The church year begins again tomorrow. Yes, Advent has come around again, and it is time to start preparing space in our churches, homes and hearts for the Christ child again.

I thought about this last week, and I was surprised to find myself a little sad. Somehow I had thought I wouldn't have to worry about confronting Jesus again until Lent at the earliest. I thought I had a few more months to figure out some of my faith issues. Now I realize I need to start making room for someone I don't really feel like I know in my heart. Okay, maybe I don't "need" to do this, but I will admit to feeling a tug at my heart to do this, so it most certainly feels like a tug.

I started with what I know best - music. I downloaded the new Susan Boyle album, and I'll admit listening to her sing some of these songs is a little like listening to the angels sing. I also downloaded the Glee Christmas album. This time I rocked out to the music and felt the joy of the season wash over me. (I'm listening to it as I write this blog.) While the music stirs me, it only lasts a little while before I am confronted with my commute on the T or some other hazard with working for the general public during the holiday season.

So, I'm left with a bit of a panic. It's less than 4 hours to Advent, and I feel unprepared. Yes, I know Jesus doesn't really "arrive" until Christmas, but have you even needed to prepare a major meal for family? If you wait until the last minute you will not have everything ready to entertain much less enjoy the time with your family/friends. If I keep waiting for Christmas, I will be missing more than the mashed potatoes from my dinner table.

Mark and I decided to take a note from Lent and add something into our routine this Advent, and we started it a little early. We have started doing devotionals every night. We both have the same book, so even when we can't be together, we can still receive the same message. We're still doing the same work - just in different spaces. In this practice, we have not only grown closer together, we have begun to make room in our hearts. I have strangely started to look forward to those moments at night when it's time to bring out the Bible and open the devotional. I look forward to it even more with Mark because there is just something so much more alive when it is said out loud instead of just in my head.

While I still have doubts and struggles inside of me, I slowly feel the light of Advent warming me. It's the start of something new, and isn't that what Advent is about, new beginnings?

I wish you and yours a little warmth this Advent this season. I hope you take time to smile at kids playing in the snow (when it does come) and the way twinkling lights break apart the long darkness.

The Prayer Bear

It is a simple concept. A community of believers pray over a little teddy bear, and then they send it out into the world to care for another in their place. When they can't be there, this bear can. It's a little twist on the prayer shawl ministry that has caught on in just about every church.

When I first saw them last week, I thought they were a wonderful idea. Prayer shawls have their place, and I don't want anyone to think I'm downplaying the important outreach they provide; but I instantly saw the need for the bear. I could see, with my mind's eye, the look of a child's face in becoming a recipient of that bear. I could see the comfort it could bring in troubling times: hospitalization, divorce, environmental disaster, etc... In an instant, I could see the childlike joy this box of bears was about to bring to people who did not even know they needed a prayer bear yet.

Then I was asked if I wanted one. At first I declined. I only paused to read the card that accompanied this little bundle of joy. I wanted to say things in my life weren't bad enough to require one. I wanted to say that someone else would need it more than me. After a short pause, though, I ended up picking one out that seemed to look right through me.

As an adult, I know it's kind of silly to think that an inanimate object can take on human qualities. The hurting child inside of me, on the contrary, tenderly held that bear like it was the last possession I had left in this world.

My bear accompanies me wherever I go now. He's always in my bag when I go to work, travel around the city, or even when I shop for groceries. He doesn't have a name yet, but I do refer to him as Prayer Bear. What makes him so special to me is that he has a face. It's helpful to physically see a face to represent all the ones I'll never see as I know people pray for me. It's helpful to think there's a personification of God in something when I need to talk with God face-to-face but find it difficult to speak to the wind and hope that I was just heard.

Seeking something more

I've been silent on this blog for a long time. There's a pretty good reason for that. This blog was to chronicle my path through seminary on a spiritual journey to ordination. I thought that taking the ordinary and looking at it in extraordinary ways would not only help me find God everywhere, but it might help other people find God too.

I did not realize that I would end up in the place I am right now - full of "dis." Disenfranchised, disillusioned, dispair... which all led to being disaffiliated. It's pretty hard to start off this path willing to lay my life down for God and church and end up in a place where it's hard for me to walk in the doors. To proclaim to someone that I'm not even sure God cares about me anymore. So why do it? I'm not alone out there. This message is for anyone else who has been delayed or discontinued from ordination; this message is for anyone who has been hurt by the church and now wants nothing to do with it. I understand. You are not alone anymore.

I'm not going to try and change your mind. Nothing short of a Saul/Paul conversion by God could change your mind in the short span of this blog, and I do not have that spiritual gift. No, I will let you know that I, too, am desperately seeking God. I feel like Saul right now. I used to hear God's voice, but it seems to have gone silent... and all these Davids around me hear him now. I know I'm not the only one, and sometimes the Church is the last place we can find each other. Who wants to admit they are having struggles with God at church?!?

For those of you struggling with the ordination process, don't do it alone. I have been reminded many times in the past few weeks that "the Church is not the Kingdom." One clergyman even remarked that sometimes we desperately want them to be in sync, but we need to remember they are not one and the same. Christ may be the head of the church, but the church is not Christ.

For those who are hurting and cannot pray, would you ask someone to pray for you? I have some wonderful people in my life who have prayed for me (in silence and in front of me), and they have offered to do it until well after I can do it for myself again. This isn't a magic bullet, but there is something powerful in knowing that those who I believe God listens to are intervening on my behalf. If I don't think God is listening to me, I'm pretty sure God will listen to them. In this process, I am not alone in my grief. I start to feel love again. It's slow, and it is cautious, but it does come.

If you know someone who feels like this - don't stop asking questions. Don't stop being the light and love of God for them. You may be there for such a time as this. You may save someone spiritually or physically. The perceived loss of God's love and/or favor is a powerful this, and it can make a very dark time seem even darker. This is not to say you should do it all on your own - seek help when you get that "funny feeling" or if it seems over your head. But, do listen. Don't give answers. When you open your mouth to speak, be surprised at the profundity of your answers. There are angels among us, and this just might be your turn to wear wings.

If you need someone to talk to - I'm here. I don't have answers. I don't always have hope. I do know a little bit about what you're experiencing, and you should not feel like you're alone because you're not. Maybe together we can find God again. I'm sure it's not like finding Waldo, but it still might have the same sense of joy and wonder along the way.

There's an app for that

I have completed my paperwork, and I am officially a recipient of good will and charity. That is, I now receive SNAP funds from the commonwealth. SNAP is the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, but it is better known as food stamps.

I wrote a while back about filling out forms, and now that I have completed the process, it wasn't too bad. I had to send in documentation proving residency (copy of the lease with my name on it - this also proved how much I spent in rent), 4 pay stubs, proof of employment and payment arrangements from another employer, a copy of a utility bill, and a signed statement from a roommate regarding how much I pay for utilities. I ended up sending two of my utility bills just to show how much I spent total.

The only down side is that it is a lot to gather and send. I have people who took pity on my and let me FAX, but it totaled about 16 pages of documentation! I also had an employer who needed a little reminder about the urgency of sending information in.

All in all, it's not too bad of a process. Yes, there are hard moments in asking for documentation. Using my card the first time was not easy either. However, I now have food in my stomach and money to pay bills. It may be better to give rather than receive, but I am learning to receive with a joyful heart as well. For those of you who do make enough to pay taxes, please know that your money supports programs like this.

I would like to point out that the SNAP program only pays for certain items - it does not cover everything. I have encountered people who think it pays for alcohol, tobacco, hair dye, pet food, etc... It does not. It only pays for certain consumables. If you want to know more about the program, type "SNAP, [your state]" into your favorite search engine.

What Would You Do? Part 2

In my previous posting, I talked about a situation in Downtown Boston where I witnessed a man being belittled by another. I stepped in to help him. It ended like a Jack London story where a man in the crowd, for defending the wrong man, now chastised me; I asked you, what would you do?

Here’s what I did. I was really shaken up for realizing what had just transpired and for calling 911. The fight part of the flight-or-fight response was dissipating, and I was literally shaken. I tried to listen to this new man’s account. We’ll call him Bert. I say “tried” because it’s very hard to absorb everything a person says when you’re coming out of that response mode.

I apologized to him. I agreed that I didn’t have the all the facts, but I did what I could with what I knew, and what I knew was that the dignity of a person was being injured. Bert went on to say that he works with developmentally injured people (I’m not really sure why except maybe to say he knows how to best handle these situations because one of the two involved has a cognitive disability). I came back with “I work for the church” (not to be outdone in the perceived battle over who does more good for people – I do regret that I let my pride get the best of me in this comment).

I wasn’t angry, but there was an uncomfortable feeling inside of me. How could he chastise me for doing the wrong thing when he “knew” the right thing and still did nothing? He had all the facts and did not act. It bothered me. He did not deny a wrongdoing had occurred; I just sided with the wrong person. I commented on this saying, “I did something with what I knew; what did you do?”

His comment back was fired immediately, “Is it better to do the wrong thing than nothing at all?” I have been thinking about this comment ever since he uttered it. Is doing nothing a 3rd way – the first two being doing the right thing or the wrong thing? Can doing nothing actually be connected to right or wrong? I asked him how many times I would have to apologize before he was satisfied in my sincerity. What would/could I do that would satisfy his need in this matter? He said he didn’t need my apology; I needed to give it to the [white] guy. He was defending a person who was no longer there, and it was a person I could not find if I tried now. In other words, I could not make amends in his eyes.

My parting comment to him was, “I hope this inspires you to do the right thing before someone else does the wrong one.” I admit it – it was a quip. My pride was injured, and I was now plagued by doubt at my actions. I watched so many people roll their eyes, walk a little faster or mutter under their breath about what they saw, but no one stepped in. Even people who watched the whole thing did nothing. I did something, and I paid a price.

Perhaps I did have it all wrong. I’ll never know now. I don’t know if I’d do it again if I could, and I hate that I hesitate. I hate that people can look at injustice and look away with a clear conscience. I could not look the other way for some reason.

In a sermon given at BUSTH, by a dear friend, we were asked what it would take for us to get involved – at what point are we willing to take action? Does it have to threaten our own sense of safety and/or security before we react? I took a risk today, and it may have been ill timed, but I risked helping someone else when it would never benefited me. While one person went away injured, another felt compassion – that someone who didn’t have to care did. I’d like to feel sorry for the man I didn’t defend, who was supposedly in the “right,” but it’s hard to feel sorry for a man who throws verbal daggers at another with the sole intention of wounding; and it’s hard not to feel compassion for the man who takes those daggers with grace. I will hang on to that vision as my inspiration and try to do better next time.

What Would you Do? Part 1

Today, I take a slight departure from my intent in this blog. I intend to write about my life and the poverty of not having a job after graduate school. Today I write about dignity, the poor and a slice of life.

I like John Quinones. I think he does some very interesting human-interest pieces. Not too long ago I saw a promo for a new special titled “What Would You Do?” Okay, I never actually got around to watching it, but I think I’ll be hunting it down after today. The idea is that they would recreate uncomfortable situations, like a couple yelling in the park and then the man grabs the woman by the wrist to take her away, and see how spectators respond. He usually asks those people to walk him through their through processes.

I was inspired by that promo. Yup, 15 seconds seemed to change how I look at people in Boston. I usually walk right by the homeless man because right now I feel as poor as him. If I hear people yelling, I usually try to get out of there as soon as possible.

Today I was downtown and near a T station. It’s a nice part of downtown, in the banking/ financial district, and it’s not too far from some tourist/historical spots. This is important to know because it creates the “feeling in the air.” This isn’t a seedy part of town where it’s safer to call 911 and keep walking. Nope – I was there with at least 50 of my fellow Bostonians.

As I was walking by, I heard a man swearing at the top of his lungs. The man swearing was white, in a wheelchair with only one leg, disheveled and had a bag (instrument sized). The man he was yelling at was black, overweight and had a refreshingly honest sign stating that he needed money to get drunk and high so he could deal with life on the street. Do these little details matter? They did to me, and they might to you as you draw your own conclusions.

The white man was yelling obscenities to the black man saying he was stupid, and if he put in half an effort, he could actually get a job. I’ll let you figure out the obscene words. I listened to it for a full minute. Feeling sorry for the man being yelled at (he appeared to be “taking it” with a grace that I could only describe as strength in vulnerability), I walked over and handed him a dollar. I could not stand the idea of this man’s dignity being ripped from him for all to see. I started to walk away when I started thinking about John Quinones’ report and my class on Vocation, Work and Faith. Had I done enough for a bullied man? Was I like the first two to pass by the man injured on the road? Did I have the courage to be a Good Samaritan? This is not yet where I ask “What would you do?”

I walked up to the black man and asked if he would like me to call the police. The guy said no and followed it up with a comment that the [white] man would leave soon enough. The obscenities continued, and I said, “Sir, I think it’s time to move along now.” (He had been telling the black man to get out of his f---ing way… except that guy was sitting on a park bench) Completely ignoring me, the man continued. I raised my voice above what I thought possible and yelled, “Sir. Either you need to move along or I need to call the police.” (I really need to get the non-emergency number for BPD on my phone.) I started to call 911, and another man from the crowd stood next to me. The white man left in a huff, and I was left to explain to the 911 operator why I no longer needed their service.

Now, here comes the part of “What would you do?” A man came up to me immediately after this and said I had no business getting involved. I had it all wrong. The facts were that the man in the wheelchair was there first and was playing music. The other man came over and instigated everything with yelling at him [white]. I defended the wrong man, and I gave the wrong man money. Now, what would you do?

Wages, Sabbath & the Poor

Generally, when you work on Sunday, you make 1.5 wages. If I make $8/hr every other day of the week, I make $12/hr on Sunday. It's enough to make you want to go to church and thank Jesus for the extra half loaf of bread... oh wait... you can't go... you're at work.

Since I decided to go to seminary, I have told every employer that I will work on Sunday BUT only after service is over. I usually give myself an hour or two after the official time of the service's end just to be safe and so I can enjoy fellowship. Who wants to miss out on some of those goodies?!? While most employers say they are okay with that (Federal regulations state that a person cannot be made to work during times of religious observance), some make sure you know that religion and the workplace do not co-exist. One employer switched the mandatory meetings for all staff to Sunday mornings well after my employment. While I'll never why this person did it, I do know that my absence was always questioned. Perhaps my lack of attending those meetings for a prayer meeting in my sanctuary was evangelism - I don't know.

I do think it's right to require extra wages on the Sabbath, which should be a day of rest. For Christians, that day is Sunday. (I'm a little jealous of my Jewish friends who get paid extra and still have a Sabbath day.) There should be some incentive to closing the doors a little early when people should be spending time outdoors and with family. It should not stand like any other day in the week.

Here's the problem, it's alluring. Knowing that I was making some extra money for the same thing I do every day was intoxicating. I could make about 20 extra dollars in one shift. While that may not sound like much, it sounded like a gold mine to me. Those $20 represented a little extra space in the form of paying my bills a little easier. I could possibly spend it on some much needed entertainment in my life - life is supposed to be enjoyed after all! I could even start to use it in a new fund, which will support a vacation I really want to take. Before I had even earned it, my money was spent, and I realized I was gambling with my time AND my money.

I have made a commitment to attend church first and then be available to assist my employer and coworkers. I know not everyone feels that is possible - they may think it a luxury to have a religious observance. In the end, do we discourage people from honoring God and the Sabbath by dangling a carrot of money in front of them? Do we show them Caesar's face and provide promises only God can give? This will make you happier. This will give you freedom. This will let you enjoy life. Is this legal exploitation? If I had a job that paid me more on a consistent basis, would I still be willing to go into work on Sunday, or would I be willing to forgo that extra monetary incentive in favor of a little rest and time with loved ones? It makes me a little sick to participate in it, but I'm caught too. $20 sounds like so much money right now. If I have already taken the time to worship and honor God, can I still hold my head high and work for Caesar? Can the Sabbath be parceled?

I'd like to say that I can still hold my head high and that I'm not parceling the Sabbath. I have sacrificed that which could bring me comfort to be with God in those (late) morning hours. By saying I won't work during service and fellowship times, I want to believe that I am still honoring the Sabbath - I mean, farmers still have to work on Sundays because cows do not milk themselves! My comfort is that I try to take the lessons I learned at church that day and bring them into the workplace. It's not the "in your face" evangelism I think many of us have come to expect. I don't pass out tracts or say "God bless you" to people, but I do smile. It does actually make people wonder what you are up to - they want to know your secret. I talk to the children and entertain the little ones while Mom or Dad is digging out the form of payment. I let the angry and impatient customer know that the person who took 40 items into the express checkout lane (which is 12 or less) has now left, and my full attention is in the present with him or her. The person in front of me is the most important person at the moment. I'd like to think that's how Jesus would have handled working on the Sabbath - taking care of the needs of the people in front of him and in the moment.

I still feel uneasy about 1.5 wages and Sunday. I do the best I can, and I think there are many people who are doing the same thing. Perhaps not shopping on Sunday is something people can try next Lent. We could try not doing it for one Sunday and see how that goes. We could remove the incentive for stores to be open on Sunday, and then everyone could get a nap in while football plays on the TV.

humiliating

Yes, I know - it's two posts in a row. I already have so much stuff to say about this new topic, so I might as well get to writing.

I finally swallowed my pride a while back and applied for SNAP, which is better known as food stamps. After watching my finances dwindle away, I realized that I could pay my bills if I stopped eating. However, not eating has very bad consequences, so I didn't really think that was a good option.

My case manager has, thus far, been a wonderful person. After talking with her about my current employment situation, she realized I was going to need serious help and fast. She got me set up with emergency funds to make sure I could get food. I was really thrilled to know that at least something was going right. I even joked to a few friends that I finally got to see a benefit for paying taxes all these years.

The laughter stopped when I realized I would have to go to a new employer for documentation about my employment. Now you don't want to lie about your employment. Overstate it, and you may not get all the help you need. Understate it (like not reporting), and you can expect some face time with Boston's finest officers of the law... you might even get to see a judge and jury. While I understand all of this, it's really hard to go up to HR on your first week on the job and ask for a letter of employment verification. (I need the letter because I do not have enough paystubs for the required documentation.) While the HR woman was very nice about it, I don't think any amount of "nice" would ever make me feel comfortable sharing my economic situation. I think there are only two reasons people know how much money you make: you make a ton or you make nothing... you're rich or your poor. Everyone knows the Hiltons or Kardashians because of the obscene amount of money they have. When you're poor, people know because you need their help. It's humbling and sometimes humiliating. Honestly, while I know I need it, I find it strips away a little of my dignity. I'm well-educated, have many commendations to my credit, had a professional career and come from a good home. Now I have to tell people, who are really strangers to my life, that I'm practically broke. I joked that the Commonwealth doesn't think I'll survive Darwinism and that's why they're giving me food stamps! It's laughter designed to hide pain and humiliation. I don't want to be a charity case, but I also don't want to go hungry or struggle to the point of worrying myself sick.

In another blog I'll talk about the documentation required by the commonwealth, but right now I want to put a feeling on the process. It's humbling. I feel like Oliver, who takes his bowl up to get more porridge. The only light I've found in this, besides being able to pick what I want to eat again vs. what I could previously afford, is being able to give back to others. I can now make a batch of cookies to take over to someone. I can afford to bring chips and dip. I can give back to friends and family who have helped me out as much as they could. It's a little place where I regain a little of that lost dignity in the process.

A new direction

I have been very silent on here. What I used to find strange about Boston is suddenly very normal. I've learned to silently harmonize with the guy who sings Billy Joel tunes on the bus or (in my head) commend people for being so comfortably bold in their fashion choices. I didn't feel like there was anything new to say. And then graduation day came... and went.

I figured I'd take a month off and then I would find the job I had always wanted. Just over two months later I'm still waiting to find it. I began to enter a new phase in my life, and it's not one I ever expected to be possible - poorer than seminary. At least in seminary I had a safety net. I didn't always know it, but there were plenty of resources. I know I made some of those possible for others. But now, with my savings drying up like a desert at noon, I found myself wondering how ends were going to meet.

So I am now dedicating this blog, at least for a while, about what it's like to be educated, poor and navigating the social services. This is a hard journey to put out there - it's deeply personal, and there's a stigma about receiving aid from any government be it state or federal. However, I believe it's important for me to record what this time is like so I never forget it. I also think it's important for people to know what it's really like to be in this situation. I'll admit, I thought people just griped about what they had to do to get help. Perhaps if they had just finished high school they could figure out how to fill out a silly little form. I am not enjoying the taste of my foot in my mouth right now, and the words that I have just swallowed are gnawing away at my stomach.

I'll save a few of the details for another blog, but I want to address something first. Everyone has the right to dignity... even those who receive assistance from the state (or commonwealth). I currently work at a grocery store to get a little income. I remember from my Vocation, Work and Faith course (in my last semester) a conversation about the dignity of work/labor. Yes, I make minimum wage right now, and yes it's hard to make that with a Masters degree hanging on my wall, but right now it feels good to earn my income, however small it is. It wasn't handed to me - I worked hard for it. There are days I literally sweat from the physical nature of the labor I do scanning others' groceries, but it still feels good to pay my bills or anything else knowing that it actually came from the sweat of my brow. It may not be glamorous, and I aspire to do more than this, but it is honest work, and it is dignified.

Now, to get on my soap box, I want to talk about how we all need food to live. I see people from all walks of life at the grocery store. I can usually tell by the cards they pull out to pay. Some pull out a check card; others use a credit card; some have fancy credit cards that say "Platinum" or "World"... something... anyway, it lets everyone know this is someone special; some use EBT cards. EBT is essentially food stamps. I can't tell much about a person from the way he or she is dressed, but I can tell something about the form of payment the person uses. I've seen people in line get rather impatient with people using EBT or WIC (Women, Infant, Children) methods of payment. Yes, they take longer to process, but there are good reasons for it. People have abused them in the past, and precautions were taken to help prevent that.

Anyway, back on topic - I've seen many people embarrassed to have their card out. They take the EBT card out at the last possible moment, swipe it really fast and put it back with lightening fast speed. They don't want anyone to know they need help. I can understand that on a personal level - but I'm ashamed to be part of a society that puts a stigma on a loving gift of charity. The word "charity" has changed into something great to give to and something bad to receive. Every time I think about it I am reminded of the last words of 1 Cor 13 - now these three things abide: faith, hope and love (charity), and the greatest of these is love (charity). Is it still the greatest?

People deserve to be cared for in ways that really mean something - and why shouldn't they have access to basic needs like food? I have made it my mission to not look at the card someone uses to pay unless that person has a question about it. Everyone in my line will be treated according to the attitude he or she treats another. Want to be nice to me? I'm sure we'll have a great time. Want to take out your bad day on me? I'll make sure your order is completed as fast a possible.

I'm sure this is a bit of rambling, and I promise it'll get better. I'll try to keep up with my own adventures in receiving transitional assistance for food and medical care (health insurance is a law in Massachusetts). I hope this becomes a companion to others who have struggled with these same issues, and I hope it is enlightening to those who never do.

Good Friday - a reflection

Just about everyone I know has posted something about this final leg of the Lenten journey. It's probably because the vast majority of people I know are in seminary or a ministry profession. However, this reflection I offer is contextual. It is a vulnerable side of me, and I have found it almost prophetic that I have come to it at this time... it's one more way God says to me, "it is my time, and not the design of humans, that is perfect."

I have always loved Good Friday. It is a day in which God showed strength in vulnerability. Strength - now there's a word worth defining. In the American vernacular I best know, it generally means to have control over the will and actions of another. It can also mean an ability to temper the emotions within one's self. So how do strength and vulnerability coexist? Well, how do finite and infinite, divine and human coexist in one person? I take this Good Friday to sit with the paradox of what should not be and what is. A young boy should not have taught the priests and scribes at age twelve in the temple, but he did. A young boy, of little to show in family name and status, should not have lead the temple over the sons of the high priest, but he did. A young woman should not have entered the court of a king, but she did - and her people were saved. A man who sought to persecute those who believe should not have changed sides, but in doing so he taught us about love, fellowship and clinging to hope. There are many things that should never transpire, but they do; God has a way of making it right somehow.

So, vulnerability... it's a difficult thing. Commercials tell me that I should never let them see me sweat. I should never show any sign of weakness lest it be exploited. If you open your heart, it might be plundered, and you will be left with nothing. No wonder so many people wander around looking for someone to love them but feel unable to do so. No wonder I have felt more at home communicating through facebook or text messaging. If I keep a barrier there, I do not have to be vulnerable. I do not have to risk being hurt, but I find that I also do not risk being loved. This leads to feeling alone in a world that has surpassed 7 billion people!

The greatest joy has been when I have risked it all and felt loved in the end. My dearest friends have held that vulnerability in their hands with tenderness that can only be described as divine. Conversely, a great joy is when someone hands me his or her vulnerability, and I can say to that person, "I see you; I hear you; know that I love you."

How does this translate into a cross on Calvary? God, in Jesus Christ, risked it all for love. He was hurt; he was betrayed - I don't want to take away from what should not have been. No one should die for wondrous love like this - not in body, mind, heart or spirit. But still - something surpassed it all. From on this cross he still risked it all. He spoke to his neighbors, criminals on crosses just like his and promised that love would still win out. Anger, pain, betrayal, grief... they are never the end of the story. This wounded healer, with arms literally stretched out for all to see still spoke to us, "I see you; I hear you; I love you."

While I would never compare myself to Christ, I have had my own experience with this in the past few weeks. The decision of the board of ordained ministry felt like my vulnerability was exposed for all to see. In the midst of my pain, it felt as though a crowd had come, once again, to see just how far a person could be torn down before giving up. I told my congregations about what had transpired, and feeling wounded themselves, we began to say that this is not the end. This is the end of one journey and the beginning of another. We had hope in the promise of Sunday.

The story is not done; not the Lenten story and not my story. For now, though, I must sit with Friday and what is finished. It's horrible to look at. It hurts to see, and I want to look away. I think God knows that those who hurt do not have the opportunity to look away; God knows I cannot look away and my pain is deep. I need to hear the words "I see you; I hear you; I love you." This is the vulnerability because I risk not hearing them at all. I risk the feeling that my life was in vain and I have nothing to give to God and God's people. I risk not being loved in return. As much as I need to hear these words, I need to find the strength to say those words in return. In that cycle, I know I will find Easter present again.

We are living in a digital world, and I am a digital girl

Madonna still rings true - it is a material world, but things have changed a little bit since her song came out. There are cell phones, laptops, internet, Skype, instant messaging, electronic mail, voice mail and personal data assistants (pda). As a student and young adult, all of these things can be my friend. I can have real time conversations, and I can transfer documents quickly. Decision making happens so much faster.

What has been lost is the authentic face-to-face conversation. I am guilty of having instant message conversations with someone who is 5 feet away from me - in my defense, it's been in the library. Nonetheless, it seems we are becoming more comfortable with communicating via these fragmenting forms of communication. Why are they fragmenting? We can forget there's another human being on the other end of the digital box. We will say things over e-mail we would never say face-to-face. We leave voice mails laying things we know will hurt, but we aren't there to see the hurt it does to hear it. I have been both sender and receiver of this fragmentation, and now I'm rethinking the importance (or role) it will have on the next 30+ years of my life.

A fellow congregant at church asked, "What does Christ want this city to know?" We all thought long and hard about it. I think Christ wants us all to remember we are more than the receptacle of what comes out of these boxes. We are more than objects standing in the way of personal goals. We are more than bodies in the way of the exit off the over-packed bus. We are humans, imago dei, created to be in loving connection with each other.

The church and the ecclesia stand in contrast to this digital world. We gather together and look at each other. We touch hands. We touch common food of bread and wine/juice. We hug. We physically pass peace - we don't download the app! We don't schedule note in the pda to remember to send Jesus something on his birthday. There's something about being in a physically present community that has a rhythm of remembrance that is beautifully opposite what I'm supposed to be doing according to culture.

I am a digital girl. I send e-mails. I use instant messaging. I'm more likely to send a text than cold call a friend. However, I take at least one hour every week to remember this is not how it has to be. That one hour prepares me to open up to the possibility of shared meals, face-to-face conversation and the movement of the spirit when two or more are gathered.

Laying down burdens

I'm up late at night trying to find a prayer. The trouble is, I don't know for what I should pray. I know my prayers can have more than one thought - just like praying for one person, but I still don't know what's on my heart.

I know what my fears are, and I know I have burdens. I trust that I have done the best I can to avoid harm, and if I caused it, I trust I found it in time to seek forgiveness. My fears are not just for me, they are for others too. I wonder what plagues them so that they feel trapped or cornered and must fight for their lives. I wonder if they feel lonely. I wonder if I could have helped but walked on by, never noticing the burden.

I start to think of others who have power. In the midst of a heated health care debate, how do the people in charge find a way to sleep at night? Do they sleep well because they are comfortable and do not trouble themselves if others are in need? Do they sleep well because they have done all they can and worrying won't make it better? Do they sleep poorly because they wonder how they could make it better? Do they sleep at all because they wonder if the world will reject the message they have to bring?

Since I am writing this at midnight, I am clearly not in the first two... the question remains, which one am I in? I want to lay my burden down, but I keep questioning what more I could have done. I keep replaying scenes in my head looking for ways people could have been hurt. There are no stories about Jesus going to sleep. It's mentioned that he is tired; I even think it mentions that he did sleep. Most of the sleeping happens with the disciples, and Mark documents it best. Jesus carried a great weight on his shoulders, and I have no idea when or how he slept... a very basic function of the body.

I know who I am and what I have to give to the world. I know it will not always be accepted with open arms. I guess in light of all of this my prayer is that those who reject the message I bring do so in respect and without ill will... I will strive to do the same in bringing the message forth.

Road rage without a car

If I ever wanted to dedicate a blog to the mysteries of driving in Boston, "Road Rage Without a Car" would be the title of it. However, this blog posting is dedicated to those people who drive us up a wall. You know, the people, for no good reason, seem to get under our skin and bring us to teenage levels of gossip and loathing.

Sex and the City coined the term "frenemy." This is supposed to be a friend but is based upon being enemies. This term has me think of Newman from "Seinfeld" or the relationship between Karen and Grace (well Karen and anyone really) on "Will & Grace." There are sweet and tender moments but they are also met with moments of sheer anger, frustration and cutting sarcasm. Sad, but this is a grown-up version of what I saw in middle school. Somehow, we take what was acceptable back then and dress it up for the after party.

Today I was reminded about the pain of others. Sometimes I'm so busy finding the way out of my own hurt and anger that's hard to see it parallels someone else's. We're walking side by side and yet fighting each other instead of helping. My own hurt and anger came rushing out in a desperate attempt to name the pain. In the process, I realized we're not so far from each other as we would have ourselves believe.

What I also discovered in this process is that it is up to me to get through the pain and find a way to love. It is not up to anyone else to do it for me. It's in this moment I need to seek out Jesus to come a little closer to me. I need to seek out respite from a storm of emotions and thoughts. Jesus is just waiting for me to ask for directions... my own GPS on this crazy road trip. Life isn't supposed to be filled with rage. I'm not supposed to speed up to hit the massive potholes. I'm also not supposed to speed up for the bumps. It worked on the Dukes of Hazzard, but not for me.

People are like speed bumps... stay with me here on this. We are supposed to approach with caution. If we go too fast, irreparable damage can be done to both. If we avoid them all together, we miss out on slowing down and catching some of the more interesting aspects of life. (You can't tell me that what you see in front of a grocery or department store isn't interesting on a Saturday afternoon!) Each one us us has felt like part of a journey but also a little run over. The balance is getting to where I need to go without running over people along the way. Slowing down helps that.

I don't have a solution... I'm not even sure I articulated a problem. I just know I needed to think this out in my own haphazard way to prevent driving too fast over a speed bump and find out I lost my muffler in the process.

This is a day of new beginnings

For many of us at BU, today is the first day of classes. For me, it's the first of lasts. I'm trying not to be too sentimental about it. It's the last time (until next semester) I will experience the thrill and nerves of having a first day of class.

What makes this day even more special is that it marks the bridge of where I am and where I want to be. In this year, I will experience more in my field ed. than I can ever imagine. Everything I have learned at this point will be used in some fashion or another. I got from being student to being student chaplain - in a way that is different from CPE. Yes, I feel like I am becoming who I've always wanted to be but never had the courage to become.

I'd like to say a prayer for all those who are experiencing new beginnings. Whether it's starting a new class, speaking English for 24 hours straight, living in a new country or a new culture. I hope the excitement of possibilities overshadows the nerves and doubt. With a deep breath, allow the Pneuma to fill us and restore us. May every lesson taught, and learned, bring us closer to each other and to the most holy one as well.

Customer service 101: Consumer edition

Since I have been exploring heavy topics for a while, I thought I'd try something light-hearted.
I think it's time customers had a crash course in how to be a good customer. I have been working retail this past summer, and here are a few helpful hits for American consumers. These are meant to be light-hearted, but they do ring with some truth. They are also in no particular order.

1) Please hang up your phone. You would be infuriated if I tried to help you while taking to my friend on the phone. Why is it okay when you do it? I really only need 2 minutes of your undivided attention. If you cannot give that to me, you might need to take a break.

Exception: If you are calling someone to help make a decision about the purchase, that's okay. I'd prefer you get the right thing and not have to make a return.

2) Responses to greetings. Sometimes I say "hello" to a customer and I get back "Just looking." Ummm... I didn't ask a question. Just say hello back. I realize you may not want someone breathing over you as you look around, but my boss also requires that I make some sort of contact with every person who enters the store.

3) Commentary. I know we are in a recession... that's why I'm working retail. If you think something's too expensive, there is no need to call it "a rip-off." I did not set the price, and your comments will not put me in a position of changing them. If you can buy it cheaper at home, please do. The economic climates (as well as cost of living) of each region are vastly different. I cannot help that - I'm a victim of it as much as you.

4) Discounts. Yes, sometimes we forget about discounts, and it doesn't hurt to ask. When I've said there are no discounts 3 times, I'd like you to believe me. I am not trying to get more money out of you. I have to account for it in the register, and there is no way for me to get a hold of it from a credit card transaction. I am not trying to rip you off.

5) Asking for help. This goes back to #2. In saying a greeting, I am hoping to open a pathway where you know I am available to answer your questions. When you say you don't need help, or just looking, I will leave you alone. However, please do not ask my boss for help 60 seconds later. I will hear about this because he will think I'm not helping customers. If you have a question, please seek me out. If I cannot help you, I will find someone who can.

6) Leaving messages at the store. Whether it's business or personal, if you need to leave a message, please answer all of my questions. When you say, "He'll know what it's about," you don't realize he really might not. I have been asked to get the answers to these questions. If you can give me a little information it's very helpful. If it's a personal matter, I'll respect it. If you're with a business, it seems fishy when you won't tell me the name of your company or phone number. Think about it.

7) Impulse purchases. I know there are things at the counter to entice you to spend just a little more. I also know you just might take one. However, there is a point in the transaction where I cannot add something on. I'm really sorry about this. Please do not get upset about it. We can do another transaction.

8) checking out in a crowd. Sometimes stores get busy. We are doing the best we can with what we have. Please do not tap your fingers on the counter or yell at me with "I've been waiting for half an hour." I know you have not because half an hour ago I couldn't find anything to do. There are many other people who are just as busy as you, and we are trying to help everyone in a timely manner. If you wave money at me, it makes me feel cheap; please don't do it. If you put money down on the counter and then walk out with merchandise, it is legally shoplifting. Give us 5-10 minutes. We will get to everyone.

I hope this helps. I have seen every one of these things this past summer. I may have a library/archive edition coming up soon. In the mean time, share this with a friend. We all want good service, and these few steps will help you get it.

growing up vs. grown up

I don't really give much thought to the differences between these terms... until today. The first (growing up) is active. There is change currently happening. The second (grown up) is passive. The action is in the past and has reached completion. One is where I am; the other is probably where I should be.

I have reached an age and a level of professional education where the second term really should apply. I'm over 30 now, and I nearly have a masters in divinity. I am nearing the time when I will ask to be ordained and be allowed to speak on behalf of the church with an authoritative voice. Still, I don't feel like the work is complete in me. I feel there is still active change within me, and I am "growing up" still.

So how do I find the balance between where I am and where I am expected to be? I still don't have the answer. I really wish I did have the answer, but the only thing I get is I have to learn to live with my shortcomings.

I think everyone wants to be a protege or phenomenon, but very few people actually get to be that. It's kind of like being a supermodel - many people strive for it; few achieve it. Yet, why do we strive to be what we are not instead of being who we are? Fame? The possibility of fortune? A desire to live eternal as a mark on society for the better? I just don't know.

I find it odd that we never see Jesus grow up in the Bible. It's one place where we are left to imagine without instruction. How did Jesus deal with the weight of his mission as a teenager? Did he struggle to know what his mission was? What were his first words? Did he have acne? How did he react to his parents' discipline? Did he ever deal with disappointment, and if so, how? I miss seeing how he struggled with it. For all the warts and "uglies" the bible shows in Saul, David and even Peter, it doesn't let us see if Jesus had to deal with this part of the struggle of human nature. I miss having a plan, or model, put in front of me for when times get tough as I attempt to be a grown up. I just have a gap of about 20 years to figure out, and let's face it - Jesus is a tough nut to crack. Even the best theologians don't agree on him.

As I near my 32nd birthday (the Jesus year, as some of us call it), I realize how painfully short of his example I fall. I'm glad that I am still growing and that God is still at work within me. I just live in a world where growing has expected benchmarks, and falling short of them can fill one with shame. How do I balance my joy with my sorrow? Can I find peace in the midst of the gap? Right now, all I can hope, is that I remember this the next time I think someone falls short of where he or she "should be."

This is my body, broken for you

I can't tell you how many times I've heard these words used in a service of the Eucharist. I also can't tell you the number of times I've heard debate about the violence these invoke as well. I had an experience today that had me think about this in a new way.I went to an anatomy lecture today. The discussion centered around the issue of anatomical gifts - cadavers.

The most powerful portion, for me, was in the video interview of a woman who is dedicating her body to science. She has decided to allow students to open her, after her death, to study how her body works.She touched on her faith structure - the soul leaves at death, and all that remains is an empty vessel. It felt 2 Corinthians to me. She also talked about how she felt about death. She seemed so normal that she made the process of donation seem like a natural thing to do.What really struck me was when she talked about what she hoped for the students who would receive her body. She hoped that they would learn something about the human body that would help them in medicine. It was a gift that was meant to be passed on.

She knew, as we all do, that death will find us all. It was not a matter of "if" she will die but "when" she dies. What she has to say and teach goes on long after the wind ceases to move across her lips to speak in a language she was taught. She's not predicting a violent death. She's not predicting a painful death. She's accepting death as a passage and leaving behind something to be learned from.

Perhaps this is a message of Good News in the communion. It's more important to know that Jesus accepted that becoming human meant dying. He knew he would leave behind something that could be studied and contemplated, and that work would carry us through our journey - even when the wind ceased to blow over his moving lips. The breaking of the body is opening it up to show how love works. He handed over his body knowing that something could be learned from it... like the woman in the video. She cannot tell the students all she has to say unless they are willing to break the skin and look inside. When we break bread, we share it in a way that cannot be experienced if only one holds it - it must be broken to share... to see inside. It is selfless love that pays forward instead of asking to pay back.

I look forward to the memorial service for all of those who have donated their bodies for the cause of science. They may teach the med students many things they never thought they learned, but they taught a seminarian something about the Eucharist that will forever change the way I view it.

Ladies & gentlemen - God has left the building

That's right; God has left the building and gone into the world. I had an amazing experience with meeting God today. Bear with me as I try to explain it...

I really don't like my job, but I try to make do. There are days I meet people who are really cranky and want me to have completed their shopping before they even arrive. These are the people who cause me to chant, "God loves them, so I should try liking them." The most pastoral thing to think? No. Allows me to be patient with them? Yes.

Today was really different though. In the first hour, I overheard a woman talking to her daughter about a book. I inquired about it, and ended up having a talk about Adam and Eve and a book called "Brida" by Paulo Coelho. We proceeded to talk about the unity of male and female in the book of Genesis.

If this wasn't odd enough, the guy behind her in line asked me if he correctly that I study theology. This being Boston, a home for personalism, I tried to back out of a specific answer. I explained that I'm studying the intersection of faith and action. He apologized for asking and then went on to talk about how fascinated he is about religion. We talked about his Catholic upbringing and how he's so frustrated with the anger and violence in this world. I wish I could remember all we talked about, but I remember thinking, "this is what it's like to live out the Great Commission."

I have a general policy not to give money to people on the street near work. Mostly, my reason lies in that I see a number of people, who ask for money, come into the store to buy cigarettes. I don't feel I can contribute to something that slowly kills them - first, do no harm. However, I will ask if I can pick up a slice of pizza or a sandwich when I go to get my lunch. Today, the guy said he'd like a slice of pizza. God met me in the pizza parlor. I asked for two slices of cheese and if there was a discount for working in the square. (some places give them - some don't. It doesn't hurt to ask.) The chef decided that, if I promised to share with people at work, he'd give me a large pie for the price of a slice... and I also had to keep the transaction to myself. I agreed to the terms, and I was able to feed 4 people for the cost of a slice. The feeding of the 5000 came to mind.

As I was heading to the bus, and thinking about what I would do for dinner, a woman asked me for money. She wanted to buy some food for dinner. Keeping to my policy, I asked her where she would like to go to dinner. I've had people refuse my offer before, stating they'd rather have the money, and I thought she would do the same. I was surprised, and she was too, that we ended up having dinner together. We went 2 blocks to a burger joint where I had the steak and cheese (I am a Wisconsin girl!), and she had the fish and chips (being a good Boston gal). She talked to me about being on the streets, depression and fear. She said she had been going to church every day asking God for a little help. Then she asked me what I did. She thought I was a nurse - I simply said, "I'm a pastor." It felt so natural to say it. She started to cry and took my hand, and she offered a prayer to God. "God, thank you. I asked for help, and you sent me a pastor." I told her it was really me who felt honored. I didn't want to go back to my place and eat another meal alone, and I was so grateful to have had a meal with her.

It was in talking with her that I realized frustrations are anger at unfulfilled hopes. She wishes for a safe place to sleep while I grumble about the bed being too hard. She wonders how she'll find food while I grumble about ramen noodles for lunch. She wonders if she'll get the care she needs while I complain about the cost of health care. It seems so small when she talks to me. She helped me put it into perspective. I have people who love me and care about me. I have a roof over my head and food to eat every day. I have clothes to wear and don't have to worry about every passing glance. God bless Betty.

So yes, God has left the building and entered the world. I just need to unplug the iPod, look up from my feet, and answer a call from the margins. Perhaps, this is rethinking Church.

Hatred.Is.Purity

I've been thinking about this statement since I first saw it tattooed on a man's neck. My first thought was "Why would anyone put a needle so close to a major artery without a medical team nearby?" Then I tried to think of all the reasons why someone would want to portray that statement to the world everyday... for the rest of his life. I promptly went on thinking about all the reasons he was wrong.

What happened, for me, was a journey into my past. My sarcasm didn't always have a funny overtone to it. It used to be for inflicting the pain I felt inside to the outside of another. I took risks that it would harm them internally. Just like this man taking risks with his arteries, I took risks that permanent damage would occur and possibly even death - physical or emotional. He wears his pain, as a tattoo, as a badge of honor. Me? I try to wipe the slate clean, but like a dry erase board that didn't quite pass inspection, sometimes it doesn't completely go away - it only fades.

I expected to write down all the reasons this man was wrong about hatred being purity. I thought it would only be the loving thing to do. As future clergy, I am supposed to propagate the love of Christ and make it visible to the world. Yet, I find myself agreeing with this man. Hated seems to be the only emotion we authentically show. We hide pain lest people find our weaknesses. We hide our strengths lest we seem vain. We hide our love to protect our hearts. We deny our passions to act in accordance with what an adult should do. I'm not saying these are right or wrong, although I do have opinions on them. What I am saying is that we have allowed anger and hatred to be authentic emotions which are okay to display publicly. Maybe there is authenticity there. Now it is time to reclaim the authenticity in kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, love, compassion and self-control. It is time to reclaim the fruits of the Spirit. Hatred may be purity, but the living waters of God can wash it away and make it new.