One is Enough

I just got back from a week in Maine, a lovely vacation.  The week after Labor Day everything slows down and is less crowded, although some places close up or have reduced hours.  Since I mostly wanted to be at the beach or on a trail, that didn’t matter.  I came for the sunrise, sunset, and stars.

The first three days we had fog every evening, lasting through the night and well into the morning.  No sunset, no sunrise, no stars.  It was great weather for reading or doing a puzzle, or thinking, and I did some of each, but I was really put out about the skies.  The middle of each day was beautiful, but I missed my times!  My traveling companion was content to read those days, and it didn’t occur to me to go hiking by myself, so I was restless and frustrated.  By Friday morning I was considering leaving early for someplace with clear skies.

Then everything changed.  We went to the beach, and it was clear and beautiful.  The sunset that night was glorious.  The stars were out that night.  Next day, sunrise was awesome.  We found wonderful, magical trails through the woods that led to water vistas.  Tide pools showed their abundance of life and beauty.  

The next day was overcast, with a storm brewing.  I went down to the water at dawn.  There wasn’t much sunrise to see, but the waves at high tide were beautiful.  It seemed that, having seen a sunrise there, I could now appreciate the land as it was that day.  I could see the beauty.  There was not just one thing to see there; there was a multiplicity of experiences, involving smell and touch and sound as well as vision.  I had let down my expectations enough to encounter the world.

The next morning, our last morning there, we watched a subtle and lovely sunrise.  The water was flat, like I imagine blueberry Jello might look just before it sets.  As the sun rose, it glistened on the water.  I thought, “Once is enough.”  

I don’t need 150 sunrises or sunsets or nights below the stars.  I have this one, and it is amazing.  I can spend my time waiting for the next one, wishing for more, or I can be grateful for the experience and the memory of what is present before me.  I wasted the first three days of vacation - not because I didn’t hike or whatever, but because I was so set on my expectation of how things should be that I could not welcome the world I was in.  Now I know that a foggy sunrise is as much a gift as a full color panorama.  And I know that one is enough.

Today I’m back in Accord, at the computer, but my heart is full.  I can access the memory of any moment, I can open to God right now and find that same joy wherever I am.  

Loaves and fishes.  A little is enough when the heart is open to receive.

Live in the Light

I just returned from a week at Linwood Spiritual Center in Rhinebeck, NY.  It was a week of silence, broken only by a brief meeting with a director and Eucharist each day.  Each year vowed Companions spend one week in a directed retreat and another 5-6 days in a silent house retreat.  This gives us a chance to listen deeply for God, and for whatever in us is blocking the connection - or responding to the call!

I entered this retreat after recently beginning a new round of psychotherapy, of a sort different from anything I've done before.  It's opening up some places that have been locked down for years, making a safe space for remembering and integrating aspects of my life that I didn't want to face.  And with the remembering comes the questioning: Where was God?    When I was 11 I gave up on God, because I had no one to ask that question with.  Now I'm much older, I believe in God, but I return to the question:  Where were you?

I grew up hearing that God was all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-loving.  I took that to mean that God could have intervened to stop my pain.  Since God did not (at least not in any way I could recognize), I concluded that God either didn't exist, or didn't care, or didn't see, or couldn't help.  That's logical, but limited - just like the pubescent thinker I was.

Today I think God's goodness includes our freedom, even when God would like us to behave differently.
Where was God?  God was crying in the basement with me.
God was sitting next to me in school while I was zoning out, drawing at least a shield of wool around my bruised psyche.
God was pedaling along, trying to keep me safe while I was endangering my life with alcohol and drugs and sex and cigarettes and . . .
God was whispering in my ear at key moments, and speaking through the occasional voice of adult understanding and compassion.
God did not perform magic, God did not miraculously leave me unscarred by my experiences, but God did choose to share in those experiences through the life of Jesus and so many others.  God led me on to this place, where I can be with others on the journey to new life.

My retreat was huge, giving me an agenda for the next several months of spiritual reflection.  But in the end, God gives the growth.  My job is to be gentle, to let the work be done in me, to let God be God rather than demanding my picture of God - or myself!

If you are mad at God, if the state of the world has you wondering where God is or if God is, take some time to look - not just for the "bright spots," but for the compassionate presence in the darkness.  The light shines there.  Some day we will see it fill the universe.  Live in the light.

Peace be with you.

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.