Miscellaneous and (some) meaningful musings

2012-01-06T15:16:00.000-05:00

For those of you who don't already know, my husband is a crazy cat lady.

I'm really not sure how this happened, since prior to adding Vinny and Yoko to our family back in October of 2010 he had never even held a cat before. But nevertheless, he quickly fell in love with the species, and is completely enamored with our two felines.

It is not uncommon for me to come home to find him reclining on the couch with both cats on top of him, or for him to walk into a room with, usually Vinny, in his arms, exclaiming "look how cute this boy is!" It makes me laugh, and I really love seeing this side of him. He spoils them rotten, and they absolutely adore him.

However, he is also one of those cat owners (and this is where the crazy part comes in) who take pictures of the cats and send them to other cat-loving friends on a regular basis. Yoko in the laundry basket. Vinny laying on his back. Vinny laying on his chest. Vinny... Vinny is his favorite, if you haven't caught on by now. He also likes to look at silly cat pictures, and we came dangerously close to adding the LOL CATZ Bible (yes, there is such a thing, if you want a good laugh, just Google it) to our collection of biblical texts.

So when it came time to get calendars for 2012 it was no surprise that we ended up with calendars that are adorned by cats.
We have two.
The one in the bedroom is a typical cat calendar, with pithy little sayings on it that we bought at Barnes & Noble for 50% off after the holidays.
The second one is in the dining room. It is our statement calendar.

Cat Lovers Against the Bomb.

It's a great calendar, with interesting tidbits on the dates about either cats or social justice-y events that have happened. And of course, there are cats.

All this to say that, for January, there was also a prayer with the cat photo, a prayer that I wanted to share with you all.

All we ask, Oh Lord, is to be safe from the rain,

just warm enough in the winter

to watch the snow with a smile,

enough to eat so that our hunger will

not turn us to angry beasts,

and sanity enough to make a justice

that will not kill our love of life.

- Joseph Pintauro

Do you have any unconventional calendars?

Creative Writing Exercise

2012-01-05T17:09:00.001-05:00

One of the classes I took this past semester was called The Johannine Literature, otherwise known as the Gospel of John. It was taught by New Testament professor Stephen Moore at Drew Theological School. I entered the class disliking John's Gospel immensely; now I love it, and can't get enough of it. It has become my favorite of the four canonical gospels, and I would like nothing better than to go on studying and writing about it.

One of our options for our final paper was to do a creative re-write of a passage from John's Gospel. I chose to write an academic paper (and got an A+!), but decided to do the creative re-write for fun. It's a little long, but I hope you enjoy.

The rain poured down from the dark sky in torrents as Mary pulled up to the funeral home. She did not know if they would be open or not, but she knew she had to see him. She needed some time alone with him, alone with his body... she glanced at her reflection in the rear-view mirror, making sure that her eyeliner and mascara had not smeared as she had rubbed her eyes.

Water-proof mascara was a wonderful thing.

With trembling hands she unfastened her seat-belt and opened the car door, wondering if her legs would support her as she crossed the parking lot to the sterile funeral home that was trying so hard to look inviting. She dashed across the parking lot, covering her head with her coat, regretting that she had not thought to bring an umbrella. Then again, when your beloved friend has been murdered, umbrellas are the last thing on your mind.

Thankfully the door was unlocked and Mary let herself in, immediately assaulted by the smell of flowers that permeated the air. Her coat dripped on the plush carpet, and she looked around for someplace to hang it to dry. Finding nothing, she nervously draped it over the back of a chair, then proceeded to the viewing room that had been reserved for his body. There were only several, very small bouquets in the room, but she was not surprised. Many of his friends could not afford the expensive floral arrangements that filled the other viewing rooms. He wouldn’t have wanted their money wasted on frivolities in the first place, even if they could afford it. It took Mary a moment to notice that something was wrong, but when her eyes finally fell on the empty casket, her knees went out from under and she collapsed to the ground, her hand flying to mouth. His body was gone. Choking back a sob, she struggled to her feet and wobbled over to the casket to be sure that what she saw was true. The casket was completely empty. Panicking, she bolted out of the funeral home, forgetting her coat, running through the pouring rain. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she put the car into drive and peeled out of the parking lot. She didn’t know who to go to... she would have always gone to him!

She found herself driving on autopilot, and arrived at Peter’s home without even planning on going to him. Of all the people to go to, Peter was far from the top of her list, and yet here she was, banging on his door as her hair lay plastered against her face, rivulets of rainwater mixing with the tears on her cheeks.

“Peter!” she cried, as her knocking left the door unanswered. At the sound of his name he finally opened the door, his face haggard, dark circles under his eyes.

“Whaddya want?” he croaked, his voice raspy from his tears and cigarettes he had been smoking undoubtedly nonstop since Thursday night...

“Peter, please,” she begged, “let me in.”

Wordlessly he moved aside and motioned for her to enter. She stepped into the stale foyer and wiped the water from her face. Silently another figure appeared, handing her a towel, and she nodded to their other friend to thank him.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his arms crossed tightly against his chest as if he were trying to hold himself together.

“He- he’s gone!” They both looked at her skeptically.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Peter said mockingly, taking a long drag from the cigarette smoldering in his hand.

“I mean I went to the funeral home, and the casket... it’s empty. Someone must have taken his body.”

The words came out more calmly than she could have ever imagined; suddenly she felt exhausted. She had no more energy to put into her grief; her well had seemingly run empty. Now a look of concern flashed through the men’s eyes, and they glanced at each other uneasily.

“Are you sure Mary? Were you in the right room?” Mary sighed.

“Of course I was in the right room, I’m not an idiot. Never mind; I just thought you guys might care...” She turned to let herself out, and it wasn’t until she was in her car that she realized it had stopped raining.

“Wait Mary, hold on!” Peter yelled, running down the steps after her, the storm door banging noisily behind him as he followed their friend to his car.

Once again Mary pulled into the parking lot of the funeral home; she watched as their friend jumped out of the car before Peter had even turned off the engine, leaving Peter behind as he dashed through the doors. Peter took off after him, his jacket flapping behind him as he ran through the puddles, kicking up water. Mary slowly climbed out of her car, unsure if she could bear to walk into that building again, but she forced herself to move forward; she had to see if the casket was still empty.

She silently let herself into the building and made her way to the viewing room. Their friend was standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets, his jaw set grimly.

“I believe you,” her murmured as she stood beside him, his eyes unwavering as he stared at the empty casket.

“Where is Peter?” she asked softly, not knowing if she should touch him or leave him be.

“He went downstairs to see if he could find an attendant.” They stood perfectly still, the only sound the tick-tick-tick of the clock, until their silence was broken by the sound of a door slamming. Peter stormed into the room, his face flushed with anger.

“I can’t believe there isn’t a bloody soul working here!” he exploded, his fists clenched tightly by his side.

“There was nobody downstairs?” Mary asked, frightened.

“No! And there weren’t any f*cking bodies down there either!”

“Peter,” their friend scolded gently, but returned to being silent at the look Peter sent his way.

“I gotta get out of here,” Peter muttered, storming out of the viewing room and banging the outer doors open. Their friend sighed, and followed after him; Mary did not envy him and the ensuing conversation he would have with the hotheaded Peter.

Finding herself once again very much alone, Mary reverently walked to the casket and knelt on the kneeling rail. She tried to pray; it was what Jesus would have wanted her to do. Instead of words animal-life whimpers came forth from her body, and once again she found herself crying. No longer caring if anyone saw her, so consumed was she with grief, that she found herself curled up into a tight ball on the floor, rocking back and forth as sobs wracked her body. She didn’t hear the man enter the room; the carpet cushioned his footsteps. Through her moans came the sound of a gentle voice;

“Woman, why are you weeping?” It seemed an odd question, seeing as how they were in a funeral home, and Mary turned to see who would voice such a ridiculous query. A man stood in the doorway, and from the looks of him he worked at the funeral home. He was dressed in a well-cut, black suit, with a necktie tied sharply in a double-Windsor knot. His face was clean-shaven, and his dark hair was slicked back professionally. He was well-poised and polished, with his fingers interlocked together as his hands rested against his belt.

“May I help you?” he asked smoothly at the sight of her puzzled face. “Perhaps you are searching for someone?” Mary turned her face away, mouth gaping, speechless. She sniffed deeply and cleared her throat, then stiffly rose to her feet. She turned to him slowly, trying to keep her cool.

“Sir,” she began, and she noticed how her voice trembled, but how underneath there was a dangerous edge. “If you have taken him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will take him away. Tell me!” Unable to look at his perfectly composed face in the midst of her anguish she had to look away, clenching her jaw tensely as she waited for his reply.

“Mary...” At the sound of her name she jerked around, nearly losing her balance. How did he know her name!? She took several steps towards him, and then saw it. There were his eyes; there was the familiar lift of a brow.

“Teacher?” she gasped incredulously, and was rewarded with a slight nod and small smile. She laughed at the impossibility of it, and reached out to him, but he took a step back, unlacing his fingers to hold his palms out in front of him, keeping her at bay. She needed to hold him! To feel the warmth of his body, to smell his scent- why wouldn’t he let her touch him? He must have seen the pain in her eyes, because he smiled at her gently.

“Mary, my dear Mary,” he murmured lovingly. “You cannot hold onto me.I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go, to my brothers, and give them this message for me.” She nodded, listening carefully. “Tell them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and to your Father, to my God and your God.’”

Mary repeated the words silently to herself, committing them to memory. He gave her one last smile, then turned and walked away. With speed and energy she no longer thought she possessed, Mary gathered her things and ran to her car to go and tell the others.

As she sped through a stop sign on her way back to Peter’s, the sun came out.

2011-2012

2012-01-02T15:51:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year!

It's that time of year where bloggers (even bad ones, like myself) share reflections on the past year or hopes for the new one... or both! Seeing as how I haven't posted anything, not even a single sermon, since August, you would think that I would have a lengthy catch-up post in store for you.

I don't. Feel free to thank me... you're welcome.

It was a rather routine, uneventful semester, for which I am extremely grateful. I loved my classes, and did very well in all of them (even Christian ethics, which I thought would be a miserable endeavor). I'll write some reflections on my classes later, once my brain has finished recovering from finals. Things at the church have remained the same, things at the admissions office have changed, and Evan and I celebrated 6 months of marriage on Christmas Day. Alleluia! We've beaten Kim Kardashian and that singer... whatshername? Oh yes, Sinead. So all in all, not a bad year. : )

BUT-

2012 is going to be even better!

Certainly more stressful, but also much more eventful. Here is a brief list of all the things you can look forward to potentially hearing me write about (or not, since my studies and work will probably keep me so busy I don't have time to blog):

*fill out my CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education) application
*DO CPE
*write my provisional papers- this is ordination related, for those who aren't also writing the same things
*go before the District Committee to have said papers approved
*continue taking classes at Drew
*continue working at The United Methodist Church in Madison
*celebrate Evan's graduation, my youngest sister's graduation, and my father's 50th birthday!

Hmm- it seemed like there was a lot more going on than this, but really, it IS going to be a busy year. : )

So, happy new year to all! It's time for me to get writing.

Peace!

2011-08-29T20:03:00.000-04:00

School begins tomorrow (well, actually, it was supposed to begin today but then Hurricane Irene happened), and I can't wait! I LOVE school- I always have. The first day of school, or classes, is always so exciting. I love getting my syllabi, and meeting my teachers, and seeing old friends. This first week of school will be a little bittersweet for me though, because for most of my friends and classmates it marks the first of "lasts". Their last fall semester. Their last year at seminary. For some, their last year in New Jersey before moving away. I have chosen for this to NOT be my last year, and I am still very happy about this. This decision, to stay an extra year, is something that I want to do, and am actually doing.

If you know me at all, there are about a gazillion hundred things that I want to do, but I often never get around to doing any of them.

I am also, once again, at that point where I am trying to figure out what I want to DO with the rest of my life. I'm not saying that I no longer feel called to serve as a pastor (or a pastoress, as some call me :) There are just so many other things that I want to do as well!

And so, if you would indulge me for just a few lines...

I want:
-to stay in school forever (!)
-to have pants that are just the right length (believe it or not, this is a challenge)
-to own a farm, with cows and goats and chickens, and a HUGE vegetable garden
-to make cheese from scratch with milk from the afore-mentioned cows and goats
-to continue baking bread and goodies for all sorts of people
-to FEED people, with vegetables from my garden, and bread from my hands, to give people a warm, home-cooked meal that they wouldn't otherwise have
-to teach Biblical studies, particularly the gospels- forget about Paul and the epistles, someone else can teach that, lol
-to learn how to weave

That's all for now. Thanks for listening.

One other things I want: a glass of wine.

And THAT is something I can have right now. : )

Peace!

Sunday's Sermon: August 14, 2011

2011-08-15T12:50:00.000-04:00

*Note: I find this scriptural passage, as well as the parallel pericope found within Mark's gospel to be extremely difficult to interpret. We see a side of Jesus that we are uncomfortable, and all too often we try to blow off his uncharacteristic behavior by saying he was testing the woman's faith. I tried to move beyond this common interpretation, weaving portions of an academic paper I wrote on the pericope found within Mark with my own reflections on how we as Christians can relate to this story. I hope it gets you thinking. : )

Peace,

Amanda

Christe eleison

Matthew 15:21-28

Jesus left that place and went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon. Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.” But he did not answer her at all. And his disciples came and urged him, saying, “Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us.” He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” But she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.” He answered, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” Then Jesus answered her, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” And her daughter was healed instantly.

I have to begin this sermon with a confession of sorts.

One of the things that strikes me most when I go into New York City, or any city for that matter, is how cynical and down-right un-Christian I can be to those in need. I pass numerous people in need, slumped in door-frames or walking alongside idling cars, begging for change, their signs speaking for them: Homeless, need money, God bless. Leaving abusive relationship, hungry. Like most people that walk the city streets I find myself staring at the pavement as I quickly place each foot in front of the other, hoping against hope that they do not cry out to me, “Have mercy.” It’s easier if you don’t look at them, if you pretend like you don’t see their signs or hear their often mumbled requests. Why do we do this? Is it because we are cynical and don’t feel like we can trust the need being presented? Is it because we are uncomfortable? Are we afraid of what might happen if we were to actually stop, and listen to their cries?

In our gospel story today we find Jesus, perhaps surprisingly, in this very same situation. He and his disciples are headed towards the city of Tyre and Sidon, Gentile cities. To say they have been through a lot is a bit of an understatement. Jesus had recently heard of the execution of John the Baptist- he has attempted to be alone to process these events, but that proves to be impossible as word spreads through the towns of his presence and the people flock to him for healing and to hear his teaching. He teaches, and preaches, and ultimately feeds the five thousand before finally being able to continue on his journey, although I have no idea why he was headed towards Tyre, a wealthy port city occupied by the Roman Empire. It is on this journey that Jesus encounters “the Other.” In Matthew’s telling of this tale the woman is labeled as a Canaanite, a member of the indigenous people that occupied that land. In Mark, however, she appears to us as a Syro-Phoenician woman, a woman of Greek descent. Regardless of which gospel we are looking at, she is “the Other,” and the way Jesus treats her sheds some ugly light on his all too human qualities. This woman is desperate. So desperate that she leaves the safety of her city to venture into Jesus’ own territory, crying out, perhaps holding a cardboard sign that states in crude, capital letters, “Have mercy on me!” Her words fall upon the ears of the Christ and his disciples, and then fall unheeded to the ground as Jesus walks on, ignoring her. She continues, running after them, crying again, begging for mercy, not for her, but for her daughter, and still Jesus continues on his way, as if he cannot see her, as if she is part of the landscape, as if she would disappear if only he walked a little faster…

Her pleas begin to wear on his disciples, just as the grumbling stomachs of the crowd had earlier, and they once again approach their fearless leader hoping he will solve their problem. Make her be quiet, they whisper, uneasy with this woman drawing attention to their attempts at ignoring her. The last time they asked Jesus to fix a problem his response had been, “You feed them.” This time he mutters, probably softly enough so that she cannot hear him, “I came only for the lost sheep of Israel.”

Only.

Only for the Jews.

Only for those who are oppressed the same way I am, only those who look or sound or act like me…

only.

Why would Jesus be so cruel? So insensitive? Why is he acting so un-Jesus-like?

Perhaps he is tired, or stressed; maybe he is lashing out at this woman because he hasn’t been able to process the murder of his cousin, and what that could mean for his future. Or perhaps he is lashing out because this woman is not like him; she is of a different race, a different class, a different faith. Her people are not his people. If we were to go with the identification given by Mark, that of a Syro-Phoenician, not only is she not of his people, her people are oppressing his people. The Jewish people of that region suffered terribly under the rule of the Herodian government, which was exasperated by an economic drain stemming from Tyre’s purchase of the food grown by Galileean farmers, leaving the people unsettled and resentful. This situation could be compared to the potato famine in Ireland during the mid-19^th century, or the hunger issues that exist throughout central and South America as land is used to grow food not for the people of those countries, but for us in the United States. Perhaps Jesus’ harsh response to the woman’s request stems from the economic tensions of the area; her request may be seen as “an inappropriate one to make in light of the disproportionate share of the region’s resources her people had been exploiting.”[1] Within this context of economics, the woman holds more power and influence than a wandering, Jewish carpenter. Perhaps he sees the opportunity for some minor retribution for his people by ignoring his oppressor’s need.

And yet, she is persistent. Persistent to the point that she catches up to Jesus and his followers and bows at his feet, submitting herself before him, begging for mercy. Rather than the merciful, loving Jesus that we so often picture in our minds, we encounter a man that, rather than providing words of peace, slings racial slurs, further degrading the already prostrate and vulnerable woman by calling her a dog. Rather than enter into a debate with him regarding her racial, ethnic, religious identity, she accepts his hateful words but then turn them on him. I may be a dog, she says, but even dogs get the crumbs that fall from the table. Even dogs can receive the life-giving bread that he brings to the lost sheep of Israel.

Even those who don’t look like us, or sound like us, or smell like us are worthy of compassion and mercy.

We often don’t stop on the street to listen to a response after our initial no’s, if we even pause long enough to wave them aside. I find hope in this story, even though it shows a side of Jesus that I often think we would rather not think existed. Jesus was human. He was tired, he was cranky, and for at least a moment he was willing to ignore the need of another based on sight alone. I think most of us, if not all of us, can resonate with that. And yet, despite his initial resistance, Jesus listens. Her words sink in, and he changes his mind. He hears what she has to say, and then says, “you know what? You’re right. Because of your faith your daughter will be healed.” Who knows how this woman’s life was changed because of this encounter; certainly her daughter’s life was changed, because the author of the gospel tells us she was healed instantly. Things change even for Jesus. His vision of ministry expands beyond his own people to include a broader vision of humanity; no longer is his message only for the ears of his people. His ministry expanded, to include Jews, Gentiles, and even you and me. He realized that there was enough life-giving bread to share with those outside the Jewish faith. Maybe, if we can allow ourselves to be a little uncomfortable, we too can see that there is enough love, and grace, and mercy to go around. If we can change our minds about others, then maybe we can change the world, one face-to-face encounter at a time. I pray that it may be so. Amen.

[1] Ringe, pp. 90

Honeymoon Continued

2011-07-07T22:42:00.000-04:00

Sooo....

I had planned on writing each day about our adventures on the island, but obviously that didn't work out so well.

We have really enjoyed our time here on PEI, and there are still two days left!
We spent the last two days exploring the eastern part of the island, bopping around the lighthouses- there are 6 that we found, plus the elusive, or perhaps no longer existent, 7th "Beach Point" lighthouse.
We also did what any seminary couple would do on their honeymoon- look at historic churches! We found 5- we may have found more if there were better directions, but that's ok. : )

And what, you may ask, is the other thing any seminary couple would do on their honeymoon? Well, maybe not any couple, but us at least... visit a winery and distillery!

Today we had lunch at a quaint little restaurant called "Higher Grounds". Just about everything they serve is locally produced, from the turkey and fish to the bread that they bake fresh every morning. We had the best fish and chips and turkey/gravy sandwich we've ever had! Absolutely delicious!

One final update- there is a really cool store called "The Magik Dragon". The owner travels around the world during the off-season and brings back really unique things from places like Thailand. There was a quilt that was (we assume) hand-made in Thailand that we both fell in love with. It has a little wear and tear, but we bought it anyway, and I spent this evening patching up a few torn seams. It is so beautiful, and unique- I can't wait to see what it looks like on our bed when we get home. : )

Tha's all for now! Peace!

Honeymoon! Day 3

2011-07-04T12:21:00.000-04:00

Good morning!

Evan and I are in Prince Edward Island (no, we have not seen Will and Kate ; ) on our honeymoon! Yay!

We arrived on Saturday evening, and spent all day yesterday sitting on the porch, reading, and getting a little sun-burned. It is absolutely beautiful here, and we are very isolated. We're in a small town, more of a village really, called Murray Harbor. We are in a little cottage that overlooks an inlet, and although we have neighbors, the only companions we have had thus far are the crows, Canadian geese, and a blue heron.

Can I say how nice it is to just sit and read? Especially when the book is a fiction book, and not required reading for anything? For those looking for a good book to read, I highly recommend People of the Book. More about that later.

We're off, to brave the imminent rain storm and to explore this part of the island.

Peace!

Resurrection Sermon

2011-04-29T18:05:00.000-04:00

This sermon was prepared and presented for my final preaching assignment in The Church at Worship: Preaching class at Drew Theological School.

John 21:1-19

After these things Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias; and he showed himself in this way. Gathered there together were Simon Peter, Thomas called the Win, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two others of his disciples. Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.” They said to him, “We will go with you.” They went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing. Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that I t was Jesus. Jesus said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” They answered him, “No.” He said to them, “Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea. But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land, only about a hundred years off.

When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net shore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them; and though there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” Now none of the disciples dared ask him, “Who are you?” because they knew it was the Lord. Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. This was not the third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.

When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” A second time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep. Very truly I tell you, when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.” (He said this to indicate the kind of death by which he would glorify God.) After this he said to him, “Follow me.”

The fishers of men have returned to their boats- and they can’t catch a single fish. It would seem that they are trying to move on with their lives. It is interesting that John never really identifies the disciples as fishermen like the authors of Matthew, Mark and Luke do, and yet this epilogue to John’s Gospel echoes the accounts found within the synoptic gospels where Jesus calls those first disciples away from their nets, away from the sea- when he calls them to fish for people. Perhaps, the disciples feel that, after the events leading up to and during the crucifixion, the people don’t want to be caught. Perhaps, even though they have seen the risen Christ at least twice now, they feel as if their work is done. Despite the fact that Christ has risen, perhaps they feel like his works and teachings are still buried in the tomb. Maybe this is why they go back to their boats.

I think moving on with your life can be a tricky thing. Whenever we experience great loss or disappointment, if we ever go through a traumatic experience, we need time. Time to move through stages of grief, from shock or denial, to anger, to bargaining, depression, and, finally, acceptance. I think all too often people don’t allow themselves the time to go through these stages; instead, they sometimes throw their energy into something else, be it home renovations, aggressively advocating for an unrelated cause, or even going fishing. I don’t know that the disciples really had the opportunity to fully experience and work through their grief. It really doesn’t matter if you know death is coming or not; even when a person is in their nineties, or have been struggling with a terminal illness, their death still seems to come as a surprise. You never seem ready for it. It doesn’t matter that Jesus continuously told the disciples he was going to die and rise, that he was going to suffer; they never really seemed to understand it. And then it happens.

Betrayal.

Public torture.

A political execution.

The death of a friend, a teacher… the death of a mission.

Mission? Impossible.

Where could God possibly be working in all this pain, and fear, and despair?

The disciples gather together and hide, afraid, and I imagine try to fathom the events that have just transpired. But before they can even begin to work through their grief Jesus is with them! Jesus is standing among them! He blessed them, and anoints them with the Holy Spirit, and sends them out… to what?

Maybe this is all too much for Peter; he hasn’t had time to think, or feel, or figure out what all this means. Wouldn’t it much easier to just go back to the boat? How often do we think it would be better to just get back in our boats? To go back to the way things were before?

The thing is, even when the disciples couldn’t understand, or when we feel like we’ve been given a burden to heavy to carry, or when it feels like the Jesus we know is ripped away from us and replaced with a Jesus we’re not sure we understand or even like, Christ comes to us.

Christ comes to the disciples, but only half way. He doesn’t appear in the boat with them, and at first, they don’t even recognize him. Sometimes Christ comes to us on the sidelines while we’re running, not putting himself in our path but rather asking, “How’s that working out for you?” And when we realize that it’s Christ, when they realize that it’s Christ, Peter throws his clothes on and jumps the ship he was so eager to re-board, swimming to shore to meet Christ where he and the others are welcomed with hospitality and a warm meal. This is a special breakfast, a reunion breakfast, a sacramental breakfast. And we may think that making it to the table is enough; that meeting Christ in the breaking of bread is the goal. But it is after we have eaten that the real challenge comes.

“Do you love me?” The question is asked, three times; I imagine Peter coloring with shame as we remember his three denials of Christ. “Yes, Lord, I love you. You know that I love you.” Yes, Jesus, we love you with all our hearts, and all our minds, and all our souls, and with all our strength we cry, trying to erase those times that we too have denied Christ. Then feed my sheep. Tend my flock.

And the mission continues.

Feed.

My.

Sheep.

You have been fed, so that you might feed others.

It is on the beach that Jesus once again calls his disciples to ministry. On the beach they learn that their work, Christ’s work, is not finished. All the work that had been done, all the trouble they had gotten into, all of the revolutions that had been started- it had all seemed to disappear when Jesus said those final words, “It is finished.” But it is in the resurrection that we learn, no, it is not. And it never will be. As followers of Christ we will always be called to heal the sick and feed the hungry. We will always be called to give voice to the voiceless and show those in power that there can be a different way to live. We will always be called to tend the least, the last and the lost. Even when all hope seems to be lost, we can find the strength to go on, because even death cannot destroy God’s great love for us and the mission we are called to by Christ. Christ is alive, and continues to live, in us.

AMEN.

Donkey Tale: Palm Sunday Reflection

2011-04-17T20:35:00.002-04:00

I am nothing special. Up until yesterday, I had served no great purpose. I was simply a beast of burden, put to work day in and day out hauling my master’s wares back and forth from home to the city. It’s hard work, but that’s what we donkeys do- we carry things.

I was not working yesterday; I was tied to my master’s home, with my baby by my side, minding my own business. It was good to have a day of rest! Suddenly, out of nowhere, these two men appeared; they walked right up to me and my baby as if we belonged to them. My baby was frightened- he doesn’t really like strangers yet- he can be quite shy. I was perturbed- who did these men think they were? They started to untie me and my master came running out of the house; he seemed upset. “Stop!” he called out, waving his arms wildly. “What do you think you are doing? That’s my donkey!” The men seemed very calm. They said, “The Lord needs it.” My master seemed to relax; he shrugged his shoulders and went back into the house. I was upset! Who is this Lord? What could he possibly want with me? This was my day off, after all- I didn’t want to go work for a stranger! But I wanted didn’t matter- I am, after all, just a donkey.

The men untied me and led me away; thankfully they brought my baby too, who stuck by my side as if we were glued together. They led us out to a stand of trees, where there were more men, all of them strangers to me. One of the men was kind; he stroked my muzzle and ran his hands over my baby soothingly. He butted the man playfully and the man laughed. It was a beautiful laugh, but when I looked at his eyes they were sad. Some of his companions put their cloaks on my back; I had carried many loads of cloth in my day, but never actually worn any! My baby laughed at me and I shushed him; he needed to be on his best behavior, or the men might not let him stay with me while I worked. The gentle man climbed on to my back and I shifted my hooves under his weight. He was heavy, but it was nothing I hadn’t carried before. One of his companions took the rope from my halter in his hand and clucked at me to move; we began our journey.

I plodded along steadily, carefully watching where I put each hoof, feeling the weight of his body shift and sway along with my steps. I was paying so much attention to where I was walking that I barely noticed the group of people beginning to form around us. They seemed to come out of nowhere, and as we walked along they started shouting, “Hosanna!” As they shouted more people came, and as we drew closer and closer to the city the people began to cut palm branches from the trees, waving them excitedly and cheering. Some of the crowd ran ahead of us, and they took their cloaks and spread them on the ground. I tried to stop; I didn’t want to get their clothes dirty by stepping on them!- but the man urged me forward, and I had no choice but to walk on the cloth and palms that were being laid at my feet. My baby began to enjoy this attention; he pranced along as if he were a stallion, not a donkey, and I worried he would break away from me and get lost in the crowd. They were beginning to press against us, and I noticed that the man’s companions were forming a circle around us, keeping the crowd from swarming over us. “Hosanna in the highest!” they cried; the noise was deafening. “Hosanna to the Son of David!” Ah, I thought, so that’s who this is! I didn’t know David had a son…

We reached the city and now it was almost more than I could bear. People kept shouting, calling out, “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” and “Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna!” Palms were waving, cloaks were being strewn on the ground, people were reaching out trying to touch him, trying to touch me- I kept my head down, uncomfortable with all this attention.

I am, after all, a humble donkey.

As we passed into the city and the crowd grew larger, more and more people came, but instead of praising the man, they looked worried. “Who is this?” The question rippled through the crowd, growing stronger and stronger as leaned out their windows or stood in their doorways to watch our procession into Jerusalem. “Who is this?”

And I began to wonder; who is this man that draws these people, who is treated like a king, who is exalted by the people but is riding on me, a donkey? Who is this man that makes the religious leaders look nervous, and makes the people look hopeful? Who is this man, and where am I taking him? What is his purpose at this time, in this place?

Finally my questions are answered; this is Jesus. Ah, yes- I have heard of this man. And now I wonder how I could not have recognized him. I have heard of this man Jesus; the people in the market would talk to my master about the wonderful things he had done, of what he teaching. I even heard he had made blind men see, and made lepers clean! I also heard that the religious leaders did not like him, even that they were hoping to trap him in his teaching in order to punish him.

And now I am worried.

I am worried because, once we were in the city, we went to the temple. The man climbed off my back and patted my head. His hand was warm on my neck; he thanked me for the ride. My baby pushed against him, seeking praise from this man who brought hope to the city. We watched as he entered the temple; I heard shouting, and the sound of tables being overturned. Birds flew out, free from their cages, and I thought, for a moment, if he had freed them, why couldn’t he free me too? But the one who was leading me took us away, out of the city, the cloaks and palms now trampled into the dirt, unsalvageable. I was so tired. We journeyed home, my baby and I, back to our master. The man left the cloak on my back, a souvenir from our journey.

I do not know what will happen to the kind man, but I little time to think about it. Perhaps I will find out the next time we go into the city. If we see him, will he remember me? Will the people recognize me? Probably not. I am, after all, only a donkey.

Transfiguration Sermon

2011-03-06T11:51:00.000-05:00

Matthew 17:1-9

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.

As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”

Jesus went up the mountain. Well, to be perfectly honest, this is not the first time Jesus has gone up a mountain. Jesus had been going up and down mountains, and back and forth across lakes, and has walked through deserts and cities all throughout the Gospel of Matthew. Jesus has been going up mountains, preaching, teaching, and resting. Jesus has been going up mountains, but it is on this mountain that everything changes.

When Robb asked me what Sunday I would like to preach, I immediately jumped on Transfiguration Sunday. This is a great text! There is so much going on in this passage that one could speak about. Here is Jesus, taking his three closest disciples, on a special trip. Special trips are always fun and exciting, aren’t they? This four-some go on this long hike up a big ole mountain, for no apparent reason at all. We don’t know what was said on that hike up the mountain, maybe Jesus did some more teaching, maybe they talked about what was going on in their lives and their mission; maybe their conversation was similar to conversations we have when we go hiking; oh look at that beautiful shrub, isn’t this view fabulous? Quickly turning to, my knees hurt, my feet hurt, when are we going to get to the top… and then there is that point in the hike when all talking ceasing, when all we are looking at is where are feet need to go next, and the only sound is that of our labored breathing. I don’t know what was said on that long hike up the mountain, but once they reached the top, Peter, James and John were in for more than just a great view of the surrounding countryside. What they encounter is perhaps one of the greatest special effects moments in the Bible: Jesus is transfigured! His face shines like the sun! His robes, which were probably really dirty, and grimey, and sweaty, especially from that hike he just made, become dazzling white! I imagine a bright light surrounding his entire body, nearly blinding the poor trio, and THEN, the two greatest prophets of the Hebrew people appear! Moses and Elijah! Holy smokes! And THEY’RE probably all dazzling white too, and they start talking to Jesus! Woah! This is big stuff! These three are probably thinking, wow, we knew Jesus was important, but he must be really something for Moses and Elijah to come down from heaven to talk him! And Peter –I love Peter, he’s always saying putting his foot in his mouth or doing the wrong thing at the wrong time- gets super excited and interrupts the conversation that is happening between Moses, Elijah and sparkly Jesus- Can we stay? Let me build you houses! This is great, let’s keep this going! And then his excitement is turned to fear as a loud booming voice, from inside a cloud, of course, declares those words that were first spoken at Jesus’ baptism, that “THIS is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; LISTEN to him!” And of course, in true dramatic fashion the three fall to the ground in fear and awe, quaking, I imagine as the Cowardly Lion so quaked as the Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz shouted at him, and then- suddenly- everything returns to normal. Moses and Elijah are gone. The great cloud is gone. And when Jesus goes to his friends, he is no longer dazzling; it’s just Jesus. Dirty Jesus in his grimey robes, consoling them, telling them not to be afraid. They go back down the mountain, back to reality, back to the other disciples, changed. Changed, and charged with a secret: Tell no one of this until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”

Wow! Talk about Hollywood-esque! We’ve got lights, sound effects, and our poor actors have to cover a spectrum of emotions within a short period of time. The message? Jesus is Divine! Jesus is the Son of God! Hallelujah!

If only it were that simple.

As I wrestled with this text I had to put aside this Technicolor version of the Transfiguration that we are probably all so familiar. As I did, I found myself asking questions. So let’s walk through this again. Six days later- six days after what? If we start to read backwards in the text we soon find the answer: six days after Peter has declared “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God” (Matthew 16:16). Now, Peter has been with Jesus almost since the beginning; after Jesus was baptized by John, and after he fasted in the wilderness for forty days and was tempted by Satan, he comes across these two brothers who are fishermen, Simon who was called Peter, and his brother Andrew, and he said, “Follow me.” So they did. Next Jesus comes across two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, and he says to them, “Follow me.” So they did. This Peter, who joins up with Jesus in chapter four, who hears all the sermons, witnesses all the healings, is there when Jesus calms the storm, who tries to walk out on the water with Jesus (Matthew 14:28), it takes this Peter until chapter 16 to come to the realization that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the Living God. I suppose we can be a little easy on Peter; none of the disciples are every very bright, no matter what Gospel you are reading. But this makes me wonder; if Peter has just figured out who Jesus is, and Jesus knows he knows this, then why bring him up on the mountain? If Peter clearly knows this, why does he need to be reaffirmed? Couldn’t this mountaintop experience have better served one of the other disciples? Why is it Peter, who is witnessing this miraculous revelation, also the one who is naïve enough to think that we can prolong these mountaintop experiences indefinitely?

Maybe I should be gentler with Peter. After all, don’t most people want to keep living in their own personal moments of transfiguration? When we first see our children and realize that our lives will be changed forever? When we get into the college or career field we have felt called to, and suddenly doors seem to be opening? When we get that promotion, with all the new authority and perks that come with it, and we see life only moving up from this point? When our hearts are strangely warmed, and feel closer to God or Christ than we ever have before in our lives and we can say, without a doubt, that Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior and that I am a beloved child of God? Don’t we think these mountaintop moments will last forever? But then, just as Peter, James and John had to come down the mountain, so do we.

They came down that mountain, and returned to life as usual, but with some changes. Jesus had already been teaching, and healing, and the Pharisees had been plotting against him as he “broke” the Jewish laws, especially regarding the Sabbath. After the transfiguration Jesus continues healing and teaching, and being tested by the Pharisees and scribes; he also begins telling the disciples how he will die, and that one of them will betray him. The light that shone so brightly on the mountain is starting to get a little darker, and the disciples begin to get nervous, and to doubt, and to fall even deeper into misunderstanding. The storm brews even thicker once they enter Jerusalem, and we see a different side to Jesus, as the disciples do as well. Jesus becomes filled with righteous anger, throwing merchants out of the temple, overturning tables, and publicly speaking out against the scribes and Pharisees, saying over and over “Woe to you scribes and Pharisees!” Surely this is not what the disciples thought they were getting into; surely this was not the direction their mission had been headed… They descend into that valley of doubt, but some descend further than others. And there is one who descends so far, one who had NOT been to the mountain, who had not heard the voice of the Living God cry out “This is my Son the Beloved,” who becomes so lost that he betrays his leader. “Then one of the twelve, who was called Judas Iscariot, went to the chief priests and said, “What will you give me if I betray him to you?” They paid him thirty pieces of silver. And from that moment he began to look for an opportunity to betray him” (Matthew 26:14-17).

As the events of Holy Week unfold, all of the disciples descend from the mountain; Judas betrays Jesus, many of the disciples, scatter, and even Peter, Peter who should know better than anyone else, denies his relationship with Jesus. Are there not times when we too come down from our mountains, when we walk through valleys of trials, and doubts? Are there not times when we suddenly feel so far away from God that we can no longer remember that moment on the mountain, when we can no longer remember that feeling of love and closeness, when all we feel is alone and deserted? Are there not times when we, too, are tempted to deny, or flee, or even betray our God?

We don’t often talk about what happened to Judas. Judas moved beyond doubt; he moved to despair. “When morning came, all the chief priests and the elders of the people conferred together against Jesus in order to bring about his death. They bound him, led him away, and handed him over to Pilate the governor.

When Judas, his betrayer, saw that Jesus was condemned, he repented and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders. He said, “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.” But they said, “What is that to us? See to it yourself.” Throwing down the pieces of silver in the temple, he departed; and he went and hanged himself” (Matthew 27:1-5). So deep was his guilt, and his despair, so deep was the chasm he felt between himself and his God, that even the words of the psalm “if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there…If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light around me become night,” even the darkness is not dark to you” (Psalm 139) could not resonate within his soul.

This Sunday is a turning point, not only in Matthew’s gospel, but also in the seasons. We celebrate the divinity of Christ, we recognize that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and then we descend the mountain, to journey together through Lent, through this season that ultimately leads up to the crucifixion of Jesus. We journey with the disciples through their doubts and fears, and we observe as they mourn the loss of their great teacher.

But hear the Good News: because we stand on this side of the resurrection, we need not descend into despair. Because we stand on this side of the resurrection we know that the tomb will be empty, and the Christ is alive! And because we stand on this side of the resurrection, we can fully place our trust in God, who never deserts us, who is always beside us, up the mountains and down the valleys that make up our lives.

2011-02-20T18:22:00.000-05:00

Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you? If anyone destroys God’s temple, God will destroy that person. For God’s temple is holy, and you are that temple.

Do you not know that you are God’s temple? These words from Paul to the conflicted community within Corinth seem to be resonating with me during this season of my life, and perhaps they will resonate with you as well.

Do you not know? Paul poses this question following a rich metaphor he has just provided for the Corinthians, a metaphor where Christ is the foundation of their faith, but then the emerging building is shaped by others, such as himself and Apollos. He speaks of the care that must be placed in the shaping of this building so that it can withstand the fires of trials and persecution. He speaks of a building that is not only strong, but beautiful, a building that is gilded with gold and silver, a building encrusted with precious stones, a building that could rival the great Temple of Jerusalem or even the temples devoted to Greek and Roman gods for that matter. Surely this beautiful building, this temple, is worthy to house the Spirit?

I think back to the church that I grew up in. I was a “One church” kind of girl; I think I was well into adolescence before I even stepped foot into a sanctuary other than the one located on Harford Road in suburban, Parkville, Maryland. The sanctuary of Hiss United Methodist is a pretty typical sanctuary: you enter through the double doors into the narthex area, where you would be greeted by ushers before entering the sanctuary. The main aisle is carpeted in a rich red, with rows of polished wooden pews on either side; there is an open area between the first pew (which is usually empty) and the communion rail, behind which is the slightly elevated chancel area, where the pastor and choir sit during worship. Behind them was the altar, flanked on both sides with colorful banners that changed to reflect the colors of the church seasons. Lightly stained-glass windows filtered sunlight into the morning worship services and led one’s eyes up to the tall, gracefully curved ceiling. While not built of gold or precious other precious metals, surely this building could house the divine.

When I was young, probably four or five, I was convinced that Jesus lived in the ceiling. Well, not actually in the ceiling, but rather, suspended from it. Now remember, I had never been in any other sanctuary, so I had nothing to compare ours to; hanging from the ceiling, centered above the communion rail, was a box. A big, body-sized, rectangular box. I thought this box was special; I thought this was where God, or Jesus, or the Holy Spirit, or maybe even all three(!) resided, if not all the time, at least whenever there were people in the building. Imagine my embarrassment when I later discovered that the box was actually a part of the sound system and not some divine dwelling place! It was probably around this same time when the meaning of the children’s hand game “This is the church, this is the steeple,” began to click for me. We sang “The church is not a building, the church is not a steeple- the church is not a resting place, the church is the…” people. The people.

Do you not know, that you are God’s temple?

Do you not know that God’s Spirit dwells in you?

When Paul writes this, he uses the plural for you. Just as he writes of how the community of the church makes up the body of Christ, he talks about how it is within this Christian community that the Spirit dwells. The community is the temple, for where two or more are gathered, there the Spirit is also.

My question for us today is not how are we as a community the temple of God, but rather, can we each, as individuals, be a dwelling place for God? Can the spirit reside in each one of us, pulling and shaping and molding us into the people we are capable of becoming? If the Spirit dwells in us, if we are God’s temple, how should we care for that temple? How should we look at our bodies?

Isn’t it funny, how we pay so much attention to our bodies throughout every moment of the day, but when we enter a worshiping space we almost seem to ignore it? We don’t really talk about bodies in church, do we? If we do, isn’t it often in a negative way, like talking about the “sins of the flesh”? Or, perhaps we address certain parts of the body, but these mentions are often only skin-deep; we talk about the color of our skin in the context of talking about boundaries and barriers that need to be torn down in order to create an authentic, Christian community, but nothing about the bodies that this skin encases. Our bodies are wonderful gifts from God, gifts that are meant to be used and enjoyed. Gifts that are modeled after God’s own self.

In the beginning, when nothing existed but chaos and God created the land and the sea, the sun and the stars, all creeping things and all swimming things; when God made grass green and the sky blue; when God made cows and bears and cats, God saved something special for last. I particularly like the way that Tanya Bennett, the chaplain at Drew, describes this final creation: "When everything else was done, God took clay and formed an image of God’s own self, and breathed into God’s own breath, and said, “You are the one I’ve been imagining. You, and everything you see around you, is my beloved creation. And all of it is good!”

How often do we look at ourselves as a beloved creation of God? When we look in the mirror, particularly those un-flattering mirrors in dressing rooms, do we see ourselves as the one God has been imagining? Do we see ourselves as vessels of God’s spirit, of God’s love? Or do pick ourselves apart, wishing that our bellies were smaller, our abs firmer, our calves bigger and our arms not so flabby? Do we look at our faces and see Christ reflected back at us, or do we notice the pimples, the blemishes, the crow’s feet? When we finger our hair, do we rejoice in the knowledge that God knows every hair, every follicle, on our heads, so deep is God’s love for us, or do we wish our hair was curly when it's straight, or straight when it's curly, or bemoan the fact that those hairs are turning to different colors or even falling out? When we look at ourselves in the mirror, can we say with joy and thanksgiving that we are fearfully and wonderfully made!? Or do we see an on-going construction project, a project that will never live up to the expectations that we, and society, have placed on them?

I think God loves our bodies; not only for our body’s sake, but for what they house. God loves us- God loves us so much that God came to earth and lived in a human body! And just as we fail to see to Spirit that dwells in each one of us, the people failed to see Christ in the human form of Jesus of Nazareth. How often do we fail to see the glimmer of divinity in those around us? If we were to view ourselves and our neighbors as the strong, beautiful temples that we are, how might we treat our bodies, and spirits, differently? Perhaps we would be kinder and gentler to ourselves; perhaps we would seek to help others be the temple that they are capable of being. Perhaps we would take care of ourselves, and others. Each one of our answers will be different, just as each one of us is housed in unique bodies, with unique stories, with unique callings. No matter how different we may be, both inside and out, there is one thing that I hope we may all be able to say:

That I am God’s beloved, and I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

In closing, I would like to share with you a text written by Ruth Duck; these words have been set to music and are placed in the Faith We Sing, but for today, I want you to simply listen:

“Sacred the Body”

“Sacred the body God has created, temple of Spirit that dwells deep inside. Cherish each person; nurture creation. Treat flesh as holy, that love may abide.

Bodies are varied, made in all sizes, pale, full of color, both fragile and strong. Holy the difference, gift of the Maker, so let us honor each story and song.

Love respects persons, bodies and boundaries. Love does not batter, neglect, or abuse. Love touches gently, never coercing. Love leaves the other with power to choose.

Holy of holies, God ever loving, make us your temples; in-dwell all we do. May we be careful, tender and caring, so may our bodies give honor to you.”

Amen.

An Old Paper I Discovered

2011-02-15T11:25:00.000-05:00

I was cleaning the other day-

wait, let me rephrase that.

I was attempting to de-clutter the other day (there, that's a bit more accurate).
I decided to tackle some of my old manuscripts that I had stashed away from high school and college, hoping to purge the contents of my file box to make room for more "important" papers.

What I discovered, other than an unwillingness to throw away my work, was an essay that I had written during the summer of 2008, in English 102.

If memory serves me correctly, the assignment was to pick one poem from several we have been given in a hand out (of course, the hand out is missing) and to write an essay on it discussing how gender roles are depicted in the poem. I found not one, but TWO essays: the second had written, in big, capital green letters

DO NOT GRADE!

The professor had not graded it, although he had made comments in the margins, proving that he had, in fact, taken the time to read it.

What impressed me about this essay (which is probably not impressive at all to others) is my grasp of sexism. I had never taken a course in gender studies, had rarely discussed this in classes, and at that point had a rather narrow and traditional understanding of gender.

Since I haven't written anything on here for a while, let me indulge myself by sharing with you what the 21 year old version of myself had to say about the poem: What Little Boys Are Made Of

Bed time stories, nursery rhymes and even hymns have been used throughout history to indoctrinate members of society. these pieces of work are often directed at children, who are in the early stages of development and therefore more easily "trainable." The characteristics that these poems suggest children display are blatantly stereotypical by today's standards. While the same nursery rhymes are used today, the audience and the expectations of children's behavior have changed considerably in some reagards, while in others they have remained drastically similar.

The nursery rhyme What Are Little Boys Made Of appears to ask very innocent questions. What are little boys, and girls, made of? How are children supposed to act according to their gender? Boys are apparently made of "snips and snails and puppy-dog tails." When this nursery rhyme was originally written, it undoubtedly described an average boy. Boys would have spent a good amount of time outside; helping their father with chores, working the fields, and exploring their surroundings. It was a way, perhaps the way, of life. Boys were raised to be diligent workers; once they grew older and had a family of their own their life depended on their ability to work. The stanza about young men, however, paints a different picture. Instead of a strong laborer, the poem describes hopeless romantics. The young men are filled with "sighs and leers and crocodile tears." These men appear to have their heads in the clouds, potentially dreaming about anything from a political revolution to the young lady down the street. The second mention of an animal is very interesting. In the first stanza boys are paired with puppies; fun-loving, innocent creatures. In the second stanza, however, the young man is paired with a crocodile, a dangerous, violent beast that is untrustworthy. An interesting depiction of what society believes a boy should grow up to be. While it would be possible for the boy in the first stanza to turn into the man of the second, there is also the possibility that each stanza describes not only differing age groups but also class distinctions. The second stanza describes far more accurately how one might perceive a young man in the aristocracy than a young laborer.

While the men tended the fields or the shop, women stayed at home, taking care of the house, preparing meals, and tending children. The verse about little girls is clearly indoctrinating, in that it says girls are made of "sugar and spice and all things nice." Sugar and spices were kept in the kitchen. It can be assumed that, like these food products, women are also to be kept in the kitchen. However, while the verse on little boys is very clear cut, the verse on girls can be delved into a bit more deeply. Sugar, especially white sugar, was hard to come by hundreds of years ago. It was very expensive, and therefore purchased only by the wealthy or for very special occasions. Many spices were also expensive, due to the fact that they were imported from then exotic lands. What can this say about women? That in order to have the "sugar and spice" one must have money. And, as in all material possessions, the nicer it is, the more money it costs. The nicer the girl, the richer the man must be. The link between women and material objects is made again in the verse about young women, which states that they are made of "ribbons and laces and sweet pretty faces." Again, ribbons and lace were a novelty, not a necessity. However sweet the face, she and society demand that it be adorned with decorations. While "sweet" can clearly be an obvious statement about a woman's physical features, it is interesting how it relates back to the first verse, where girls are made of sugar and spice. If variety be the spice of life, what does this say about young women, who are supposedly a mixture of sugar and spice? Perhaps it hints that underneath a sweet, sugary exterior lies a zest, sourness, or even bitterness, as spices tend to add to food. While there is a small hint as to a girl's emotional character, much more attention is given to the physical and material aspects of woman.

Considering that this nursery rhyme was written well over a century ago, one might argue that it has no validity in today's society. Boys no longer romp outdoors, exploring the mysteries nature provides in the form of bugs and animals. Instead they sit inside, playing video games and watching televisions, their minds being filled with notions of war, crime, and sex. Meanwhile, a girls place is no longer in the kitchen. She is encouraged to participate in previously male-dominated activities, while also trying to assert her femininity by making herself as sexy as possible. Young girls paint their faces with makeup and bare their chests in the hopes of attracting a young (or older) man's eye. The young men of today are not much different than those portrayed in the nursery rhyme; they are unrealistic dreamers, only instead of dreaming of a revolution, they dream of being rock stars. Instead of the young lady down the street, they fantasize about Playboy bunnies. Just as in the poem, young men of today know how to get what they want, be it through tears, arguments, or violence. Despite the steps made towards gender equality, there are obvious stereotypes that have failed to be destroyed through the years.

While the nursery rhyme What Are Little Boys Made Of still exists in current children's books, it and other nursery rhymes like it are far from being the culprits of the indoctrination experienced by today's young boys and girls. They have been replaced by magazines, movies, and television shows the depict how Hollywood and the larger media feels men and women should dress, act, and treat others. Nursery rhymes have become nothing more than nostalgic remnants of the past. "What are little boys made of? Snips and snails and puppy dog's tails." And little girls? "Sugar and spice, and all things nice."

How nice.

The Beginning of my Crazy Quilt

2011-01-21T18:40:00.000-05:00

The other day I, rather impulsively, began a quilt.

Now,  I haven't quilted in years, and my few attempts have often failed.  However, I felt a sudden urge to be creative, and my bag of scraps and  sewing machine called my name.

My  squares are probably not perfectly square, and not all the pieces are  stitched together perfectly; but this quilt's only purpose is to serve  as a creative outlet for me, and I am going to try to put my  perfectionism aside (otherwise I'll just give up).

I used dark fabrics for my first block; a dark wash denim (that I used both the right and wrong sides of), a pair of black slacks that were in need of mending (who was I kidding- I don't mend!), and an old tie Evan had put in the "Give Away Basket." I didn't have a pattern in mind, I just started sewing pieces together.

This is what I got:

And, as I created it, a theme and pattern came to me.

Are you ready for it?

"In the beginning"

So, if this first block were to be accompanied by a commentary, it would read as such:

In the beginning

when God created the heavens

and the earth,

the earth was a formless void

and darkness covered the face of the deep...

[Genesis 1:1-2a]

Here is the second block I made, although it may need to be third in the sequence if I'm going to strictly follow the scripture:

Then God said,

"Let there be light";

and there was light.

I stitched the body of the sun on by hand- not sure if you can see the pink thread or not. I tried to show the light emerging out of the darkness and chaos from the first block.

And here are the two side by side : )

That's all for now! We'll see how I progress.

Peace,

Amanda

2010 Wrap Up

2011-01-01T11:40:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year!!!!

Considering it's almost noon on 1-1-11 I may be a little late with that greeting, but who cares? : ) I meant to post this last night (while it was still 2010) but never got around to it. Story of my life.

Anyway...

Here are a few things that have happened since I last posted (in September...I'm a bad blogger, lol)

- I served as Interim Music Director at UMC Madison in addition to being Assistant Pastor
- Evan and I got two adorable kittens, Vinny and Yoko (I'll write about them sometime soon and post pictures)
- Evan and I got officially engaged!!! (I'll write about this too!)
- I made the decision to transfer to the New England Annual Conference, and told my family

I think those are the BIG things that have happened in these last few months!

Here's to the new year! May it be filled with peace, joy and countless blessings!!!

Sermon: "Squeaky Wheels"

2010-10-17T22:15:00.002-04:00

Many of us are familiar with the idiom “The squeaky wheel gets the grease.” For those of you who are not familiar with the phrase, today’s gospel lesson provides the perfect definition. A problem arises, and someone makes enough noise about it that the problem is resolved. A squeaky wheel gets greased, once it has grated on someone’s nerves enough for them to take the time to grease it. Once greased, the squeak, and annoyance, goes away. A woman who has been wronged raises a ruckus in the courtroom. The judge gives in to her demands in order to have some peace and quiet. Problems are resolved, but not always for the right reasons.

Today’s parable is interesting in that it is preceded by an explanation of its purpose. If we were to simply hear the parable, we would probably come away with the understanding that “the squeaky wheel gets the grease.” However, the author of this gospel completely befuddles us, or at least me, by beginning this section by saying that the purpose of this parable is to teach the disciples about the need to pray always, and to not lose heart. I completely agree that we should pray always, and not lose heart, or rather faith. However, I also think this can be dangerous advice, and seems out of place with this parable. In the story, there is no evidence that the widow is prayerful. It never mentions that she prays for justice. Rather, she is physically and verbally asserting her right to justice in the face of a corrupt judge who could care less about the people where he has been placed to serve. It does not appear that it is God who grants this widow justice, but eventually the judge, who grants justice only because it will benefit him. Where is prayer in this parable? Where is God?

You could very easily provide a solution: well Amanda, you could say, clearly this is allegorical. The judge represents God, and the widow represents God’s people. We are to pray to God persistently for our needs and wants, and God will eventually answer our prayers. This could be a solution, except that it would cause me, and should cause you, to re-examine our theology, our understanding of who and what God is. For me, God cannot be the judge, because the judge is unjust. The judge is everything that God is not. The judge is narcissistic, does not care for his people, and is not interested in enacting justice for his people. He admits that he has no fear of God, and no respect for anyone. He gives in to the widow, not because he has heard her case, not because he sees an injustice has occurred, but because she annoys him and he wants her to stop. Friends, this is not God. Jesus tells us; won’t God grant justice to the chosen ones who cry day and night? Will he delay long in helping them? God does not make us suffer needlessly. God does not dangle the promise of justice in front of our eyes and make us beg for it. God loves us! God wants justice to flow like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream! God wants us to have life and to live abundantly! God has written the law upon our hearts and claimed as God’s! God cannot be the unjust judge.

If God is not the unjust judge, then are we still the widow? I firmly believe that yes, we are. So, if we are the widow, are we supposed to pray without ceasing so that there is justice in the world? Yes. And no. We must pray; as children of God we must commune with our Creator; we must confess our sins, unburden our hearts, give thanks for God’s goodness and even scream to God because of the injustices we face in this world. But it is not enough to sit at home, or on a mountain, or even in the midst of the worshipping body of Christ, and just pray. Jesus prayed. He also did things.

Praying for those who are hungry, that they may be fed, will not fill bellies. Praying for those who have no shelter will not put a roof over their head. Praying for those who are dying of AIDS will not end the spread of this disease. Praying for the victims of rape won’t bring justice when there are close to 200,000 rape kits sitting untested in police storage in this country. Praying for victims of bullying will not put an end to their suffering. Prayer alone cannot help any of these injustices, but prayer-filled action can.

As shared in the parable, justice can come from unjust systems. The widow was a witness or victim of an injustice, and she raised awareness. She persisted in demanding justice until it was granted to her. How can we promote justice in an unjust world? As Christians, how can we bring God’s justice to a world that has tried to push God out? First, we pray. We pray by ourselves, and we pray as the church. Then, we raise awareness. What are the causes of this injustice? We must ask not only how can we feed the hungry, but also why are they hungry to begin with? Why can’t the homeless afford housing? We must ask how do we minister to those who have AIDS while also asking the question how can we prevent this disease from spreading? We have to stop wondering how many gay and lesbian teens will commit suicide because of being bullied and ostracized before the country notices, and instead ask how we can provide them with a safe, loving, affirming community so that they can live through their current nightmares. We have to get our hands dirty. We have to go to where the people are, to commune with those who are hungry, to swing hammers for those who are homeless, to wrap our arms around those who are suffering and dying. But we also have to pound on doors, and wave posters, and raise our voices about the injustices in this world so that the government and the people know that we are not ok with what is happening in the world. We have to give the church back her voice. We have to be the persistent widow. We have to be the squeaky wheel.

Jesus was a squeaky wheel. Jesus was a very squeaky wheel. He squeaked so much about the injustices of his world, and proclaimed so loudly the promises of God, that the government silenced him. And we are called to be like him. We are to be the voice for the voiceless among us, speaking to those in power on behalf of the powerless. And we are also called to be the hands and feet of Christ, to be the loving face of God, to those same people. We must pray, and we must do, and we must pray, and we must do…and we must never lose heart. After the parable of the widow and the unjust judge, Jesus asked, “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” It is my prayer that when Christ comes again, he will find not only faith here in this world, but God’s kin-dom as well.

Day 4

2010-10-14T21:24:00.000-04:00

So, it's day 4 of the plan, the first day of "detoxing". Basically for four days it's a mainly liquid diet with lunch being a solid meal (but no eggs, dairy, red meat, wheat products, etc.) It's 9:20pm, and I am hungry. I have headache from no caffeine today, and I'm seriously tempted to walk out to the kitchen and get some food. I've been drinking lots of lemon water, had some juice for breakfast, leftover veggie chow mein for lunch, and vegetable broth with pureed veggies for supper. Evan says I should eat a pear, so I will.
I don't know if I can do all four days : (

28 Day Whole Body Action Plan

2010-10-12T15:14:00.000-04:00

I forgot to mention earlier...
I've been wanting to try this plan for a while now, and decided that Reading Week was the perfect time to get started. Part of it involves journaling, so I'll be sharing how I feel and all up here.
Today is technically Day 2, and so far I haven't done very well. I had eggs and cheese for breakfast, a tuna melt for lunch, and I've had lots and lots of coffee! Days 1-3 are supposed to prepare your body for a 4 day detox, and I basically ate a ton of stuff I should be avoiding.
Oops.
So I'm sitting here now, drinking my water like I should. I also just did a fitness test, to see where I am right now.
Friends, I am embarrassed to share this.
It's bad.
I mean really, really bad.

Want to see how bad?
Cardio endurance: After 3 minutes of stepping up and down off of a 12in bench, my heart rate was 130. This equals "poor" on the scale of great, average, and poor.
Arm strength: I managed to do 12 modified push ups before my arms said "no more." Result? Average.
Core strength: I couldn't even hold the plank pose for 20 seconds. VERY poor.
Flexibility: poor
So, I have a lot to work on during these 28 days. Tonight for supper? Leftover falafel, and herbal tea.
YUM! (and relatively good for you too!)

Peace!

Reading Week!

2010-10-12T09:22:00.000-04:00

It's Reading Week! Hooray!

For those of who are not Drew-ids, Reading Week is the equivalent of Fall Break. Except this is when teacher's assign mid-terms, so it's more like this:

catch up on reading assignments
write mid-terms
do research
maaaaaaaaybe catch up on sleep : )

So, that's Reading Week.
I made a pretty long to-do list, and thankfully I got a good number of things crossed off already!

Time to hit the books!
Peace!

Ableism...and a Great Story

2010-10-03T18:02:00.000-04:00

*Note: I first wrote this several weeks ago. Unfortunately, I've been having computer problems and have just been able to insert the picture, which is integral to this post.

Tonight in my Religion and the Social Process class we discussed Ableism. What, you may ask, is ableism? This is not really a term we are familiar with. Let me try to sum it up for you by describing, in a nutshell, that ableism is the oppression, suppression, and dehumanization directed at those who are differently abled. It is what keeps classrooms segregated, what excludes those who are differently abled from the work force and churches. It is every time a "temporarily abled" person stares at, or through someone who is "different."

A week ago, in a different class, my liturgy professor led us on pilgrimage. Professor Elkins can find the holy in anything, from a trip to Wal-Mart to a cockroach, so you never know what new insights you might find in her presence. When she said we were going on pilgrimage I excitedly rose from my seat and followed the class expectantly, waiting to see where she would take us and what secrets would be divulged to us. We didn't travel far; out the classroom door, down the hallway, making a right down another hallway, and finally ending outside the elevator. She pointed to this picture, and then told us a story.

Back in 1990, she began, we had a student here who was in the Master of Theological Studies program. His name was David, and he wanted to teach. David had severe cerebral palsy; before coming to Drew he had surgery done on his vocal folds in hopes it would help him to speak. The surgery left him unable to use any part of his body except his right hand. This is how David communicated with us; he would type what he wanted to say on a keyboard and we would respond, he would type and we would respond...
David was Episcopalian, and he was a good Episcopalian. He came to every communion service that was held, and often others. Back then, we didn't have this elevator. We didn't have this beautiful new building. How many flights of stairs, she asked, do you have to climb to get up to this chapel? We counted in our heads. You come in the front door and go up about eight stairs. Then you go up about fifteen, then another fifteen... I have counted the stairs, but the numbers are escaping me. Three flights of stairs, Professor Elkins prompts us. David was a very tall man. It took three people to carry him up the stairs every time he wanted to attend a chapel service. We gave David the evangelism award, because every time he was in chapel, there were at least three other people there! It didn't matter if they had intended on coming in the first place- after carrying him up all those stairs, they stayed! We laughed, softly. I try to imagine how much trust one would need to be carried up the hard, stone stairs to Craig Chapel. David asked me if he could preach a senior sermon during his last year, and I of course said yes. I said yes not knowing what this would look like. His sermon was the best I had ever heard. It is the sermon that I now use to judge all other sermons. I look at Professor Elkins. Her eyes are red, and it looks like there are tears just below the surface. David asked me to make him a promise. When the school puts in an elevator, that he would be the first to ride it. And I promised.
Unfortunately, Drew was not quick enough to fulfill that promise. David died before the elevator was installed. But I know that every time one of you rides this elevator, David is riding with you.
She turns and points to the painting on the wall. After he graduated David gave us this painting; he had done it himself. And he told me that, this is everything anyone in seminary needed to know. It was contained in this one picture.
Do you see the cross? The cross is central.
This up here? What does this look like? It's a fish- the early symbol of the Christian faith.
Below that is a vine with grapes on it. Jesus is the vine.
Beside the vine are the Old and New Covenants.
And the top right hand corner...I'm ashamed to say, I didn't catch what Professor Elkins said. My heart felt so heavy, thinking of all this young man had been through, of all he had given to the Drew community, and the un-kept promise of the first ride in the elevator.
When the elevator was installed, it was decided that David's painting be hung next to it in his memory. Now that you have heard the story, you will notice the painting, and when you ride, you will remember David.

This story touched me deeply. I did my best to record it in writing, but it does not do Professor Elkins' storytelling justice. I want to thank Professor Elkins for giving me permission to share this story in memory of David deLuw.

A Sampling of This Week

2010-09-10T11:46:00.000-04:00

Following the advice of professional...I guess I can say professional, blogger Ree Drummond, aka The Pioneer Woman, I am attempting to blog more regularly. I may not always have much to say, but at least it lets whoever reads this know I'm alive. So here we go, a really brief recap of this past week:

It is Friday of the second, yes, ONLY the second, week of school here at Drew Theological School. My. brain. is. fried. We didn't even have classes on Monday because of Labor Day! I got home last night and the front of my head felt SOOOO heavy...I thought my head would plop down into my soup bowl. But that didn't happen, and I really enjoyed the blue cheese celery soup that Evan made for supper. It was delicious, along with homemade bread I had made last week.

We had some good food this. Portabello burgers on Monday, risotto on Wednesday...I don't remember what Tuesday was, even though I cooked it. Oh! Yes I do! I made the eggplant ricotta pizza we love so much. With an eggplant from our own garden. It was delicious- how could I have forgotten? Oh well, just shows you where my brain is today.

I had to cancel the kick-off event for the youth that was supposed to be tonight into tomorrow. That was a huge source of stress, emotional fatigue, and disappointment. But, I'm feeling better now.

I have a bunch of homework to do this weekend, and two programs to plan and lead on Sunday, but it will all get done somehow. I'm really excited about one of my homework assignments this weekend. More about that later.

Alrighty, time to work more on campus visits, then have lunch with some lovely people. : )

Peace!

Today's Sermon: Blessed are...Who?

2010-08-29T12:22:00.000-04:00

For the past several weeks Robb (Pastor Shoaf) has been speaking on the Beatitudes, also called the Sermon on the Mount, that we find in the gospel of Matthew. Containing some of Jesus’ best known teachings, the short passage contained in Matthew speaks of the blessings that await for Christ’s disciples. Since it’s been several weeks since we last heard them, let’s refresh our memories. In Matthew, chapter 5 verses 1 through 12, Jesus offers this message:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be fulfilled.

Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

This passage provides promises for those who live in a right way here on earth, and also provides instruction on how one should conduct themselves. We are to be meek, pure of heart, and show mercy to others. Also, we should expect to be misunderstood and even mistreated as a result of our lifestyles and faith. Almost every one of these blessings are of a spiritual nature, although some of them are realized through physical acts, such as showing mercy through acts of charity, or acting to bring about peace. This passage is often seen as instructions on how one should act and live their life as a follower of Christ.

A much shorter version of what we call the Beatitudes also occurs in Luke’s gospel, in chapter 6 verses 20 through 23, but these are dramatically different from those in Matthew. See if you can pick up on the difference.

“Then he, Jesus, looked up at his disciples and said:
Blessed are you who are poor, for yours if the kingdom of God.
Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled.

Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.

Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.” (NRSV)

Did you hear the difference? Does that difference make you a little uncomfortable? It should. Jesus says, blessed are the poor. And I wonder how many of us in this room, in this county, can honestly admit that we are poor. Not poor in spirit…poor. Morris county is the seventh richest county in the United States (Forbes.com). The seventh. According to the U.S. Census, the median income from 2008, just two years ago, was $99,268. That is almost six figures. Compare that to the fact that around the world, about 1.4billion people live on less than one dollar and 25 cents a day*. That’s only $456.25 a year. Blessed are the poor; blessed are those who are barely making minimum wage and are working two or three jobs to keep a roof over their head. Blessings upon them, the kindom of God belongs to them.

Blessed are those who hunger. Every 10 seconds a child somewhere in the world dies because of hunger*.That’s about 8,000 children a day. Over one billion people go hungry each day*. Not hungry as in, they didn’t have a snack after school, hungry as in, there was no food today. Or maybe yesterday too. And probably tomorrow. Our society is so wrapped up in food; it is everywhere around us. On television, in ads, magazines, books, blogs, the list goes on. It is no secret that obesity, especially childhood obesity, is climbing at alarming rates, and that average Americans throw away 25% of their food. We have more food than we know what to do with, while children in Africa might get one meal a day, a meal that probably consists of gruel. They are hungry. We are full to overflowing. Who does Jesus bless?

Blessed are you who weep now; are we weeping, friends? Are we weeping for our brothers and sisters who have no food, no clothes, no shelter? Did we weep when oil was leaking into the Gulf Coast, threatening not only our own water and ecosystem, but in actuality the world’s? Are we weeping as war takes the lives of not only our own soldiers, but in every country where violence occurs? Are we weeping as people’s civil rights and liberties are denied and governments do nothing about it? Blessed are you who weep, for God will wipe away your tears and your tears shall turn to laughter and your mourning into dancing.

Where do we fit into Luke’s Beatitudes? We can relate with Matthew’s, they are more…inclusive. Anyone can be poor in spirit, anyone can hunger and thirst for righteousness. We are all searching for something in our lives; love, beauty, tolerance, forgiveness. There is hope for us in Matthew’s Beatitudes. In Luke’s, however, as privileged middle and upper class Americans, there seems to be no place for us.

Or is there?

Before you get too disheartened, let me remind you of another passage that is found in Matthew. Twenty chapters after the Beatitudes, after the famous Sermon on the Mount, Jesus speaks another powerful message.

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angel with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates sheep from the goats, and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. Then the king will say to those at his right hand, Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me…truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are member of my family, you did it to me.” (Matt. 25:31-36, 40b, NRSV).

Every time you do this to the least, you do this for Christ. Did you hear what Jesus said about those on the right? You that are blessed, he said. You shall inherit the kindom, and I might take the liberty of adding, along with those who are poor, hungry, and weeping. Rejoice and be glad! Yours is the kindom…

As people who have been blessed in this life, here on this earth in this community, we have a duty to be Jesus’ hands and feet to others, and to see the face of Christ in their faces. In today’s gospel lesson from Luke, Jesus tells the Pharisee who had invited him to dinner a parable, and then some advice. Don’t invite those who are your equals, or your betters, he says, because they are capable of repaying you by inviting you to a feast. Rather, you should invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind; by opening your table to them, you will be blessed, “because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.” Who can we invite to our tables? Who can we feed, and clothe, and offer shelter and support to? Who can we bless, and be blessed ourselves in our giving? We too have been invited to a table we are unworthy of, and that is the table Christ himself prepared for us and we celebrate every time we take part in holy communion. We are blessed to be a blessing to others; we are called to be Christ to the world, and to bring the kindom of God here and now (!) so that those who are hungry now, will be full. Those who are poor, will be no more. That those who are weeping, shall laugh and dance. We are called- let it be so. Amen.

*statistics from World Vision

Summer's almost over...

2010-08-25T15:30:00.000-04:00

and I am actually saddened by this. I am one of those weird people that normally doesn't like summer. I am so routine driven, that when it gets disrupted by winter break, vacations, and especially summertime, I tend to be/become miserable. However, this summer has been SO busy, I am finding that I didn't accomplish nearly as much as I would have liked to. Here is a quick recap of my summer (prepare yourself, this is pretty crazy):

May:
end of classes and finals
trip to Maine
begin working summer hours in the admissions office

June:
Baltimore-Washington Annual Conference
trip to Maryland for Lauren's graduation
back to MD for my certification interview
up to Massachusetts for the New England Annual Conference

July:
cross-cultural trip to Taize, France
Vacation Bible
my first funeral (all by myself!)
filling in as pastor, secretary, organist at the church

August:
quick jaunt down to MD
trip up to Maine (where Evan got certified- yay!)
BACK down to MD....

...and now it is less than a week before classes start, and I am at my desk in the admissions office, thinking of all the planning I need to do for fall programs that start in less than a month. Gah!

On a brighter note, today is mine and Evan's 11th "month-iversary". Yay! After work we are going to the gym (we're on a health kick right now) and then we will get gussied up and go to our favorite restaurant in Madison. We go there every month to celebrate; it's the first place we met, and we've made it ''our'' place. It's called David's Rumba Cafe, but we just call it Dave's. I always get the same thing- a Cadillac Burrito. But, now we are vegetarian, so I'll have to try something new!

Time to go back to work- why are there only 24 hours in the day?

Peace!

Eggplant!

2010-08-11T19:13:00.000-04:00

A few things y'all may not know include:

1. Evan and I are now vegetarians
2. we planted a vegetable garden earlier in the summer
3. we have a lot of eggplant!

Ok, now that that's been covered, on to the main part of this entry which is.....

A DELICIOUS EGGPLANT LASAGNA RECIPE!!!!

We had a lot of veggies lying around the kitchen, refrigerator, garden, etc. that needed to be used up, so we decided to throw together a lasagna. And it was FABULOUS! Evan says he thinks in the future we should blanch the eggplant a little bit before, and I think we should cook the broccoli a little bit before, but we both agree the crunch is nice, so maybe that isn't necessary. Anyway...

First we thinly sliced the eggplant (just 1) and put it on a cookie sheet. You have to sprinkle salt on the slices and let it sit- this will draw the bitter water out of the eggplant and make it nicer.
While that was happening, we made 3 bowls of stuff that we later used to layer.

Bowl 1: sauce
We just used a jar of tomato & basil spaghetti sauce that was in the pantry. To that we added:
- a whole ton of withered spinach (and I mean a ton, like, 2 of the bags of spinach you get at a store!)
- cubed tomato
Mix together and set aside.

Bowl 2: veggies!
I chopped and mixed together:
- onion
- green onions/scallions
- a head of boccoli

Bowl 3: this is what Evan threw together
- ricotta cheese
- mozzarella cheese
- 1 egg
- fresh basil
- thyme
- oregano
- parmesan cheese
- salt
- pepper
This smelled amazing. I wanted to eat some, but didn't because of the raw egg. It was hard not to though.

Then, after rinsing and drying the eggplant, we started to layer! I thought my Pampered Chef rectangular baker would be too big, but we filled it to the top!

Layer:
- sauce
- lasagna noodles
- cheese mixture
- eggplant
- veggie mix
-REPEAT

On the last layer we just did the noodles, sauce, and then put shredded mozzarella and parmesan cheese.

We baked it on 350 F for about 30 minutes.

Give it a try sometime! I'm actually glad that we will have leftovers for several meals, it was that good!

Travellings back and forth

2010-06-26T17:27:00.003-04:00

Hey y'all! I've been traveling a good bit lately; down to MD a few weeks ago for the Baltimore Washington Annual Conference where I was part of the music team with Mark Miller and DeLyn Celec. I had a great time helping to lead the music throughout conference, but had a very different experience at conference this year. It was probably due to the fact that I was working and unable to re-connect with people at conference. OR maybe it was because of some of the conversations we are still having. Or maybe it was because it was held in the Marriot at the Inner Harbor, where dinner cost $42 a person, and the ordinands were ordained under crystal chandeliers while people were starving just blocks away...Anyway, BW conference was OK. I drove back up to Jersey Friday night so I would be at worship on Sunday, then turned right back around and drove BACK to MD for Lauren's graduation party and graduation!

The graduation party was, of course, a great party (all my mom's parties are great, even though she worries about them). I got to see a lot of people I haven't seen in a while, ate some yummy food, chatted with my pastor for a while, and played some kickball (!). The party "officially" ended at 8, but some of Lauren's friends stayed much longer, first helping us clean up and then staying to watch her open her gifts. It was really nice to see her interact with her friends from church and school. She has blossomed so much, and seems to be in touch with who she is. I know she's going to excel at Centenary in the fall. : )

Graduation was a bit chaotic because Megan experienced her first migraine- except we didn't know it was just a migraine- and ended up in the ER with my father. Lauren was a really great sport about the whole thing, and after being kept over night and having a bunch of tests run, Megan is fine. Thank goodness.

I stayed longer on Wednesday than I had originally planned, and headed back for Jersey once Megan was discharged from the hospital. She had so many pastoral visits- Mark went Tuesday night, then George came on Wednesday afternoon, and Mark came again right as she was being discharged. That is good pastoral care Hiss pastors! Two thumbs up!

I was only in Jersey for a few days- well, a week really- and then I had to go BACK down to MD (that 3 trips now!) for my DCOM meeting. It was pretty intense at times, but they certified me (thank you God!), and I was able to drive back up to Jersey tear-free. When I got home Evan and Lauren G. had dinner ready, and we celebrated a bit before Evan and I had to pack for the New England Annual Conference, which we were going to the next day.

We left early Thursday morning and got up to Gordon College, MA around 1pm. We registered (there was no line!) and got to our room in minutes. Everyone stays in the dorms; each dorm had two twin beds, and two rooms shared a bathroom. The lay representative from Jacksonville UMC (Evan's church in ME) and his wife had the room next to us, and helped pay our way to conference. They are a hoot! and made conference a lot of fun. NEAC was very different from BWAC, in many ways. One of the initial and most obvious differences was the size of the conference. Whereas BW has thousands of clergy alone, there were 1,300 registered TOTAL at NE- that included clergy, laity, and guests! Because it's so small, NE can have their conference at Gordon College, with the sessions being held in the chapel. THE CHAPEL! We walked in, and at the base of the stage was a fountain that a clergy member had made; it had the Methodist cross and flame on it, and water ran down the wall. The theme was "rivers" and it carried throughout the entire conference. Bishop Weaver is very pastoral- he preaches and prays in a gentle manner, and presided over the conference fairly and judiciously. The worship was all great (although the music wasn't as good as Mark Miller's), and it involved youth, children, retirees, and district superintendents (at one service, they came into worship dressed up with different flotation devices and running under bead curtains- it was so much fun!). They used water, beads, strips of fabric, and blocks of ice to enhance the worship and voting sessions. Oh, AND they have "prayer-liamentary" motions; at any point in the debates over legislation someone can make a prayer-liamentary request and the bishop will stop the conversation to offer up a prayer. I can't describe how this helped ease the tension during debates. It was so different from BW; it was more like church, more like community. Oh, oh! did I mention that there were mission opportunities right there during conference? Mission as in, not only giving money, but a station where ramps were being built to be distributed throughout Northern Maine to people in need of them.

The first night we were there Evan's DS Pat MacHugh had dinner with us. I was amazed a DS would take the time, especially during conference!- to have dinner with one of her candidates and his partner. She was so nice and pastoral, wanting to know about how we liked school, how we met each other, what my call to ministry was...and thanking US for eating with her! She prayed for our continuing discernment as we go through the candidacy process and decide where we will serve. She also told us about the new opportunities that are opening up in the Northern Maine District; from a new cluster, to a church plant within the next few years, to looking to find new ways of doing parish and extension ministry. It was all very exciting to listen to, and is something that I need to continue to pray about as Evan and I begin planning our future together.

We made it back to Jersey Saturday night, just in time for me to finish prepping for the service on Sunday that I led and preached at. This past week has been the first in weeks that I haven't had to travel anywhere farther than the Target on Route 10, and for that I am extremely grateful!

So, that's what I've been up to lately! Hope you've enjoyed -and thanks for- reading! Peace.

Ch. 1

2010-06-11T16:23:00.002-04:00

I was talking to Evan earlier today, and we both mentioned that I had written anything for a while. "What should I write about?" I asked him. "Write about...write about us!" he said. "I like to hear your version of it." So here we go. I'm going to write it in several installments, so that those who want to read don't have to tackle a huge narrative in one sitting. (It will also give me a longer project to keep my occupied- teehee). Hope you enjoy!

It was the fourth day of orientation, and my brain was pretty fried. Perhaps it was from all the information it was trying to retain about this place called Drew, or maybe it was just because it was late August and as a result quite hot and humid outside. I had dressed comfortably for the long day, pulled my unruly bangs back, and had put on some make-up, still trying to create a good first impression to the people I would spend the next three years of my life with. For the first time that week dinner was not provided, and our orientation leaders thought it would be fun to introduce us to some of the restaurants in town. The group was larger than they had planned, so half went to a typical bar and grill along the main road, while the rest of us went to the adventurous sounding David’s Rumba Café. Tables had been squeezed together in this small, quaint family-run restaurant, and the owner and waitstaff were ready for us with smiles and pads of paper for drink requests. I sat between one of the orientation leaders (DBY) and a new friend. Leena was a classical violinist, so we would have plenty to talk about if conversation lulled. Across from me sat Shannon and a young man who did not return after the first semester. Conversations abounded, new people were introduced to us as they joined our ranks at the tables, and suggestions and decisions were made in regards to food. “This is my room-mate,” DBY said, and I glanced to see a cheerful enough man on his other side. His hair was wild and shaggy, beard unkempt, and he sported an old tie-died T-shirt. I couldn’t figure out how old he was, and it was too hard to hear, so I turned my attention back to the conversation at hand: Shannon was debating marriage with the young man in front of me.

The food was delicious, and I ate a ton of it! Chips and home-made salsa, maduros and some other form of fried plantain, black bean soup, and the most amazing burrito I have ever had in my life. The Cadillac. All too soon, but still hours later, we were dividing up the tab, figuring out who owed what, how much should we leave for tip…it was suggested that some of us go back to DBY’s apartment for drinks, and I accepted the invitation. I went up to Shannon’s room and together the three of us (her roommate Lauren joined us) went down to the boy’s room. Let me start by saying I have never been much of a party-er, that I have an insanely low alcohol-tolerance, and that new people (especially men) make me nervous. So I was very proud of myself for attending this last minute gathering, and for slowly sipping the glass of Argentinian wine Lauren gave me, listening to my new school mates talk. On the couch, reclined against a pillow, was DBY’s roommate. He seemed like a combination of a hippie, and a serene buddha; he immedietely struck me as the type of person people wanted to be around. He was like honey that bees flocked to, honey that is sometimes benevolent, but sometimes dangerous. I really wasn’t sure that I wanted to get close enough to figure out what kind of honey he was. I didn’t stay long, just long enough to have my glass of wine, before asking to be escorted home. DBY led me through the woods and showed me my house from the parking lot. I walked the rest of the way by myself, thinking about the new people I had met, and wondering what types of friendships would develop –or not –between us.

Vacation Bible School!

2010-05-26T11:59:00.002-04:00

I can't help it, I have to do a plug for Madison's Vacation Bible School. : )

I am SOOOO excited to have the opportunity to plan and lead VBS this summer. We are doing Jerusalem Marketplace, a fun, hands on, multi-generational program that takes participants back to ancient Jerusalem when Jesus was there. The participants are divided into the different tribes of Israel, and each tribe will be led by a junior leader (I already have my first volunteer!!!). Each day participants will gather in the marketplace, hear about what Jesus is doing in Jerusalem, attend Synagogue School, have recreation and craft time, and come together for snack and a closing time.

We are accepting registration for kids ages 3-5th grade. Anyone older than 5th grade who would like to participate can volunteer to be a junior tribe leader. I also need adults to help with and be part of the marketplace, snacks, crafts, recreation, etc.

VBS will be the last week of July (26-30) from 9:30am-12:00pm

Come be a part of this adventure!

Poll!

2010-05-19T21:18:00.002-04:00

Should Evan and I live in.....

Maryland
Maine
Quebec

Starboard Cove

2010-05-15T10:49:00.004-04:00

On Thursday, after my last classroom commitment to Drew for the semester, Evan and I headed up north to Down-East Maine to see his family. After hitting several accidents and much construction along the way, we finally made it to his cousin Ralph's house (in southern Maine) a bit after midnight.

In the morning we headed up north, stopping to have lunch with Evan's old pastor in Waterville. It was nice to meet her and visit for awhile, but eventually we had to hit the road. About four hours later we were finally in Starboard! Yay! We gathered with the family for a dinner of pasta salad and garden salad made by Evan's dad, Bill, and pizza, which Jeff brought for the boys. After dinner we went for a walk with Nana and Evan's mother, Debbie, down the road, but it was too chilly to stay out for long.

This morning I slept until 10:30! Can you believe it!? 10:30! It was amazing. As I sit here writing and eating the breakfast Evan just made me of eggs and toast (from the bread we made!) this is my view:

Isn't that beautiful? It's a bit foggy today, and chilly, but we'll make the most of it.

Tonight we travel up to Eastport so Evan can play a gig at the Rose Garden. More pictures and posts to follow. :)

(Not so) Great Expectations

2010-04-06T09:15:00.001-04:00

Luke 24: 1But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. 2They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, 3but when they went in, they did not find the body. 4While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. 5The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. 6Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, 7that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” 8Then they remembered his words, 9and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. 10Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles. 11But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. 12But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened.

Life is full of expectations. These expectations are formed through years of human experience, and carry with them . While some of these expectations come from tradition, others carry with them universal truths. Let’s take Easter, for instance. I think it is pretty safe to say that if you are a Christian celebrating Easter in North America, you expect certain things. You expect to sing Christ the Lord is Risen Today, you probably expect to flower a cross, and you are probably looking ahead to the ham lunch you will share with family and friends later that afternoon. Most children expect to receive an Easter basket of sorts, expect to dye eggs, and expect, if not demand, an Easter egg hunt. Expectations such as these can be fun, but also very important. They give structure and order to the season; they are a prescription, if you will, for how to celebrate this holiday. They bring joy, for the most part, and if they are neglected (especially the Easter egg hunt) the result is disappointment. How often have you heard, or you yourself have said, after a holiday that has been missing something, that it “just didn’t feel like ‘blank’.” It didn’t feel like Thanksgiving because there was apple pie instead of pumpkin pie. It didn’t feel like Christmas because we didn’t sing Joy to the World. It didn’t feel like Easter because…well, you get the point. Expectations are important to be aware of; when they are exceeded, we have cause for celebration or surprise. When they are met, we are satisfied. When they are not met; well, all sorts of things can happen.
Jesus had a very habitual way of meeting people’s expectations. In many ways, he exceeded his current and would be followers’expectations. No one would have dreamed he could cast out demons with such authority. When there were thousands that needed to be fed, the disciples did not expect Jesus to be able to feed them; but he did, with plenty left-over. No one expected he could walk on water, or calm the storm, but he did. Through his miracles he exceeded everyone’s expectations, and those expectations were raised. They did not expect Jesus to enter into Jerusalem on a donkey, but rather as a militant king! No one expected he would be betrayed by one of his closest followers. No one expected the Messiah to suffer, or to die. And no one expected him to rise.
The women who had followed Jesus from Galilee watched as his body was placed in a tomb; they saw how his body was laid, and saw the stone rolled in front of the entrance. Because of the Sabbath, they had to wait to annoint the body. They prepared the spices and ointment, and waited until the Sabbath was over before going to the tomb to annoint the body. They were surely preparing themselves for what they would find; a corpse, already deteriorating. It was, after all, to be expected. What they find, instead, is a surprise. There is no stench, there is no rotting corpse; there is no body at all! And the women are perplexed, because when you see a body be laid to rest with your own eyes, you most certainly expect it to be there when you return!
Even in death, Jesus surpassed their expectations.
If the disappearance of Jesus’body was not disturbing enough, suddenly the women find themselves in the company of two angels. After reminding the women of what Jesus had said, several times in his ministry in fact, the women remember. What I find interesting is Luke’s lack of description when it comes to the women’s reaction to this news; that the Son of Man has risen. He describes their puzzlement at finding the tomb empty, their fear at seeing the angels, but here, he says nothing. It makes me wonder if, rather than excitement, their response was a rather sheepish, “oh yeah, I remember that….” When they tell the apostles, those closest to Jesus, their words are brushed off. These men, Jesus’inner circle of followers, do not remember what Jesus had said. For them, he is still dead; they do not even seem concerned that his body may have been stolen. All but Peter. Peter, who has not only disappointed but also denied Jesus while he was living, must see for himself. And he runs. His expectations are not disclosed to the reader; whether he believed the women or not, upon seeing the empty tomb he is amazed. And he goes, not back to the apostles, but to his own home, no doubt to ponder what he had just seen, and to figure out what it meant.
What does it mean? The empty tomb means that Jesus has risen. It is a fulfillment of the prophecy of death and resurrection, leading the audience to believe also in the prophecy that Christ will come again. The empty tomb is a symbol of Christ’s victory over sin and death; it can give us courage to face darkness and death, realizing that the light of dawn is close at hand. It means that there is hope for salvation, that through Christ’s offering of himself our sins are forgiven, and we can be in a right relationship with God. The empty tomb means all these things, and more. It means that Christ is alive, and at work in the world, even today. Amen!

Sermon-ette on the Prodigal Son

2010-03-23T16:37:00.002-04:00

Luke 15.1-3,11b-32
This story is very familiar to us; it is one of the most well-known stories attributed to Jesus. It is often viewed and presented as a story of God's boundless grace and love. The younger son is often used as a symbol of one who has gone astray, who sees the error of their ways, and is received back by God, just as a lost sheep is welcomed back into the fold. We are probably not surprised to find that the parable of the lost sheep precedes the story of the prodigal son.While there are many similarities between the two stories, the emphasis placed on the actions of the characters are somewhat different. In the parable of the lost sheep, Jesus describes what would have been a common occurrence in the rural community Jesus spoke to; a sheep wanders off and becomes lost. The sheep does not deliberately run away, it simply becomes separated from the flock. The shepherd takes it upon himself to go and search for the sheep, celebrating when he finds it, carrying it home safely.

Now, contrast that with the story of the prodigal son. Here, Jesus tells of something that would have been reprehensible within the culture. This younger son goes to his father, who is in seemingly good health mind you, and DEMANDS to receive what will only be his once his father dies. He is not asking for a loan, or a gift; it's not like there is a separate bank account set aside, collecting interested titled "inheritance." He is, essentially, impatient, and cannot WAIT for his father to die to get his hands on the family funds. If that was not bad enough, once he receives "what is his" he deserts his family, taking with him their resources needed to survive. This son is no lost sheep; rather, he is a thief. He does not put his inheritance to good use, and eventually finds himself in as low a position he COULD find himself; tending the religiously and literally unclean pigs. He has become as far removed from his family, faith, and culture as he can get. It is at this point he decides it would be a good idea to return home. We cannot know if his confession is heartfelt or not, but it is clear he feels it will be enough to welcome him back home, even if only as a slave. And so he sets off for home.

Remember the shepherd in the previous parable?
The father is not like the shepherd.
He does not hurry off to find his wayward son. He does not try to save him. Instead, he let's him go.
I wonder what the father felt, after his son had left. Was he sad? Was he angry? Did his son become dead to him? Did he even care at all, now that he had lost a good deal of his wealth AND a pair of hands around the farm that would need to be replaced? Did he watch for the improbable return of his son? We don't know. But Jesus tells us that when the father sees his son far off, he runs to him, embracing him and welcoming him home.

The shepherd went off to seek for what was lost. The father stayed behind, but welcomed his son when he returned. Jesus begins the parable of the lost sheep with the words, "which one of you...?" And now I turn the question to you. Which one of YOU will search for those who are lost? Which one of YOU will be ready to welcome those back, regardless of what they have done? Which one of YOU will care for the least, the last, and the lost? I challenge you, to see the shepherd and the father not only as symbols of God and Christ, but also as a model for how we should be as Christians. Let's BE the shepherds. Let's BE the fathers and the mothers, rejoicing when what was once lost, is found.

Amen.

Lenten Practice

2010-02-23T09:15:00.002-05:00

I was at a loss of what to do during Lent; to give up, or not to give up- that was the question. I usually try to "add" something instead of giving something up, so here is my plan:
each week the Revised Common Lectionary has four scripture readings, almost always in this order:
1- passage from the Hebrew Bible
1- psalm
1- epistle (letter from Paul, or, atleast attributed to Paul)
1- Gospel
What I am going to try to do is to read and reflect in some way on each of these readings during Lent. I am hoping this will lead to creative ways of reflecting on the scriptures. We'll see how it goes.

Peace be with you all!

What to do....

2010-02-08T12:25:00.002-05:00

Hey! I'm pretty sure no-one really reads this, which is fine. BUT, if you d0 then you can help me out.

Ready?

What should Evan and I do for Valentine's Day!?
We don't want to do the cliche things, but we want it to be a special day. We never go to the movies, only eat out once a month, and do all of our (really yummy!) cooking at home. I have forbidden flowers (the prices get SOOOO inflated!)and he's not a huge fan of chocolate.

Any ideas to make our first Valentine's Day special?

Adventures in Maine

2010-01-15T10:57:00.006-05:00

I promised I would finish re-counting my holiday travels, so here I am, doing just that. If you remember from the last post, I spent several days at home in MD with my family before traveling up to Maine...
December 29:
I woke up bright and early, finished loading the car, and said good-bye to my family. It had been a really nice visit with them, albeit it quite busy, but I knew I would be seeing them again soon so I was eager to start my next journey. I drove from MD to my home in NJ (a bit over 3 hours), traded my MD luggage for my ME luggage, got some gas, and headed up to ME. I drove thru New Jersey, New York, Massachusetts, and New Hampshire before finally reaching my destination (about 7 hours later!). It was very windy, but luckily there was no snow. At one point in Massachusetts Roxy (my car) reported that it was 3 degrees outside. I called my sister to inform her I might freeze to death.
I arrived at Evan's cousin's house in Auburn, ME and finally got to see my sweet. : ) This had been the longest we'd been apart- it was soooo good to see him! I got to meet his cousin Ralph, and the three of us went to dinner at a Thai place in town. We spent the night in Auburn the drove 4 more hours to Starboard, where Evan's family lives. (If you've been counting, this adds up to about 14 hours from MD...that's A LOT of driving!)
When we reached Starboard it was dark out, so I couldn't see much scenery wise, but I finally got to meet the people I've heard so much about! We stayed at Nana's and met her, then Evan's parents came down the hill to meet us. They are all such lovely people. I felt at home right away. We were all tired, so we didn't stay up visiting terribly long.
The next morning I woke up, walked into the kitchen, and went, "Wow!" This is what I saw:

I got to meet more family that day; Evan's uncle and his family live right next door, so I got to meet Jeff, his wife Tracy, and their three children, Jeff, Andrew, and Maya. I fell in love with Maya right away, but it took her a little while to warm up to me. By the second or third time she saw me, she was asking for candy, having me carry her throughout the house, and signing to me. I was so excited to sign with her (she's deaf); she is super smart, and picks up new signs very quickly.
She loves Evan:

(in this picture I asked her what her name is, and she is signing it to me)

During the blizzard we made donuts and bread with Nana- she is a wonderful baker, and during tourist season sells her baked goods at stores in town. She gave me some recipes to make in Madison, which I am very excited about. : )

On New Year's Eve Evan had a gig in Eastport, the eastern-most town in the United States. They played at neat little place called the Rose Garden. It was a lot of fun; despite the snow, it was well attended, and everyone had a good time. I have a feeling we'll be spending next New Year's up here.

I had a wonderful time in Maine; I absolutely love Evan's family, and I think they all like me too (apparently, I'm a keeper). I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to visit his home and meet his friends and family. It was a great start to the New Year!

Holiday Recap

2010-01-07T15:20:00.003-05:00

Peace and greetings to you all! Hahaha, enough with the church jargon.
Hello! It's been a while since I have blogged anything, so I thought a summary of the holidays was in order. I will try to be as brief as possible (we'll see how that works out).

Christmas Eve:
Wow! What a marathon! I spent the day cleaning the house and making sure I had everything I would need packed and ready to go to both Maryland and Maine. I made cinnamon rolls, from scratch!, to take to MD as a surprise for breakfast Christmas morning. I went over to the church around 4 to set up the hand-bells and to get ready for the Christmas Eve service/pageant. While it did not go off without a hitch, it was a lovely pageant, and one I thoroughly enjoyed being a part of. I got to sing several solos, play my trombone, AND direct the brand-new hand-bell choir; I was so proud of the Mustard Seeds!!! After the service was over, and hugs and Christmas greetings were passed around, I hopped in the car and booked it to MD. I made it in under 3 hours! I was so pleased with myself!
When my family got home from church (I got to the house before they did) we exchanged gifts among sisters, and then headed back to church. I was able to attend the 11 o'clock service at Hiss, where they did a traditional Lessons and Carols service followed by communion. With hot dog rolls. Hahahahaha- it totally made my night. When we got home we got to open our traditional Christmas Eve gifts- Mommy-made pajama pants!! Megan and Riley were fast asleep in the basement, so I crashed with Sarah and Sophie for the night.

Christmas Day:
Well, we woke up and exchanged more gifts. Megan had to work at the hospital, so we decided to save a few gifts to open when she got home. I made breakfast for the family with the help of Sarah and my dad: scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, sausage, and the surprise cinnamon rolls. They were a hit! We had a nice visit with my grandmother, and then I took Sarah to spend some time with her boyfriend. Jackie and Colette came over and had dinner with us! It was so nice having them spend some of Christmas day with us. We all watched the Muppet's Christmas Carol together; it is one of my favorites. They left right around the time Megan got home from work. We finished exchanging gifts, and then relaxed the rest of the evening. It was far from our normal Christmas "routine", but it was a wonderful day with family and friends.

Sunday/Monday:
On Sunday we had an Open House which kind of turned into a football party.

I don't want to even START talking about that horrible game...

But the party was nice!

Monday Lauren had sinus surgery. We went to the hospital at 5am...the surgeon was late, which is apparently normal for him, so we waited about 3 hours before they took her back. I went home around noon; by then she was finished in the OR and in was in the first level of recovery. Sarah and I went shopping for a few things, and I took her to the barn to take care of the horses. Lauren was really out of it- her pain meds kept her sleepy, which was good.

On Tuesday I started my journey up to Maine.

I think I'll save that for the next entry : )

Personal "Poem"

2009-11-20T13:29:00.003-05:00

Yesterday in Pastoral Formation we talked about forgiveness; how it is one of the requirements of being a part of the Christian community. We talked about different ways of expressing our pains, of going about giving/receiving forgiveness. It made me think of a piece I wrote- I actually thought it was older than it is, but oh well. I don't know if it counts as poetry or if it's just a letter of sorts. I think I am hoping that by putting up here, it will help me to move on. I don't know. But here it is.

9.24.2009

To All the Men That Have Hurt Me-
I f*cking hate you.
There, I said it.
I hate you.
You all took things from me you had no right to take.
It was not your right,it was not your choice to make.
It was mine.
And you took that away from me.
You left me broken and afraid, unable to trust.
You left me full of doubts.
You left me with small pieces of me that I won't ever get back.
And I hate you for that.
I am afraid when men make sexual advances.
I shut down when I should burn with passion.
I don't trust people's intentions.
I don't trust myself.
But I can't hate you forever.
Eventually I have to forgive you.
With God's help, I must forgive you.
But it's not that simple
I fail to see how forgiving you will help me.
And, although I am supposed to love you as a child of God,
I sure as hell don't want to.
I am consumed by memories and fear, so much so that I cannot look at one who resembles you.
So:
names ommitted
and any others that may exist past my memory-

I want my pieces back.

Because I need to be at peace.

All Saint's Sermon

2009-11-19T15:24:00.003-05:00

Yes, yes, I know All Saint's Day was weeks ago. I hesitate to even post this still, so much time has gone by, but I've decided to do it anyway.
On November 1 I gave the sermon at the church I am currently serving. Like many pastors, Saturday morning dawned and I did not have a single word on paper. While in the shower, I figured out my sermon outline, intending on writing it as soon as I got finished. However, life got in the way, and it was several hours later before I was able to sit down to write my sermon. By then, all my thoughts had left me, and I was left staring blankly at my computer screen. Taking the advice of a friend, I headed home and back to my place of inspiration: the shower. This was the result:

I think for Christmas I would like those special markers you can get children to play with in the tub...

The final version of my sermon, was, of course, more fleshed out, and not written on my shower wall.

(I was going to post my sermon, but it is rather long...if it would like to read it, let me know, and I will post it).

It's been a while...so here!

2009-10-25T15:38:00.002-04:00

Here is something I had to write for a class. We were supposed to select one (or all) of the Ten Commandments and discuss how it describes and relates to the Hebrew people and the formation of their identity as a people at the time, as well show a connection to the New Testament. In very few words. Mine is a little longer than it should have been, and I may not have completely followed the instructions (which were NOT very clear- not as clear as I just articulated them here), but here it is.

The Seventh and Tenth Commandments
These two commandments reinforce the ongoing male-dominated, patriarchal system that has been presented thus far in the texts. The command to not commit adultery does not initially appear gender-biased until one looks more closely at the tenth commandment.

The tenth commandment states that “You shall not covet your neighbor’s house; you shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, or male or female slave, or ox, or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor.” (Ex 20:17) This command appears to only apply to free men; men wealthy enough to possess property. Wives are grouped along with all other goods and property, without rights.

According to the commentary in the Harper Collins Study Bible, polygamy was still a common practice. Adultery was defined as “intercourse between a married woman and any man but her husband.” (p.118) Considering women were property, the act of adultery would have been an attack on the woman’s husband. Sleeping with a man’s wife would have been comparable to stealing a man’s ox. It is a matter of property laws, not necessarily marriage fidelity. While it permisable for a married man to have sex with multiple women, provided they are his wives or single women, it is not permisable for a man to have sex with another man’s wife.

While the initial command to “not commit adultery” (Ex 20:14) is directed at men, their female counterparts are often heavily punished. Both Leviticus and Deuteronomy prescribe the “proper” punishment for those who commit adultery; death. “If a man commits adultery with the wife of his neighbor, both the adulterer and the adulteres shall be put to death.” (Lev 20:10) and “If a man is caught lying with the wife of another man, both of them shall die, the man who lay with the woman as well as the woman.” (Deut 22:22) The book of Numbers describes the steps a man should take if he believes his wife is being unfaithful, none of which include confronting the suspected male adulterer.

In the Gospels Jesus is recorded as taking the definition of adultery one step further, stating that “everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in heart.” (Mat 5:28) Once again, this command is directed only at men. Jesus is also attributed with the statement “Whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery against her; and if she divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery.” (Mar 10:11-12) These admonitions lead the reader to the conclusion that, despite the numerous Judaic laws against adultery, it was an on-going problem within society.

Laws are often put into place as a solution to a problem; in the case of Exodus, and even the New Testament, the issue at hand is the lack of respect towards a man’s property. Just as one should not covet another’s land or livestock, they should not look with lust upon another’s wife/wives. These two commandments further embed male domination over women in the culture of Israel.

Source:
The Harper Collins Study Bible. New Revised Standard Version. Wayne Meeks, ed. Harper Collins.

Almost to Reading Week...

2009-10-08T09:23:00.002-04:00

Good morning! I am sitting in a dark, empty classroom, listening to Pandora, and waiting for class to start in...wow, I'm earlier than I thought! Class doesn't start for half an hour. Oh well!
Today is Thursday of week 6 in my first semester of theological studies. Next week is the long awaited, coveted blessing that is given to us by the university, aka, reading week. During reading week, there are no classes, and we all get the chance to get caught up and/or get ahead in our reading/papers for the rest of the semester. It is going to be wonderful! A lot of students are going home, but because I have commitments here in Madison, and at school, I will be staying at Drew. Hopefully this will be a wonderfully productive week (crossing fingers!).
This weekend my family is coming up to visit!! Not all of my family, but half of them. Lauren (my sister) is visiting a college in northern Jersey on Monday, so she, my mother, and father will come and stay with me Saturday and Sunday. It will be so good to see them- I wish Sarah could come as well, but she has school on Monday. Boo Baltimore County, not giving students off for Columbus Day! I'm so excited to see them, because I miss my family. ANNNND....they will meet Evan!!
Who is Evan? Evan is my boyfriend. : ) I am so happy- he's a great guy, and he treats me wonderfully. It's so nice to be with someone who shares the same interests as you, respects you, and sincerely likes you. He is such a genuine, kind-hearted person, I already consider myself deeply blessed to have him in my life. For possibly the first time ever, I can be completely honest with my partner (to borrow m friend Shannon's term) about anything and everything. In addition to being intelligent, kind, and musical, he's also an AWESOME cook! I may, for the first time ever, pack on those 15 lbs. people talk about when living at college, lol.
Coming to Drew has been such a wonderful change for me, in soooo many ways. Thanks to God, everyday, for the community I have become a part of.
Here come my classmates! Time for church history...I think we're talking about St. Augustine today, who, as my teacher says, probably should have participated in a "12 step sex" challenged program. LOL.
Blessings!!

Busy Busy Week

2009-09-23T08:47:00.002-04:00

As the title clearly states, this is an extremely busy week. Now that classes have been in session a few weeks, all the clubs and organizations are starting back up. I really don't have time to write a full-blown entry, but here's a list of all the things I've gotten myself in to, in addition to classes, working in the Theo. Admissions office, and serving the United Methodist Church in Madison.

Introduction to the New Testament Bible Study- participant and facilitator (held at the church)
Choir- at the church
Spectrum- the LGBTQ (and allies) group within the Theo School
TSA- representative on the University Program Board
Beatitudes Society- www.beatitudessociety.org
reader's theatre performance of a play by a professor in the Theo School

phew!

AND, once TERRA (Transforming Ecological and Religious Resources into Action) begins, I will probably become involved in that.

Alrighty, now off to school for a day full of classes and meetings.

Peace!

Oh Monday...

2009-09-14T08:40:00.002-04:00

Good morning, one and all.
Today finds me chilly, tired, and a bit frustrated.
Chilly is easily explained- it is almost autumn, and it is getting much cooler up here, although they are predicting a high of 80 today, so hopefully I will warm up soon. I don't like being cold.
I am tired because I'm a seminary student! I have a lot of work to do today, and hopefully I will get it all done. I did not sleep well all last week, so I pray that this week will be different.
Now, as to why I am frustrated...
There are several reasons. One is that I still do not have hot water. It has been over a week (this is day 9)and while it could be MUCH worse, it is still beginning to get old. However, they are supposed to come and replace the hot water heater and boiler tomorrow, so soon I will be a very happy camper.
Secondly, I am frustrated with men. What else is new, lol. Just, simple things like, make your intentions/desires clear. If you just want to be friends, make that obvious. If you're going to walk a girl home, walk her home. If you say you're going to call tomorrow, make sure you call. Little things like that.
Thirdly...last night was supposed to be the first youth meeting at my new church in my new position. I got icecream and toppings, planned good welcome activities, got my house all cleaned...guess how many showed up.
ZERO
Now, I understand that school just started, and I understand that they have homework and projects (projects? already?) and I understand that fall sports have started...but I am still disappointed. I am trying to remain positive, and to just cheerfully say, "We'll try again next week," but the tired, chilly, frustrated part of me is trying to take it personally. *sigh*

I need to get started on my To-Do list...Biblical Lit. paper, here I come.

First Week Recap

2009-09-06T16:02:00.002-04:00

I did it- I survived my first week of theological studies. Yippee!!! It has been a really awesome week. I like all of my classes, and am looking forward to what I will learn from them. Choir is going to be a lot of fun, and Ultimate on Friday was a blast. We had a birthday party for a fellow student Thursday night, attended a gathering on Friday, then I had a few people over Saturday. This morning I wore several hats in church- everyone was on vacation! I was the organist, led the service, and preached. Everything went very well, and it was so nice to look out in the congregation and see the first few pews full of my new Drew friends, there to support me. Thank you guys so much! I am blessed to know them, and it's only been one week! Well, two if you count orientation...
This upcoming week should be good. Labor Day is tomorrow, and we are having a small BBQ over at the theo. dorms. Thursday is my first day working in the theo. admissions office, and then Friday through Saturday is a fall retreat at Ocean Grove. Sunday is the first youth group meeting, so I'll be gearing up for that. Yup, it's going to be a good week.

Peace and blessings to all.

PS: I don't have hot water...thankfully, everyone has been very generous and offered me the use of their showers. Hopefully this won't last long.

New Beginnings

2009-09-01T08:56:00.003-04:00

IT'S THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, if you can't already tell, I am excited. I love new beginnings, and especially the first day of just about any class. Yesterday I organized my binder and re-read my syllabus (not sure of the plural form), and got some reading assignments done for later this week. I had a meeting with the pastor of the church I am working in, and then baby-sat a new friend's son while she was in class. My house is clean, the rest of my books are currently being shipped, and life really couldn't be better. : )
I have Church History at 9:55 with some of my new friends (yay) and then the precept for that course (a precept is a small study/discussion group you are required to be a part of) later this afternoon. Pray for me, as I begin this new adventure. : )

"This is a day of new beginnings,
time to remember and move on,
time to believe what love is bringing,
laying to rest the pain that's gone.

Then let us, with the Spirit's daring,
step from the past and leave behind
our disappointment, guilt, and grieving,
seeking new paths, and sure to find.

In faith we'll gather round the table
to taste and share what love can do.
This is a day of new beginnings;
our God is making all things new."

-select verses from "This Is a Day of New Beginnings" UMH 383
Text: Brian Wren

Day of New Beginnings...

2009-08-24T22:02:00.002-04:00

Orientation starts tomorrow!!!!!

can you tell I'm excited?

I had a wonderful weekend at home in Baltimore where I got to spend a little more time with my family and friends before leaving. I won't be home until mid-October, and only for a weekend. This is a big transition for all of us, but I know with God's help we will all make it through just fine.

I really like Madison, and I am so thankful that I will get to call it "home" for the next three years.

First Seminary Assignment complete!

2009-08-18T21:51:00.002-04:00

SO, I just finished my first assignment. YIPPEE!
I am being a church music geek and taking a wonderful class about hymnology. I am so excited!!! : )
Our first assignment was to describe our first experience with hymns, what are our favorite hymns are, and what our denominational background is.
Since it's info about me, I thought I would duplicate it here. (Plus, I haven't posted in a while, and I thought, hey, why not kill two birds with one stone. You might learn something about me).

I was born and raised in a United Methodist Church in Parkville, MD. I always loved singing hymns, and admit I would often flip through the hymnal reading the hymn texts rather than listen to the sermon. Music is one of my stronger talents, so I was very active in the choirs at church since I was young.
During my sophomore year of undergrad I became the organist and choir director at a small rural church, where I once again fell in love with hymns and the rich theology they offer. I also came to greatly dislike most praise and worship music, for both the tunes and text. At first, I considered The Faith We Sing to be the bane of my existence (I did not like the way the hymns were used or selected in worship) but after delving deeper into it I have come to love it. I especially like the hymns that tell stories, such as Two Fishermen and Swiftly Pass the Clouds of Glory. I always enjoy finding a familiar tune set with new text.
Some of my favorite hymns are "Be Thou My Vision" (there are some wonderful choral arrangements out there, or, I have found you can get a very different feel if you simply change a few chords or where the stress of the beat is placed). I once heard this hymn described as a love song to God, and that has always stuck with me.
"Leaning on the Everlasting Arms" is a new favorite, after I learned the difference of white and black Gospel. I find it to be much more uplifting and joyful when stress is placed on the upbeat.
My all time favorite hymn is "When in Our Music God is Glorified" (UMH 68). The text is rich, and the tune beautiful. I always find myself tearing up on the last phrase, "And may God give us faith to sing always Alleluia!"
I am so glad to have found this class. Having majored in church music in undergraduate, I hope this will offer a sense of familiarity that I may not find in other classes.

Summer Recap

2009-08-09T22:36:00.006-04:00

Once again, I have failed to blog in a timely manner. On the one hand, I have been extremely busy. But on the other hand, I seem to have spent plenty of time doing nothing. Oh well; musing about my time management skills is not the focus of this entry.
As I mentioned in my last entry, I went on a mission trip with the youth of Hiss United Methodist Church to West Virginia, where we participated in CAMP JOY. We camped at Baltimore-Washington Conference's Camp Harmison, a "rustic" camping facility in Berkeley Springs, WV. When I arrived on Sunday afternoon (after driving for roughly five and half hours from New Jersey) I found twenty youth and adults pitching tents in a meadow at the bottom of a steep, gravel paved road. The meadow brimmed with excitement, as boys tossed footballs, girls hugged and squealed, and family members said good-bye for the week. Two of the youth are boyscouts, and they helped to set up the "girl's tent".

They boys called it, "the Monstrosity". We referred to it as "the hotel".
Each morning we awoke at 5am...well, that's when we were supposed to wake up. Some days it was a bit later. Breakfast was prepared for all the work teams by members of local churches and served between 6 and 7am. We then stopped at Sheetz for coffee on our way out to our work sites.
There were enough workers from Hiss to split into three different work crews, and we worked on a total of five different sites. My crew worked on a home in Berkeley Springs, where an elderly gentleman lived with his daughter who was ill. His great-granddaughters visited the whole week, with their beagle Dallas. While we were there, we tore down a ceiling, re-installed insulation in that ceiling and the walls and ceiling of the adjoining room, then put up sheet-rock for the ceilings and paneling for walls. Two of the adult men on our crew, the two Georges, fixed two rotten floors in the house. We fixed the roof, cleaned the gutters, and in our spare time painted the back wall of the house. The granddaughters helped us, although the youngest one got more paint on herself and Dallas than the wall the first day. : )
Each evening we had dinner at a local church, followed by a vespers service at what the camp called "God's Open Window". There were games and campfires, and everyone felt a great sense of fulfillment at the end of each day.
On Saturday, we loaded up the cars and trekked home, exhausted, but eager to return next year.

Summer Activities

2009-07-10T18:23:00.002-04:00

hey y'all! I hope everyone is having a wonderful summer- I know I am!
Just a quick update on what is going on in my life.
Tomorrow I pack up the car and drive up to Madison, NJ to see my new "apartment" and to preach at Madison UMC. For those of you who don't know, I am the new Student Assistant Pastor at MUMC, a position that officially begins in mid-August. I am very excited to meet some of the members of the congregation, and to measure rooms so I can begin packing.
After preaching on Sunday I will be driving to West Virginia to chaperone and work on the Hiss Youth Group mission trip. We are participating in Camp Joy, and will be working on three different houses in the Berkely Springs area. I can't wait to get up on a ladder, and to be in mission and fellowship with these youth (two of whom are my sisters). We'll be camping in tents at Camp Harmison, and having a great time. Please keep us all in your prayers, as well as the people we are going down to help.
The following week I am actually in MD! Believe it or not, lol. I will be participating in the Baltimore County Christian Workcamp with some of the same youth. During the evenings I will lead music at Fork/Waugh's VBS. This is one of my favorite activities at Fork, and will also be one of my last. : (
Well, that takes us up through the end of July!!
I will post pics of the various trips I make when I get back.
Peace!

Exciting News!

2009-05-18T19:41:00.003-04:00

Hello all!! I realize it has been a long time since I've written, and I promise a more in-depth entry soon. Suffice it to say, school is out, I'm almost done working at Panera, and I am trying to pack up my belongings and move back to MD.
But that isn't the exciting news.
The exciting news is that the church I sent my resume to wants to interview me!!!!
It is located right next to the seminary, and the position is Student Assistant Pastor. How wonderfully awesome would that be!?!?!
I will probably meet with the search committee on either June 1st or 2nd- hopefully I'll know soon after that.
I am still amazed at how many signs of affirmation I have received; that I am called to ministry AND to Drew Theological School.

God is good!

Love is in the air...

2009-04-17T19:31:00.002-04:00

I've been thinking a lot lately, about a lot of things. So forgive me if this entry rambles.
One thing I've been thinking about is seasons, and what they seem to represent, especially by way of life seasons. As we enter into spring, evidence of new life abounds. Trees are budding, jonquils are pushing up through the soil, birds are beginning to sing in the morning. Soon there will be ducklings and goslings waddling around campus. Spring undoubtedly represents new life, new beginnings.
If spring is birth, summer is adolescence. Sleeping in late, staying up late, a time for friendships and romance that can be as fleeting as the lights of fireflies we once chased as children. All too soon, summer ends; the air gets colder, days grow shorter, and we grow older. Autumn comes, and with that adulthood. A time of transition and of seasoning. A time of harvest; it is during this season in our lives that we recognize the gifts, the fruits, that we each have, and we cultivate and share them with our surrounding community, maybe even the world. A time filled with great thanksgiving, but also sorrows, as winter steadily creeps in, bringing with it cold and darkness.
And then winter is full upon us; almost all greenery fades, trees become barren, just as our bodies wither and become mutations of what they once were. But with us, with our human bodies, there is no spring. There is no time of rebirth. Only death.
Unless you believe in Christ, and the resurrection. Then you can believe that, at some point, our bodies will once again be restored, and that we will have eternal life in the kingdom of God.
Seasons-wise, we know that spring comes. And with spring new birth. But in order to have new birth...well, let's just say creatures become "twitterpated". There were two birds the other day that were so twitterpated they nearly flew into me! Hormones abound- in ALL animals. Including humans. When is it merely hormones though, and when is it "love"?
I have to admit, I have become increasingly cynical about this concept of love. So cynical, in fact, that I openly scoffed at the notion when presented in a class. We were doing a role-playing exercise: I was a campus minister, and another classmate was a student. The scenario was that she (the student) came to me for advice about having pre-marital sex with her boyfriend. Because we are reading a book making a case for chastity, I was supposed to give her constructive instruction that would convince her to remain chaste. When I asked her why she felt that now was a good time to have sex with her boyfriend, she remarked "Because we're in love". I snorted. Like, choked on a sarcastic laugh snorted. I then had to apologize, and struggle through the role-playing.
After class I explained to my professor how I struggled with the concept of love, largely due to past experiences.
I think, however, that I need to amend my statements about not believing in love. I am still skeptical about twitterpated love. I still find it difficult to believe that when a man says he loves me, that he isn't merely saying it for some ulterior motive.
But then I saw love.
I saw love in two married co-workers when he made sure his wife got lunch, even if it meant putting off work "stuff".
I saw love when my room-mate's boyfriend jumped to his feet to get her coffee in the morning, when all she did was say she was tired.
I saw love as they cuddled and teased and simply enjoyed each other's presence.

And then I began thinking.

I have felt and experienced love.
Love was when my boyfriend bought me a trashcan that the dog couldn't break into.
Love was driving for more hours than would actually be spend with me, but still doing it.
Love was taking me away for a day, or a weekend, from all the stresses of school and work.

I don't know when, and I don't know from who, but I have hope that, despite everything, I will open myself enough for love to creep in.

Italy

2009-03-08T06:27:00.002-04:00

Oh my goodness!
I leave for Italy for this afternoon. In about 12 hours my plane will be taking off and I will be on my way. I love take off- I always get really really excited, when the plane starts taxiing down the runway, and the pressure you feel as it begins its ascent...it's so amazing. And landing! I actually enjoy landing. I wonder if I have a window seat...
Anyway-
I wish I could stick all of you in my suitcase and take you with me! But sadly, I don't have enough suitcases. And to just choose one wouldn't be fair. Sorry.
When I come back I will definitely be posting pictures and excerpts from my travel journal. Who knows, I may even by able to post something over there. ;)
Ciao!

Procrastinating...

2009-03-05T21:47:00.002-05:00

I am procrastinating. I seem to have been doing that a lot lately, which is not good because not only is it mid-term week, but I leave for Italy on Sunday. In three days. Now ask me how much packing I have gotten done:
NONE!!!
The good news is, all of my mid-terms are done, I have only one more paper to write, and then an organ lesson and choir concert before I can focus solely on Italy. *sigh*
It will be good to get away, even though it really won't be a "break", considering that I am traveling with school and performing at least one concert every day. I think I will be more tired when I come back than I am now!
Life has been complicated and confusing lately- a bit of a roller coaster to be honest. I feel like I have made irreparable mistakes this week that I may not have made at another time. I wish there were ways to unsay things, but unfortunately there aren't.
I am so tired---
I needed to write an essay tonight, but there is no way I can focus long enough to complete it. I started it....two hours ago. Here is what I have so far:
Mid-Term Essay.
Yeah, I think it's time to go to bed.

This has been the most meaningless blog posting ever, but I wanted to write something before I left.

"African Narrative"

2009-02-20T21:25:00.002-05:00

This is another assignment for my Christian Discipleship class. After briefly studying Sub-Saharan African culture and Christianity in Africa, we were asked to put ourselves in the shoes of a native African and describe our first encounter with the Gospel.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The hot sun beat down upon my head as I walked back to town, the Word of God in hand. The Word of God- that’s what they had said this was. The dust rises around my feet as thoughts swirl through my mind. How could this possibly be the word of God? How could something so wonderful, so powerful, be contained in such an unassuming form; paper bound by paper. I flip through the book, but cannot understand anything that is written. I know they are letters, printed in black and red on the onion skin paper, but I cannot read them. I was never able to go to school; there were too many things to take care of at home. My thoughts wandered to what awaited me at our hut. My younger brothers would be hungry, my sister’s baby would need to be fed…there might be enough food for them. My stomach grumbles but I pay it no mind; I’m used to being hungry. After a while, you barely notice the hunger pangs. I glance again at the book; maybe Adom will read the word of God to me.
While my brothers ate I went to find Adom. He was sitting outside of his parent’s hut, carving a piece of wood. “Hello Sisi. How are you today?” I hold the book out to him. “Can you read this to me?” He takes it from my hand and leafs through the pages, pursing his lips. “Where did you get this?” “From the missionaries.” He flips through it silently for a while before answering. “What do you want to hear?” I shrug my shoulders. I do not know to pick. He scans several pages before beginning to read. “When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying, ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven…..”
I listened to Adom read for a long time, trying to understand what the book was saying. I do not understand how I am blessed. How can my brothers’ hunger, my sister’s illness, be considered a blessing? How can I be pure in heart? Don’t I already see God? The Creator is everywhere, is present in everything. I don’t understand how I can be salt. I had always heard that Jesus was a great teacher, but now I wonder if his students were just as confused as I am. Maybe they could understand because they went to school…
I understand about sin, and about what is right and wrong. But now I am confused; what Adom says Jesus says is that we should let our enemies do bad things to us. To not give “an eye for eye” but instead to “turn the other cheek.” That isn’t how the Christians I know act. They fight back! I have heard of the fighting that is going on, between Muslims and Christians. The Christians are not turning the other cheek.
Adom asks me if he should keep reading. I feel bad, because he has tried to help me and I am disappointed. “Keep reading please,” I ask, hoping that the word of God will say something I can understand so that I can leave satisfied. Now he reads of forgiveness. Does this go along with turning the other cheek? Or is it more? I wish Jesus explained things more simply. Finally, Adom reads something that I can hold onto.
“Do not worry…” I wish I could not worry. I wish I did not have to wonder if I could feed my brothers, or if there will be enough water, or if my sister will live much longer. But, if this god takes care of the animals and plants, then surely he will take care of me? Even if I do not fully understand, Jesus says that God will provide for me. “So do not worry about tomorrow,” Adom concludes, “for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” He closes the book and hands it back to me. “Do not worry Sisi, you do not need to figure it out all at once.” “Thank you Adom.”
I turn and head back to my hut; my brothers are playing in mud, and my sister’s baby is crying. I tie her to my back while I do my chores, all the while thinking. I don’t need to worry, God will take care of me. Forgive others, turn the other cheek. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst…Jesus was talking about us. About my people, the African people. Adom is right; I don’t need to figure things out right away. But perhaps with Adom’s help, and the word of God, and the missionaries, I can understand.

Christianity

2009-01-15T20:34:00.002-05:00

My first assignment in Christian Discipleship (a class I am taking this semester) was to attempt to describe Christianity and what it means to me. This is what I came up with, after having been awake for about 17 hours.

Describing Christianity is both very easy and very difficult. I say it’s simple because there are some key factors that are universal to the Church as a whole, while it becomes much more difficult when describing specific denominations and then going even further into personal theology.
If asked to describe Christianity at its most basic level, I would begin by saying that it is based on the life and teachings of Jesus the Christ as found in the New Testament. Christians believe that Jesus is the Son of God, sent to this earth to build the kingdom of heaven. Through his crucifixion and resurrection those who accept him as their Savior shall have eternal life. Pretty simple; believe in Jesus, and you’re a Christian. Then things get a little tricky.
Divisions within the Church itself provide a plethora of material to be discussed when describing Christianity. First you can establish if you are a part of the Roman Catholic church, the Protestant churches, or of the Orthodox tradition. If Orthodox, are you Russian Orthodox? Greek Orthodox? If Protestant, which denomination? Is it a liturgical church setting, or congregational? Progressive or fundamentalist? Is the Bible taken literally, or contextually? Is there more focus on personal piety or social concerns? This is just a sampling of the many diversities between denominations alone. Now take into account that every congregation is unique, varying in size, worship style, average age of members, location, political makeup of the area….the list goes on and on. I could probably use all five hundred words listing the various contrasting styles and theologies of denominations- but that wasn’t the assignment.
For me, Christianity, what it means to be a Christian, has many components, all of which are important. First off, for me, Christianity is a way of life. While I understand that for many people sitting in a pew on Sunday and taking communion once a month is as deeply committed as they want to be, I think being a Christian is so much more. As Christians, we are called to live in a Christ-like way- to not only read, but to follow and live the lessons Christ shared with the people while here on earth. As I Christian, I try my best to practice “radical acceptance” of others, to be as non-judgmental as I can be, and to minister to those in both the immediate community and on a global level. A personal relationship with God is very important, but so are the relationships formed with a faith community. Service to others is crucial (in my opinion). We are called to clothe the naked, feed the hungry, heal the sick…we cannot do that by sitting on a pew. In worship services we are given the wonderful opportunity to teach, learn, stretch our minds and personal beliefs, and to equip ourselves with the tools to GO OUT and serve the world in a Christ-like manner.
Jesus was a radical teacher, and as his followers we should be the same. We should be enacting social change and building the kingdom here on earth in practical ways, educating others on what it means to be Christian, and focusing on the church of the future. For me, personally, Jesus is not “Mr. Roger’s in sandals”, he is not my boyfriend, I even have trouble saying he is the “lover of my soul” as some songs state. He is my teacher, leader, and Savior. A man that put down the system, rebuked the leaders of the time, and took care of those who had no voice. As his followers, we should do some of the same.**but, in a peaceful, non-violent manner, of course.

Eavesdropping...

2009-01-10T21:21:00.002-05:00

I was eating my "lunch" today at Panera (I say "lunch" because it was, in actuality, 10am, therefor really being more of a breakfast/brunch meal) when I began listening to a conversation between two customers at the table right next to me. I don't normally eavesdrop, but the topic of discussion interested me, and I KNOW they knew I could hear them.
Anyway.
Several Bible study groups meet there on Saturday mornings, and these two men were discussing Exodus. Specifically the final plague in which God kills all the Egyptian firstborns. They began talking about sacrifice- something about how this was the first mention of sacrifice, which is totally not true...I really struggle with this part of the Hebrew Bible, and it was all I could do to not jump into their conversation with my own views. The part that REALLY got me was when they began discussing the blood on the lintels and doorposts. "It's the first symbol of the cross!" Sacrifice, "cross"like markings, all this leading to Christ....
There is a difference!
Why do people feel the need to link every possible- thing!- in the Bible to the crucifixion and/or Christ!? The Exodus out of Egypt happened thousands of years before Christ, the story was recorded for a completely different audience, even the portrayal of God is different. Why can't we see these books in a way that they were intended- try to understand them contextually?
Personally, I see no connection between the slaughter of (some) innocents and the personal sacrifice that Jesus chose to accept. The key word is "chose". The Egyptians had no choice- they were under Pharaoh's rule, he called all the shots. They had no way of knowing what was coming, of the suffering that would occur. Jesus knew what was going to happen; he knew and accepted it, had time to struggle with and come to terms with it. The two incidences cannot be compared to each other.
And if we begin thinking every horizontal and vertical line that intersects suggests the crucifixion...
I don't want to seem close-minded, I really do try to be open-minded and to accept what people believe. And I know that, in the upcoming years, I will need to be even more welcoming of other's opinions and beliefs. I don't know why this conversation riled me up.
Guess it all goes to show-
you shouldn't listen in on other people's conversations.

Out with the old?

2009-01-01T01:09:00.002-05:00

After looking back and realizing that I have not posted anything in quite a while, I thought I would take this time (while I am unable to sleep!) to do what most people are doing tonight; reflecting on the past year, and what lies ahead.
2008 was an interesting year; parts of it were wonderful, while other parts were a real struggle. But that's the old, and we're supposed to move on to the new, right?
So 2009, here I come.
I really am very excited about this upcoming year; there will be so many changes, so many adventures to be had...I love adventures. : ) Humor me, as I list a few of the "new" things this year will bring (I am a list fanatic- I love lists).
-practicum with DeLyn in music and worship and stuff
-senior recital
-going to Italy
-graduating from an undergraduate university
-doing mission work in Honduras
-going to seminary!!!

Things I am not necessarily excited about but that can't be avoided:
-six months of counseling (because I "failed" my psychological...if I wasn't stressed before, I certainly am now!)
-leaving Fork
-taxes

I know I keep referring to this phrase, but I have to say it again: "Out with the old, in with the new." I am finding that I don't agree with this. A part of me desperately wants to be able to just throw away any and all painful or embarrassing memories- and yet, we need these. They help shape who we are, provide learning opportunities about ourselves and others, and sometimes give a new perspective (<- this may not be the right word- I'm also very tired) on things. For example, my first college experience. When I left Peabody, I was miserable! It was a struggle to get out of bed in the morning in order to go to class. From there I bounced around, with less than satisfactory college experiences, until I came to Shenandoah. I can only describe coming to Shenandoah as coming home; for the first time, out of all the schools I had "tried on," I felt like I belonged. Would it really have been so special, would I really have been so in tune to that feeling, if I hadn't first experienced all those negative feelings at other schools? I don't think so. And I don't regret attending all those schools- looking back I can clearly see a journey in my leading up to my call today.
I think this applies to all parts of our lives. Take our "love" lives. It's cliche, but is true; there is something to be learned from every relationship. All too often, it seems lessons learned come from the school of hard knocks, learned the hard way. Sometimes it isn't until after we have healed that we can step back, and look back, to see what we can take from that experience. But sometimes, even after we think we've healed, those old hurts will come out of nowhere to bite you in the butt. Even without that, sometimes in looking back we are able to see recurring themes. Maybe it's how we do (or don't) communicate, or how we react to a specific thing no matter the person we're with. Maybe it's not a thing, per say, but an actual person, that keeps popping in and out of your life.
This may just be rambling, but my point, in all of this, is that it's important to remember. All too often people tell you to forget- but I don't want to. I don't want to forget the lessons I've learned, or the people that have touched my life, or the things, both good AND bad, that have shaped me into the person that I am today.
I look forward to 2009- I think, and pray, that it brings a lot of positive change for me.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Memories of Flurries Scurry Through My Mind

2008-11-17T19:46:00.003-05:00

It is about quarter of eight on a seemingly ordinary Monday in the month of November. And yet, a bit of magic seems to hang in the air, a feeling that only one thing can bring:

SNOW

That's right, tonight we had our first snowfall here in Winchester. What started as rain turned into that wonderful, flaky white stuff that settles anywhere cold touches. As the flakes fall and blanket the neighborhood, my memories are released.
There is something about snow that brings out the children in everyone. Kids and adults alike gather at windows to see if it is sticking, and are glued to the television, praying that school will be canceled, maybe even work. Men bring out their snow plows, children their snow-boots, and wives and mothers prepare hot beverages for those who venture out into the cold. I dislike winter immensely, for many reasons, but my heart still beats wildly at the prospect of the first snowfall.
Today, at even the mention of snow, I was jolted from my desire to hibernate with a sense of anticipation and excitement; SNOW! Everyone has many memories of snow, but there are a few specific ones that I would like to take a moment to share.
I still remember the first snow of my freshman year of college. I was spending the night in what we fondly referred to as 2East, the dorms at Peabody. My friends and I were staying up way too late, watching cartoon reruns and the weather channel. We were about to give up and go to bed (it was about 2am) when a student came running into the lounge, announcing that it was snowing. We shrieked with glee and leapt to our feet, grabbing whatever shoes were closest as we ran outside. I stood outside in my pajama pants and camisole, my friend George's fleece hanging off my body, arms outstretched and mouth opened wide, catching those first, clean flakes on my tongue. Our friend Audrey was from California, and this was her first experience with snow. "It's so cold!" she had exclaimed, and we laughed. Someone took a picture, I don't know who, but I'm glad they did (see above).
One of my strongest snow memories is also one of my fondest memories of my friend David. This was also my freshman year at Peabody, although it was much later in winter. The snow was coming down in buckets, filling Mt.Vernon Square and turning the normally gray city streets into a temporary winter wonderland. I waited outside my classroom excitedly, literally bouncing off the walls in excitement. David's class was let out and he left the room, talking with friends. Unable to contain myself, I leapt over, grabbing his hand in mine. "David it's snowing!" I shrieked, eyes wild with glee. "C'mon!" I dragged him away from his friends, and together we booked it down the spiral staircase, through the lobby, and out into the city street. Still dragging him by the hand, we crossed the street into the park where the grass was barely peaking out above the mounds of white. Letting go of his hand, I whooped and ran through the snow, slipping and falling. David laughed; he had such a nice laugh. I remember he made a snowball with his bare hands- I think he threw it at me, resulting in more laughter. I was cold, wet, my cheeks were flushed---and I was so happy.
And so I remember these times tonight with fondness, but my heart is a little sad too.
Because...

....a very small part of me.....

......wishes I could be in that moment again.

2008-11-03T21:14:00.002-05:00

It is 9:15 NEW time, but my body still feels like it is 10:15. Considering I work in the morning, that would mean it is bed time. But it's only 9:15!! Gah!
Last week was horrific- and it was supposed to be relaxing after the week before. *sigh* That's alright, it only means that this week has no option but to be better. I mean, really, very little could happen that would make this week worse than the past two. I don't want to rant about the details; everything has been taken care of and/or fixed, so I can once again focus on school, work, and graduate school applications.
I have so much on my brain right now- and my heart for that matter- that I am finding it difficult to focus on my studies. I don't know why all of these things are coming up now; I know I need to at least think about them, but quite frankly I don't have time for this! And yet, I can't, and shouldn't, ignore these things...what a dilemma.
Totally off topic, I've noticed a very interesting/strange thing. Have you ever found yourself suddenly thinking of someone for no reason at all, only to then go out and find you've received a message from them? This has actually happened to me, on multiple occasions, but only with one individual. I had no reason to be thinking about them; in fact, I was asleep! I was sleeping, and having some sort of dream, and suddenly they were there, in the dream. I woke up, thinking it strange, took care of some stuff, then checked my e-mail and found a message from them that had been sent while I was sleeping. Too weird. Just thought I'd share.
Back to school work...I was reading the book of Dueteronomy today for my Hebrew Bible class. Let me just say, out of all of the books of the Hebrew Bible, Dueteronomy is right up there with Leviticus and Numbers as far as interesting narratives go. I haven't even gotten to the largest section, which contains the 613 Judaic laws. SIX HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN!! I am finding myself struggling with the God portrayed in the Old Testament. I know that it was written in a different context, to a different audience, and for a different purpose than the New Testament, but still. I am sure I will have more to write about this later.
I apologize for the missing train of thought from this entry, but I did title these as musings.

mmmmm Fall Break

2008-10-13T12:46:00.002-04:00

I love autumn.
I also am finally falling in love with vacations.
Unlike most students, or really, most people in general, I usually HATE vacations. Any sort of disruption of my daily routine normally sends me into a funk that I struggle to get out of. I need to be busy, I need to know what each day will consist of activity and objective-wise. But this break has been different.
Perhaps it's because I really, really needed this break. School is going well, work (all three of them!) is going well...but combined....I was beginning to burn out. Coming home has definately been good for me. Have I been able to lounge around on the couch all day? No. Have I slept till noon? No. Have I slept past 7:30 for that matter- NO! BUT- I feel much more rested, less stressed, and able to conquer my assignments.
Today has been a very productive day, for which I'm thankful. I woke up this morning, got to see my mother before she went to work, then went for a walk/jog around the neighborhood. I then went to my annual physical, which I had been dreading, but now feel alright about. After the doctor and blood tests (and shot!) I ran some errands, ate lunch, spent time with Sophie (our Great Dane) outside, then got a lot of e-mails and phone calls taken care of. And it's not even 1 o'clock yet. : )
Last night I had a really wonderful conversation, which helped put me at ease about several things. It's comforting to know that there ARE people out there who understand where you're coming from, and need to take things at the same pace as you.
Now that I've posted something on here, it's time to get back to my To Do List.
Have a great day!

Mid-Terms

2008-10-07T22:12:00.002-04:00

This is a crazy, crazy week. It really wouldn't be that bad except that I had a bunch of rehearsals and lessons yesterday after having worked from 5am. It all caught up with me today, when I felt like death. Well, maybe not completely like death, but flu-like to say the least. I was pretty much a zombie throughout the day until after choir tonight, when I suddenly got a second wind and perked up for the first time all day. I went shopping with Kelly, got some stuff done at work, and am now winding down for the night in preparation for another looooong day tomorrow. *sigh* Burning the candle at both ends is not working as well as it used to. I guess that means I'm getting, lol. But, despite that, I just bought chewable Flintstone's vitamins. Some things never change.
I realize that this post is pretty non-informative and un-important, but I had hoped the act of writing would help me wind down. I'm off to bed. Good night all!

PS: A quote, "You and Amanda put a plug in the jug and go to bed!" -Mr.Shafer, continuing to tease me about "hitting the bottle."

PPS: The word of the day is (made up): lacksadaisicalness. As in, "I am not giving in to the lacksadaisicalness of SU." : )
Long words make me happy.

Introductory Blog

2008-10-02T21:50:00.000-04:00

Hello blogging world. It has been some time since I have published any sort of personal musings/updates on line, so you will have to be patient with me. It may take a while before I post on a regular basis- reminders are always welcome. : )
I am a university student majoring in church music. Under this field I am a voice major pursuing a Performance Certificate, and an organ and piano minor. I am also a religious studies minor, and will be attending seminary next fall.
I work and live with wonderful people, and am blessed to have them in my life.
Back home I have a loving and supportive family, and I love my three younger sisters dearly.
I enjoy reading, writing, and trying to find the time to do out-doorsy activities like hiking and kayaking.
I think that's enough information about me for now; that, and I need to go to bed because one of my jobs forces me to hit the sack extremely early.
"Early to bed early to rise" : )

Welcome to the adventure I call my life.