Introducing Nicodemus

I’ve added a new link to my blogroll (as well as cleaning out a few outdated ones). The name of the blog is “Nicodemus at Night.” It is written anonymously by a friend of mine as he explores some questions about religion, namely “Why am I a Christian?” It is a new project, so only a few posts are up so far, but I post a link here because I think it is an important question, one that I ask myself quite often, but that I think we as a Church do not ask ourselves enough.

Why is Christianity important? Why should anyone bother with faith? with worship? with prayer? It’s all well and good to engage in the practices of piety because one has been raised in a religious environment or because it makes us feel good, but what consequence does one’s personal faith journey have on the world that Jesus Christ came to save?

Especially as I prepare sermons, I often find myself wrestling with Nicodemus’ other question: “Why should anyone else be Christian?” Of course, Jesus commands us to “go and make disciples of all nations…” but why? Jesus was not one for blindly following (or giving) rules, so one can guess that he had a good reason for giving the command. However, our modern-day Christianity is too often about fire insurance and bus tickets. We believe and/or attend church so that we don’t condemn ourselves to hell (“fire insurance”) or so that we are assured of our seat on the bus bound for glory (“bus tickets”).

Is Chrisitan faith simply a 'bus ticket' to guarantee our trip to heaven?

As I preach, I consistently find myself faced with the question, “So what?” What difference do God’s love and grace and forgiveness and all that make in our lives, in the lives of those around us, in the life of the world? Aside from a few extra smiles and politeness, how is this world a better place because of the gospel? These are questions worth struggling with. If our faith as Christians is focused entirely on the apocalyptic and what happens after we die, then that faith is useless. How does that faith have concrete, meaningful presence in our lives today?

I continue to wrestle with this, along with Nicodemus. I invite you to wrestle with it, too. Doubt is not a bad thing; it clears out the cobwebs of neglect and complacency and makes room for living, vibrant faith. Whether you are a person of faith, somebody searching meaning, or even one who is happily areligious, please check out Nicodemus’ blog, leave comments and enter the conversation.

Home At Last

Steph and I have arrived at our new home! At the end of December, we moved to Willmar, MN, and on the first of January, Stephanie began her first call at Calvary Lutheran Church. The membership is 2500, with around 800 or so worshiping every weekend. She is the Pastor of Family Ministries, which means that in addition to her normal pastoral duties (preaching, visiting members, etc.) she is responsible for oversight of the children’s and youth ministries of the congregation. So far she is really enjoying it; the staff has been friendly and helpful and the people have been great. Good news all around. Even better, later today, she will be ordained and officially become a pastor! I’m very happy for her and excited to be there with her for the next step in her journey.

Myself, I am still waiting for a call. It’s hard to be in this situation again after over a year and a half waiting already, but the synod office has been very helpful and proactive in communicating with me and helping me find somewhere to serve. I’ve currently got a possibility for a call at a two-point parish a little over a half-hour away, but it’s too early to tell if this will work out or not. There’s still a lot of discernment to be done.

In spite of my unemployment, we’re both very happy to be here. Willmar is a great place, and we are happily settling in. Whatever happens next from here, we’re excited to see what it will be. Challenges aside, it is very, very nice to be able to start getting to know people we will not be saying goodbye to within a year.

Death and Christmas

One of my side jobs is working as a hospital chaplain. Currently, I do this about one evening a month. I picked up an extra shift last week, and from the moment I came on duty, I was working with a sad situation.

The long and the short of it: “Bob” [name changed to protect privacy] got sick the evening of Thanksgiving, and was hospitalized that night. When I came on shift at 5pm on the following Monday, I was informed by the day chaplain that Bob had coded—his heart had stopped, and the doctors were working to resuscitate him. They were successful, but over the course of the night, it became obvious to the doctors and then to the family that Bob was not going to make it. By 4am, the family was asking for a priest to administer last rites before they turned off the ventilator.

I stayed with the family for the rest of the night (or morning, by this point). I was there with them when Bob’s wife and two sons made the decision to cease life support, when they talked to the doctor about their decision, and when the nurse disconnected the machine. Bob’s extended family, who had been there the whole night as well, milling around, trying to comfort one another and take in everything that had happened, all gathered around the bed at this point. From the moment the machine was off, everyone waited with him, somberly watching the monitor and saying goodbye to Bob.

In our cultural mythology, we have many different stories of what happens when a person dies. Many people believe that angels come to bring people to the hereafter, or that one sees a bright light, often with a voice or a presence that beckons them. Then there’s the image of the grim reaper, that morose personification of death as a tall being shrouded in black and carrying a scythe as it comes to collect souls. Even in our popular culture, there have been explorations of the event of death. One of my favorite TV shows was Dead Like Me (2003), which begins with the death of a young woman. After dying she finds herself in the role of a reaper, part of a bureaucratic organization that collects the souls of the recently deceased and shepherds them to the afterlife.

As I stood with Bob’s family by his bedside, I began to reflect on the connection between these cultural legends of ours and my current scenario. We hate to think of people dying alone. We prefer to believe that when we die, there is somebody or something—an angel, a voice, even a creepy skeleton in a robe with a giant sickle—that comes to be with us, to accompany us to whatever comes next. Even though Bob was unconscious, even though it was unlikely that he was even aware of anybody’s presence in that room (due to brain damage from lack of oxygen when he coded), once the decision was made to remove the life support, everyone waited there with him, saying their goodbyes, unwilling to let him die alone. I know that for myself, I hate to think about it, too. Once, working as a chaplain at the hospital in Baltimore, I held the hand of a woman as she died. She, too, was unconscious, and even if she knew I was there, she didn’t know me from Adam; but she had no family around, no friends, and I couldn’t let her die alone. So, I held her hand for about 45 minutes as her life ebbed away, just so she wasn’t alone.

So, what does this have to do with Christmas?

As Christians, we believe that the God who created the universe took on human form in the person of Jesus Christ. God did this in order to be fully present with us as people. In other words, so that we wouldn’t be alone. It’s something that both Christians and non-Christians alike fail to fully appreciate, I think. When we think about God, we often focus on what we get from it, what God does for us, how faith in God makes our lives better. Mere presence just doesn’t seem enough. It doesn’t decrease our suffering, it doesn’t make us happy, it doesn’t enable us to do anything we can’t do by ourselves. And yet, when it comes down to it, when we are faced with a dire situation like the end of our lives, the one thing we truly want more than anything is not to be alone.

The prophet Isaiah writes of a child named Immanuel (Isa 7.14), a name which literally means “God-(is)-with-us.” For Christians, we celebrate the holiday of Christmas as the day when the Creator of the universe put off heaven to put on flesh, to be Immanuel. In our evangelism, we too often forget this significant fact, or when we don’t, it’s received with ambivalence: so God became human to ‘be’ with us, so what?

Somewhere deep inside each of us is the need for companionship. It may not be essential to our survival, but it is essential to our happiness. We can’t bear to think of a loved one dying alone because inside ourselves that is also what we fear. With all the pain, the suffering, and the challenges we face in life, we need to be loved. It doesn’t make any of that go away, but somehow it makes it more bearable.

God understands this about us, even if we don’t always get it ourselves. It’s a jungle out there. There’s a lot of pain and heartache to be had. But even in the midst of joy and elation, it’s so much better if there’s someone to share it with. Even those of us who have the blessing of friends, family, community and spouse find ourselves occasionally feeling alone. Circumstances change, people come into and leave from our lives. We face separation from loved ones by death. Though we almost always have the comfort of having people around us, there are times in everyone’s life where we feel undeniably and inescapably alone. It is for those times, when we are hardest pressed and backed into the tightest corners, that God has become Immanuel.

This is the good news: no one has to die alone, and no one has to live alone.

 

Assignment and a New Home

Last week we had some great news. On September 28th, the bishops met and regional assignment took place. Steph and I have been assigned to the Southwestern Minnesota Synod, and though we were kind of hoping to get out of the Midwest (just for a change of scenery), we are both excited to see what Southwest Minnesota has in store.

The bishop and synod staff to whom we have talked seem friendly and enthusiastic, which makes us feel enthusiastic as well. So far we’re still waiting on paperwork, but even so we’ve had some conversations about possible congregation placements already. We don’t know exactly where we’ll end up yet, but we should have a better idea soon. If everything were to progress full-speed-ahead, we could be expecting to have calls by early January.

At this point, I am getting really excited just to be in one place for a while again. I have lived a nomadic existence for 10 years now. It’s crazy to think about. Even though I was in Moscow for 5 years and Gettysburg for 4, I was mostly moving every summer, and always only ever a student, never a “townie.” After so long, I’m looking forward to being a townie. I’m looking forward to never having to answer these question again: “So what are you doing next?” “When are you leaving?” “When will you be done?”

One topic I have addressed before is this longing I have for “home.” The trouble I have had is that there is no such place that exists for me right now. The house I grew up in is my parents’ house, not mine, and will always be a home of sorts, but never a place where I will live again. My hometown and my congregation are certainly close to home, but not in the sense that I will ever be able to live there and not have the weight of a bygone life on my shoulders. Moscow was home for a while, but again, only sporadically. When I left, I knew it was time to leave, because afterwards it would no longer be home. I feel like after a decade of wandering, I am finally on the verge of moving to a place I can call and which feels like “home.”

I have been steadily working towards it. I think one aspect of “home” is personal identity. I could never go back to my hometown because it is too full of who I used to be, and I have changed since then. I can remember coming to Moscow and feeling a profound sense of relief and opportunity as I was able to start completely new and fresh. So, in the last ten years, I have been discovering and defining myself, becoming the person who is ready to settle and put down roots. I have had my adventures, I’ve earned my stripes, I’ve learned my lessons. There are more lessons and stripes and adventures before me, of course, but I’ve had the ones I needed to be able to settle down and not have regrets or be unprepared. Perhaps most important of all, I’ve found my spouse, and the two of us are growing and shaping each other now, our identities transforming around and in response to one another. Frankly, maybe I’ve never been able to find “home” before now because it hasn’t existed at all.

I sincerely hope I’m not setting myself up for disappointment, but at the same time, I’m also quite certain that the ability to build more permanent relationships with people and connections with a place without the strain of knowing it is all temporary will help me live into a place and make it home. First call is, of course, temporary. There are pastors who stay in a place for 20 or 30 years, even their whole career. I am not one of those; I can tell already that I will not be able to stay too long because I don’t think it is healthy for either the congregation or the pastor. However, even in spite of this, I think moving to a place to live as a citizen instead of a student, a seminarian, a counselor, an intern or an intern’s spouse will naturally allow me to finally find “home.” And I am damned excited.

“Open To All”

My wife and I recently sent in our paperwork for the fall assignment, which occurs at the end of September. On said paperwork, we are asked to list our preferences for where we would like to go. On option in this section is a box—”the” box, as it’s known in the seminary circles—labelled “Open to all.” It means “I have no geographic preference, I am open to going anywhere in the country where there is a good fit for me.”

Many have checked this box. Some have meant it. Steph and I have both heard stories of people who have checked the box, but when they get assigned somewhere and their stomachs turn, they pull their paperwork and ask to be reassigned. This fact, we’ve been told, makes the bishops wary of people who check the box.

Most do not check the box. A lot of people have kids in school, a spouse with a career who either needs to remain in the company or find a specialized replacement job, parents in ill health, etc. which means that they either need to restrict their assignment to a certain area or that they list preferences. Some simply want to end up in a certain part of the country and do the same. This is why it is a wonderful thing to have the preferences available.

Steph and I are young and childless, we have no previous careers tying us down, and our parents (thanks be to God) are all in good health. In addition, we both like the idea of ending up somewhere new. After years of long-distance relationship, years of either being on “her” turf or “mine,” either being with “my” friends or “hers,” we are looking forward to finding a place and a people that are equally new to both of us, to which neither of us can lay previous claim. It’s a refreshing thought. As such, we have checked “the box” and we have made it clear to our respective seminary folks and candidacy committees that we really mean it and won’t back out.

I have another reason. I don’t know if this holds for my wife or not, but as I look at the possibilities of congregations open for calls now (as they are listed on the ELCA website), I realize that I flat-out don’t trust myself to pick one. With the assignment process, that is not my place, but I don’t even trust myself to pick an area. There are areas where I would like to end up, rather, there are areas where I think I would like to end up. However, I don’t trust that I have the knowledge or the experience to make a good, informed decision about where I want to start my path.

When I applied to colleges, I started out as an engineering major. This narrowed my choices to U of Wyoming and U of Idaho because of their proximity and their engineering programs. I chose Idaho, and even though I switched to a chemistry major, I believe that the Spirit led me there to that place and those people where I was tested, stretched, and matured. Those friends and programs and communities formed me into the person I am, and I believe it was where I truly needed to be. Similarly, I believe that the Spirit guided me to Gettysburg for seminary; even though I knew next to nothing about it, I ended up at a place where I fit, a place that had the environment and the emphases and the faculty that were right for me. It is true that I adapted to both these places, but I think it is also true that (especially in seminary) they were the best fit for me to begin with.

As we approach assignment, I am excited to let God work again, to once again let the Spirit lead me to where I am needed. If I were to choose a parish, a synod or even a region, and if the fit were not good (perhaps even if it was), I would not be able to help but think that perhaps I was responsible, that I got in God’s way. However, by allowing God and the Church to work unencumbered by what I think I want, I trust that wherever I end up, good fit or ill, will be for the benefit of the congregation, the Church and myself.

God is good, and God knows a lot more about me and the congregations than I do. The Church has been doing this for a while, and though mistakes are sometimes made, they’re much better at the process than me. It gives me a lot of comfort to trust God and the ELCA to put me where I will be most useful and productive. That is why I am “Open to All.”

Here I Stand?

I have found myself thinking this week about the Church, its role in society and culture, and the need to stand for something. There have been two experiences this week which have informed my thoughts.

First: The church council of congregation I serve is considering how to react now that Wisconsin has enacted a concealed-carry law. I myself have no strong opinions either way on concealed carry in general, though I do not like the thought of people (well-meaning or not) carrying weapons in church. When I mentioned to the council that we ought to consider the ethical implications of our decision, I was told that they do not want to make a statement for fear of creating division. I can definitely respect and understand this; right now, we’re having budget troubles and the last thing we need is something else to cause problems. However, I cannot help but think of how ELCA congregations addressed the issue of homosexuality prior to the ’09 Churchwide Assembly and the adoption of the “Human Sexuality: Gift and Trust” social statement.

Second: I read a thread on a facebook clergy group concerning how to react to a family member at a funeral who wanted to preach “decision theology” (that everyone must make a decision for Jesus and those who do not are condemned to hell— patently opposed to all forms of Lutheran theology which all center on grace, God’s acceptance of us) over the pastor. This family member had expressed an intention to give a sort of homily of his own when he got up to read a scripture lesson, likely to be followed by an altar call. Most commenters on the original post were in agreement that the pastor ought to counter the man’s message or even find a way to prevent his extemporaneous homily. As much as I agree with their theology, I still have a deep reluctance to deem one theology “correct” to the exclusion of another (unless that other is patently unbiblical) since no human can claim to know the mind of God.

As I consider these two events, I have been asking myself when and where the Church should take a firm stand on issues. Apparently, my own instinct is that making ethical judgements on (divisive) real-world issues is okay, while claiming authority to preach and present gospel as we understand it is more uncertain.  Religious certitude bothers me. The unwavering belief that “I am right and you are wrong,” is the root cause of most of the problems associated with religion (bigotry, violence, Crusades). Evidently, my reluctance does not extend moral certitude (at least on certain issues).

When Martin Luther presented his beliefs at the Diet of Worms, he famously declared “Here I stand, I can do no other.” Yet since, the Church has been notoriously slow to take a stand on much of anything. Honestly, I think that is part of the reason that religious practice is declining among the mainline denominations and rising in the fundamentalist, charismatic, uber-conservative (FCUC—my own acronym) traditions; those pastors and dogmas are unafraid to take a firm stand and provide their people with “answers.”  That is not always a good thing, but in an uncertain world, I think many people find comfort in having black-and-white answers handed to them.

The Church does not and should not have the final word on all ethical questions: one of Luther’s key arguments during the Reformation was that all God’s people (not just priests and bishops) are theologians, called to engage and interpret scripture in conversation with the Church and the Holy Spirit. However, if the Church seeks to remain relevant to society, we have to at least engage contemporary issues, rather than burying our heads in the sand. That’s what happened to the ELCA: nobody wanted to ruffle feathers talking about sexuality or sexual orientation, so when we were finally forced to deal with the issue, our people were caught largely with their pants down, unprepared and unequipped for the decision. There are some conversations, namely those dealing with human dignity (slavery, abuse, murder, etc.) to which the Church must add its voice and authority to the, but the tricky bit is discerning when that intervention is appropriate.

There is also the matter of preaching an authentic gospel. Paul writes in his letter to the Galatians, “But even if we or an angel from heaven should proclaim to you a gospel contrary to what we proclaimed to you, let that one be accursed! As we have said before, so now I repeat, if anyone proclaims to you a gospel contrary to what you received, let that one be accursed!” (Gal 1.8-9)  No one person or group has exclusive access to the knowledge of God’s will, but it is also clear that God’s Word is not open to libertarianism; that is, one has no license to go off willy-nilly preaching whatever one feels like in the name of God. However, the question is again when the authoritative intervention of the Church is appropriate.

When it comes right down to it, grace is the final word.  The letter to the Ephesians tells us “Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear.” (Eph 4.29) We are called to do all things for the benefit of our neighbor and the Church. Additionally, God understands that as we strive for that, our intentions and our actions will occasionally lead to failure, and that failure is forgiven through grace. We need to take a stand once in a while without being paralyzed by fear of failure. Because of that, some people will be offended or turned off, but that is the nature of the world.  I guess that as we discern when and where the Church will exert its authority, that decision, too, must be made in conversation with one another. All of us need to be encouraged and reminded to remain in community, no matter what, because the only way to truly fail is to walk out of that conversation.

Loaves and Fishes and the Grand Inquisitor

I always have and I think I always will be convinced that to be a Christian and to truly seek first the Kingdom of Heaven is to be social-justice oriented and to act out the love of God to neighbors and enemies alike. This is the heart of the gospel for me. Having said that, I’ve been pondering this a bit as I read the contribution by my former professor Mark Vitalis Hoffman on WorkingPreacher.org for the weekend of July 31. Dr. Vitalis Hoffman (VH1 to his students) has, both in class and in this post, made the connection between the gospels and Dostoyevsky’s work The Brothers Karamazov, specifically the story of the Grand Inquisitor. I read his commentary on the feeding of the five thousand and finally read the entire story of the Grand Inquistor, and that is what prompted these ponderings.

First, a brief primer: The feeding of the five thousand, for VH1, like the story of Jesus’ first temptation in the wilderness (Matt 4.1-11) is not so much about bread as it is about God’s abundance and compassion and relationship with humankind. Dostoyevsky’s tale draws specifically from the wilderness temptations to make observations/explanations for the behavior of the Roman Catholic Church and especially the Inquisition. VH1 uses this story to make sense of the gospel story about the feeding and how it is different from a typical miracle story.

When Jesus resist’s the tempter’s offer to turn the stones into bread in the wilderness, he is not merely resisting the temptation to feed himself (and take responsibility for his own well-being rather than trust in the Father), but is in fact resisting the temptation to feed all humanity and buy their allegiance for his ability to miraculously give bread. Jesus himself says in John’s gospel “You will always have the poor with you…” and it has proven to be true.  As long as humans have organized themselves in societies and cultivated and distributed resources, someone has always been without. We have no reason to think it should ever change. The feeding story (which appears in all four gospels) is motivated primarily for Jesus’ compassion for these folks, the have-nots of his time. Mark even says, “He had compassion on them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd.” God loves these people and desires them to eat their fill. Yet, it is not Jesus himself who feeds them: instead he commands the disciples to do that part. He blesses and breaks the bread, but it is the disciples who distribute it, feed the crowd, and collect the left-overs (12 baskets full!). Jesus loves, and that love manifests itself in Jesus’ workers caring for their neighbors.

In John’s gospel, the evangelist specifically mentions that because of this miracle, the people seek to take him and make him king by force, a “Bread King” as VH1 calls him (John 6.14). This is also what the tempter is offering in the wilderness. As Dostoyevsky puts it, “But seest Thou these stones in this parched and barren wilderness? Turn them into bread, and mankind will run after Thee like a flock of sheep, grateful and obedient, though for ever trembling, lest Thou withdraw Thy hand and deny them Thy bread.” If Jesus were to accept the tempter’s offer, he would have the undying obedience of a hungry world. For even today, when we are entirely capable of feeding every man, woman and child in the world with the food we produce, tens of millions of people are not guaranteed enough food to survive. Anyone who could guarantee that would be able to rule the world.

By suggesting that Jesus turn the stones to bread, the tempter is offering him the world. Jesus refuses because he does not want allegiance that has been bought and paid for, but allegiance that is freely given—in other words: love. After all, Jesus himself says that he has come to set people free (John 8.31-32). And, this is precisely what happens in John 6: he has fed the people, and they seek to make him king because of it.

Instead of allowing them to do this, Jesus turns the conversation to “food that endures for eternal life.” He does not want to be a Bread King now any more than he did in the wilderness; that was never God’s aim. God instead intends to nourish our souls, in spite of whatever difficulties we face in the world, to be not a Bread King, but a true King.

Dostoyevsky’s Grand Inquisitor has other ideas. In short, the Inquisitor argues that by giving humanity their freedom, God has sentenced them to suffering and unhappiness because in spite of our rebellious nature, we are constantly seeking someone to worship. He posits that a few should take the burden of absolute leadership, telling people what is right and wrong, how to act and think and behave, and that this would make them truly happy. Then, he says, they would not be burdened with figuring all these things out for themselves. He makes a quite convincing point based on history, and I’ll not try to recap it here. In the end, he says that these few will sacrifice their own happiness out of love for humanity in order to make the rest of them happy. “And so, convinced [that this is the way to make people happy], [the Inquisitor] sees that he must follow the counsel of the wise spirit [the tempter in the wilderness], the dread spirit of death and destruction, and therefore accept lying and deception, and lead men consciously to death and destruction, and yet deceive them all the way so that they may not notice where they are being led, that the poor blind creatures may at least on the way think themselves happy.” This happiness does not offer the rewards that the Kingdom of Heaven offers, but it does offer contentment and happiness now. He offers them the bread that fills the belly, knowing that he cannot give them the Bread of Life. He believes that the full belly is more important.

God’s love, however, extends beyond bread, beyond the full belly. Jesus says, “I am the bread of life. Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die.” The Inquisitor may be right, that people will follow anyone who can feed them, but God knows that bread is not all we need. Bread, like the manna, will only sustain us for so long. What sort of God would only give us what we want and not what God knows we need?

So, how am I to regard this? As a conscientious Christian, I believe I am called, with the disciples, to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, to speak for the voiceless, and to stand up for the oppressed. Yet, ultimately, these things are bread; vital to life, but not of lasting importance. It is the extreme of this reasoning which prompted Karl Marx’s famous observation that “religion is the opiate of the masses,” the pie-in-the-sky hopes of a better future which allows the bourgeoisie to exploit the proletariat now. I would agree: if all religion can offer is hope that “it gets better” without actually working for change now, then it is no better than a drug that lets people escape reality and ignore their problems for a short while.

However, VH1, Dostoyevsky, the gospel writers and Jesus all agree: bread is not the answer, a full belly is not the goal. In spite of Jesus’ assertion about the poor, it is well within our power to feed the world. We have the capability, and it is not beyond imagination that we might one day be able to do it. If we should accomplish this, what need have we for God? If social justice is the only aim and goal of the Church, we might as well be a social organization, an Easter Seals or a Habitat for Humanity. These organizations are vital and good, but they are not the Church. The Church’s aim and goal should bring the love of God to life. This love, if it is true, means caring for the body as Jesus did when he fed the crowds, cast out demons and healed the sick, but it also so much more. Contrary to the beliefs of the Grand inquisitor, Jesus knows that bread will never fill us. The sticky bit is suggesting that perhaps some or even all of the suffering and wanting in this world is worth the Bread of Life. Is it? Or is it a giant cop-out on the question of theodicy and social justice?

At the end of Matthew’s account of the feeding miracle, the people do nothing. It’s almost as if no one noticed! If there was a response, the author did not think it important enough to mention. What the evangelist does mention, however, are 1) Jesus’ compassion as the driving force behind the feeding, 2) his command that “YOU give them something to eat,” 3) and that there are 12 baskets of leftovers. God’s compassion is abundant, God’s love is abundant, but feeding people bread is not God’s job, it’s ours. And yet, it’s not even our only job. Remember why the crowds were there: Mark and Luke record that Jesus was teaching and preaching. He was bringing the good news of the Kingdom of Heaven. Matthew and John record that he was doing signs and curing the sick, and all record that it was Jesus’ compassion which drove him to do all these things. The crowds, whether they were there for the signs or for the bible studies, were drawn by Jesus’ love.

This is our goal and aim: to love as we have been loved. John record’s Jesus’ command “that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” Just as Jesus loved: both spiritually and physically. We must give bread, but we also must remember the Bread we cannot give. To Christians who focus too much on the bread, as I sometimes do, I suggest that perhaps we are paying too much attention to stones. And to Christians who focus too much on the Bread, I suggest that Jesus words, “YOU give them something to eat,” perhaps still ought to ring in our ears.

Enlightenment

As I was driving into Mt. Horeb today, I was listening to a podcast of Fresh Air. Terry Gross was interviewing a man who had a stroke and a woman who wrote a book about him and how the stroke changed his personality and the way he looks at the world. As I was listening, I had a thought.

Basically, when this man, Jon Sarkin, had his stroke, it primarily affected the left hemisphere of his brain. According to the author and researcher, Amy Ellis Nut, the left hemisphere is the “interpreter,” it takes all the information gathered by the right hemisphere and gives it meaning, translates it into linear story and thought, and helps us make sense of it. The right hemisphere, on the other hand, is then responsible for collecting sensations and experiences. I suggest it might be called the “filter” or the “lens,” because without it, the left hemisphere has nothing to translate. Sarkin, with his diminished left hemisphere, describes his worldview as constantly fresh, but because everything is always new, it also has no context; everything is also alien. Think of going to a new place. At first, everything is new and maybe kind of strange, but as you stay for a while, you get accustomed to it and it becomes familiar. For Sarkin, that sense of familiarity never sets in, the world remains new and strange. It is both exhilarating, but also tiring.

This got me thinking. Human beings have for centuries been seeking enlightenment in some form. (Note: I apologize ahead of time if I oversimplify or misrepresent the viewpoints I bring up here—I’m not an expert, I’m just thinking.) Buddhists, for example, seek a state of Nirvana, which is total transcendence of the self and a state of utter awareness, that is, to be “one with everything.” This sounds to me like what it might be like to experience only right-hemisphere existence. It seems like the goal of this sort of enlightenment is to transcend the meaning-making and logic of our minds and experience everything as it is.

On the other side of the spectrum is logic. The Greeks are perhaps most well-known for seeking this path, but we continue to see it pop up in current culture. The progress of computers (and the society that uses them, I would argue) is oriented to this goal, always aiming to be better, smarter, faster. Rationalist thought is experiencing a resurgence, seeking to use science and experience to understand the universe and looking down on religion as “superstition” or the answers we create for ourselves when we cannot the truth. Since the Enlightenment period, Western Civilization has sought to be more and more objective. Characters in science fiction, such as Cmdr. Data and Mr. Spock symbolize this reach for sheer objectivity. Objectivity and meaning-making are activities of the left hemisphere of the brain. This sort of enlightenment appears to be reaching for the opposite of spiritual enlightenment by seeking to transcend the right hemisphere and live in a state of utter logic and order.

So, I began to wonder: what if true enlightenment is to embrace the duality of our experience, to transcend neither left- nor right-brain, but to perfectly balance the two? It is at once both unremarkable and extraordinary: unremarkable because both halves working in tandem is the norm of human existence, extraordinary because we have a natural tendency to each favor one mode of experience over the other. That is, some people are naturally “left-brained” and others “right-brained.” (We use these terms to denote people who are either more logical or more creative, respectively, but of course everyone uses both halves.) What would this enlightenment look like? Would we all be striving to be what we aren’t, always seeking what is beyond our grasp? Or would it be an exercise in embracing our humanity, in striving to be more holistic individuals and understand ourselves better by understanding one another?

Just some random thoughts to start the morning…

Self-Promotion

I don’t know whether to blame it on my Lutheranism, my Norwegian heritage, or simply that I am who I am, but I have a very, very hard time promoting myself. Humility appears to be a core part of my personality. This is not a bad thing, in fact, I’m rather proud of it (IRONIC MUCH?) However, in life, it often makes things difficult. Most of the time, it’s small stuff. For example, I have a hard time accepting compliments. I frequently deflect compliments about my character or just clam up and don’t say anything. Not a big deal, but something people have noticed.

Where this trait becomes harder to deal with is in my professional life, particularly in the call process. As my wife and I prepare for ordination and call, we have to fill out all sorts of paperwork which asks about our strengths, weaknesses, talents, what we love, what we think about this, that and the other. The purpose of all this is to make sure that we end up placed at congregations which are a good match: the more they know about you from paper, the better idea they get of you as a pastor (in theory). This works the other way around, too, as we will start to look at the congregations’ paperwork.

Thanks to seminary, I have begun to learn how to market myself. I can now tell you what I’m best at and what I need to work on as a pastor. I can tell you all about my opinions and beliefs about certain congregational and church practices, contexts, etc. That gets me through the paperwork. I think it also helps that I don’t have to say it  to anyone face-t0-face (yet).

I mentioned in a recent post that I have begun a new sermon blog. I did this mostly to help potential congregations get a sense of my preaching, but also because I’ve had lots of people ask for copies in the past. So, since it’s something people have asked about, it shouldn’t be hard to let everyone know it’s there, right? Wrong. I am having the hardest time figuring out how to tell the congregation it’s there, because I can’t toot my own horn. The last thing I would do is announce it during worship (because I think it would be inappropriate), I don’t feel comfortable putting it in the bulletin, because I don’t feel like it merits that much attention…

Truth be told, I have the same issues about blogging in general. Why should I write all this stuff? Who wants to read all the thoughts that pour out of my head? Perhaps that’s part of the reason why I’ve been so lax in posting lately. And yet, there are some who continue to visit both this site and my new blog. Someday I’ll get the hint.

Perfect Cycling Weather

Bicycling is one of my favorite hobbies. I really got into it in college after I moved off-campus and started commuting. I realized that I could do more with a bike than I realized. I even decided to get a brand new bike (something I had not had since grade school) to get around. It was a 2004 Giant Yukon, a great mountain bike. I had the think for about 9 months or so before it was stolen. I was working at a church in Vancouver, WA for the summer, riding my bike to work and back. One day (it only takes once!) I forgot my bike key and left it sitting unlocked inside the back door of the church during Sunday worship. After church, it was gone.

The congregation felt so bad for me that they took up a surprise collection and replaced the bike for me. I got the same model with all the same accessories, totally thanks to them. It was a wonderful gift from some wonderful people.

Me and my Yukon at the Atlantic Coast in Maine

I had this one for about 6 years. It too was stolen (I figure it must be a popular model). This time it was locked up to the bike rack at the seminary in Gettysburg. It had been outside for quite a while (I was getting ready to take it in for the winter), and apparently somebody decided it wouldn’t be missed. They must have picked the lock as it wasn’t lying there cut or tossed in the dumpster. Boo.

After Steph and I settled in Watertown, I went to Budget Bicycles in Madison (thanks for the tip, Wil!) and got a 2010 Gary Fisher Mendota. Much lighter than my old mountain bike, it’s made for commuting. Of course, I had to include a cargo rack and fenders.

The new bicycle, ready to ride.

I also got a huge Kryptonite U-bolt lock that comes with a warranty: if the bike is stolen while locked up, they will pay you the cost of the bike. I’m not taking any chances.

Last fall I worked at a soil lab in town, 3 miles from the house: perfect for cycling. It was a nice 20 minute ride every morning and evening, and kept me feeling good. When winter hit I stopped riding, mostly because I didn’t have great winter riding gloves. (I used to ride year-round in Moscow, but the winters were milder.)

Now that I’m working at Trek, I try to ride whenever the weather is nice. That is a 12 mile commute, and takes me about an hour, but the route is beautiful and there are enough hills to be interesting but not enough to be daunting. If there is no rain and the wind isn’t too bad, I try to ride every day that I can. As an added bonus, I get credit towards buying Trek accessories every day that I ride. I estimate that for every week that I bike to work (3 days), we save about $15-$20 in gas.

Someday in the future when I work at a church, I would love to be able to ride to church and ride to hospital calls and visits. It helps me get out more and I just feel better in general. That is one thing that I will potentially miss about Watertown when we leave: it’s a very bike-friendly place, a lot like Moscow.

Boy, am I LAZY…

Well, maybe not lazy, but I’ve not been posting. Guh… It’s been just over a year since my last post… crazy.

I was seriously thinking about scrapping this blog, but I guess I’m not ready yet. And, apparently it’s still getting hits. Whoever you are who has been continuing to check this thing, I admire your dedication.

I have every intention of posting more regularly again, especially as Steph and I prepare to enter assignment,  but I have a poor track record for that sort of thing, so here’s hoping. In the mean time, here’s a summary of what’s happened since my last post:

• Got married. Lots of partying. Woot. After 2.5 years long distance, it was great to finally live with Steph. Even the semester at Wartburg was just warming up for the main event. Took our honeymoon driving to Great Falls for a reception, then up to Glacier NP for a few days, down to Moscow for a few days, then to Nebraska for some friends’ wedding. Great times, and after the two-week road trip, we were still married. Proof that we’re made for each other
• Moved to Watertown. Steph started internship and I tagged along. I got to be unemployed for a month or so, which was more fun than it should have been. I got to tend the garden and take care of our AWESOME house. It was nice, but then…
• Got jobs. Many of them. I started scraping paint off of a fixer-upper house for a guy from Steph’s parish. I got to set my own hours, which was nice, but the money was not quite enough, so I started at a beer distributor loading beer, liquor and Monster energy drinks onto pallets. I hated it, mostly because it was Weds-Thurs-Fri evenings, I think. Took a second job at a soils lab extracting minerals from soil samples. I had flashbacks to my time at the Rocky Mountain Research Lab in Moscow–way fun That was great, but smelled terrible (they also did livestock feed and manure samples) and was seasonal. That and the beer job dried up about the same time in December.
• Got more jobs. In Jan I started as a part-time, temporary Pastoral Associate (Associate Pastor, but not ordained) at a church in Mt. Horeb, WI, about 60 miles from Watertown. Bit of a hike, but a wonderful place with great folks. About the same time, I also started putting in shifts once a month as a Night Chaplain at Meriter Hospital in Madison. It’s good to be doing chaplaincy again,  I missed it. While in sem, I pulled shifts at University of Maryland Medical Center. I like Meriter, and it’s been great for getting to know clergy and other folks from the area. Plus, now that I’m also working at Mt. Horeb, I can visit folks from church while I’m doing my shift, which is nice. Then, in March, I started at the Trek Bicycle warehouse in Oconomowoc, WI, about 10 miles from home. On nice days I can bike in, and I get credit for it. I’ve already got Steph scared about how much bike stuff I’m wanting to buy…
• Celebrated a one-year anniversary. Holy crap.
• Filling out assignment paperwork. Getting ready for “the Draft” where the ELCA sends us to wherever. We’re both super excited, but there’s a lot of thought to put into the paperwork, first. Stuff about where we see ourselves, what our gifts are, what we’re best at, our sense of call, etc. Necessary, but a little intense.
• Started a new blog. Wait, I barely keep this one up, right? Well, the new one is all sermons. Everything I’ve preached since internship. I wanted to get them up for call committees to look at and also for friends/family/parishioners. If you are interested, check out Eutychus’ Window. If you do, feel free to leave comments, rate posts, etc as it would be a big help.

I really can’t wait to settle somewhere permanently (relatively) and serve a church as a real pastor. I’ve been waiting a long time, and it’s finally around the corner. If all goes well (fingers crossed), I am hoping that we’ll have a call for at least one of us between January and February of next year. More to follow…

Tetelestai

“It is accomplished!” (John 19:30, my translation)

I’ve got a lot of mixed emotions now after having gone through graduation. On the one hand, after 22 years solid of school with no break (internship didn’t count… I may have been working, but I was a student), I am more than ready to be done with education. I am also feeling ready to leave Gettysburg, as contrasted to my feelings on the matter when I left in January; now that my class has graduated and is moving on, I know that it is time to go, and I am ready.

However, I’m really going to miss those folks. Especially after spending time at Wartburg among another group of wonderful people, I have grown aware of just how awesome my class has been. We haven’t been perfect, but the way we interact with one another, the way we treat one another and the way we include one another have been really unique, and I’m going to miss that.

I am so amazingly happy that I got to come back and walk with them. When I graduated college, I skipped commencement altogether because I didn’t want to sit through 2 hours of names of people I barely knew to walk across stage and get a diploma from someone I’d never met. At Gettysburg, however, I had a personal relationship with every faculty member and nearly every person receiving a diploma. It was a time for me to not only celebrate my own graduation, but to be proud for my friends who had also made it.

Finally, I am also realizing that it is going to take some time for the fact to sink in that I now have a master’s degree; I remember that it was a month or two before I got used to the idea of having a bachelor’s degree, but I think this will take longer. The whole thing was made more real, however, when one of my classmates was ordained two days after graduation. I had the pleasure of being present for that, and it was a real delight to watch one of my friends begin serving in the way we’ve all been preparing for. It was also neat to call him “pastor.” Though I have to wait for a year or so before I can look forward to ordination, I’m excited for my class and my friends that we have finally accomplished this last stage of preparation in our lives before moving on to our true callings. Some of us will go on to higher education still, but for the time being, we’re all finally ready for ordained ministry, and for that, I am glad.

Re-Crucifying Christ

In honor of Holy Week, I’m posting some thoughts I had last summer while working on my final essay for my candidacy in the ELCA. I was specifically thinking of the stereotypes Christians have made for themselves (or ourselves) and the way those stereotypes can drive people away. If you find yourself in one of these two groups, please do not take offense and realize that my reflections here are an indictment of myself as much as anything. The point of the story of Christ expressed in Holy Week is that we are all culpable.

In my reflections, I have come to see that we as Christians have re-crucified Christ. Crucifixion was—and is—character assassination as much as it is execution: the one on the cross is the object of scorn and shame. We Christians, through our evil thoughts and deeds and hypocrisy, through our homophobia, through our holier-than-thou attitudes, through our heavy-handed religiosity, have nailed Christ to the tree as surely as did the selfishness and power-hunger of the Sanhedrin in Jerusalem. We who have been called upon to proclaim and represent Christ to the world have painted a picture of one to be despised and rejected. Through our sins against God and neighbor, our hubris, our dualisms and our hard-heartedness we have shamed the God of Love just as Jesus was shamed and humiliated on the cross. We have criminalized the Ultimate Innocence and perverted the Holy.

As a result of our selfish and misguided actions, many of those who might otherwise follow Christ shy away from the Son of Man because they do not wish to be associated with such a criminal and shameful icon. They see only the cross and not the one on it. Jesus had many followers who scattered when he was arrested, making themselves scarce out of an effort to save their own skin—even his closest followers fell away on that Thursday night. Likewise, many who hold many of the same ideals of Christ and who long for the kingdom of God (though they may not realize it) avoid and deny Christ now because of the shameful way he has been displayed by those who should be following him. They do not wish to be associated with the political and social messages tied to this re-crucified Christ.

Both we the Christians and they the atheists, agnostics, wafflers and secularists sin because of what we have done (or not done) to God for the sake of our own pride, our own reputations, our own sense of what is “right” and “True” and “orthodox.” Kyrie, Eleison! Lord, Have Mercy!

We Christians are Judas Iscariot and Caiaphas and Ananias the priests, so-called servants of God who betrayed and crucified God-with-us; they the others are Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea and Peter, friends and followers who fled or kept silent when their own skins were on the line. Where among us is John, the one disciple who had the courage to show up at the crucifixion?

In spite of the sin we each commit or in which we are complicit, Jesus nevertheless remains on the cross. It is the love of God that sends him there; not because God loves suffering or because punishment is due, but because it is only through this violent tragedy that the power of the shame, derision, and hatred are dissolved. On the cross, God proves that even such terrible evil as the crucifixion of God’s son—whether on the cross of Jerusalem or the cross of our modern Christianity—can and will ultimately serve God’s purpose. In spite of our rejection of Christ, he remains on the cross because he has refused to reject us.

Racquetball!

Table tennis is very big at Gettysburg, and I would play occasionally, but was never a real competitor. I could hold my own in a friendly game, but would consistently get beat. So, when a few of my friends started playing racquetball at the YWCA, I was too intimidated to learn with them.

Since I’ve come to Wartburg, I have been learning the game, though, and although I wouldn’t say I’m good at it, I do enjoy it. It makes me a little sad that I didn’t take it up earlier with my friends from G-burg

More Thoughts on Settling In

I’ve been at Wartburg for over a month now, and yet it is still not home. I don’t expect it will be. This is to say nothing against the people here; they have been great. However, I still feel very much like a visitor. Though I’m staying for much longer than the two or three days I’ve been here to visit before, I can’t help but feel like a stranger or a ‘resident alien.’

When I started at U of I and at LTSG, I was a part of a large group of strangers all coming in together. None of us knew exactly what was going on, so we all had to find our way together. Most of us had no previous connections to others coming in, and so it was easy to build those connections together. Even at LTSG when I came in after the rest of the class had been bonding for two weeks already during summer Greek, I was still there early enough in the life of the community to become a part of it.

Unlike those times, I have come in now to a community which is not only well-established and tightly bonded, but it is also dying. Not dying in a negative sense like it is falling apart or something like that, but it is nearing its end (at least of its current incarnation) and it is therefore focusing on itself. Again, I do not mean this to be a negative reflection on the people here. They have been warm and friendly, and I even have a few people here I would consider friends, but the community as a whole is not in the “accepting new people mode,” and I understand that. This fact does make it harder to think about what I left behind, however.

I feel a little bit like an orphan, I guess. I left my own community at a time when they are themselves dying, pulling together to spend as much time as they can together before we all head out. I also had to leave as they were preparing for regional assignment, the process where all the seniors get placed into regions, from where they get put into synods and finally congregations. Though I did not go through assignment, it was hard to know that I would not be there with them for an event that is full of emotion, both good and bad. As I witnessed the assignment process among the seniors here, I was mostly just reminded of how different ours would be at Gettysburg and how much I missed my friends.

Because I feel so outside here, I have been spending a lot of time on class reading, which is actually a helpful change from my academic lifestyle at Gettysburg. In spite of the fact I am only taking 13 credits here (12 is minimum for full-time, and I had 15 last semester), I feel busier than I ever did last semester. Some of that is workload, as I do have a class or two that are work- and reading-intensive, but mostly I think it’s the fact that I have far less social life here, so I spend more time working (or at least thinking about working). Another benefit of being so a home in a place that I never realized until I lost it.

In spite of feeling rather outside and apart, I’m not unhappy here; just a little uncomfortable. I think that this experience is far more like what it will be to enter into a congregation than starting either college or seminary were. Congregations tend to be more open, but towns are not. This is good experience for me to enter into a new community and find ways to occupy myself and fit in.

I am also insanely happy to be with Stephanie. In spite of all I lost when I moved, all the relationships I’m mourning, and all the activities I am missing out on, I know I’ve made the right choice. If I had it to do over again, I would still choose to come to Wartburg, even knowing how it would feel when I got here. Steph has been great during this whole thing; she’s been great at getting me to connect and interact with people and it has been beyond wonderful to be able to see her every day and get to know her again. After two and a half years of long-distance relationship, I am all the more grateful that when I say goodbye to her before class or at the end of the day, that I will see her again in a few hours rather than a few weeks.

So yeah, I get lonely, and I do still feel out of place here and think that I always will, but it’s worth it. I’m glad I came, even though I can’t say I’m always glad, and I am having a good time meeting new people and making new friends. Plus, spring is coming, and the fresh smell, melting snow and lengthening days are really lifting me up now. I can’t help but think that it’s very liturgically appropriate that all this is happening during Lent, because my isolation is making me a lot more introspective and my slightly lowered spirits go well with the season, but in a month or so we’ll be celebrating spring and Easter, and at the end of this semester, we have our wedding to look forward to, and I give great thanks for that.

From Pennsylvania to Iowa

It’s been way too long since I posted. Somehow, my recent move has spurred me to get back into the habit. I think it could be good for me to do this regularly again, given the circumstances. I started this blog as a way to keep up with folks from college after I graduated, and maybe it’s helpful for me to start up again as a way to keep up with folks from seminary, as well. I hope I can post more regularly.

I’ve moved from Pennsylvania to Iowa now. Stephanie is a student at Wartburg Theological Seminary in Dubuque, and after last (academic) year, we decided that we needed to really spend some time together before getting married. We’ve been engaged for almost two years now, but only about 4 months of that was actually spent in the same town. So, for our relationship, for wedding planning, and for the sake of not having to miss each other all the time, we decided it was time for a change.

Long story short, we decided it would be easiest for me to take my last semester on exchange at Wartburg. So, I spent as much time as I could last semester being with my Gettysburg friends and enjoying my time there, and at the end of January, I moved to Dubuque.

Overall, I’m very glad I came. Of course, I’m very happy to be with Stephanie now and to be done with the long-distance part of our relationship. That alone makes this all worth it. I also have a unique opportunity to experience a different set of professors and a different campus environment for a semester. I also get to have real winter, which I have missed in PA.

However, I now find myself in the position of being in my first semester in a new place, not knowing many people, and having to find my way into a community again. This is complicated by the fact that this is my last semester, and in 4 months, I will say goodbye to all these people, many of whom I will not see again. Just as on internship, this does not provide me with a lot of incentive to build relationships. If it were not for Stephanie and the few friends of hers that I know reasonably well already (including my two new roommates), I would be very, very lonely. Thankfully, knowing a handful of people here (one of them my fiancee) is enough to keep that from happening.

After my first half-week, I’m enjoying it. I’ve had to learn my way around campus again, but people have been very friendly and I am enjoying my classes. Some are going to be A LOT OF WORK, but most are pretty easy, and with only 13 credits, I should have time to get everything in.

So, I’m settled in and off to a good start. I hope the rest of the semester goes as smoothly as moving in did. I miss my Gettysburg crew, but I’m glad I got to have the time with them I did.

Big Day

I’m in Albany with Steph today. She’s in town coaching a high school forensics team, so I took my day off to come visit. It just so happens that my day to see her coincides with a very special date for us. Today is our (-1)st wedding anniversary.

NYC is cool

Previously, when I came to Manhattan with Steph, we saw Morgan Freeman while we were waiting to get into “Avenue Q.” Last night, at “Reasons To Be Pretty,” we saw Janel Maloney from “The West Wing” and Matthew Perry. Then, afterwards we passed Hank Azaria on the street as we walked back to the subway after leaving a bar. Sweet.

Holy Week and Easter

First: Christ is Risen! Hooray! Maybe I’m just a total church nerd, but I still think this is the best news all year.

So, Holy Week is over. This is both a relief and also a pleasant memory. Now with that behind us, we clergy-types can relax a bit. Well, at least the other ones can… I still have confirmation class to take care of! I don’t get to truly relax until after Confirmation Day on Pentecost (May 31), and by then I’ll be getting ready to leave Trinity.

The week started with Palm Sunday. PS was a nice service, and since it also fell on the first Sunday of the month, we got communion. Trinity only does communion once a month and on festivals, which is too infrequently for me, but is far more too infrequent for some of my classmates. When I mentioned to some of them where I was going for internship (a year ago—how time flies!), more than one said they refused to come here because communion was too infrequent. I sympathize. We had some minor snafus with the service on Saturday night, but we got them all worked out and it was a nice worship. I’ve never seen such a pile of palm branches as we had! It was quite the bundle, probably 10 pounds. Not much else to report on Palm Sunday, except that I got sore feet from standing for the entire reading of the passion narrative, twice, and standing for the entire length of the confirmation class in between services. I bought gel insoles this week, and they were worth it!

Maundy Thursday was very nice and minimally hectic. There were two services: afternoon and evening. We had our first communion at the evening service, and I always enjoy being reminded of the new commandment (i.e. mandate => maundy) from Christ: love one another as I have loved you. Too many Christians forget this, and it leads to all sorts of holier-than-thou hoity-toidy-ness. Grr. Anyway, it was great. Also, communion with bread and the little wine shot glasses. I prefer this to the intinction we normally use.

Good Friday was stark and somber, as it ought to be. We again had an afternoon service and an evening service, but unlike Maundy Thursday, they were not identical. The afternoon was a more or less typical GF liturgy, whereas the evening service was a tenebrae service, with darkness and candles being extinquished after each reading. As I have mentioned before, I greatly enjoy tenebrae. It really brings home the somberness of the occasion. The last candle was the Paschal Candle, which instead of being extinguished, was carried out, then back in for the end of the service. I did the carrying, which I also greatly enjoyed.

Saturday Vigil was one service, starting in dimness (not quite darkness), and I again carried the Paschal Candle back into the sanctuary. There was much rejoicing (mostly by me), and a rousing rendition of “Christ is Risen, Alleluia!,” my top favorite Easter hymn. I reflected on the timeless quality of Ezekiel’s vision of the valley of dry bones in Ez. 37 and thought about how we now could still use God’s revitalization in the church, how our bones are dry and in need of sinews and flesh.We again had Eucharist, which again made me happy.

Today was Easter, with three services: 6am, 8am, and 11am (normally services are at 8:30 and 11). I had to be up at 4 in the morning to get to church on time, but it was totally worth it. I preached today, and it really made the experience. I had to hold back tears at one point in my delivery. Easter really gets to me. I felt that God truly inspired me with a great sermon for this most holy of occasions, one in which I made a great deal of the importance of the Eucharist (which we again celebrated, of course—again, me=happy). On top of all this goodness, our organist and I are apparently on the same wavelength when it comes to Easter music. The hymn I mentioned earlier, “Christ is Risen, Alleluia!” is one he always works into the postlude at funerals. We sang that one, along with my other two favorites, “Thine is the Glory” and “Jesus Christ is Risen Today.” Because we had three services, we sang all three of these hymns three times each. It was a Triply Trinitarian Triad of Tremendousness

I felt pretty worn out by the end, but it was all great. It totally made up for my Easter experience two years ago in my teaching parish where, on Easter Morning, the adult Sunday School class learned from Dr. James Dobson how to prevent homosexuality in boys… :’( yech.

As much as I love Easter, and have loved this Easter in particular, I have to say that right now I’m even more excited about Steph coming tomorrow

I want to ride my bicycle

(a nod to Queen)

I’ve been having difficulties doing that this year. As I have mentioned earlier, I can’t really ride anywhere from my apartment. What I did not mention was that last fall, I located a rail-to-trail about 30 miles south of me and set out to ride upon said trail. I tuned up my bike, got her humming like new, and drove 45 minutes down there to ride. I parked the car and unloaded the front tire, only to find that it had blown out during the trip. D’oh. All things considerd, though, it was much better than blowing out while I was riding it!

I got new tubes and tires at the closest bike shop this winter, which is located in Hamburg, also about 45 minutes away from me (inconvenient!). I finally put the tires on a couple weeks ago and took a little ride around the housing development behind my apartment complex. It’s small, but I had a nice 15 minute ride.

Monday of this week, I took the ol’ bike out again because the weather was just too nice not to. I rode into the development again and when I got to a dead end, I saw a fairly steep, rocky grade down the hill into the woods. I decided to ride down and explore. As I poked around down there, I tried to ride up a smaller trail into the trees and *SNAP*, there goes my bike chain. I checked, and one of the links totally pulled out. Damn. I had to push my bike all the way back to my house (after riding maybe 10 minutes), but I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. Thank God I was in a good mood, otherwise I could have been seriously pissed off.

Thankfully, I have another length of chain I randomly found on the side of the road in Pullman once, so I can splice a few links in until I can make it back down to Hamburg for a new chain.

In other news, I’ve decided to burn some gasoline this weekend. Tomorrow I’m headed down to Harrisburg to see what I can get from the Augsburg Fortress store there, since AF is closing all their stores except the main one in Minneapolis. If this one is still open, I can get some crazy discounts there. Also, Saturday I’m making a spontaneous trip to DC to see the cherry blossoms. I realized last month that this year will probably be the last chance I have to see them. I was going to go tomorrow, but the weather in DC is going to be crappy, so I have to go Saturday, even though I have to be back for church Saturday night. It’s 6 hours of driving and 2 hours of cherry blossoms, but dammit, I’m going to go for it.