Things I Wonder

 I went to get a massage this afternoon. In full disclosure, I get them fairly regularly--at least monthly.

Today it was different. She was yanking on my limbs and stretching them in a way she never has before. I'm not complaining; it felt great. It was just different. Half way through I asked her why things were different. She responded, "You are so tight like you've been living in the fetal position with your head between your knees." I'm not sure why but the image of the woman caught in adultery about to be stoned popped into my head and wouldn't leave. (John 8:1-11)

I started thinking about it, and I thought I remembered it wasn't explicitly said she was caught in adultery. Alas, maybe that's what I wanted to believe. The story actually does begin with the words, "The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery, and, making her stand before all of them,  they said to him, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery." It doesn't say who caught her in adultery. Was she set up? Did someone lie? Or, was it true? Any or all could be the truth. But that's not what I dwelled on while lying on the table having my limbs stretched.

I thought about how Jesus knelt down and was writing in the dirt. I have always imagined he did that for two reasons. One he wanted to write whatever he was writing (we don't know what it was) and also because he wanted to be face to face and eye to eye. I imagine her head was down. I definitely could be wrong about that. Perhaps she was defiant and staring the men accusing her down. But knowing what I know about women's positions in the first century, I find that hard to believe.

I also wonder why she was committing adultery. Was she a woman in love with someone she shouldn't have been? Or just as likely was she a widow trying to find a way to support herself and possibly her family? 

What I can imagine is the woman holding her head down and perhaps thinking, "Just get this over with. I am standing here in front of all these people and I'm ready to just be gone." I wonder if she hung her head because she was thinking not only of this sin but also of every mistake she had ever made intentionally or not. I wonder if she was thinking about every moment of her life and how she had failed her friends, her family and her God? I wonder if she didn't want to look up because maybe she had children or friends or family in the vicinity. I wonder if she was trying to hide her shame, but also wanting to prevent those she loved from experiencing pain. 

Jesus challenges those standing around for the person without sin to throw the first stone. One by one they all go away. Today lying on the massage table I wondered if she wished they hadn't. Yes her life was spared, but what will her life look like now? Will those who walked away welcome her back into their community? Will her family accept her again despite her sins or will she now be truly alone?

Jesus forgives her. That is the point of the story; that and to point out there are none of us without sin. I imagine she did feel some relief (but we don't really know what she even knew about Jesus and who he was). Forgiveness from God without reconciliation with community sounds and feels pretty lonely to me.

There definitely could be people she hurt with her actions. And those actions have consequences, but I keep wondering, "What happened to her? What was her life like moving forward?" Was there ever any reconciliation? 

She has messed up in her life as we all have. Perhaps she did commit adultery and was caught in the act, but even if that wasn't it, I'm sure there was something else. Today I'm wondering. Did her life get better or were there some days she wished Jesus had just let them stone her?

I wonder if she began to walk straighter, looked people in the eye and lived a full life. Or, if she desperately needed a massage table because she couldn't and didn't forgive herself. 

But still

 Alone in the house

    it's quiet

Alone in the bathroom

     but still I close the door

The bathtub doesn't work

    but still I sit

water runs down on my head

    and down my cheeks

Joy and pain

    inextricably linked.

Unexpected Places, Unexpected Blessings

On Shrove Tuesday, Emmanuel Episcopal held its annual pancake supper. Every year the community of Covington looks forward to the all you can eat pancakes. I love mingling through the tables, greeting familiar faces, and meeting new people. This year I spent some time with the band Close to You—a Carpenters tribute band. Lisa, the lead singer, asked me if I would bring ashes to the concert the following evening as she wouldn’t be able to be at the service. She then turned to her bandmates and asked them if they would also like to receive the imposition of ashes following the concert. One said yes, one said no thank you, and one said, “I respectfully decline.”

Mr. “I respectfully decline” later took a picture of Chris and I on his phone. (Stay with me, this is actually part of the story.) I asked him to text it to me and he did. Wednesday morning, I started receiving texts from his number with pictures of food. A text followed explaining, “I meant to send these to my husband. Sorry!” I responded, “No problem. Happy Valentine’s to you and your husband.”

Wednesday evening, I brought the ashes to the theater intending to impose ashes following the performance. Instead, word got out I had them, and several people approached me as they waited in line for the doors to open. It was kind of like a pop-up ashes to go! Following the concert (which was very good I might add), I went downstairs to meet those in the band who had requested ashes. We chatted for a few minutes and then I imposed the ashes. As I was getting ready to leave, Mr. “I respectfully decline” approached me with tears streaming down his face and asked if he was too late to get ashes. As I was imposing the ashes his voice cracked as he said, “I have had nothing to do with the church in several decades. They were horrible to me when I came out. I didn’t think I would ever receive another sacramental touch. Thank you.” We embraced and I whispered in his ear, “You are a beloved child of God.” As we parted he gripped my hand again and said, “Bless you.”

Oh, I definitely was blessed Mr. “I respectfully decline.” Thank you.

What if We All Overshared?

Yesterday afternoon I had a meeting in Roanoke. Diocesan convention starts today also in Roanoke, so a friend who also had to be at both offered for me to stay with her.

I pulled into the Hotel Roanoke to valet my car. As I emerged from the car the young valet said, “Are you checking in?” I responded, “Yes, well not really. Really my husband is checking in for us tomorrow night. Tonight I’m staying with someone else. I mean I’m staying with a friend. It’s a woman—we’re just friends,” I continued stammering. To his credit, he didn’t break eye contact and only looked slightly uncomfortable. I continued, “You really didn’t need to know all that did you?” “No ma’am,” he said, “I just need to know your last name.”

I’ve told that story a few times since it happened. Laughter usually ensues and for those who no me well, well let’s just say they’re not surprised. I may be known as an over sharer and definitely an over poster on social media!

But, this morning I have a different thought. What if instead of being embarrassed at the possible inappropriateness of the situation I continued? What if I added, “She’s one of my best friends and we haven’t seen each other in person in a couple of months. She’s one of my people outside of my family that loves me unconditionally, holds me accountable, and reminds me through her words and actions that I am a beloved child of God no matter what.” And then what if I said, “Do you have a person like that?”

What if instead of interacting with others with the bear minimum of conversation we shared our stories? And what if we invited others to share their stories with us? What connections could we make with others? Whose lives could be transformed?

I believe God invites us all to share our stories—to name where God is present in our lives and to invited others to do the same. All of our stories together combine with God's story to create the Kingdom of God.

Faithfully,

Katherine+

I'm Not for Everyone

So I overheard a conversation about me--it wasn't positive. (PSA--before you talk about someone, make sure you've ended the call...) I spent a solid 24 hours pouting, moping, and just all around being hurt. I tried to logic my way out of my feelings, but sometimes you just have to feel yourself through feelings which I was doing quite well--well not getting through but just feeling...

Yesterday morning I was thinking (you can read obsessing and you'd be right) about what was said while cleaning up the kitchen. I picked up some papers and dropped one. I reached down to pick it up and saw it was a note from someone who was thanking me for the very thing about myself that someone else didn't like. 

I went to my desk and pulled my "good notes" file. Thank you Bishop for teaching me to save emails and notes that are uplifting! I read multiple notes from people who said my goofy over the top self helped them see God in a different way. I remembered something else a dear friend and mentor taught me. When someone says something to you or about you that is critical and/or hurtful, think about what part might be true, what you might be able to learn from it, and let the rest go. (Now I'll admit that is way easier said than done--especially the letting go part!)

I know I'm not for everyone. (And I know everyone's not for me.) But I am who God created me to be, and I am trying to live into that. My big fat audacious dream is that I live a life that helps others see and know that no matter who they are, what they've done or not done, how they live or anything else--there is nothing that can separate them from the love of God and that God loves them--there are no exceptions!

This morning as I've been working on my sermon, I've been thinking about what kind of Messiah people expected. I've been thinking about who God is and who God loves (spoiler alert--everyone), and I've been thinking about how God is so much bigger than any of us can imagine. People experience God in different ways, through different experiences and through different people. God is known through the introvert and the extrovert, through the quiet contemplative and through the boisterous, through those who are always serious and through those who never seem to be, through the orderly and through the messy--what is most important is that God and God's unconditional love is known.

Are my feelings hurt? Yes. Do I wish I hadn't heard the comment? Definitely yes. Will I let it go? I'm trying. Am I going to change who I am because of it? Not going to lie I paused at this point with my fingers hovering over the keyboard wondering how to answer...

Am I going to change who I am because of it? A little--I'm going to try to be more compassionate, more understanding of the differences in others. I'm going to try to see God in those who I don't "get." But am I going to change my personality--no.

But I'll probably need to talk about it in therapy!

There Has to Be a Line, Maybe?

I remember, or I think I remember, my mother telling me years ago--in my memory we are in the car driving down Ragley Hall Rd away from the house, don't know where we're going--but I remember Mother saying, "If I compliment y'all too much you'll get big heads and be conceited."

See here's the thing about memories--they may or may not be accurate. The words may or may not be exact. The intent of the words may or may not be understood. But, the impact of memories, even with their inaccuracies, live on in our bodies.

Fast forward to the everyone gets a trophy and everyone gets to be star student generation. Is there a point when compliments become meaningless? I think there is.

I also wonder, is there a difference between a compliment and just saying something nice, something positive, something kind?

I keep thinking there has to be a line. There has to be a line between being complimented by someone so infrequently even the smallest of compliments stand out and are remembered and being complimented by someone so often it's meaningless and their all forgotten.

I know it's so much more complicated--their are personalities, histories, and expectations. 

I do think there is a line somewhere--just not sure it needs to be or should be the proverbial line in the sand. And I think about Jesus writing in the sand. (John 8:1011) He didn't draw a line, but he did write something. And more importantly, he taught us a lesson about judging. He taught us no one is without sin and the importance of compassion and forgiveness. 

See here's the thing. I want Jesus to have also said something about taking responsibility, admitting responsibility, and even begging for forgiveness. I want Jesus to draw that line, and I want to tell him where it needs to be. 

Jesus doesn't draw lines, if anything Jesus draws a circle, a circle around the whole world, and we're all on the inside. 

Why a 12-Step Eucharist?

 Why a 12-Step Eucharist? This is what the press release says....     

Emmanuel Episcopal Church to host a 12-Step Eucharist Sunday, July 9 at 5pm

Why a 12-Step Eucharist?  Addiction touches almost every life in this country, either directly or through its effect on loved ones. In 2022, drug overdoses killed more Virginians than car crashes and gun violence combined. Although the worlds of law enforcement, politics, and medicine have had much to say about addiction and our response to it, the Church has remained mostly silent. We Christians believe firmly in hope, healing, redemption, and grace, yet we often lack the spiritual vocabulary to speak honestly about it when addiction knocks at our door. The 12-Step Eucharist provides all of us—whether in recovery or not—the chance to see both the need that is all around us and the resources we have to offer. This is a service of grace and hope.

 About the Twelve Steps

All Twelve Step recovery programs have their beginnings in a movement called the Oxford Group, which developed in the 1900’s in and around New York. One of their leaders was The Rev. Samuel Shoemaker, the rector of Calvary Episcopal Church in New York City. They sought to build their faith around the practice of what they called “The Four Absolutes” - absolute honesty, absolute purity, absolute unselfishness, and absolute love. These principles, they believed, were the definitive essence of Jesus’ moral teaching. They were convinced that action was the key to faith and spiritual growth, a premise that had been carried over into AA and subsequent programs - “to practice these principles in all our affairs.” The Oxford Group maintained that maintaining fellowship, keeping community, and sharing of one’s own experience - including public confession of wrongs - were the vital forms this action should take. As you’ll see in the service, our own Episcopal tradition is a natural path for following these principles. That, along with our open offering of the Sacraments and our gentle proclamation of the Gospel, positions us almost perfectly to offer to people in recovery and their loved ones a safe place to find that deep experience of God so many of us are seeking.

I've looked and looked for this quote and can't find it, but I'm almost 100% certain Nadia Bolz Weber, Lutheran pastor, and amazing author, said something to the effect of, "There is more truth in church basements than in the church on Sunday mornings." I read or heard that with suspicion before....

Before addiction entered our family's world. Or let's be honest before our family admitted addiction was and had been part of our family's world--maybe even for several generations. It was then I met some of the most amazing people. People in recovery and people who wanted to be, or maybe didn't want to be.  And it was also then I was punched in the gut and in the face and left stranded bleeding and weeping by some who spent every Sunday morning seated in church pews.

I was extended care and compassion through those I least expected over and over and over again. 

One such example happened very late one night or was it in the wee hours of the early morning. I was in a place I had never been, and  I was frantic. I was pacing without going anywhere while terror shot through my body. Two hands appeared out of seemingly nowhere, grabbed me by the shoulders and stared into my eyes with his bloodshot eyes, and said, "We've got this Preacher Lady. You go home. Nothing going to happen. Let me take care of things" I believed him, and I did go home. The next morning I stood in the pulpit and preached to people who had no idea where I had been or what had happened the night before and many I didn't trust to tell.

There was another time I was sharing with a friend who is in recovery a story about a particularly painful experience with another family member. She looked me straight in the eyes and said, "How can you love me and give me so much grace and understanding and not extend that to her?" Damn--another gut punch. I was the person in the pews that needed to be in the basement.

In April 2015, I was at the beach and just happened to stumble upon an announcement that Grace Church Cathedral was hosting a 12-Step Eucharist that very night. I went. It was packed, and to say I was profoundly moved is an understatement. The Rev. John Zahl preached. As I was leaving, I stopped, introduced myself as a priest (not sure why that mattered), and with tears streaming down my face told him I came in as a shell and left full of hope. I saved the bulletin for years. Two months ago John (I call him that now because he's now my friend) and I were together for a week at a clergy retreat. I told him how that service in April 2016 has been a part of the fabric of my being ever since. As we stood there talking I said, "John, I need you to hear this. I got to meet you again after 7 years and I get to tell you how much it transformed me. I know to the depths of my being there are many others who had the same experience that you may never meet. That night you truly made a difference. You preached the Gospel and changed lives. I want to be a vessel like that." 

Later that evening he emailed me a Google doc of the service, and with a few changes, that will be the 12-Step Eucharist on Sunday night. All are welcome those in church basements, those in church pews, and everyone else. We are all beloved children of God.