The Shack

Apparently, everyone is reading it. "The Shack," by Wm. Paul Young. I'd barely heard of it. I saw it at Costco. I bought it because I was sure it was the next month's book club book. It wasn't. I read it anyway.

The premise (from the book jacket): a young girl, Missy, is abducted on a family camping trip; evidence found in a remote shack suggests she's been murdered. Years later, her father, Mack, receives a note, apparently from God, inviting him back to the shack for a weekend.

If you haven't read it, don't let me spoil it for you. Perhaps you'd best stop reading.

Okay?

I'm pretty suspicious of these pop-culture religious books. I mean, who is this author anyway? Has he read Pannenberg and Tillich? Where's his credentials?

There've been a number of these types of pseudo-religous culture books: Da Vinci Code, The Secret, anything by Joel Osteen, even Oprah qualifies. So I was wary. Got out my Lutheran microscope.

The story is compelling. It's hard to resist being drawn into the character portraits of Mack, wife Nan and their 5 children. The writing is a bit forced with descriptive adjectives but the story line makes up for it.

Mack goes to the shack and finds God. All three of them. (SPOILER ALERT!) God is personified as a large African-American woman who likes to cook, the Spirit is Sarayu, an Asian woman who floats about and emits bright and colorful lights, and Jesus is, well, a Middle Eastern carpenter with a big nose. What did you expect?

I like God in this portrayal. All three of them. I love God as an African American woman who gives big hugs and cooks tasty greens. God also tells Mack she's especially fond of him...and everyone else. I love a God who cooks buttery scones!

During his time with God at the shack, Mack works thorugh his anger and moves toward forgiveness and healing. It's a beautiful journey, with an intriguing portrayal of Sophia, Lady Wisdom. I appreciated the work Mack does around forgiving Missy's killer. We all know (at least in our heads) that holding onto anger only turns our own hearts black.

Mack also learns the nature of God. It's all about dropping personal agendas and trusting in God. Here's a quote of which I am especially fond. Jesus, the Jewish carpenter, is talking to Mack: (p. 181-2)

---------

"Remember, the peple who know me are the ones who are free to live and love without any agenda."

"Is that what it means to be a Christian?" It sounded kind of stupid as Mack said it, but it was how he was trying to sum up everything in his mind.

"Who said anything about being a Christian? I'm not a Christian."

The idea struck Mack as odd and unexpected and he couldn't keep himself from grinning. "No, I suppose you aren't."

They arrived at the door of the workshop. Again, Jesus stopped. "Those who love me come from every system that exists. They were Buddhists or Mormons, Baptists or Muslims, Democrats, Republicans and many who don't vote or are not part of any Sunday morning or religious institutions. I have followers who were murderers and many who were self-righteous. Some are bankers and bookies, Americans and Iraqis, Jews and Palestinians. I have no desire to make them Christian, but I do want to join them in their transformation into sons and daughters of my Papa, into my brothers and sisters, into my Beloved."

"Does that mean," asked Mack, "that all roads will lead to you?"

"Not at all," smiled Jesus as he reached for the door handle of the shop. "Most raods don't lead anywhere. What it does mean is that I will travel any road to find you."

-----

Not bad, theology. Not bad at all.

O What fun with O Antiphons

I discovered the early church tradition of the O Antiphons this season.

Yes, I know my Catholic and Episcopal sisters and brothers have long known this lovely pre-Christmas tradition. But it's all new to me!

The joy of discovery is a good, good thing.

My spiritual director suggested I pray with the O Antiphons this season. In case you're a newbie to this like me, the seven antiphons are traditionally recited during vespers Dec. 17-23. This is a special time of Advent preparation.

The O Antiphons serve at least two purposes. Each one highlights a title for Messiah:

O Sapientia (wisdom)
O Adonai (Lord)
O Radix Jesse (root of Jesse)
O Clavis David (Key of David)
O Oriens (rising sun)
O Rex Gentium (king of nations)
O Emmanuel

Also, each one refers to Isaiah's prophecy of the coming of the Messiah.

I've been praying with each of these during my nightly prayer/meditation time. I like it. I like thinking of the diversity of names for the coming Lord. I like focusing on different aspects of the divine. I like singing one more verse each night of "O Come, O Come Emmanuel," where most of these names for Messiah are found.

So, in case you didn't know, now you do.

May Christ come to you in just the way you need this season.

Can I get a Witness?

After my previous post (rant) I'm now ready to tackle the lectionary readings for this coming Sunday, the Third Sunday of Advent, Year B.

I was somewhat unimpressed to discover that the Gospel (this time from John) is the John the Baptist text again (it was found in Mark last week). More preparing! More crying out! More straight paths! Pastor Glenn's sermon last week was entitled "For Crying out Loud!" I'm tempted to title mine this week "For Crying out Loud Part Duex."

Well, if we must return to J the B, perhaps there's something new in John's text. Perhaps it's about witnessing.

John's Gospel tells us there was a man named John, sent from God. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all would believe. He wasn't the light, he just testified to it. (John 1:6-8 paraphrase).

We're reminded the Bibical witnesses of Christmas were always witnessing to something other than themselves. They witnessed to the amazing things God was doing in the incarnation, the coming of Christ as a human. (Thanks, Bishop Mike, for this reminder!)

So when we witness (which we are called to do) we are not to witness so that we receive the glory or that our lights shine. We merely hold the flashlight up to what God's is already doing. Maybe we can help someone to see in the dark.

This morning on NPR's "Fresh Air," Terry Gross interviewed Frank Schaeffer, son of Francis and Edith, authors who helped link evangelicals to the anti-abortion movement. Schaeffer himself promoted the religious-policial agenda but has now renounced those teaches and has joined the Greek Orthodox church.

Schaeffer commented on growing up evangelical, where he was encouraged to witness to his faith and try to turn people to Christ at every opportunity. He said he would wait patiently while people talked about their families, friends, passions and work, and then jump into the more important conversations about whether the person knew Jesus or had been saved.

His point was that was always witnessing, always trying to turn every conversation into a talk about God.

Did he miss God's genuine movement? Did he find God in the other stories people told about their daily lives? Perhaps. Perhaps that's why he doesn't live this way any more.

So what does it mean to witness?

Perhaps a witness points to something beyond herself.

Perhaps a witness points out God's simple and powerful movements in all aspects of life.

Perhaps we really must stay awake this advent season.

Bypassing Happiness

Why do we bypass happiness and choose crankiness, worry and fear?

Perhaps it's just because I'm a pastor and thus a repository for people's complaints, both trivial and life-changing. Maybe it's the economic downturn or my congregation's veeeery tight budget for FY 2009 but I seem to be hearing lots of complaining and unhappiness lately.

I attended a yoga workshop a few weeks ago where the presenter began not with headstands or hamstring stretches but this question: If at our deepest center is this level of peace, quiet and calm (Sanskrit: Ananda, or bliss) then why do we spend so much time in these outer layers of the physical world, mental chatter, stories we tell ourselves and our reativity to others. Good question.

Here's my addendum/Christian spin: If at our core we hold the light of Christ and the Holy Spirit dwells within us, why do we live with such unhappiness, negativity, complaining and just plain whining? Why do we do it ourselves? (I am, of course, asking the question of myself, too.)

So why don't we choose peace, gratitude and contentedness? Do we even know we have a choice? Do we see that we are not the sum of the stories we tell ourselves? We are not our feelings. We are not our reactions. We are created as God's image and bear the Holy Spirit within. Why not live out of that?

Well, Pastor Lisa, (some say) because the world is a rotten place. I've lost $100,000in my retirement account and my husband ran off with a younger woman. Or, I've lost all control of my children's actions and I feel left out and lonely. Or, I hate the hymns at Central and no one sets up for coffee hour and why don't we have a fellowship committee and where are the children in worship?

Yes, I hear you. I am truly sorry for your losses. But complaint on these smaller items without action or follow through? Listen up folks, when you notice that somebody should be doing it, that somebody is probably you. Listen up folks. God is calling. I'm just the receptionist.

I went to see a parishioner today at Providence Hospital; she requested prayer before her triple bypass.

I entered the room in all seriousness of my pastoral office. How are you, I said with great worry.

"I am so blessed," she responded, smiling.

Her story: chest pains were misdiagnosed last week as high blood pressure. On a second trip to the ER yesterday, a smart doc realized she had major blockages in three arteries. If not caught, the doc said, the heart attack that was soon to come would likely have killed her. She expressed complete thankfulness to God and to her family for getting her this far. She was joyful, peaceful and ready to face the surgery and recovery.

She is the single happiest person from my congregation I have seen in weeks.

Why do we bypass happiness?

Where are our blockages?

What if we don't clean out those blockages?

Why do we bypass happiness?

Modern-day Deuteronomy

I preached on Thanksgiving, if you could call it preaching.

I basically re-wrote a Deuteronomy text (8:7-18) for a modern context. The original is addressed to the people of Israel. God reminds them that he has rescued them from slavery in Egypt and provided for them through wilderness journeys and into Canann. Now that they live in relative comfort and prospertiy, it seems they've forgotten God.

Does that ever happen in our world?

Thanksgiving is for remembering what God has done and for giving thanks. My re-write is below. Thanks for reading it :)

For the Lord your God is bringing you into a good land, a land flowing with glacier-fed streams, with alpine lakes and hot springs near Fairbanks, a land of moose and caribou, of blueberries and cranberries, of salmon, halibut and lingcod, a land where you may eat without scarcity, where you will lack nothing, a land where gold is found and from whose plains you may drill oil. You shall eat and hunt and fish your fill (or at least 25 dip-netted salmon per person per season) and bless the Lord your God for the good land he has given you.

But take care that you do not forget the Lord your God by failing to keep his commandments, remembering those less fortunate or congratulating yourself for being so smart. When you have shot and quartered a moose this season and filled up shelves with Costco bargains, when you have built a 3,000-foot house on the Hillside and a deck with new patio furniture, and when your stocks soared and your PFD got bigger, and you even find the perfect parking spaces, don’t become full of yourself and your things that you forget God.

For this God through Christ delivered you from slavery to sin and self-centeredness so that all people could live in hope. This God led our nation through world wars and the Great Depression, present in suffering, near at times of death.

This God walked with Alaskans through the journey from territory to statehood, through the terrible earthquake of 1964, through pipeline prosperity and the 1980s crash. Through oil prices high and low, through winter storms, deaths of loved ones, rising costs of living and summer bear attacks, God has been very near. God has fed you with his Word and through the love of others. Even when times were tough, God intended good for you.

So do not say to yourself, “My power and college degree and sound investment strategies and hard work have gained me all that I have. I’m rich! It’s all mine!” Think again! Remember that the Lord our God gave you the strength and persistence to create this wealth and, as we’ve seen in the stock market, it will not last nor will it save you. If you forget God and start worshipping gods of your own design (including the gods of fear, hoarding, scarce-thinking and blaming), then consider this your warning, this will be the end of you. I mean to say that when you forget to thank God, you’re pulling away from your source of life and healing, your center, your well-spring, your foundation. You lose the you you’re meant to be. So remember and give thanks!

Back to blogging

Dearest friends in Blogland-

If you're still out there, I'm back to blog some more. I somehow got bogged down with life. Since I last blogged, I've...

* Spent a whirlwind week in Iowa over Wartburg Homecoming (my alma mater) and saw bunches of family members. Also met my sister's boyfriend, watched the homecoming parade and generally just enjoyed being with my sister, who is a senior at W'burg.

* Lost my grandfather on Halloween. He was 90.

* Voted absentee (bummer, but at least my vote counted eventually)

* Went back to Iowa for another week for Grandpa's wake (election day) and funeral (nov. 5) Also should mention I watched election returns at a dive bar called Poor Dick's in New Hampton, Iowa, with my cousins. We drank pitchers of Miller Lite (the horror) and watched election returns on an impossibly small TV. Let me just say most of my cousins did not vote for the candidate I did. Oh well. Anyway, the next night they all wanted to eat dinner at the bowling alley (the food's real good, they said, but thankfully we went to a bar/grille instead. You guessed it. Miller Time.)

* Preached some sermons, visited some sick parishioners, tried to manage some anxiety about Central's budget without getting anxious myself (didn't work)

* Taught yoga, ran a lot, skied once.

So what's new with you?

Love,
Lisa

Why Pray?

A curious woman in the adult education class Sunday asked me this. Why pray, she asked, when God's in charge and we're not? Why pray for healing for someone else if God already knows the plans he has made for us? Why intercede? Does it do any good?

Great questions. Love them. Keep it up. Since, you asked, a few thoughts.

First, what is prayer? It means different things. Here's a good excerpt from a book by Philip and Carol Zaleski who wrote Prayer: A History, "...a recovering alcoholic reciting the serenity prayer, a Catholic nun telling beads, a child crossing himself before a meal, a quaking Shaker, a meditating yogini, a Huichol Inidan chewing on a peyote button, a Zen monk in satori, a Lubavitcher dancing with the Torah, Saint Francis receiving the stigmata, a bookie crossing his fingers before the race, Scrooge pleading for just one more change, dear God, just more chance."

Cool line up, I think. At Bible camp as a young counselor, I was trained to say "prayer is just talking to God." And I still think that's part but not the whole. It's also listening.

Maybe prayer is more. Maybe it's getting quiet, getting in touch with yourself, taking stock, being honest. In the Christian Century, September 9, 2008, Marilyn Chandler McEntyre, speaks of the power of prayer. She says prayer that works is "prayer that yields clarity, or insight, or a course of action, or leaves you more accepting of uncertainty. It can work by opening your heart in spite of yourself, or by enabling you suddenly to imagine a point of view other than the one you've been clinging to."

Perhaps this where the listening comes in.

But there is still this matter of why pray if God knows all and isn't changing God's mind?

We pray, then, to stay in relationship with God. We pray to stay connected. We pray to humble ourselves and remember that we weren't really all so much in charge anyway. We pray to practice trust and letting go, the essential practice of living.

So does it work? Well, yes, it works on us, but does it work for others, for healing or for the world? A doctor in our morning adult ed class reported medical studies that suggest patients with people praying for them do better than those with no known pray-ers. So does it work?

Prayer is an act of hope, and hope is good for us, deep down in our souls and, apparently, our bones. Does God change God's mind? Why does God heal some people and not others? These are unknowables. I still believe in a merciful God, not one who goes about zapping people with disease and affliction. Bad things just happen. Perhaps when we pray, we place our trust in the one who walks with us, through good times and bad.

Last things

How do you live when you're dying?

This is really everyone's story, but I guess most of us don't think of it unless the dying part is more imminent.

My book club read Randy Pausch's "The Last Lecture" as our September feature. I had to miss the discussion due to church conflicts, so I'll reflect here.

If you haven't heard of it, The Last Lecture is the story of Pausch, who died earlier this year of pancreatic cancer. He was 47 and a professor at Carnegie Mellon in human-computer interactions. He gave the lecture in Sep. 2007 (as his last). The book is based on the lecture and his story.

His lecture is entitled "Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams" and you can find it on YouTube. He's fun and funny. His dreams may seem child-like (float in zero gravity, play for the NFL, be Captain Kirk on Star Trek) but over his life he finds he does accomplish many of them (well, he played high school footbak and met Captain Kirk instead of becoming him). The lecture and the book are about his legacy to his kids but his words are also ways to live.

The book was a bestseller on NY Times. His death was covered by ABC, Time, the NY Times, Washington Post, LA Times. What is it about this story that has captivated us?

In part, I think, it's his honesty. One of the first slides in his last lecture is a CT scan of his liver, with arrows pointing to the tumors. He says it's important to point out the "elephant the room." He's funny, too. He gets down on stage and does a bunch of push-ups to show that, for a dying man, he's in pretty good shape. He even wrote the book (with journalist Jeffrey Zaslow) during phone conversations while Pausch rode his bike.

But there must be something more compelling. Many writers are honest and funny and they don't top bestseller lists. And while Pausch's advice is great (be honest, tell people you love them, don't waste time on important things, don't let brick walls stop you) we could find these proverbial thoughts elsewhere.

I think Pausch is so fascinating because our society shuts out death and dying. It's the place we don't go, publically. Pausch brings the reality (and hope, joy and fun even at the end) into public discourse. He embraces the nearness of death and lives fully in spite of it. He doesn't deny it, cover it up or get embarrased about it. Pausch lets us know it's okay to talk about death and it's okay to live even when you're dying.

After all, we're all doing it. Pausch might remind us we might as well enjoy life, then, while we have it.

Check out his Web site for more info, stories, and book details:

http://www.thelastlecture.com

On Generosity and Equality

Or, why we (secretly) rejoice at others' sufferings and begrude their successes. Come on, we all do it.

Jesus tells a Kingdom of Heaven parable in the gospel lesson for this coming Sunday (Sept. 21). He says the kingdom is like workers in a vineyard, some work a whole day, some only an hour, and all get the same daily wage. The landowner asks those who grumble, "Are you envious because I am generous?"

Well, yeah! It's not fair! Seems like when I work hard, I should be rewarded. That's what I learned on the farm, anyway. In this world, that's how it works. But God's kingdom is different.

God's kingdom isn't fair. Of course it isn't. If it was, I'd be in big trouble for every malicous thought, every white lie and every silent rage against those who frustrate me.

So the kingdom isn't fair. But it's equal. And it's good. God loves us equally. There's nothing I can do to make God love me more, nothing to make God love me less. God loves me (a long-suffering Lutheran pastor!) as much as the elderly prison inmate who comes to know Christ at life's end. Yeah, it's not fair. But God is good.

We do begrudge God's generosity, though we might better be grateful for it. It's hard sometimes to be rejoice for a friend's success or good news. It's easy sometimes to be secretly happy when the friend has a tough time. I remember when a long-term boyfriend ended our relationship during seminary (I thought we were getting married) and two weeks later my roommate/best friend got engaged. It was so difficult to be happy about anything, least of all for my friend. But somehow God surprised me and I could celebrate her engagement while I mended my broken heart.

Bottom line: God is recklessly, wildly generous. No matter if we're up or down, that abundant love is with us. No matter if our friends are up or down, that abundant love is with them. We have all we need; God fills us. This is God's kingdom: a place where things don't always make sense, but where God is still God. And good.

Politics, as usual

Less than two months until the presidential election and I am counting the days.

Yes, I want change (and both Obama and McCain promise to bring it). Yes, I'm weary of the current administration. But mostly, I'm ready for it all to be over. I'm tired of the speeches, the half-truths, the promises. And it's only mid-September.

I sat at a table of Lutheran pastors and lay leaders at a meeting yesterday. As we ate lunch and made small-talk, I noted there were different political persuasions. One man was disatisfied with both presidential candidates but said he would now vote McCain because of Sarah Palin. Another man expressed shock at this (I happen to know he's an Obama fan, though he didn't disclose this publically). Most people kept their opinions to themselves and just discussed the phenomena, especially around Palin, who we Alaskans have known for years.

What didn't get mentioned in our small talk was the question I have in my heart (though I will confess I've made up my mind for Nov. 4). The question is this:

How does a person of Christian faith decide for whom to vote?

Now, if you attend other churches in town, the pastor might just tell you. Though I think that violates their 501 (C) (3) status! Maybe they just tell you indirectly. We don't do those kind of shenanigans here at Central.

So I pondered this and here's what I think so far. I'd be interested to know your ideas. Those of you in Blogland, remember I'm Lutheran, which focuses my theological lens.

How to pick a president (or any political leader)

* Pray. I think God encourages us to pray for our nation's leaders and potential leaders. As with everything, it's better not to ask Santa-God for a wish list. Rather, we pray for leaders' discernment and for decisions and actions that promote peace, justice and equity.

* Get informed. So Lutherans trust that God gave us these fantastic brains for a reason. So use them! Read up on candidates and issues, watch the debates. Check out articles or memoirs by candidates. Try to read and study from different sources or non-partisan opinions.

* Listen to others. This one's hard for me. But I believe we are called to listen the ideas and opinions of others, especially our friends and family, and especially if they have ideas that are different. In this way, we honor that Spirit that is in all of us and promote unity (not uniformity) in the body of Christ.

* Consider the widow, the orphan and the stranger. My seminary Old Testament professor said this phrase was like a drumbeat through the whole Bible. God is interested in what happens to the weak, poor and downtrodden. Liberation theologians speak of God's "preferential option" for the poor. Jesus blesses them. It's hard to wade through the promises but see if you can discern where a candidate stands on issues of poverty and hunger.

* Thank God! Be thankful that we live in a place where we can exercise freedom to vote, speak and assemble. Regularly thank God for what is good in our country, even while praying for things to improve.

* Get involved. If you prayerfully choose a candidate or cause worth supporting, do it! Consider ways to be part of the process or give financial support. Christians need not stand outside of the political process. God's mercy and love can work in strange and mysterious ways (even polical systems!) Be hopeful that your passion can create a more positive world.

Dancing with a Nun

The wedding was private, the reception, a public contra dance.

I did a wedding on Saturday for a couple who've been attending Central with some regularity and plan to join. The wedding was small and private, in the small rose garden on Anchorage's Park Strip.

Then it was off to Alpenglow ski area for a wedding reception, contra dance and North Carolina-style BBQ (a nod to the bride's home state).

After a delicous meal (and even vegetarian beans and rice) the caller in a white shirt and black vest fired up the band and invited us onto the floor for a circle contra dance.

Though I was wearing my collar, I'd put on a swishy red shirt and comfy cute flats for dancing. I had a great time.

We lined up again for a line contra dance and I was without a partner. Since many pairs were both women, I didn't mind when a woman I didn't know volunteered to be my partner.

She said, "I'll dance with the nun."

I got very quiet.

"I'm not a nun," I said, more impassioned than I intended. "I just did the wedding ceremony on the park strip. I'm a Lutheran pastor."

"Oh. I thought you came dressed in costume as a nun."

Great. Now I'm a nun.

Earlier that night, an attractive man had asked me if I was a priest. Groan.

All in a day's work, apparently, when serving the Lord.

Maybe I'll be a nun for Halloween. Nah, too close to home.

Almost Famous (almost)

It's been a big week for Alaskan women, apparently.

I had a phone call from a friend on Friday. It appears I was named Runner Up as "Best Preacher" in the Anchorage Press (weekly news/entertainment rag, for those outside of Anchorage). They did a "best of" everything survey recently(restaurants, DJs, live music, politicians, etc). See the results at:

http://www.anchoragepress.com/site/basicarticle.asp?ID=809

Scroll all the way to the bottom to see the preacher list. Jerry Prevo (Anchorage Baptist Temple) seems to have edged me out for the number one seat.

So, I've had a few emails, facebook hits, phone calls since then. Is this how Sarah Palin feels? At least no one's looking in to my shady past...

Anyway, thanks to my friends or whoever out there who thought to nominate me. Maybe someone was silly or maybe serious. Regardless, it's cute and I'm flattered.

I'm also thoughtful.

The side commentary in the Press noted that most readers left this one blank. Others wrote "anyone but Jerry Prevo" (again for those outside AK, Prevo is famed for a bit of fire and brimstone at his mega-temple). Others put "God" or "nature" and apparently someone put "f--k this category." Huh. How about that.

What I ponder about this experience is the loaded nature of that word, "preacher." Somehow this category is a turn off, an abomination or a mystery to the readers of the press. What? Can't a girl like good, dark beers and know a good preacher? Can't I hang out at Humpy's and still hear a sermon the next morning?

And what does it say about our religious/cultural life that we have to hate Jerry Prevo rather than knowing anything about any other preacher in town? Maybe we aren't visible, aren't "out there" enough as churches, pastors, Lutherans.

Maybe I should hold office hours at Kaladi's. Or Humpy's. Or Darwin's Theory. Maybe I'll see you there. Maybe I won't even preach.

To Have Without Holding

This is my sermon title for the weekend (Aug. 31) and also the title of a great poem by Marge Piercy. She writes:

Learning to love differently is hard,
love with the hands wide open, love
with the doors banging on their hinges,
the cupboard unlocked, the wind
roaring and whimpering in the rooms...

I loved her poem title because it reminded me of all we cling so tightly to in our world of scary times. We cling to our hopes, market predictions, expectations of other people, our achievements and ideas of how the world should be.

What if, instead, of clinging, we loved differently, with hands wide open?

The Bible text for Sunday is all about Jesus telling the disciples not to cling to their lives, lest they lose them but rather give up their lives for Christ to find them.

I loved this online commentary by artist and writer Jan Richardson:

"Jesus compels us to find the particular path that will enable us to do the work of giving up all that separates us from God, from one another, and from our deepest selves. As Peter learned, this includes releasing our desire to dictate the actions of others in ways we are not meant to do, and letting go of our attachment to outcomes that lie beyond our control. “To have without holding,” poet Marge Piercy puts it. In one of the great paradoxes of the spiritual path, it’s this kind of denial—this kind of detachment—that makes way for our deepest connections.

So what are you attached to just now? How do you know when a treasured expectation, desire, or relationship has become a stumbling block? Who or what helps you recognize these blocks? What might you build from them? Can you imagine what lies beyond them?" (found online at: http://paintedprayerbook.com)

Amen, I say. And check out my sermon, inspired by Jan, this Sunday at Central Lutheran, 9:30 AM.

Taize trip!

Want to go to France?

Here at Central, we've been worshipping in Taize style every 1st and 3rd Thursdays at 7 pm. This service takes a break for summer but will continue Sept. 18. (We also do Holden Evening Prayer on 2nd and 4th Thursdays, same time, this starts Sept. 11).

Anyway, Taize is a way of worship and also a place. Started during WWII era as a refuge for Jews and others, it is now a community where brothers of many faiths live, work and pray. The community also hosts lots and lots of young people, who come for a week to live, work, pray, sing and do Bible studies.

By the way, Taize is located in southeast France, nearest to Lyon on the west or Geneva, Switzerland, on the east.

Taize music is chant-based and repetitive. It becomes a prayer set to music. Worship includes prayer and a time for silence. Participants are encouraged to be open and listening for God during these times. I find the worship services we do here to be very powerful.

The "young adult" program at Taize is for folks aged 18-30 (though others are welcome to visit) and includes a somewhat-structured week, Sunday through Sunday. Young adults from all over the world gather for prayer three times a day, do a Bible study with one of the brothers (in a very diverse group) and help with community chores like cleaning or serving food.

Taize is meant as a place of reflection, worship, discernment and fellowship.

So, here we go. I plan to lead a group of Central young adults to Taize this March, probably March 15-22. The target age is 18-30; I'd like to keep the participants in this age group to respect Taize's structure. (Yes, I know I'm older, but that's okay because I'm the "chaperone," says the Web site :)

Want to join us? Know anyone else who's interested? I already have about 4 women interested and there may be others. Participants would buy their own plane tickets (though we'll do some fundraising to help folks out). The cost of staying at Taize is minimal (about $12 USD per day);Central may be able to help with that.

So ponder this opportunity.

And join us for Taize worship on Sept. 18!

Resurrection and the Real World

A friend from seminary is writing her approval essay (the final paperwork to get approved to be a real pastor...oh and you also have to graduate from seminary).

She asked me yesterday for some feedback on one of the questions. The question asked the writer to reflect on Jesus' death and resurrection, using your own thoughts and also connecting it to the Lutheran tradition.

My pal was a bit concerned, she said, for while she (of course) appreciated the resurrection, she found she had more of an incarnational focus. (For you non-church-geeks out there, that means more of a focus on the miracle of Jesus' birth, rather than the whole "rose from the dead" gig).

Well, at this point, I promptly told her to join the Catholic church.

Just kidding.

See, as Lutherans, the deal is, we really are Jesus people. We love God and the Holy Spirit a whole bunch but we tend to focus more on Jesus and his resurrection.

Well, my friend said, this is all well and good, but when we focus on resurrection, we usually have to get into theories of atonement. (Another fancy church word, which means what Jesus did -- died--- to atone, or make up for our sins. Jesus washed away our sins or insert your own favorite image here).

My friend isn't a big fan of atonment theories.

And I can see her point. The classic atonement theory is the "Christus Victor" model, a la theologians like Aulen, who speak of Jesus as this cosmic warrior who fought sin and death and the power of the devil and conquored them on the cross. Thus, this sacrifice of love appeases God's pending judgment upon us. Instead of looking at us in anger when we mess up, God sees us through Jesus' sacrifice and we're all okay.

It does smack of militaristic, conquoring, fighting language, eh? Which I don't particularly care for either. Jesus didn't present himself as much of a warrior. Come on, he was a lover, not a fighter.

But my friend still wanted to know: what would I say about the resurrection? And I belive I'd say this (and I did, to her and now to you, gentle reader).

I do believe in the resurrection. (I think I've blogged about this before, sorry if it's a repeat). I don't know why it happened and I'm not sure if God exactly planned it out that way since the beginning of time. Maybe Jesus just came into the world and loved people and spoke the truth and so of course he got killed. But God knew he could renew and transform such a loss, such an end.

So that's the kind of resurrection I really believe in. I believe in the power of resurrection. I believe that when the worst happens, it's not the last word. God's love and power to transform and bring life out of nothingness is always the last word. I believe that when we are stuck in life, in despair, in turmoil or just plan soaked in apathy that resurrection can break through and God's love will transform even the worst of situations. I believe this will my whole being.

Resurrection gives us hope. Even when we face death, we have hope, because God is still with us. There is always hope. That's what resurrection means to me.

Remembering Bonny Sosa

Bonny Sosa died on Thursday, Aug. 7 of a brain tumor that was just barely diagnosed. She was 50 years old and an active, healthy runner and yoga practitioner. I knew Bonny as a friend.

Her memorial service was Friday, Aug. 15, here at Central. There were about 400 people present, from diverse parts of the Anchorage world. People came from the Anchorage Convention and Visitors Bureau, because Bonny had worked there. People came from the mountian running community because Bonny helped establish a race series. People came from the yoga world because Bonny was a registered yoga teacher. People came from the school district, because Bonny and husband Sam Young had established and grown the Healthy Futures program for kids to stay active. People came from all over, because Bonny was raised here in Anchorage, where her parents and family still live.

I asked a pastor during seminary if memorial services get easier once you've done a few. Nope, she assured me, they get much harder.

There is very little I can say for sure in times of loss. I just say "I'm so sorry." I assure people of God's constant presence and love; God holds us in life and in death. It's not much, but I hope it's enough.

Death is a good time for storytelling, I will say that. It seems somehow comforting and healing to know these vivid stories of our loved ones live on after they have gone beyond the veil.

The stories were great at Bonny's memorial. She was kind, compassionate, warm, inviting, encouraging and positive. It was fun to get to know her better from stories shared.

The presenters of those stories were pretty diverse and maybe that was the best part. One yoga friend commented after the service: Where else in town can you attend a memorial where the pastor is a yoga teacher, the superintendent of schools (Carol Comeau) and an Olympian (Kikkan Randall)share remembrances and the congregation sings Amazing Grace accompanied only by a harmonica played by the owner of The Look? (That's a lingerie and more shop, for those outside of Anchorage :)

Bonny's life was very, very good.

Her husband said her office told something about her. The walls were plastered with inspirational quotes, like "If you're going to do something, do it with passion" and "Never walk when you can skip." Where were her many awards, he asked? She hid them under the bed.

Finally, this word I shared in my sermon: For God so loved the world, that he gave us Bonny.

It's not fair!

The theme for camp this week is justice, or "Just for Life," as our sweet blue T-shirts say. It's good stuff: parables about God's amazing generosity and forgiveness. But's it's also a bit abstract, I think, for some of these third-graders. Ah well, at least if they know that God loves them no matter what, it's a good start.

Camp is going well, I think, now that we're three days in and into a routine. I work with the Koinonia (jr high) side of camp, so here's typical day:

Breakfast
All-camp morning worship (which I'm leading now, since Pr Martin left)
Bible study (also me)
Environmental game/teaching (Erik Johnson, sometimes me)
Lunch
Quiet time (with cabins)
Free time (Kids rotate between crafts, gym, waterfront, camp store)
Dinner
Staff Meeting
Small group time and journaling (which is torture for some boys)
Games
Campfire (let by older counselors, pastor gets to pontificate some)

So here are some cool things about camp: watching high school kids lead small group Bible conversations (way to go Drop in Center guys!), hearing kids sing Bible songs really LOUD, seeing how proud kids are when they pass their swimming test (burr, cold water!) and watching friendships form.

My favorite moment yesterday was when I was sitting at lunch by myself (the adult table was full) and two little boys and one counselor (Thanks Nick!!) came to sit with me. It was pretty precious.

Yesterday's curriculum was about the parable of the workers in the vineyard...how the wealthy landowner paid those who labored all day the same wage as those who came to work late in the day. It's not fair, was the theme. Which I thought was appropriate, because this is so common for kids to say...and adults too. Someone (an adult) commented that this is a very Western way of being...we worry about fairness. I wonder if that's true? Anyway, who knows how much these kids get out of these things, but I guess we just lay these things on their hearts and someday, when they break, maybe the Word will gently seep inside.

Bible camp on a shoestring

I'm spending this week at Lutheran Bible Camp, located at Victory Bible Camp about 100 miles north of Anchorage. This is my first time at this camp, though I worked as a camp counselor in college at a Bible camp in Iowa (Go EWALU!)

About 35 junior high kids are here this week, along with about 50 elementary-aged kids (that's a rough estimate). Kids and staff are from a number of Anchorage churches, with the majority being from Central, Good Shepherd in Wasilla and St. Mark's.

So we're a little short-staffed this year. We have a lower number of adult volunteers than usual and are down several staff and pastors who have previously led camp. In fact, there are only two pastors here right now (Martin Eldred from Joy and me... and he's leaving today after lunch.) So, I feel blessed to be able to be here and use my pastorly gifts and generally share God's love, hang out, etc. It's good to be at camp.

The kids really love this experience, though some of the older ones have commented things seem less organized this year (because they are!) Still, for many kids, this is THE pivotal faith experience and encounter with God they will name. Camp matters and I can see it in how they engage in the activities. It's pretty cool to hear a group of young people singing so loud in praise to God.

I'm truly bummed we don't have more kids here from Central. We have one in the Alpine (elementary) program and three in the Koinonia (jr high) program. In addition, five of the counselors are young people from Central's drop in center. I gues this is saying something about the DIC: those kids stick around and participate...and where are the rest of our High Schoolers? There's no judgement in this remark, I just wonder why more Central kids and counselors aren't here.

I think I might make this mandatory for Confirmation kids next year. In terms of value of faith experience, they might get more out of this one week than two years of classes. Just a thought.

Anyway, the weather was beautiful yesterday (Day 1) and the kids enjoyed horseback rides and swimming in the afternoon. Yes, outdoor swimming in Alaska in August. These kids are tough. I'm not getting in that water :)

I'd love your prayers this week...for our stretched-too-thin camp staff and our kids, that they might feel God's love this week. Oh, speaking of staff, big shout out to Sue Tonkins and Karen Emmel from Central, who stepped up to spend the whole week here at camp, to be nurse and craft person, respectively. And we can't wait to get Holly Emmel here...she'll be here tomorrow, after finally getting out of Seattle due to Alaska volcano delays. Is not Alaska grand?

More from camp later...

A Terrible, Horrible, No-good, Very Bad Day

With apologies to the author of that children's book, I had a rotten day on Saturday, July 26. Yes, I know this is not my personal diary; it's supposed to be a blog of potentially inspiring cultural and theological observations.

But maybe I can make a theological point at the end.

Anyway, my brother Jay was visiting for the past three weeks and just left last Wednesday (July 30). We did quite a bit of traveling (including a week-long mission trip) and site-seeing and I was still trying to work as much as possible, see my other friends and keep up my training for a fall marathon. I was exhausted toward July's end.

I went on a long training run in Kincaid, where it poured rain the entire time I was out there (1.5 hours). When I came back to the chalet, I discovered my car key had fallen out of my pocket. I called a friend who has my spare to come get me. While I waited for my friend, I decided to check out a portion of trail where I thought I might have lost the key. Running just a few minutes away from the chalet, I came upon a woman stopped by a black bear cub. We shooed it into the bushes on one side of the trail, then noticed a mama black bear on the other side of the trail. Oops. We shooed her away too and ran for the chalet.

Now I want to point out that I am weary of bears. This is the first one (two) I've seen this summer. My very favorite and regular place to run is the trails near Hilltop ski resort. But since there have been so many reported grizzly encounters, I have stopped running there. I'm trying to give the bears their space. Which is why seeing them at Kincaid was such a bummer. Come on! I'm trying to be bear sensitive! What's a runner to do?

Anyway, I came home, showered and prepared dinner. While chopping mint leaves for the tabbouli, I sliced my left middle finger quite thoroughly, spattered blood all over the kitchen and had a friend drive me to the Emergency Room. I couldn't feel the end of the finger at all, which concerned me. But the ER doc just super-glued me back together. He said I should get most of the feeling back in a few weeks; right now a week later its still quite numb.

So, am I just a whiner? Maybe. We all have bad days, many so much worse than my minor complaints. But it just reminded me that when summer gets busy with vistors, travel, outdoor pursuits that its easy to run so fast we miss the little things that really are the big things. Like the kindness of my friend who picked me up at Kincaid. The tangy taste of the tabbouli (minus the bloody mint leaves). The gentle sound of the rain that leaves Kincaid so freshly green.

I'm reminded to slow down. And be more careful with my kitchen knife.

Brevig Mission, Days 2-8

Well, shoot. Just when I'd planned to blog everyday in Brevig Mission, the Internet at the church went down.

About three days later it still wasn't working. Then I found out there was one computer with free Internet at city hall. Which almost always had a line. And the one time I did use it, there was a swarm of children around me asking questions. And I was almost late for Bible school.

So I have no daily blog report to you from Brevig, I'm sad to say. But I do have some closing comments.

Every year is different: different group dynamics, different Bible stories and some different kids. Every year is the same: Brevig folks are eager to welcome us, I notice how the kids have grown, and we build relationships old and new.

This year, almost 80 kids registered for VBS. We had 50-60 most days, though some came and went. We did VBS from 2-4 pm (four days) and this year added Teen Night from 7-9 pm (three nights). This made us busy but increased the "quality time" spent with Brevig people.

The team of folks from Anchorage (and my brother) was just amazing. They made crafts, acted out Bible stories, sang songs, led games and just loved those kids in Brevig. Many hours of free time were spent entertaining the kids. We took turns in groups cooking, cleaning and leading devotions. And we learned to live together even though there were 11 people sharing two empty bedrooms (and some living room floor space).

My highlight this year was truly the teens. I was delighted that they actually came to the teen nights and asked for more time with us. It really wasn't so much about the programming we did. We merely created opportunities and structure for community and the teens used it to engage others and themselves.

One night, we invited two teenaged drummers (Travis and B-Boy) to drum and the girls to dance. (Some boys dance too). It's called "Eskimo Dancing," and the dances connect with traditional activities like building an igloo, ice-fishing, hunting walrus and welcoming friends. Each time I visit, I find a sacred space in the pounding of those drums and their hauntingly beautiful chants. There is poetry in the dancing, those graceful flowing motions that connect thier present reality to their past ancestors.

I met Travis (one of the drummers; he's 18) four years ago when I first came to Brevig. He was so much shorter and so eager. He would follow us around the village, ask a dozen questions, tease us and visit until the wee hours. Now, he's a man and a leader among his peers. I felt a swell of pride to see him dance, drum and chant with authority.

Everything slows down in the village. That's perhaps what I love best. We are there primarily to just be, just be with people and with each other. The mystery of God's spirit unites and sustains us. I don't get as worried or anxious in the village as I do at home. I wonder what this means.

For next year, I have a vision. Based on conversations with Pastor Brian, I'd like to involve Brevig residents (especially the teens) in the planning and leading of VBS. This could be done over email, in a spring visit to Brevig, or in a planning meeting once we arrive and before VBS starts. I'm excited to see this increased ownership and partnership grow.

Enough for now. Thanks for keeping the people of Brevig in your prayers.

Brevig Mission, Day 1

Hello from Brevig Mission, Alaska, just under the Arctic Circle. This is the first of a series of blogs about the Central Lutheran Church (and friends) trip to lead Vacation Bible School for a week in this Inupiat native village.

This is the third year Central has taken the trip. It's my fourth year, as I went with Amazing Grace Lutheran in 2004.

Our team this year consists of 11 people: Joyce, Shannon, Marilyn (a guest from St. Andrews' in Eagle River), Lawrence, Donovan, Merri Lynn, Lisa N, Ted, Karen, and Jay (my brother who lives in the OC, California. He thinks this is really cold!)

Let me tell you how we got here. First, we flew Alaska Air to Nome, each checking group luggage (food, crafts, supplies) as well as personal luggage. We bring all our own food and stay in the church parsonage with Pastor Brian Crockett.

We arrived in Nome on two separate flights yesterday (Saturday, July 12). It was raining and blowing sideways. We saw the sights of Nome (storefronts and the museum). One of our members (Donovan) found out he was actually related to the host at the museum...small world!

We lunched at Airport Pizza, a great all-around dining establishment. Their feature is that they take orders from villages and will put a piping hot pizza on the next plane so villagers can dine on their fare. Yum!

We drove to Teller from Nome, a 60-mile drive along mostly gravel roads. Though the clouds settled low, we could still see lush green hills and clear, flowing streams. Merri Lynn points out that many of the rolling hills remind her of Iceland. Along the way, we saw a herd of reindeer and one lone musk-ox. We also saw fishermen catch salmon at a stream. We only stopped briefly at the creek at Wooley Lagoon, where on sunnier days, I've seen Pastor Matt (from Nome) drink right from its clear waters.

Landing in Teller, we thought we'd stay overnight there. But the parsonage was full of construction workers building the village's new clinic. So, we hopped in Pastor Brian's Lund aluminum boat with outboard motor and he took the first load of folks across to Brevig. He dropped off Joyce, Merri Lynn and Marilyn at a fish camp where he'd left his Honda (ATV) and Joyce drove it (fast!) back to Brevig town site. The rest of the boat (Lawrence, Donovan and Pr. Brian) boated all the way to the town site. There were also three Brevig villagers whom Brian dropped off at fish camp. The 7-year-old boy hopped out of the boat, grabbed a fishing pole and almost immediately caught a salmon.

Brian eventually came back for the last three (Shannon, Jay and me). We were wondering if he'd ever return! We had a chilly but pretty boat ride over to Brevig. This year, we all wore lifejackets. The folks in Brevig almost never do. However, I'd just done a funeral for a man who drowned on the Kenai because he didn't have a life jacket. So we wore the PFDs.

In Brevig, we were greeted by folks fishing on the beach and a musk ox hide hanging from the outside of the church. I got to drive the Honda to the beach and back to haul luggage. I had forgotten how to drive it (and Lawrence got to learn for the first time!) so the kids showed me how. Very humbling!

Inside the church, women were decorating for a wedding to be held today (Sunday) at 2 pm. We hope to be invited but won't insist :) We asked a little girl whose wedding it would be. She said, "My mom and dad!"

Our evening ended with a great chiil supper (thanks Joyce!) and evening devotions.

Four weddings and a funeral

Actually it was just one wedding but it always feels like more.

I did a wedding and a funeral last week, both for people I'd never met. This is a strange thing.

I was on-call for Alaska Native Lutheran Church, with whom we share this building. Pastor Karen Sonray was on vacation, as was my senior pastor Glenn, so it fell to me.

It feels good, actually, to be with people in life passages. It's one of my favorite things and I've heard other pastors remark similarly.

It's also odd to be in peoples' intimate spaces when you've never met them before. Much of the time before the events starts with introductions and trying to figure out who goes with who. The sermons aren't as good because they don't come out of genuine relationship. The time mingling afterward is a little awkward; I'm glad for my collar which makes it obvious to everyone why this unknown person is still floating around drinking punch.

So what's the point of this blog entry? Mostly just to say that now that I've been at Central for almost three years, I forget the pleasure of the networking and relationships I enjoy here. I take it for granted that I know stories, family connections, dreams, fears and disappointments. I don't know these when I put on the collar for another congregation.

So to the folks from Central who read this: we know each other. We have walked through challenges and good times. Some of you have known each other for decades. Decades! I'm thankful for our sister and brotherhood in Christ...it's very, very good.

Flood 2008: The News From Iowa

It's not been a quiet week in my home state. The floods that have drenched Iowa and other parts of the Midwest have been called 500 year floods, which means the chances of such a flood occurring is 1 in 500. Bad odds this year, folks.

Many of you have heard the news, so I'll give you first-person observations from my family who live near Nashua, Iowa, the northeast corner of the state.

My parents live on a farm on a dead-end road. A creek crosses that road and frequently during the spring, they are stranded on the farm for a day or two when the creek rises across the bridge.

This year, there have been many, many days where the creek was across the bridge. One day, a FedEx man came to deliver a package of vitamins to my mother. She met him at her side of the flooded creek. Mom said the length of flooded road was about two car lengths. She asked him to throw the package across the waters. He did and mom walked it home. Dad noted that while none of the vitamin plastic containers were cracked, the invoice was a little damp.

The Cedar River in Waverly flooded far out of its banks, overflowing onto city blocks in that town where my alma mater Wartburg is located. Friends tell me many of my professors have water damage in basements. My sister Lorna's friend Bill just graduated and bought a house near the Cedar River. She helped him move his possessions to the first floor, but it was no use. The water flooded everything.

So Bill and his younger brother Bob are temporarily living at my parents farm with my sister. Mom says she doesn't mind the extra cooking and Dad likes the help on the farm. None of their fields were affected by the flooding. My sister reports Bill is waiting to see what kind of emergency help he might get from FEMA.

My sister works at Subway in Waverly, which only had minor water damage because employees (my sis included) sandbagged for hours. The Burger King wasn't so lucky. The photos of city blocks and blocks underwater are shocking.

Thanks for listening...and for your prayers for those who were more affected than my parents.

Be a Sitka Lutheran volunteer

Sitka is an historical site for many reasons. The city was the first capital of Alaska, a site of Russian and Alaska Native conflict, and the site of the "handover" when Alaska was transfered from Russia to the United States. The city (and the National Parks service) has preserved much of this history in buildings and museums. And the tourists love it.

So since Sitka is a tourist destination, the Lutherans play along too. Sitka Lutheran was established in 1839/40 by the Russian-American Company for their Lutheran workers. Imagine: a government/commercial enterprise building a church and hiring a pastor for their employees!

The Russian-American company hired (in those days) a pastor from Finland. So the Sitka Lutheran church has strong Finnish ties. It also has an antique Kessler organ that is still used at services today. Visitors to Sitka Lutheran can view historic displays, read the history of the church, play the organ AND use the bathrooms, all for free.

So who hosts these tourists? The summer volunteers. Those interested can volunteer for several weeks during the summer. They must buy their own plane ticket to Sitka, but housing is free in an apartment during the stay.

Sound interesting? You might check out the church Web site for more information:

http://www.sitkalutheranchurch.org/

Sounds like Sitka

Sitka, June 6-8, 2008: Guest preaching at Sitka Lutheran Church, Sitka, Alaska.

(Where's Sitka? Soggy Southeast Alaska...check out the google map below)

http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=sitka,+ak&ie=UTF8&ll=58.631217,-135.351562&spn=20.581038,54.140625&z=4

Church stuff: One Lutheran church, two services, one sermon, zero albs worn, 10 people at the first service.

Fun stuff: One kayak trip in killer waves, 5 cruise ships docked in Sitka Sound, 3 mile hike around Beaver Lake, one handsome cello player at the summer music fest, 3 (at least) fantastic coffee shops.

I went to Sitka on an offhand remark. Pastor Jim Drury (who serves there) and I were joking that I should come down and be the guest preacher for him.

Suddenly, I was on an airplane. I guess he wasn't kidding.

Then a young woman at church (Lindsey) asked if she could buy her own ticket and tag along. Why not? So we set out for Sitka.

Sitka holds about 9,000 people, living on the Baranov Island, which is otherwise almost all forested. The island boasts a bunch of brown bears in its temperate rainforest climate. Sitka is (of course) only accessible by boat or plane. It's surrounded by mountains with stripes of snow, hills of evergreen forests and dotted with rainforest foliage like ferns. It's lovely.

The first day (June 6), we arrived and had lunch at the airport's restaurant, the Nugget. Not bad for airport food. Also, the Nugget has famous pies, to die for. And I don't even like pie. We stayed in the apartment next to Pastor Jim's house. The apartment is used in the summers for the volunteers at the church (more on this later).

Lindsey and I hiked around Beaver Lake that afternoon and had dinner at the sushi place in town. That evening, we attened opening night of the Sitka Summer Music Festival. Who knew? World-class chamber musicians flock to Sitka for weeks in June to play a variety of small ensembles and solos. They tour places like Moscow, San Francisco, New York and.... Sitka. We heard three amazing pieces by Beethoven, Lizst and Dvorak. The cello, esp. in the Dvorak, melted my heart.

Saturday (June 7) we attended the Parish Life Committee meeting. We heard about various summer activities at the church and community. I presented (and we had great discussion) about young adults and how to be more welcoming as a church to them and just evangelism in general. There were also issues disuccsed around Pastor Jim's upcoming departure (he's taking a call in August in Utah...unbeknownst to me when we first planned this pulpit exchange).

Later that day, Lindsey and I took a 2-hour kayak in the sound in the roughest waters I've seen from the kayak seat and did some shopping. That night, parishioners from Sitka Lutheran had us over for dinner. Our hosts were 41-year Sitka residents and wowed us with stories of life on the island and working for the cruise ships that dock here all summer. Tourist pour from these ships like so many droplets from a waterfall and flood the town's little shops and galleries. It's a great boon to the economy, but leaves people economically struggling in the winter. A couple years ago, the towns pulp mill closed. Last year, the private college Sheldon Jackson folded. Townsfolk wonder what this means for their futures.

Sunday saw two services at Sitka Lutheran, one at 8:30 am with very few people and one at 11 am with the "regulars" and several folks from the cruise ships. I had brought my stole and when I asked Pr. Jim if I could borrow and extra alb, he laughed at me. But I wore my collar shirt, as did he.

Preaching a sermon to a congregation you don't know is like writing a love letter to a stranger. (I told the congregation this). Still, I pressed on. It was interesting to gaze at their faces and see (though somewhat buried) the shock and grief of Pastor Jim's leaving. They've only known a few weeks.

In my sermon I talked about interruptions...as the place God uses to get inside of us and transform us and heal us for the next thing. May it be so for the people of Sitka.

Enough! Next post, I'll tell you about the volunteer program at Sitka Lutheran.

Is the Church Dead? A Meditation on Lime Jello

So let's be honest: attendance at Central Lutheran Church ain't what it used to be. Neither is financial giving. Somehow, in transitions, we've lost a few folks and a few dollars.

Is it time to panic?

Some think so. It seems every couple weeks someone pops into my office with a high level of anxiety regarding this slow but steady downward trend. I hear the anxiety. I appreciate the worry.

But I don't think God intends for us to live like that. If you want to know what Jesus though about worry, see Matthew chapter 6.

Anyway, I'm not going to lecture about trusting God or listening for the invitation of God's spirit into our uncertain future. Insert your own sermonic points here.

I want to tell you about having folks from Central over for Lime Jello. With crushed pineapple.

At Central we've been doing this little campaign called Central Community Desserts. We grouped folks in area codes and asked one or two people to host a fellowship event. During the gathering, there would be facilitated conversation about Central: what connects people to Central, our mission/ministry, and what else we could be doing.

14 people gathered in my small living room, ages ranging from 14-60 plus. I say that because it's possible someone there was in their 70s but I don't want to hazard a guess. Two of the boys from our Drop In Center attended. Some sitting around the circle were life-long members of Central. Others were pretty new, members for less than a year.

I served Lime Jello. And cheese and crakers, chocolate cake and a luscious fruit salad. (Shout out to Mary and Les Krieger for helping with food and punch). And we talked.

People said what they liked about Central.

"I always feel welcome," one said. Another remembered her first reaction: "I am home." And yet another: "Central has become our family."

We brainstormed about how to better witness to our faith (like, could we practice sharing our faith stories with each other?) and discussed more opportunties for fellowship (more potlucks, was the enthusiastic consensus).

We also read quotes from recipients of Central's benevolences (Lutheran Social Services, Dillingham Lutheran Church, Sandra Rudd (an intern pastor at St. Mark). Amazed at the scope of where and what we give, someone said, "Why don't we blow our own horn a little more?"

All of this over Jello salad.

My main point is this: our life together in Jesus Christ is NEVER defined by numbers or dollars. Our life in Christ is ONLY defined by what Christ has already done for us and how we live out that love in community. And I saw that community in my living room, where we were so cramped that some sat on the floor with their lime Jello.

And I saw it as folks left, too. They were hugging each other. They were wishing one of the Drop in Center students good luck on his upcoming school trip to Russia. They were asking if he'd give a photo presentation for all of us when he returned.

There was nothing to fear. There was only hope.

Worship and Doubt: A Sermon for Confirmation

Here's my sermon from May 18, 2008, Confirmation Sunday at Central Lutheran Church. I post because 1.) Only those at 9:45 service heard it. 2.) I apparently was talking so fast that most of 9:45 service didn't REALLY hear it. 3) I though it was pretty good.

It's based on Matthew 28: 16-20, the great commission

Thanks for reading! And now, the sermon....

It’s a typical Sunday afternoon Confirmation class at Central Lutheran Church. Gathered around a table in the upper fellowship hall, some students worship and some doubt. Some listen to the pastor, asking thoughtful questions, writing answers on worksheets, looking up passages in the Bible, really thinking about how faith matters in their life. But some are not listening. Some are doodling, some are coloring their arms with markers. Some are reading the sports scores in the Daily News when they think I’m not looking. Some think this whole God thing is baloney. Some wonder how this really helps when you’re getting picked on in math class or ignored by popular kids. Some worship, some doubt.

It’s a typical Sunday morning at Central. Some worship, some doubt. Some are singing the hymns, greeting their neighbors, listening to the message, noticing God’s presence, praying in thanksgiving and in supplication. Some sit like statues in the back row. Some of them are hurting, grieving, angry or resentful. Some of them wonder why they even came. Some think God has forgotten them. Some of them wonder where God was when a loved one died or when they heard the doctor’s diagnosis. Some worship, some doubt.

It was not a typical day when Jesus appeared to the disciples on a mountain in Galilee. Jesus had died and the disciples were left alone and hopeless. Then they heard the word from Mary Magdalene and the other Mary. Jesus was alive! And he wanted to meet the disciples in Galilee. So they went. When they saw Jesus, some worshipped him, some doubted. Even though they had gone to the trouble to show up, still, some worshipped and some doubted.

You’re finished with Confirmation. Done, done, done. No more class on Sunday evenings, no more sermon notes (except Donovan, you still owe me one). And it’s easy to see Confirmation as the ending. Show’s over, lights off, nothing to see here. Jesus’ disciples may have though the same thing when Jesus died and rose from the dead. Great, everything is finished. Except that Jesus’ goodbye message put them to work. He gave the Great Commission.

Sigh. Just when you thought you were finished. It wasn’t enough to learn the Lord’s Prayer and Apostle’s Creed? Jesus’ words: go and make disciples off all nations, baptizing…and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. It’s a tough assignment and one that seems more and more difficult in our world. Basically, Jesus is saying to GO, get outside your comfort zone, don’t just live for yourself. Form an alternate community with values that are different than the Roman empire (which valued success, power through violence, money). Rather, practice compassion, healing mercy, and inclusive community and life-giving words.

So basically, I’m encouraging you to live for others with Christ-like values at the very time in your life when teens put all their focus on themselves.

Some worship and some doubt.

Sounds like there was a mixed crew up on that mountain with Jesus, those worshippers and doubters. Yet they all got the same commission. Jesus didn’t say, you who are the faithful church attenders and ushers, go spread the good news. No, he instructed everyone to GO. Even those who doubt still got a commission.

Looking deeper into the Greek, one notices the word for “some” (as in some doubted) isn’t there. And the word “but” could also be translated as “and/on the other hand.” So another translation could be, “They worshipped him and on the other hand they doubted.” Those worshippers and doubters were the same people. Part of them worshipped and part doubted.

Which reminds us of one of our basic teachings about Lutheranism in Confirmation Class. Help me out here, Donovan and Emma. We are at the same time good and bad, we are ____ and ____ . Whew. I didn’t warn them there’d be a public quiz.

So even when we doubt, God still commissions us. We are still to go out and love others and tell about God’s love, even if we don’t really understand the Trinity or can’t remember the words to the Nicene Creed. This reminds me of when Martin Luther worried that he wasn’t holy enough to preside at the communion table. His mentor asked him, “Do you think this depends on you?” God has commanded us to GO and proclaim God’s love in word and deed. Do you think it really depends on how good YOU are? If God has commanded this, God will give you the strength to do it.

Consider this: Jesus trusts his entire earthly ministry to worshiping and doubting ones such as the disciples…and such as us!

And God gives presence. Matthew’s Gospel begins and ends with Emmanuel, God with us. In Matthew 1:23, the angel tells Joseph to call the child Emmanuel. In Matthew 28:20, Jesus tells the disciples (and all of us) he is with us always, to the end of the age. And this is for all of us, God’s presence, all the time, whether we worship or whether we doubt. God will be with us always, even to the end of the age.

So Jesus says GO and I say GO. When the disciples went out, they began their teaching and healing right there in Galilee. Only then did they spread farther into the world. So maybe your invitation is to GO and make disciples right where you are. Show Christ’s love in your corner of the world, in your family, home and school. Go and make a differenc. And may God go with you.

God: A geographical search

At the 20-somethings women's Bible study last week, a couple gals were pondering this question, "Where exactly do we see God in our lives?" Oh, we batted around the usual answers like: in the mountains, during prayer, at church, in acts of kindness.

One woman suggested the following: God is most prominent in laughter and tears. She went further: maybe that is God. It's another way to think about God, a more Eastern way to ponder God as that which connects us, makes us truly human.

This same young woman teaches grades 5-6 in Sunday school at Central. When discussing the First Commandment, she reported, one of the kids protested. The kid said, "Do I really have to love God above everything? But I want to love my parents first." (I paraphrase her report of his comment).

The teacher noted she was a bit stumped. What are we to say? "I'm sorry child, you have to love this thing you can't see even more than your mommy and daddy." It does sound odd.

But maybe, suggested this teacher, maybe we need to explain to children that when we laugh and cry and love with our families and friends, that is God. And these are the places we are to put our love and attention. These meaningful human interactions become something of God to us. After all, isn't God love?

She wondered if she could truly explain this to a child. What do you think?

Who can be healed?

Further reflections from the Alaska synod assembly (April 25-26 here in Anchor-town)

New Testament scholar Barbara Rossing was here to talk on climate change and the book of Revelation. She reminded us that God's intention is to heal/save the world, not to destroy it in a wave of terror. Just so we're on the same page.

On April 26, Rossing led a Bible study about the rich man in Mark's gospel who asks how he can get eternal life. Rossing examined this story with language of illness and healing, rather than sin and repenting. She takes this from the Greek "sozo," which can be translated as "saved" can also be translated as "healed." So after rich man leaves Jesus the disciples ask "Who can be saved?" (healed?)

Rossing reminded us of the problems of affluenza, a term coined to mean the suffering of too darn much stuff and not enough meaningful relationships. She posited the young rich man in Mark 10:17 might have the same problem. He knew he was sick and asked Dr. Jesus for a prescription.

Jesus says to go and sell all you have and give the money to the poor. The rich man leaves in saddness (the text says 'grieving'). He can't fill Dr. Jesus' prescription.

Rossing noted that in Bill McKibben's commentary on Job (McKibben's work is great; read it) it is our desire for More that makes us ill. So, who can be healed?

Put another way, what/who can heal us? And how?

Rossing reminds us that the rich man's request for eternal life doesn't just mean a safe, happy home in a heavenly mansion, with angels singing in the windows. The Greek for "eternal life," is "zoe ionian," or life of the ages, life that will last.

The rich man (and maybe us too) thinks eternal life is for the individual. He's wrong. Eternal life, the life that lasts, is life lived in community with God and each other. And this eternal life is available. Life with God, available now. No charge.

Rossing challenged us to consider how the church can help to lift up community. Authentic, life-giving, connected community. Churches (Central!) can be a place where people expereince life of the ages, a life of fellowship with God and others.

So maybe we need to eat some meals together. Invite someone for a walk. Go to church with a friend. Find recreation that doesn't cost money and just values time together.

I read an article once that suggested if more families (and friends) took time to eat meals together, it would transform the national landscape. We would be changed. we might even find eternal life.

Anxious, Part 2

I heard a great interview on NPR's "Fresh Air" yesterday with Dan Gottlieb, a family therapist and call-in host on a Philadelphia radio show.

What sets Gottlieb apart is his story: a quadraplegic for 29 years after an automobile accident on the Pennsylvania Turnpike.

Terry Gross asked Gottlieb questions on a range of topics, but I was most taken with his openness about his own anxiety and panic attacks. He described a time when he spent 3 days on a meditation retreat. The night he returned, he awoke in the middle of the night with a terrible panic attack. He said something like, "Couldn't I get more than 5 hours of peace after this wonderful retreat?"

Gross asked how Gottlieb deals with these attacks. I liked his answer. Gottlieb said he looks to the past, remembering that the last time he had an attack, it passed and he got over it. Then he said he steps outside himself and tries to watch himself. He said he observes himself with compassion.

How about that? What if we were able, when anxious, to objectively step back and look at ourselves in love?

Gottlieb said he tries to be tender with his mind as well as his body, which he admits seems to be tiring more easily. "I care for my body like it is a fragile lover that I adore," Gottlieb said.

Anxiously devoted to you

Alaska Lutheran clergy gathered April 22-23 in Clergy Collegium for fellowship and continuing education.

One of our speakers was Michael Nel, ELCA Region 1 consultation to clergy.

Nel spoke about "Societal Emotinal Process" and "Societal Regression." Now doesn't that make you sit up and take note :)

Actually, it was all about anxious families making anxious societies. Got any anxieties? Read on, gentle reader.

Working from the writings of psychologist Murray Bowen, Nel noted that our society seems to be chronically anxious. How do you know when a society is anxious? A few ways to know:

1.) Responding with emotionality, rather than sound decisions based on principles.
2.) Discussions about how to manage anxiety, rather than underlying problems.
3.) A push for "togetherness" or "sameness" to manage anxiety.
4.) Making lots of rules to manage anxiety.
5.) Focus on rights rather than responsibilities.
6.) Desire for "quick fix."

Any of these happening in our country post-9.11? Any of these ever happen in your family?

Nel suggested behaviors around security, intelligence and "band-aid" legislation as some indications of chronic anxiety in our society.

So how can we deal with anxieties in our self, family and world?

Some suggestions, per Nel:
1.) Look inside yourself, rather than looking for someone else to fix it.
2.) Ask for the facts, become objective, rather than emotionally responsive.
3.) Meditate.
4.) Go to a physical place where you can be more thoughtful.
5.) Make "I" statments to define who you are and what you want/need.
6.) Be aware of anxiety's ability to make you push for togetherness or sameness.

Nel also noted that in marriage counseling, he pushes couples to do exercises separately so they can be more grounded in self before bringing them back together.

He also said abuse occurs more often in families where there is forced togetherness or sameness.

A True Vacation

After my sojourn in Nome, I spent April 7-15 in Hawaii (on Kauai) with a good friend. It was a wonderful, relaxing, rejuvinating experience.

That next Sunday, a female parishioner at the 8:15 service said to me:

When I moved to Alaska from Chicago, I went back every Christmas to see my family. Then one winter, I went to Hawaii. I said to myself, "Now that is a true vacation."

Here, here.

Can I hear a testimony?

The main event of Spring Conference is the singing. I was a bit confused at the progresssion of the evening worship service. There's no bulletin, no order of worship.

"So what do we do?" I asked someone.

"We just sing until we're finished," that person replied.

Oh.

There is some structure, of course. An elder leads the service and announces requested congregational songs and honors requests for small groups and solos. (People can make requests on slips of paper and bring them up to the leader). Each congregation also sings a few songs in a rotation. Toward the middle of the event, there is an offering, passing of the peace, prayer and a message by one of the Seward Peninsula pastors.

There's also time for testimony, which is just what you are thinking. People get up and tell a story about God in their lives or what God has done. It sounds a litte bit come-to-Jesus but it's actually part of their tradition and quite beautiful and moving. I feel blessed to just be sitting there listening.

Last night, one woman sang a song she wrote about her struggles with children and family and keeping on the right path. Another woman told of her grief over losing a good friend/cousin in a nearby village. Though more than a year has passed, she said she hasn't been able to visit the village yet for sadness over her friend.

Others give short testimonies in requests for songs to honor someone who has died. In this way, the elders are ever before them. Think what this does for grieving when church is a safe place to remember those who have died and honor them with song or story. Oh that we could be open to sharing our griefs in this way.

Pastor Rob Wentzein (sorry for the likely misspelling) from Shishmaref gave a message last night that made that point: The church should be a place for safe sharing of griefs, sorrows, pains. Not the I-hate-that-hymn-and-the-new-church-carpet-is-ugly kind of lament but the real stories of our grief and saddness. We don't come to church and pretend that we're perfect. That's called the rest of the world. The church is a place set apart, for a people set apart.

We follow a wounded savior, a slaughtered lamb, a God who came to us as human. Could we be as open with our wounds? Just maybe, our honesty might open another person to sharing. We might be liberated to truly BE the people of God.

So. Can I hear a testimony?

Revelation and thanking God ahead of time

My purpose for attending Spring Conference this year is partly just to experience the event. It's partly to reconnect with folks from Brevig and brainstorm ideas for VBS this year (July 12-19- wanna join our team?)

But since folks heard I was coming up anyway, someone asked me to lead a Bible study on the theme verse, Revelation 21:4a. So I'm leading a study of a controversial book to people from a different culture? Yikes. I was a bit intimidated.

I wondered if 1 or 2 people would show up. I had at least 15 and 5 kids who wandered about or napped.

After a general outline of the book and its themes (Revelation gives comfort to those suffering, God wants to save the whole world not destroy it and in the end, God wins) we had some time for sharing and storytelling. I was delighted when people jumped in and started talking.

One of the most striking comments was from a mother of two, member of the Nome congregation who had traveled in Wales. We were discussing how one finds hope in suffering, as the book of Revelation offers. She noted that Wales was an extremely harsh climate: remote, within view of Russia's seas, far from other villages, bombarded with windy blizzards in winter and blowing sands in summers and also no plumbing or running water. How did one stay hopeful in this place?

Flowing out of the mountain near the village is a stream. The water flows constantly, cold, fresh, clean and delicous. No matter how tough the life became, the stream was always there, a flowing water of life, offering dependable relief from thirst and soothing scenery in its flow. This was God's grace to her.

I was moved by the steadfast, courageous ways people come to live and stay in these harsh climates. When it came time for prayer, I allowed people to add their own prayers. They prayed for loved ones and for save travel during this storm.

One prayer stuck out. A woman prayed, "God, we thank you ahead of time" for all the ways God would continue to be faithful and answer prayer. She repeated this phrase like a litany, always thanking God ahead of time, trusting God would be faithful. What beauty! What hope! What optomism, despite living in a harsh, unyielding land. She trusted that God would indeed finish what God had started.

God, today I thank you, ahead of time.

I love Nome in the Springtime

Well, there's no place like Nome in the Spring. I'm here April 2-5 for the semi-annual Spring Conference of the Lutherans on the Seward Peninsula. Basically, it's more of a song-fest than a conference. Every night, the singing and testimonies begin around 7 and go as long as we can take it. Last night, it went until 11 pm. It's supposed to get later and later as the days go by.

April in Nome doesn't look like April in Anchorage. There's quite a bit of snow still here, some drifts more than half-way up the houses. I walked by a church this morning (Covenant?) where I could barely read the sign on the building for the snow.

There was a such a blizzard this morning that no flights could land. The temp is around 25; not cold until the winds start howling. I commented that it was pretty cold and Judy Littau (wife of Pastor Matt of Our Savior's Lutheran here) said that was nothing compared to her last home in Wales (out on the extreme west of Alaska). Winds there would gust to 80 miles per hour. So this is the Seward Peninsula tropics :)

I'm continually overwhelmed by hospitality when I visit the Seward Peninsula. I spent a little time this morning at the Nome Rec center, then planned to walk the 5-6 blocks in the wind and snow. I had gone two blocks when a rusty white pickup stopped to give me a ride. It was the staff person at the rec center; he said he couldn't let me walk in that weather.

At the church, there's a warm feeling of fellowship as people from the villages greet each other, friends from Brevig Mission, Wales, Teller and Anchorage's Alaska Native church. There's plenty of good food, Lutheran coffee and conversation.

Stay tuned for more!

Holy, Holy, Holy

I abandoned my computer Holy Saturday, Easter Sunday and Easter Monday, so I return to you today....Happy Easter! (It's a season of 50 days, you know, so plenty more time to say Alleluia.)

What can one say about the Resurrection of our Lord? Or about the celebration of Easter? We had girls in white dresses (with blue satin sashes), women in white sandals, lilies aplenty and shiny white paraments. We communed with real bread, sang "Christ the Lord is Risen Today," and heard brass and bells. We ate egg bake, muffins and chocolate eggs. People smiled, hugged and laughed in greeting; many hadn't seen each other since the last major church holiday :)

Sometimes I feel sad that I only see many folks twice a year. There's such a diverse group of people who gather at Christmas and Easter and I miss their energy on other Sundays. Still, I'm grateful they come, even if twice a year.

So what can I say about Easter? Well, I finished "A Thousand Splended Suns," a tragic and moving tome about women in Afganistan. And there was redemption, resurrection at the end, only after the main character Laila passed through unspeakable suffering.

Laila muses that while she has found joy in her life, the sacrifices and losses along the way were considerable. Put another way, the resurrection came only through the cross.

So rejoice that your resurrection has come. Maybe you didn't feel it, per se, on Easter Sunday; perhaps your life has challenges and you still feel stuck in Good Friday. That may be and it is okay. But take heart and live in hope that Easter is coming, even when it doesn't seem that way. It may break in just when you least expect it. Alleluia, Amen.

Good Friday

Today we mark Jesus' death on the cross. The redemption of the world groans in balance as we wait for Jesus' rising. And all I can think about is getting back to a novel.

A Thousand Splendid Suns, by Afghan-American Khaled Housseini, the famed and acclaimed author of The Kite Runner (now a movie).

I didn't mean to get so attached but now I can't put it down and paradoxically I can hardly bear to pick it up again. The stories of the women of Afghanistan are that tragic.

I'll save you the minutea of plot details; suffice to say the book follows two womens interwoven lives in Kabul from 1979 onward. The book is fiction, the politics are not. The Sovients in Afghanistan rise and fall, the mujihadeen factions kick them out, then promptly war with each other, then the Taliban comes, offering unity for the small price of libety. No singing, dancing, writing books or painting. Women are only permitted out of the house accompanied by a male relative, and are forbidden to wear jewelry, makeup or nail polish. Men must grow beards and pray five times daily. Non-compliance to various rules result in loss of finger, hand, foot or life.

Our protagonists in this story suffer not only from these rules but from husbands who treat them like property: yelling, insults, beatings and in once scene locking a woman and child in a dark bedroom for 2 days, no water. At one point, main character Laila comments how amazing it is that the human body and tolerate so much beating.

Now why do I go on about a work of fiction? Well, because while these characters are fictional, the treatment of women is real. The bombing of Kabul was real. The decapitations, stonings and hangings were real. People were capable of treating human bodies like so many disposable parts.

When two airplanes crashed into the twin towers in New York City on Sept. 11, 2001, I remember thinking about those pilots. I thought how fortunate was I to have been born in this country of priviledge. Had I been born in other circumstances, withstood other pressures and hardships, I might have done the same. Those who flew planes into towers were just like me: flesh and blood, sorrow and joy, pain and hope. This does not excuse their actions, it just serves to remind that we are all connected in human sin, one big broken family.

And that's why Jesus came, why I'm waiting for His end of the story like I'm waiting for the end of A Thousand Splendid Suns. While I don't know what will happen to Mariam and Laila, I know Christ's ending for this world. Salvation, resurrection, new life, new hope, even now, while we were still sinners.

Blessed Good Friday.

Holy Thursday

This evening at Central we did foot washing during out Maundy (Holy) Thursday service. I preached a little sermon about the weirdness of footwashing, so I'll share a few thoughts from that.

Jesus washed the disciples' feet in John 13, though at least one (Peter) was intially unwilling. Maybe Peter thought it was yucky, weird and demeaning that one such as Jesus should was his feet.

Maybe we think of feet as pretty yucky too. And private, intimate. We'd generally rather not get our feet wet. Literally or figuratively.

But Jesus says unless he (Jesus) washes Peter's feet, Peter will have no part with him. Put another way, Peter must recieve the grace of Christ to be in the full community, the full relationship. It's hard to be in relationship with someone who won't let you in.

When we get our feet wet (literally, figuratively), we allow the grace of God, the goodness and forgiveness of God to wash over us, restoring us to relationship with God. When we get our feet wet, figuratively, by getting involved in the world and its suffering, we build authentic community, gathered, nourished and sent out by the Spirit.

This is our life's purpose, to be washed and wash others! Why would we miss out on the life, the big wild life with Christ!

Holy Wednesday

Five years ago today, the US sent troops into Iraq. I was living in Berkeley, land of the protesters. Though I had aseembled for non-violent actions before, I did not choose to march in any of the peace protests. I was too upset. I was a lukewarm Bush supporter and felt totally betrayed. The message from media and the government was not to criticize the decision to go to war (apparently critical thinking and caring about democracy was unpatriotic) and I should go shopping. I was too broke, so I just brooded.

Today I brooded too, now that nearly 4,000 US service men and women have lost thier lives in Iraq. By some estimates, Iraqi lives lost may be greater than 500,000. Regardless of the number, it's just too many.

Sometimes I forget we are at war with Iraq. If I think about it too long and hard, I'm tempted to drop into despair. Isn't it easier sometimes to just be oblivious, to just go with the flow?

But as I said yesterday, we are HOLY people, called to be set apart for God's work. And while I deeply believe God loves President Bush, I also believe God values justice, compassion, mercy and kindness. I will leave it to God to judge how our nation's leaders stack up.

Meanwhile, though I get compassion fatigue, I will keep reading about the war in Iraq and keep praying. If I feel compelled to speak, I will speak. We have hope that peace will come to that part of the world that God loves so much. It is our rock to which we cling, we who move toward cross and grave this Holy Week.

Holy Tuesday

A few Holy Week meditations, if you dare to set aside some time this week to practice holiness.

To be holy, by the way, doesn't mean to be goody-goody, pure and perfect. To be holy is to be set apart. Against the cultural grain. So taking a few moments for prayer and reflectiont this week is just that. Holy. Set apart. Prophetic in a world where March Madness is more important than holy week and hockey tournaments are held on Easter Sunday.

So welcome to Holy Tuesday. Take a moment to rest. Yes, you, the one who is multi-tasking even as you read this. Just slow down. Breathe. Be in the holy spaces of a holy week. Be open to listening for God this week. Be open to seeing Jesus in others. Be open to the movement of the Holy Spirit within your heart.

God is about to do a new thing in this resurrection. How can you hold this immesurable joy if your hands/heart/head are already full? Clear out what you don't need. Your worries are taking up too much real estate. Be open.

Coming tomorrow: Holy Wednesday, the 5 year anniversary of US troops in Iraq.

Resurrection

I'm early, I know, since Easter is nearly two weeks away. But yesterday's (March 9) Gospel lesson was the resurrection of Lazarus and I'm still thinking about it.

Resurrection. Spoken of at a funeral service or Easter celebration near you. And almost only then.

Such a weird concept and a big long church word: resurrection. Does this really mean anything in daily life? More importantly, "So what?"

Two weeks ago at Central, we hosted the memorial for Christoph Von Alvensleben, 25-year-old snow-machiner who died in an avalanche in Turnagain Pass. It was possibly one of the saddest memorials I've attended, one of the largest and one of the most moving in terms of stories told and a life celebrated. Life lost young is tragic and unfair. A few people remarked, "Well, at least he died doing something he loved." To this, I want to say, "Well, he still died." This doesn't necessarily make it better; it is still an enormous loss. As the pallbearers moved the casket out of the church and into the hearse, the family followed and gathered at the door. They held each other and wept. The sisters of the man who died sobbed and cried, "Nein, nein," (they were Germans).

I'm thankful the memorial service was in a place of worship, so this grief could be connected to the resurrection. Because for a Christian, "he still died," isn't the end. Grief and resurrection go together for a Christian. Grief without the resurrection feels hopeless, helpless. Resurrection without grief would be a shallow celebration.

So the "so what" of the resurrection is this: God promises to love and hold us in life and in death, words of comfort for those experiencing loss. Where is Christoph? Held securely in the arms of the God who loved him in life. And, yes, someday there will be a great and mysterious resurrection and Christoph will live again.

But resurrection so what part deux is important too. Life is full of endings, transitions, deaths. Even the good transitons murmer soft whispers of loss. So what do we do? Practice resurrection, as says poet/farmer Wendell Barry. We look for where life will begin again, out of the depths of loss. We hope and look for moments of joy in God and others even in our grief. This is practicing resurrection.

As Wendell Barry says, "Be joyful, though you have considered all the facts."

Kant buy me love

Philosophy nerd quiz: Describe Kant's second formulation of the categorical imperative.

Anyone, anyone? Buller?

Okay, I'll tell you: human beings should be treated as ends, not means. Honor all humans as beings with dignity.

Why such a fancy title? And who is Kant anyway?

I learned this and more in a lecture Feb. 26 at the University of Alaska Anchorage, in an ethics class taught by my friend Dr. Ray Anthony (who was part of Central's Brevig Mission trip last year and also sings tenor in the Alaska Native Lutheran Church choir). Small world.

Two Central members joined me for this lecture in Ray's ethics class. For those of us (okay, me) who are used to thinking about morality in theological terms, it was interesting to hear it from another perspective.

The class has been discussing the moral reasoning set out by Immanuel Kant, an 18th century German philosopher (so says Wikipedia). Kant is one of the famed thinkers of the Enlightenment. It's interesting that Kant's ideas are called "imperatives," meaning he thinks that desicions based on sound moral reasoning are "musts" for any thinking person.

Actions, said Kant, should be made in accordance to moral rule, should be rational and should be consistent with what any other rational person would do in the same circumstance.

Of course I agree with Kant that we should treat all humans as persons with dignity (from God, I'd add) and that people are ends to themselves, not means to get what I want. That said, we "use" people all the time to meet our needs. That's okay, said Kant, as long as you honor that they don't exist just to meet your need. Still honor their dignity and personhood even as they help you out. Interesting, I think.

Using Kant's principles, the class discussed an article called "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas," by Ursula Le Guin. Synopsis: a fabled city called Omelas is perfect, except for one child who lives in abject misery locked in a basement. All citizens of Omelas believe the child must remain in torture for their happiness to continue. If the child was freed, life in Omelas would cease to be perfect.

But not all are content. Some choose to walk away from this city into the unknown.

Now in a Lutheran understanding, I'd say this child is a scapegoat, a place to cast the sins of the city so they can feel "perfect." It's a way of not recognizing the true nature of the human person as "saint and sinner."

Those who walked away from Omelas recognized it was wrong to treat the child as an object for the sake of their happiness. So they honored the child's status as a human with dignity.

But Ray made another good point: when they walked away, they also honored their own dignity. They embraced their own dignity by refusing to be complicit in a system that would treat a human as an object.

Ray asked the class: where in our city/country/world are humans treated like objects? How can we honor their dignity and our own by refusing to participate in these systems?

Someone in the class suggested sweatshops in other country, where workers put in 20-hour days with inadequate pay and conditions so I can get a shirt for $10 at Wal-Mart.

What do you think?