Could Have Been the Start of a Bad Joke

 

Last Thursday I was traveling home from New York. Traveling in the dining car was a Rabbi, two Presbyterian ministers (from 2 different sects), a Methodist minister, and me an Episcopal priest. (No this is not the beginning of a bad joke.) Also traveling in the car was a transwoman.

We had all said brief hellos and over the first two hours engaged in short conversations interspersed with longer times of silence. I’m not sure how this conversation got started, but I overheard one of the male ministers ask the transwoman if he could ask her some questions because he really wanted to understand her world. My ears opened as did the other people in the car. She responded, “Certainly. I don’t mind at all. I actually would like it. And don't worry you can't ask me anything I haven't been asked before.” He responded, "But please reserve the right to not answer anything you don't want to answer." I am not going to share specifics as I truly believe the conversations we had were personal and sacred and deserved to be preserved for the people in the conversation. But I would like to share some things.

We all gathered around and began talking, questioning, and most importantly listening. There was a lot of conversation, questions, explanations, and long silences. We began sharing perspectives from our different denominations, our own experiences, and culture. We talked about how the past and current administration and their policies impacted our lives on a daily basis. One question I was asked, “How is it impacting you sharing your faith with me a man who serves in a denomination that doesn’t recognize women’s ordination?” Instantly I responded, “Sad.” His reply, “Me too.”

These conversations went on for over 3 hours. As we were beginning to pull into the station where all but 2 of us were getting off, the car became silent, and I saw a notification come across my phone. A woman who has been a friend for many years and who went to high school with my husband has a son who after surgery had a complication and was being transported to Children’s Hospital ICU. She was asking for prayer.

I looked up at everyone and read her post. No words were spoken as we all stood up and clasped hands. And then we began to pray. 

So no, the gathering of these particular people in this particular dining car at this particular time wasn’t the start of a bad joke. It wasn't a joke;
it was a glimpse of the Kingdom of God.

Let's Talk About Judas

I've been thinking a lot about Judas this week, and no it's not because someone has Judased me. (Like how I just made up that word? I think it's going to make it into my daily--or at

least weekly verbiage...) I've spent many Holy Weeks thinking about Mary (With Mary I Can Identify), but this year it's Judas....

I keep thinking about how I've heard Judas described, "the betrayer," "the one who sent Jesus to the cross," or "the one who told the Romans where Jesus was." But here's the thing, I can't make that all make sense. I mean, it wasn't like Jesus was hiding. He wasn't playing hide and seek with the authorities. If anyone wanted to find Jesus, all they had to do was show up where the hurting, the vulnerable, the broken, the untouchables, the least of these were. He wasn't wearing disguises. For pete's sake, just a few days ago Jesus rode right into Jerusalem on a donkey, and a few days later he was in the temple right out there for all to see. 

I'll be honest, I really have no idea why the chief priests would give Judas 30 pieces of silver. Pretty sure I don't want them managing my money if that's how they spend theirs (and it's not like I'm frugal--just ask my husband!). I do, however, have some thoughts on why Judas took the money, and I don't believe it's because he didn't love Jesus. 

Jesus' earthly ministry is coming to an end. It's pretty clear to everyone he has ticked off enough people that this is not going to end well. (Well, we now know it actually does end very well, but we're not yet to Easter Sunday, so stay tuned.) Judas didn't know what we know. He didn't know about the resurrection. I think Judas was terrified. Everyone knew who Jesus was, so I think we can safely assume, they would also know who his 12 disciples and closest friends, were. And Jesus had already told them he wasn't going to be around much longer. Judas could have been thinking, "If Jesus isn't around anymore, they'll go after the next best thing, and that would be us 12!"

I think Judas was trying to align himself with who he believed would "win". Judas had been traveling with Jesus for three years. He had heard Jesus preaching. He had seen Jesus heal. Despite what he had witnessed, and I think did believe, fear won out. Judas lost trust in Jesus and in the Kingdom Jesus proclaimed and put his trust in the world as he knew it. 

How do we do that? In our Baptismal promises, we promise to respect the dignity of every human being, to seek and serve Christ in one another, but are there times we ignore those promises out of fear of what it will cost us? What it will cost us literally in dollars and cents or cost us in reputation, power or privilege?

This morning as I was running, and frankly feeling sad and a little lost, it's been a long time since I've been "free" during Holy Week, I realized I dance with Judas more than I'd like. I say I put all my trust in God, but then I find myself, well I like to say it's, "giving God suggestions or a little help." The thing is it's not always big and bold--you know like Judas--not always obvious to everyone, but deep in my heart I know. I started thinking of examples from the past--let's think about the past so I can pretend I don't still do it, but I do. 

 

Chris and I moved to Boys Home because we truly believe this is where God has called us to be. We said yes knowing it was unclear what it would mean for me and my vocation. Most days ("most" may be a slight exaggeration) I thrust God will show me where God wants me to be and what God wants me to do. I'm not great at the patience part. I'm also better at it than I was a few years ago. Just ask my therapist! But back to the not so great at its part. There are some days when I find myself trying to force something, trying to make pieces fall into place that definitely don't. You know like those shape puzzle cubes from childhood. (How many children really can get them all?!?!?!)

Living into the Kingdom of God that is both here and not yet is hard. Trusting God is in control when the world seems so out of control is hard. It's hard for us and we know the rest of the story. Today, I have a little more compassion for Judas. 

Remembering Hope

Yesterday I was walking and listening to the podcast Unlocking It. Brene Brown and Presiding

Bishop Curry were talking about his latest book (which I just ordered). One of the things they talked about was the importance of community and the pain of not being able to be together for in-person worship. Brown gave these three reasons for why she goes to church (and I am not quoting them exactly just as I remember them so please no one report me). She said she goes to church to sing with strangers, pass the peace with people she'd rather punch in the throat (sounds like a Caroline saying right there), and kneel at the altar to break bread with people she'd never have dinner with. It was like a gut punch...

I miss being in in-person worship with every fiber of my being and for all those reasons--except for me singing with strangers is because I love to sing and I'm terrible at singing, but in-person worship allows me to sing and have it drowned out by beauty. I miss passing the peace, and I miss sharing Eucharist. I know, I know--I do get to receive Eucharist each week and share it with one or two other people. I am not denying that, and I recognize it is a privilege not everyone has. My heart broke when I heard someone say, "It's sad I have to go to a funeral to receive communion." It is sad and unfair and frustrating and so many other emotions. But I was called to preach the Gospel and to administer the sacraments, it is part of who I am. It is in my heart, body, and soul. 

I kept walking increasing my pace as though I could outwalk my pain. The pain comes from not only not being able to administer the sacraments to all but also with the exhaustion of trying to preach hope week after week after week after week. 

Please hear me, I do have hope--and on my good days, it holds me tightly. But sometimes, well sometimes, I hear one more heartbreaking story of trauma and loss and pain and suffering, and it's JUST. SO. DAMN. HARD! 

During the fall of 2016, I was 7 or 8 months into being priest-in-charge at St.Thomas. I had already fallen in love with the parish, but one of the things that sealed the deal was during the month of October. Every week there were two people who would kneel next to one another at the altar to receive. One wore a Trump button and one wore a Clinton. Y'all it was every week. And then these two sat together at coffee hour, shared stories from their decades-old friendship, and every week I left marveling and basking in this visible display of the Kingdom of God. And every week my hope in the in-breaking of the Kingdom was restored. 

Four years later I know those weren't the only two on different political sides who knelt and will kneel again next to one another (they were just the most obvious--you know those great big buttons). I ache to see that visible manifestation of unity. I need to see it. I need to be reminded.

Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit! THIS IS WHY!!!!! This is why we tell the stories from the Bible over and over. This is why we tell our own stories over and over. They become connected, and they remind us. They remind us during the dark times when we can't see the light that we've seen it before even when there was darkness. They remind us that we are not alone--there are generations of people who have struggled and have gotten through. They give us the knot to hold onto when we want to let go and fall into the abyss of despair. 

It hasn't changed my ache to have a full church--to sing at the top of my lungs (okay I promise I really won't do that), to pass the peace even with Kentucky fans, and to administer the sacrament to those with whom I agree and to those with whom I don't. But it reminds me the Church is more than just a gathering of people in a building one day a week. It is people in life, daily life, who share their stories and hold each other through waves of life--the hard times and the good times. It is people who hold each other accountable, encourage one another, love one another, forgive one another, and let all of that ooze out into the world. It is a people of hope.

I just needed to remember so I could re-member. 

Waiting for Mother's Day

I woke up this morning and headed downstairs to make coffee.  I could hear the TV still on from the night before which didn't make me happy, but making coffee was my priority, so I turned on the kitchen light and there was the refrigerator WIDE open! I could feel myself winding up--headed into the den and there's Boss asleep on the coach with his dinner dishes still around him.  I may have lost it....

After I got finished fussing at Boss and he retreated to the living room and a quieter couch (because the stupid TV was STILL ON), I went downstairs to start my 10th load of laundry in less than 24 hours.  (Do not remind me that I love doing laundry--I am on a rant and would like to stay on it thank you very much.)

I walked around the corner  to the drying rack to hang SK's "nice shirts" as she directed me to do yesterday as though I haven't been doing laundry for over 20 years--(again do not remind me I like doing laundry) where I see William silently asleep with the clean clothes I asked him to put away STILL ON the floor.  But it was the silently that got me--the dehumidifier was clearly not running--the dehumidifier I had asked him to empty three times yesterday.  I was seething.

I woke him up--maybe with not the nicest tone of voice--"Get up and empty the dehumidifier that I asked you to empty three times yesterday."  Groggily William replied, "I thought I did."  Okay, so now my voice became fairly close to shrill level, "How in the world can you THINK you did?  You either did or you didn't.  Period.  Now get up!"

I stormed back upstairs and started folding laundry determined to ignore everyone--it didn't work, but it wasn't like I was suddenly pleasant either--fill in the blanks anyway you want as to how the rest of the morning went...they finally left and the tears started flowing.  I felt like a totally inadequate mother and overall human being.

Chris came down and I started in about how no one listens to me; they have no respect for anything I say and I'm a complete failure as a mother.  Right as he was going to open his mouth I kept going, "I'm just going to apply for a job out of state somewhere; as long as you find someone to do the laundry y'all will be fine."  Picture my not-a-morning person husband standing with his first cup of coffee in his hand trying to figure out the best way to deal with my tirade--he took too long to decide (yes I think 5 seconds is too long) so I continued.  "You're not even saying anything. You don't care they don't listen."

He'd now had a sip of coffee so he was a little faster on the draw, "I most certainly do care and we will talk to them tonight.  But I think part of the problem is we have to have natural consequences and follow through."  HOW DARE HE BE RATIONAL!?!?!  (and by that I mean perhaps telling rational Boss he was probably going to be grounded and not allowed to take his girlfriend to her senior prom because he left his coffee cup out in my mind was rational).  I was having no rationality--"And now I have to run to school to pick up my car because they took it and my stomach is killing me."  Chris quietly and calmly, "I can take you."  I stormed out of the house my mind completely out of control.

As I started running I thought of what a fake I am--within the first 30 seconds of my run I decided to delete my blog and tell them I didn't want them to come to church with me on Sunday.  I told myself I write this blog and it looks like my children are so great--but they don't listen to me--I'm a fraud, no one should read it--"but," my gentle very small sane part of the brain said, "you don't lie in the blog so it's not fake."  Well they shouldn't come to church with me as though they like me--I continued to argue. I ran faster; even a part of me was trying to be sensible; I just wanted to get away.

My thoughts continued--I can't believe it's Mother's Day weekend and this is how it's starting.  I started thinking about all the other mothers in my life who have loved me and who I should call right this very minute to hear them tell me I'm not a complete failure, but that would have robbed me of the opportunity to wallow...so instead I raged ran on. (But y'all know who you are!) This will probably be the last Mother's Day they will all be here; why would they want to be with me? And they won't ever want to come home when they're adults--I bet they won't even send me a card or if they do it will be out of loyalty.  I bet they will find or probably already have found other women who they think of more as mothers.   I decided I hated Mother's Day--

How they really are

How they are with threats

Maybe what bothers me is that the people all over the world will send and receive sappy cards that extol the virtues of mother's elevating them to almost deity status.  Maybe some people really mean the cards they send--maybe some people really believe they are all those things.  But I suspect there are many of us who search for the right card and can never find it because we're not sure we believe all those things.  And there are many of us who receive cards that speak about how selfless we are and we cringe (for example, maybe running to school to get the car with a stomach ache was more about being a martyr--and getting more steps than Todd Kunze, than it was about being selfless and serving the children), or cards that say we are the best mother ever and all we can do is think about how many ways we have been failed or how many ways we have failed or worse how many ways we still have to fail.

I didn't want it to be Mother's Day weekend and I sure didn't want to think anymore so I turned on my

audible book to drown out my voice.  MISTAKE!!!  Anne Lamott was reading, "You forgive your mother, for having had such terrible self-esteem, dependent on being of value to all men, everywhere, in every way. You forgive her for not having risen up, for not teaching you how to be an autonomous, beautiful woman..."(p. 106)  "AMEN!" I wanted to shout fully recognizing that while I actually haven't gotten to the total forgiveness point I know I want to and at least someone else understands (even if she wasn't specifically talking about Mother's Day), but then I kept listening (I never stop when I'm ahead....) "You mostly forgive life for being so unfair, for having stolen away from and saddled us with so much, for being so excruciating to most of the world. You even semi-sort-of mostly forgive yourself, for being so ridiculous, such a con, a nervous case, a loser."  So I'm working on that too....  (She's older than me she should be ahead!!!)

I went back to thinking about this morning and about Mother's Day--and it dawned on me.  I preach, I write about, I try to live that the Kingdom of God is both here and yet to come.  I believe that we see glimpses of that kingdom through the world around us--through fallible, unforgiven, unforgiving people. I believe we see glimpses of how things are supposed to be, how God wants them to be, and we wait with joyful anticipation for the day when it will be that way always.  And when those glimpses disappear we are left with memories, with longing, with grace and with yes with hope. But we are left waiting... Maybe that's what Mother's Day is about--it's a glimpse into the world we want--a world where our relationships are healthy, life giving and whole.  Maybe instead of seeing it as a trumped up holiday for florists and card shops to make a ton of money we could see it as part of the waiting, we could see it as a chance to glimpse another world or as an example of remembering the both here and yet to come.


Lamott, Anne. Small Victories. New York:  Riverhead Books, 2014.