee, a devoted, even rigid, follower of the law invite a friend of sinners to his house?

We can imagine that he was curious.  Perhaps he looked forward to a good debate about the law.  But maybe, just maybe, a deeper part of him knew that he too needed forgiving.  Maybe that part of him knew that he needed a friend, someone who would befriend him in his sin rather than judge him.

Perhaps he longs to hear Jesus say, “Your sins are forgiven.”

Jesus does not judge Simon; he instructs him.

But neither does he forgive him.

Have you ever tried to forgive someone who has done you wrong, only to find they never thought they did wrong?  If you say, “I forgive you,” they take offense.  “I don’t need forgiveness!”  they protest.  How dare you suggest I need to be forgiven by you!

You may forgive them in your heart, you may be free of resentment, but they are still bound by their refusal to acknowledge their sin.

Perhaps you’ve been that person too, the one who refuses to be forgiven.

What is Simon looking for in Jesus?

What are you looking for?

The greatest barrier to deep relationship with God and Christ is our insistence on being good already, on not needing forgiveness.

This is why Paul is so upset with the Galatians.  They are turning back, trying to earn God’s love by following the Jewish law.  Paul has been there and done that, and he knows there is a deeper release in acknowledging the ways he falls short and letting God heal him.

If I try to earn God’s love, I shut God out.  It’s all about me again.  I have to let go.

But that path is vulnerable.  We have to break open our jars and pour out the pain and longing that we carry.  We have let go of the identities that hold us apart - Pharisee and sinner; Republican and Democrat; Black and white and all the other colors; gay and straight; male and female.  We have to pour out our certainty about who is who and what is what.  We have to acknowledge our sins and ask to be forgiven, and we have to forgive knowing that we will be hurt again.

“Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

Jesus tells this woman to go in peace.  And perhaps she joins the company of women traveling with Jesus.  Perhaps she stays in her town and faces into the judgments of others.  Whatever she does, she is saved.  She is healed through forgiveness, through her faith that Jesus means what he says and is who he seems to be.  The faith that sent her to Simon’s house has led her to repent, to open her jar and her heart to God through Christ.

In a few minutes we will confess our sins.  This moment can go so quickly, and become rote.  But they are saving words: the ones we say, and the ones we receive.  After I sit down, I invite you to spend a minute in silence to truly search your heart for regrets, and ask Jesus to forgive you.  After the absolution we share the peace that Jesus offered to this woman, and offers to us.  We are then ready for the table, ready to stand before God.

May your heart open to receive the healing love of Christ, and to share that with everyone you meet.  Go in peace.  Amen.