tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-138145312024-03-07T19:26:54.637-05:00The Kitchen Dooris always open. <br>Di McCulloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05903996304750469325noreply@blogger.comBlogger810125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-18511804882034137342020-04-04T11:07:00.002-05:002020-04-04T11:08:00.491-05:00Palm Sunday in Uncertain Times<div class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">As members of St. John’s spoke to one another over the past couple of weeks, one question rose repeatedly: What about Holy Week? These liturgies are so much about physical action: waving palms, washing feet, stripping altars, unearthing alleluias. How can it be Holy Week when we’re not together? How will it be Easter from our desks instead of our pews?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">Our questions and lament have me thinking about the first Palm Sunday, the gospel story of Jesus entering Jerusalem. Crowds gathered, Jesus processed, followers cheered. We’ve practiced our liturgy so long that it’s easy to forget the turbulence of the scene. We remember the celebration and expectation, but not the intensity or confusion. There wasn’t an established liturgy for the first Palm Sunday. Certainly, nothing had been approved by religious authorities.</span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">When the followers of Jesus watched him enter Jerusalem, they didn’t know what would happen next. They thought he would restore their nation. They didn’t know the victory they were proclaiming wasn’t going to look like they imagined. Our future, and our celebrations, aren’t going to look like we imagined, either. Graduations will be postponed, weddings and funerals pared down, and reunions cancelled. God will still be with us in every step and every stage.</span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">We cannot share the same Holy Week spaces that we have in years past. I will not grasp your hand to pass peace, and you are not in danger of being whapped with a child’s palm frond. But we can place our hands on other things that connect us to Holy Week: growing plants, soap and water (surely we notice the washing, washing, washing we’re doing and connect it to Maundy Thursday). We have an incarnate faith, and a communal one. We can make a point to touch those things around us that connect us to our story, and we can connect with one another. We can’t do both at the same time, but we will experience holiness in new ways this year.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">And having said all that, there’s room for grief, too.</span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">Jesus was not the kind of king those palm-wavers thought they were getting. They lived in Roman-Occupied Jerusalem, and thought that they would be delivered from their difficult lived circumstances. They weren’t. Jesus’s kingdom had begun, and also wasn’t yet. That’s where we are. In the beginning, and the not yet. The disciples obeyed, they served Jesus, but they did not have a clear picture of what was happening, or what would happen next. So many people are serving God and neighbor at St. John’s right now, and I think it’s safe to say that we do not have a clear picture of what is unfolding next.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">This Holy Week will be sacred. It will be unforgettable.We are in it together. As Frederick Buechner imagines God saying:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">“Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid. I am with you.”</span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">Here are a few small things you can reach for to help you stay in Holy Week:</span></div>
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<li class="li1" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"></span><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">Gather a few stems and leaves. Carry them on your walk around the neighborhood. Celebrate the here-yet-still-anticipated reign of Christ.</span></li>
<li class="li1" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"></span><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">Do you remember how to cut paper snowflakes? Cut small palm fronds, and keep them where you’ll see them: on your desk, in your window, on your table. Remember that wherever we are, we are herald’s of God’s kingdom.</span></li>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">Blessings to all of you this Holy Week.</span></div>
Di McCulloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05903996304750469325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-87407221879807450032019-06-16T17:49:00.001-05:002019-06-16T17:49:13.252-05:00Father’s Day <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This is just to say:<br />
It is possible to parent in ways that you did not experience. It is possible to listen and nurture and play, even if you did not receive those things. This is a quiet, huge miracle that people don’t notice much.Di McCulloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05903996304750469325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-54940572171662257882019-06-13T20:53:00.004-05:002019-06-13T20:54:07.000-05:00Zero Waste Life Experience<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I’ve long assumed those cheerleading years were wasted time, but it turns out that yelling encouragement is a big part of what I’m here to do.<br />
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Happy Pride Weekend, Columbus.Di McCulloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05903996304750469325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-70338891658244352902019-05-04T07:50:00.002-05:002019-05-04T11:27:51.151-05:00TGIF (with love to Brené)I've been blogging in my head (and missing <a href="https://marybethbutler.typepad.com/terrapin_station/2019/05/i-can-cook.html?fbclid=IwAR1u8VGnvoGl-j17uWJ-kikMeR8VNzpw4AN-Wqp15bBscOJjW0vtyUryClk">Mary Beth</a> and <a href="http://princessandthebeads.blogspot.com/">Mindy</a> and basically the sisterhood of bloggers), so <a href="https://brenebrown.com/tgif-newsletter/">when Brené Brown revived</a> her "TGIF" habit from her old blogging days, I was in. A nice, mellow return by way of sharing a gratitude practice with one of my favorite women heroes.<br />
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T(rusting): I'm trusting that I can do a new (interim) job well, and that my family will find its footing in the chaos of me going back to work.<br />
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G(grateful): I'm SO FLIPPING GRATEFUL for the support I've had from generous, trusting bosses. Cannot tell you how much it means to me to be trusted and backed up. Also, hugely, the friend who's helping with childcare and the many friends who are keeping me from losing my mind. Oh, and the nurse practitioner who treated me with so much love this week. And the warming weather. And the husband who gave me a sick day and looked at snails on the trail with the little Biscuit.<br />
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I(inspired): I've picked <a href="https://www.littleflower.org/therese/">Thérèsa of Lisie</a><a href="https://www.littleflower.org/therese/">ux</a> back up lately, because she's been calling to me for the last several weeks. I learned about her years ago, and felt utterly bored by her "holiness of small things" kind of mysticism. Now, as I'm starting to accept the smallness of my own reach, I'm encouraged by her words.<br />
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How about you? What's your TGIF this week?<br />
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ETA: F!!! I forgot F(un)! Y'all, that is about exactly the state of things right now. I am totally forgetting the F. Um. I have an ongoing pattern of seeing powerful lady movies with my best friend (remember, per Mindy Kaling, best friend is a tier, not an individual), and I'm wagging about getting a date for <a href="https://www.thehustle.movie/?gclid=CjwKCAjw8LTmBRBCEiwAbhh-6O4-ZHdRpZxlTxSf2NpsI9uUoZTZptrQyJRb7tHBLKTqvH-vvUDspRoCyiIQAvD_BwE">The Hustle</a> on our calendars. <br />
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<br />Di McCulloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05903996304750469325noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-34653099077254399552018-09-28T10:34:00.003-05:002018-09-28T10:40:05.232-05:00You Always Have the Poor with You<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="text Mark-14-3" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">While he was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as he sat at the table, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very costly ointment of nard, and she broke open the jar and poured the ointment on his head. </span><span class="text Mark-14-4" id="en-NRSV-24752" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">But some were there who said to one another in anger, “Why was the ointment wasted in this way? </span><span class="text Mark-14-5" id="en-NRSV-24753" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">For this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii,</span><span class="text Mark-14-5" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 10px;"> </span>and the money given to the poor.” And they scolded her. </span><span class="text Mark-14-6" id="en-NRSV-24754" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">But Jesus said, “Let her alone; why do you trouble her? She has performed a good service for me. </span><span class="text Mark-14-7" id="en-NRSV-24755" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">For you always have the poor with you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish; but you will not always have me. </span><span class="text Mark-14-8" id="en-NRSV-24756" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial. </span><span class="text Mark-14-9" id="en-NRSV-24757" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.” - Mark 14:3-9</span></blockquote>
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This week has been brutal. This week has also been breathtaking.<br />
My spouse took a couple of days off, and after the national horror of yesterday's Senate hearings, I decided to schedule a last-minute facial this morning. <br />
As the aesthetician massaged my face and hands with oils, I thought about the work to be done, the work of protection and justice and dignity. <br />
We always have survivors with us.<br />
Jesus must have been bone-tired. God alone knows how many people he'd healed by this point, how many hungry mouths he had already fed, how many powerful men he'd stood up to on behalf of maligned women.<br />
And there were still more to be fed. Still more to protect. Still more to heal.<br />
If we think about the scope of the work to be done, we cannot carry it. The woman with oil was anointing Jesus for his burial, but we need to be anointed and massaged and nurtured for our survival, too.<br />
"Self-care" gives me the heebie-jeebies. If your sleeves aren't rolled up and your hands aren't dirty, I don't want to hear a damn thing about the importance of self-care. But if the poor are indeed among you, and if you're feeding and healing and standing firm? Be extravagantly nurtured. Pour delicious oil on one another. Be profligate in the beauty you share and receive.<br />
Tonya stroked my eyebrows and warmed my fingers. Sarah, Molly, and Liz are sharing beautiful music this fall. Dave makes me tea and soup and holds my hand. I cannot stand without the oil they pour.<br />
There is so much work to be done. Only beauty and love will carry us. <img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiktxauDCSXoJfH5lCeh1_63FSqXKLSxi55KXrcz56bFBa_DqE-wHMyx17GFM5oy75UIsHItwp8Y4SLpmwEsmheCAfgWCCW5Xy7nG2Hm9OXGqiph7g_lgV7WdtzRVTs-btwxZyciA/" />Di McCulloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05903996304750469325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-40252819165012115322018-03-28T20:29:00.001-05:002018-03-28T20:29:27.144-05:00Wednesday PrayersTenebrae service tonight; also deep worries about a friend's critical illness.<br />
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Kyrie Eleison.<br />
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And with you?Di McCulloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05903996304750469325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-70750240771880634442017-08-02T14:54:00.001-05:002017-08-02T15:03:30.946-05:00Wednesday Prayers: Passes Understanding, IndeedSomeone walked into my apartment this morning and commented on how peaceful it felt.<br />
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Um. <br />
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That has definitely not been how it's felt to me, lately. I mean, unless peaceful is just managing not to scream, "stop screwing around and go to the damn potty!" That's not really my definition. <br />
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But lately my prayer has been that wherever we live, it's as welcoming as possible to as many people as possible. It's how I'm (sort of) coming to terms with a few more years in a beige, cat-ravaged apartment. For years and years, I used to joke (not joking) that all I wanted in a home was a ballroom and a library. Most of our bookshelves are in the basement right now (because they make such tempting ladders), and beige carpet does not a dance floor make. <br />
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But.<br />
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In our homely little development, we have neighbors from all over. Neighbors who wear hijab, and neighbors who grill very tasty smelling meats. The kids play football in the huge field behind Sam's room. I will always know people with PhDs and fancy jobs, but here I learn about what manufacturing jobs entail. As much as I want my own charming little home, I can't imagine being more accessible to more people. And when different people all come to my drab little domicile, they meet other people they might not meet otherwise. (And for sure no one feels intimidated by the space.)<br />
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It's not where I want to be, but it sure functions how I want it to function. <br />
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So: prayers for my home, please. That it grow in warmth and peace and security. And maybe one day, in aesthetics. <br />
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And how about you? What's rattling through your brain when you wake at 3 a.m.? What are you thinking about when you're driving? What can I be taking to God for you?<br />
<br />Di McCulloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05903996304750469325noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-59394796315967491142017-07-29T18:25:00.000-05:002017-07-29T18:58:38.417-05:00Wednesday Prayers on SaturdayHoly bananas, you guys. It's been one heck of a month to both weep with those who weep, and rejoice with those who rejoice. (Not a thing happening in our own household, for which I am immensely grateful.)<br />
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While I was thinking of dear ones, and their highs and lows, I realized I hadn't asked what <i>you</i> would like prayers for lately. Let me know, and I'll add you to my daily list.<br />
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And if you pray for me, I could use the wisdom and the generosity to hold all those highs and lows as well as possible.Di McCulloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05903996304750469325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-73309958848660028962017-05-11T14:58:00.000-05:002017-05-11T14:59:15.552-05:00Petty Tyrants<div>
What are you doing to overthrow tyranny?</div>
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Nope. Not the tyrants ruling countries. The ones ruling offices, congregations, and families. The ones who live on your block and rule their own tiny fiefdoms. I want to know what you're doing to topple the regime of the office bully, of the parish despot who silences opposing viewpoints, of the teacher who publicly humiliates his students. I don't want to hear a damn word about the inaction of congressional Republicans until we practice taking down the autocracies in our neighborhoods. (No, that's not true. I still want congressional Republicans to step up...)<br />
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But I'm not kidding: what we tolerate small-scale is what we experience large-scale. Courage is courage, and if we don't exercise it, it atrophies. </div>
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A few weeks ago, I mostly kept my mouth shut when someone in power trounced a minority opinion. I wish I'd had the presence of mind to speak up, and do it well. I didn't want to sacrifice my standing for an un-winnable fight. I had no leverage in that group, and frankly had never met some of the players. So, I probably wouldn't have changed the outcome. Also, no kidding, I got my ass handed to me the last time I spoke up in a situation with similar dynamics.</div>
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But I wouldn't have lost as much as I did the last time. I'm older now, and jaded in a useful way. I'd rather lose a fight than lose myself. (Truthfully, that's exactly what I concluded in Round One, but it hurt like hell and took too long to figure out.) A very smart Palestinian Christian observed in church on Sunday that we aren't necessarily called to fix, but to be faithful and obedient. (And some of you know how I feel about "obedient.") He's right, though: we're called to be obedient to what we understand to be the greatest good, whether that's God or a code of ethics. </div>
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And hypocrisy isn't any prettier in us than in our elected officials. </div>
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Stand up, dear ones. </div>
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Di McCulloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05903996304750469325noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-69521001980102745312017-04-14T12:44:00.001-05:002017-04-14T12:45:13.705-05:00Opportunities to Struggle<div>
The Biscuit's bedtime has become madness. Developmentally-appropriate madness, but still crazy. Some days, I can handle it calmly. When I forget to take a breath because I'm preoccupied by the things I'd like to do, the husband I miss, and worries about who the President is going to bomb next, I do not handle it calmly. Calm is not my default setting when frustrated. (Humiliatingly, my default setting when frustrated looks a lot more like the President's.)</div>
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But here's the thing: I badly don't want the Biscuit to make his choices based on other people's anger. I don't want him to chose out of fear. Self-defeating as it might seem, I want the little dickens to keep popping out of bed for a while, so that he and I can practice working alongside each other, even when I feel angry. I fervently hope that conflict and frustration continue, and that I handle myself in such a way that my child does not become submissive in response to it. </div>
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The same struggle, over and over again, is a chance to practice. I did not start out with much innate talent, but if I take the opportunity to use these drills, I might wind up a patience virtuoso. Or at least finally catch up with average. </div>
Di McCulloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05903996304750469325noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-47130486958654234982017-03-22T16:17:00.001-05:002017-03-22T16:17:17.545-05:00Learning from Soup NightWednesdays are the days I write about spiritual practices. In theory. Sometimes in reality, too, but also in paper and ink, so you all haven't seen it.<br />
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I've got a small handful of commonly-recognized spiritual practices going on, but I've discovered <a href="http://thekitchendoor.blogspot.com/search?q=soup+night">Soup Night</a> is also a spiritual practice. (Soup Night is rarely packed. I worry that people imagine it is. It's not bustling over here, I want to be very clear with you. One or two families come over, typically. Stop imagining a party all the time. It freaks me out, and makes me think you're going to be really disappointed when you finally come over.)</div>
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Anyway, one of the ways that Soup Night is a spiritual practice is that we do it even when we're not feeling it, and we invite people we might not socialize with otherwise. I invite friends and strangers-- I keep postcards in my purse with all the relevant info, so that I can share with anyone I chat with (and I chat with everyone). </div>
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One set of neighbors come fairly regularly, even though before Soup Night we only waved or chatted occasionally. Two weeks ago, I was a little grouchy to start with, and Sam was a total lunatic, and eventually I snapped at our neighbor. (Doesn't that make you want to come receive our hospitality?)</div>
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That was Sunday, and Monday morning we were leaving to go out of town. I don't like to leave my dumb-shit decisions dangling all week, so I wrote her a letter and told her I'd like to apologize in person when I got back.</div>
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Here's my point about Soup Night being a spiritual practice:</div>
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Without Soup Night, I could easily avoid this neighbor.</div>
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Because of Soup Night, we have a relationship, and when there's conflict and difference, we have to move forward, instead of just away from each other.<br />
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The Benedictines sometimes talk about the spiritual value of that one monk who's a real pain in the ass to love, let alone live with. I submit for your consideration that my Soup Night may well be a spiritual practice for others, as well.<br />
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Oh, and? My neighbor saw my taking out the trash today, and came out to hug me. Love attempted, love sputtered, love carried on. </div>
Di McCulloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05903996304750469325noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-22583699822613232362017-01-02T18:52:00.000-05:002017-01-02T18:52:05.815-05:00All Kinds of Holy WorkI had my first facial today. It was amazing.No, I'm serious. I'm stone-cold serious. <br />
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I don't know how to relax without professional help. Even with professional help, it's like trying to keep a beach ball submerged-- my brain is clearly trying to kill me. It's always been hard, but since my son was born, it's been nearly impossible. <br />
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For about an hour this morning, a kind, knowledgeable woman did 3/4 of the work of keeping the beach ball down.<br />
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That's holy work. When I have totally and completely lost the ability to let go, that's a sacred service that's being provided. If I can't figure out how the hell to be still, then I need help. I need someone to show me. <br />
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It's a lot easier to recognize heroes if you watch for them. Sometimes they hang out in old Victorian houses and wear smocks. Di McCulloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05903996304750469325noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-24097323623982968602016-12-31T16:32:00.001-05:002016-12-31T16:32:48.397-05:00This is my rock.There are many like it, but this one is mine.<br />
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When I was a little girl-- a tiny kid, shortest in my class until 4th grade-- I found this huge rock on the beach.<br />
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I loved it. <br />
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The adults I was with laughed, told me that if I wanted it, I could carry it the mile+ to the car. As though I could not.<br />
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I still love my rock.<br />
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Di McCulloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05903996304750469325noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-44371429016003650222016-11-23T17:00:00.001-05:002016-11-23T17:41:08.952-05:00Overwhelm and OfficesA decade ago, I took a year-long discernment class. A few things from that class have stayed with me: the excellent reading list, the respect with which the clergy leader spoke of lay ministry, and this advice: Be in the habit of praying the daily offices, because when you suddenly need them, they will carry you.<br>
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The truth is, I dip in and out of the practice, but in the last week, I've been so grateful to know where to find a life raft. The weeks following this election have been more frightening than 9/11 ever seemed to me. In the last month I've had mouth ulcers, my first major migraine in a decade, and my normal cycle is now over a month late (yes I saw a doctor, no I'm not expecting). Messages about unity and how the side that loses is always disappointed haven't come close to speaking to me (have in fact offended me). <br>
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On Sunday, I picked up my trusty Daily Offices. This Sunday, I'll switch to Year 1 as we begin Advent, the new church year, the season when we are alert with expectation for Godliness and Goodness that is not here yet. I don't have my own words to pray this month, but I am being fortified by the psalms and canticles of generations who also knew that the world they walked in was both holy and insufficient.<br>
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<br>Di McCulloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05903996304750469325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-2680801927200134422016-11-21T19:02:00.001-05:002016-11-21T19:13:45.836-05:00Heroes Next DoorOur first Soup Night was last week. It wasn't crowded, but it was amazing. Sweet neighbors that we've only known on a waving basis came, as did a family from the little Biscuit's preschool. Our neighbor cares for elderly people, and loves her job. She danced with my son, and his grin nearly touched his ears. The infant sister of our preschool friend found my husband's naan irresistible-- she leaned forward on her mama's lap until she managed to gum her very first solid food. <br>
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Look around. The people we know are doing good. I'm reading Joan Chittister's <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Wisdom-Distilled-Daily-Living-Benedict/dp/0060613998/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1479772839&sr=8-1&keywords=wisdom+distilled+from+the+daily">Wisdom Distilled from the Daily</a>, because I need big heroes, book-sized heroes, and women religious so often are that for me-- but it's good to pay attention to what's happening next door. People are working hard, loving faithfully, and laughing at the joy and ridiculousness that's right here. <br>
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What good are you doing this week, and what good are you watching?<br>
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<br><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrlOD28VKWAxeMYK8hAKK8erdbWKKA5Lt0VWuC59112nhm5nmRcU2zJhY_iQrRdJcP_PqAAct7Qs1KgooD3kdbVLm4HWjGAD0MxdBkLYCiDynJyqyz5dEmVPG4Q1XHVKmwQL-Lzw/s640/blogger-image--1931967098.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrlOD28VKWAxeMYK8hAKK8erdbWKKA5Lt0VWuC59112nhm5nmRcU2zJhY_iQrRdJcP_PqAAct7Qs1KgooD3kdbVLm4HWjGAD0MxdBkLYCiDynJyqyz5dEmVPG4Q1XHVKmwQL-Lzw/s640/blogger-image--1931967098.jpg"></a></div>Di McCulloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05903996304750469325noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-5120885581521700882016-11-14T21:22:00.000-05:002016-11-14T21:28:19.541-05:00Those Who Conceal Their Good WorksIt's no secret that I'm a huge fan of Gregory the Great, throwing my... well, if not my knickers, then at least my high regard onto the rock-star stage of his work, "The Book of Pastoral Rule." (But everyone feels that way about 6th century popes, no?) A central premise of Gregory's Book is that different people require different sorts of pastoral care. Sounds basic, but I don't hear it discussed much, and I love it. (It is, in fact, part of why I find the <a href="https://cac.org/the-enneagram-an-introduction/">Enneagram</a> useful-- how I screw up, and where I can grow are different than they are for you.) Gregory sets up a number of binaries, and explores how to minister to each-- rich and poor, loud-mouthed and timid, givers and thieves, etc.<br>
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After this dark week, after this election, I'm thinking of this guidance Gregory gives to people whose only good work is done in private:</div>
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"For anyone who is able to suppress the lust for praise is, in effect, guilty of a bad example if he hides the good that he does."</div>
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I need to see the good that you're doing right now. I need your good example. In the language of Fred Rogers, I need to be able to see the helpers. I need to know that we're together in the tasks ahead of us. </div>
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Of course there's danger of bragging, and of words instead of action (Gregory addresses them in the same chapter), but I want you to know: I need heroes. I need historical ones, I need literary ones, but I also need the ones who have their sleeves rolled up right now all around me. </div>
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So please come to my door, tell me about your work and the work you see being done by others. I have great hope for what we can do together.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirvI0Zc7AToQUr-qetZzTP40vfTJ7KAja4a1z0TKnRfWVl_yJTHfOdcnIBc4YM334Rqndv2uLVJIbnmkFyNRgalsZ9YD9dIBin-Z12dbOn8Lhi_FZSIYcWc2Y3Kspr1Km8Ik_myg/s640/blogger-image--1994579583.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirvI0Zc7AToQUr-qetZzTP40vfTJ7KAja4a1z0TKnRfWVl_yJTHfOdcnIBc4YM334Rqndv2uLVJIbnmkFyNRgalsZ9YD9dIBin-Z12dbOn8Lhi_FZSIYcWc2Y3Kspr1Km8Ik_myg/s640/blogger-image--1994579583.jpg"></a></div><br></div>
Di McCulloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05903996304750469325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-42440975989442376812016-11-11T14:32:00.001-05:002016-11-11T14:32:45.772-05:00Soup NightWell, the real kitchen door is finally open, too. After decades of believing in hospitality, and practicing in dribs and drabs, my better chef and I are starting a habit of casual dinners at our house.<br />
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Because I badly want people to come together and care for one another right now.<br />
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Because being in one another's homes is radically different than going out together. <br />
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Because my shabby little beige home is still capable of holding and feeding and warming others.<br />
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Because we need each other. Because I need you.<br />
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If you're in town on Sunday nights, come on over.<br />
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<br />Di McCulloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05903996304750469325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-19606577599642449472016-11-10T14:49:00.001-05:002016-11-10T14:49:35.101-05:00The Kitchen Door is back open.The door is open. The kettle is hot. Now is the time for radical hospitality. Let's do this together. <br />
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There are a lot of ways to do the work of Christ in the world. These are some of the places I'll be tithing in the months ahead:<br />
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<a href="https://www.splcenter.org/">The Southern Poverty Law Center</a><br />
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<a href="http://now.org/">The National Organization for Women</a><br />
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<a href="https://www.aclu.org/">The American Civil Liberties Union</a>.<br />
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<i>"<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px;">So keep fighting for freedom and justice, beloveds, </span></i><br />
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<i>but don't forget to have fun doin' it. Be outrageous... rejoice in all the oddities that freedom can produce. And when you get through celebrating the sheer joy of a good fight, be sure to tell those who come after how much fun it was!" -Ms. Molly Ivins</i></h1>
<br />Di McCulloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05903996304750469325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-38644505999803515452016-06-12T12:54:00.000-05:002016-06-12T13:47:29.193-05:00Bathsheba and Stanford<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">After a week of reading about the <a href="https://www.buzzfeed.com/katiejmbaker/heres-the-powerful-letter-the-stanford-victim-read-to-her-ra?utm_term=.crn0EbjLZ#.bqDnw7vYJ">Stanford rape case</a>, I was stunned to see that David and Bathsheba as the subjects of this morning's <a href="http://bible.oremus.org/">Old Testament lectionary reading</a>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I listened to the lector read about Bathsheba mourning her husband (Uriah), David called to account (for theft of Uriah's property and for murder-- not for rape), and I listened to the words of the prophet Nath<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">an: "<span style="background-color: white; color: #010000; line-height: 22.4px;">Now the </span><span class="sc" style="background-color: white; color: #010000; font-variant: small-caps; line-height: 22.4px;">Lord</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000; line-height: 22.4px;"> has put away your sin; you shall not die. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000; line-height: 22.4px;">Nevertheless, because by this deed you have utterly scorned the </span><span class="sc" style="background-color: white; color: #010000; font-variant: small-caps; line-height: 22.4px;">Lord</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000; line-height: 22.4px;">,</span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" style="background-color: white; color: #0000bb; line-height: 22.4px;"></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000; line-height: 22.4px;"> the child that is born to you shall die."</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000; line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000; line-height: 22.4px;">And then we all very peacefully said, "Thanks be to God," and moved on. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000; line-height: 22.4px;">The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #010000;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000; line-height: 22.4px;">Before I go any further, I want to say: sexual violence is a raw and personal subject for an enormous number of people, and springing it on a congregation from the pulpit is probably not a wise idea.</span><br /><span style="color: #010000; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #010000; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.4px;">We have to talk about it somewhere, though, because when we gloss over violence, when we hear it a thousand times in the same scripture stories, it becomes normalized. W</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000; line-height: 22.4px;">e the Church develop an attitude that minimizes assault, minimizes abuse of power, and entirely shuts out the story and perspective of the survivor. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000; line-height: 22.4px;">We the Church are participants in rape culture when we read the stories of violence and abuse in scripture without questioning where God really is in the story. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #010000;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #010000; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;">If we were willing to be uncomfortable, willing to tolerate the cognitive dissonance that comes from seeing David our Beloved Patriarch at the same time as we truly see the horror of David's sexual assault, we would have a powerful foundation for dealing with violence and abuse in our midst. We could recognize the truth that abusers look just like the people we respect-- because they *are* the people we respect. We could see our part in protecting abusers and rejecting survivors. We might reach forgiveness by going through the overwhelming fury and pain, instead of leaping to a false forgiveness where nothing changes. If we spoke openly about how the violence of our forefathers afflicted their families and communities, then we could look at what we've inherited from our spiritual family, and begin to heal.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #010000;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #010000; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;">And perhaps Bathsheba, like the glorious Stanford survivor, could become a full character in the story, and not a prop. </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000; line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span>Di McCulloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05903996304750469325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-71216091984975919742016-01-04T19:05:00.001-05:002016-01-04T19:08:15.396-05:00Mondays: Simul Justus et Peccator<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I'm energized and excited by learning about people who wring out every drop of their gifts to do good. Whether it's my seminary friend or a long-ago President, the courage and action of others sends motivation surging through me. I</span>'ve been asking people lately who they're inspired by, and almost every time I do, I hear a robust chorus of, "Don't compare yourself to others!"<div><br></div><div>Friends, my ego can handle it. </div><div><br></div><div>In the midst of a biography binge, I've been thinking about Martin Luther's perspective that we are, at the same time, both Saint and Sinner. What could free us more than the certainty that all who have concentrated their gifts on their endeavors were also bunglers, in one way or another?</div><div><br></div><div>In that spirit, I'll be sharing my favorite sinners and my most exasperating saints with you this year. May you be as delighted by their messy humanity as I am. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-35865995330648754222016-01-01T14:44:00.000-05:002016-01-01T14:44:26.450-05:00Action-Reflection FridayIn CPE, we used the action-reflection model of learning: do something, process how it went, adjust, and try again.<br />
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It occurred to me while I was making my 2016 goals that the same model might be helpful in parenting. (I seriously considered emailing the other playgroup moms and asking if they'd want to start a peer supervision group, too, but... no.)<br />
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So here I am, all set to act and reflect. I figure I'll pick one thing that worked over the course of the week, and one thing that didn't. A weekly Ignatian review-- places I saw light and love, and places I struggled. <br />
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That's the weekly plan. We'll see how it goes.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-51095054090797332702015-12-22T11:24:00.001-05:002015-12-22T11:24:07.413-05:00The Compassion Collective is UsI'm overwhelmed by the sadness and collective need of Syrian refugees. I'm not sure how to find hope in a situation so huge and so devastating. <div><br></div><div>Fred Roger's mom told him to look for the helpers in difficult times. I think that's the right answer for small children, but for the rest of us, I think we also have to join the helpers. The Compassion Collective is one way to do that-- small gifts that add up to meet big needs. I gave, Dave is giving, and I'd like to invite you to join us. </div><div><br></div><div><a href="http://thecompassioncollective.org/">http://thecompassioncollective.org/</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-11207326114156187382015-09-06T14:14:00.002-05:002015-09-06T14:29:40.370-05:00The 18th Sunday in Ordinary Time<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Are you imagining the horrible, helpless grief of refugee parents whose children are dying in the process of trying to get safe? What do we do with this kind of horror? How do we live in a world like this? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This week, the news was catastrophic, and the <a href="http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/texts.php?id=218" target="_blank">lectionary readings</a> were timely:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"<span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">Do not rob the poor because they are poor, or crush the afflicted at the gate;</span></span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">for the LORD pleads their cause..."</span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">"</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the LORD their God, </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">who made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them; who keeps faith forever;</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> who executes justice for the oppressed; who gives food to the hungry. The LORD sets the prisoners free;</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> the LORD opens the eyes of the blind. The LORD lifts up those who are bowed down; the LORD loves the righteous.</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">The LORD watches over the strangers; he upholds the orphan and the widow, but the way of the wicked he brings to ruin."</span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">"</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food,</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> and one of you says to them, "Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill," and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? </span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead."</span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As I joined the corporate confession this morning, I thought about our serving God in newness of life. Surely being freed from our sin means that we are freed from the fear that drives us to hide from tragedy and pain in our world. We are released so that we can roll up our sleeves. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If Jesus heals, and we are the body of Christ, we can trust that God can and will use us to heal. We weep with those who weep, and while we're doing that we get to work. We don't have the strength to do it on our own-- God knows I feel utterly overwhelmed-- but the Spirit who lives in us and renews us is bigger than every news report I see.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It is our job to execute justice for the oppressed, to free prisoners, to watch over strangers, to feed and clothe the poor. Not to imagine first-century Christians doing it, but to look for the needs around us now. Not because we're earning our way into heaven, but because grace of God enables us to do the work of God. My blood boils at the thought of someone watching my son get hurt and not reaching out. My spine freezes when I think of him left starving, sick, or in the path of violence. I imagine God has a much stronger visceral reaction to the suffering of all those created with joy in God's own image. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And if that's not the case, then God is not someone I want to know, and grace is not something I'm interested in. If God is not liberating us for practical, visible love to every one of God's beloveds, then I think we're better off going fishing than being the church. </span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-66926420987953208172015-06-06T19:02:00.001-05:002015-06-06T19:02:36.417-05:00Mandatory Waiting PeriodMr. M and I have a Mandatory Waiting Period in our house. No, it's not about the purchase of handguns (he's a pacifist, and I'm more inclined towards a crowbar and an Iron Man mask). It's a conversational waiting period. <div><br></div><div>Years ago, we realized that when big topics come up, the wisest and kindest thing to do is to let my introverted husband mull them over for a few days. He comes back with insightful responses, calmed and more cautious than perhaps other parties might concoct. </div><div><br></div><div>Recently, we decided that Mr. M is not the only one who needs a waiting period. Mine's a little different: I have to wait a few days before I'm allowed to argue with an idea<i>. </i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">(pause for snickering)</i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div>It's damn uncomfortable. The suggestions I most want to fight are the gentlest ones: "Have you thought about talking to X? I think they're really in your corner?" "The Biscuit really loves you." "How about you go out with friends this week?" I<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> can fight absolutely anything, but absorbing kindness and grace, genuinely allowing them to sink in, is far harder. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I'm taking the idea out of the house a little more these days. When I start to inwardly roll my eyes, I choose to wait a week.* This habit is changing the way I listen. Sometimes. When I'm willing. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">At its best, marriage (intimate relationships, period-- friendships, siblings) can be a safe incubator for all the terrifying growth that helps us become who we were created to be. Last Sunday was Trinity Sunday, and some of my very favorite preachers talked about how the wonder of the Trinity is that God's very self is intimate relationship, and that our call to holiness is a call to be loving, vulnerable, and connected. I've waited a week, and I think that's right on. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">*<i>S</i></span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><i>ometimes I still think I'm dealing with an idiot a week later. It's growth, not delusion.</i></span></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13814531.post-37932513028658643332015-03-25T06:00:00.000-05:002015-03-25T06:00:01.749-05:00What I'm Reading: Where the Dead Pause and the Japanese Say Goodbye I picked up Marie Mutsuki Mockett's book on a whim, grabbing one adult book along with my stack of Bob Staake-illustrated board books. It looked exactly up my alley: investigating grief and loss with an eye toward the influence of culture. Even better, it was described as being part travel-narrative, so I figured I had work reading combined with my favorite leisure reading, all in one go. <br />
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Mockett addresses her individual grief over the death of her father, while also exploring the corporate mourning in Japan after the Fukushima nuclear disaster. I found the work she describes Buddhists priests doing in temporary shelters fascinating-- chaplaincy both similar and dissimilar to the work done in the West. Her personal grief and pursuit of religious education felt to me very much like <i>Eat, Pray, Love. </i>Both authors undertook internal work with a publisher's deadline, and the result for me in both cases seems self-conscious and too quick for deep processing. <br />
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The written images in the book are beautiful. When Mockett describes festivals, traditions, temples, the word pictures are stunning. It's very enjoyable, but by the end I wondered if it was colored by an outsider's idealism (Mockett is Japanese-American).<br />
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I'd recommend it, but it's not going on my resource list.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0