Dec 31 2018

Dec 31 2018
You judge by human standards; I judge no one.

Jesus is talking to Pharisees, a group which was a political, social and religious powerhouse at the time. They studied the Torah, upheld its law, taught the people. They were doing their best to be God’s people, as they understood it.

I do the same. I try my best to be a person of God as I understand it. I follow what I believe to be the ‘right’ teachings. The problem with doing that though, is that if there is a ‘right’ teaching, there is inherently a ‘wrong’ teaching, isn’t there?

I don’t get to decide that this doesn’t apply to me; that my ‘right’ is really the true ‘right’. And their wrong is just.. wrong. I don’t get to think that my outlook on the world, my interpretation of the Gospel, my politics or my life choices are any more right than those who do the exact opposite. That’s judgment.

Maybe it’s not specifically what the Pharisees were talking about that Jesus (aka God) refutes. Maybe it’s the fact that as a people of faith, the Pharisees had drawn such a bright line in the sand to differentiate themselves, they’d forgotten that all people are people of God.

As humans, I think it’s safe to say that if we judge at all, whether it’s ‘right’ politics, ‘right’ actions, or ‘right’ beliefs, we are judging by human standards. We need to give up the judgment part and live our lives. My way isn’t right. It’s just my way. There is no us vs. them. There is no ‘right’. At least not to Jesus. Maybe someday we’ll all be judged. I’ll leave that one alone. I’ll live my life and live out my faith as best I know. More importantly, I’ll let others do the same.

Dec 30 2018 Hebrews 2: 14-15

This morning, I am struck by a few lines in the New Testament reading for morning prayer from the letter to Hebrews. It's written in lengthy run-on sentences, so here's my paraphrase:
The power of death is the power of the devil. Jesus came, died and rose (or un-died)  to free those from the fear of death (or the devil).
I'm struck that it's so clear that in this writing that we are freed not from death, not from the devil, but from the fear of death or the devil.
This resonates with me.  What I take from this is that yes, there is death. And yes there is evil. But through a God that can beat death, we are called to not be afraid. Not be afraid of death, of illness, of evil.  God wins.  Love wins. 
Sometimes hard things happen, and maybe it's the devil. Maybe it's politics, or dictators, or climate change, or the human body gone awry.  But we are called to not be afraid.  It doesn't win.

Dec 29 2018 John 7:37-52

The morning prayer readings for this morning are aligned with the commemoration of Thomas a Becket, who was martyred by fellow Christians because of well-intentioned disagreements, clearly with life or death consequences.

The reading from the Gospel of John occurs when the authorities are building their case against Jesus. Good old Nicodemus comes to his defense, reminding them that the law doesn't judge without first giving them a hearing. Their response is to scoff at him and his adherence to those pesky rules.

This reminds me of the situation we're in today. From our government laws and standards:
All men are created equal. Except when I think they aren't.
Innocent until proven guilty. Except when they've been guilty in the past.

And from our faith:
Seek and serve Christ in all people. Except if I disagree with their political views.
Respect the dignity of every human being. Except if they don't deserve it based on their actions.
Strive for justice and peace on the earth. Except if justice means I get less or have to give up what I worked for.

I don't think this is easy. And I don't do it myself all the time. But I believe these truths to be true. Always. And I believe that unless you start from a place of absolute belief, it's impossible to be true.

As soon as we are able to provide our own version of "except...", we're off the hook. As soon as we can make these commitments while crossing our fingers and counting the exceptions, we've lost.

Start with believing it's just plain true. Let the disonence be between your beliefs and your actions, not between your public words and private beliefs.

Dec 28 2018 Mat 18:1-14

Feast of Holy Innocents

This morning's Gospel reading offers a wealth of things to think about.
- The disciples again asking, "Who is greatest in the kingdom?"
- Whoever becomes humble like a child, is the greatest in the kingdom
- Whoever welcomes a child in my name, welcomes me
- If your eye, hand or foot cause you to stumble, remove them.
-If a shepherd of a flock of 100 loses one, he leaves the 99 to find the one.

Each one of these have plenty to chew on, to think about, to wrestle with. A few of initial thoughts include:
. Why does it matter who's the greatest? And was the disciple just asking for their personal gain?
. I don't know many humble children. They haven't learned to be self-conscious. That deserves more research into what that word means in this context.
. As a foster parent/adoptive parent, I love the part about "whoever welcomes a child...". It was read at a liturgy at my church when our then-foster daughter joined our family.
. I'd rather learn to not stumble, to train my eye, hand or foot to pay attention better, rather than to take them out. Again, more thought is needed here.
. What about the 99?

So each of those could take pages and pages, hours and hours of thought, prayer and writing. This morning I'm drawn to the rather gruesome feast of the Holy Innocents. This is the day where the church commemorates Herod ordering the death of all newborn children in Bethlehem to try to end the possible threat of a new Messiah. Joseph is warned of this, so he and the family head to Egypt before the genocide reaches them.

Why remember this bit? Horrible atrocities are still occurring throughout the world, with genocide, maniacal leaders, and families fleeing from one country to another to escape harm. And horrible things are happening in this country, or by this country.

We need to acknowledge them, know they're happening by us, and on our behalf. It is horrible. And like back then, Love will ultimately win. The collect (or collecting prayer) for today concludes with, "by your great might frustrate the designs of evil tyrants and establish your rule of justice, love, and peace".

May God fill us all with the power to help establish the rule of justice, love and peace.

Dec 27 2018 John 13:20-35

I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.

This is what I love about Christ, and about Christianity. To be clear, I'm not suggesting that other God-loving people don't love each other. But through Christ's "new commandment", there can be no question about our responsibility to each other. No question about who's in and acceptable or who's out and shunned. We are to love each other as Christ loved us. Period.

There was a time, not long after the last presidential election, when I was having a deep conversation about politics, faith, acceptance and love. There were those who were aghast at the results of the presidential election, and were using terms like, "morally corrupt", and "the new Hitler". I countered that we should love everyone, on both sides of the political aisle. That we shouldn't sit in judgement and decide who was more favored; that was God's job.

I was shocked to hear from fellow Christian clergy that yes, we could. Their particular perspective was more true to Christ's, so the others were patently wrong. A Rabbi told me that Judaism didn't frown on judgment; that was a Christian thing.

To be clear, I'm not suggesting these perspectives (or mine) are right or wrong. I am saying that I truly value and appreciate the no-judgment-love-all I take from Christ's teachings. The end of the new testament reading from John this morning concludes with the line, "By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." How can that be anything other than love. all?

Advent 2C 2018

Advent 2C 2018

St. Matthew’s Eugene

First, I want to thank Patti for inviting me back. And thanks to you all, for the warm welcome. For those who are new, hello! I’m Carter Hawley. I currently work for Bishop Michael as canon for administration and archdeacon, and previously served here as deacon. It is indeed good to see you. And second, thanks for inviting me to preach during Advent. Forget rain drops on roses and snowflakes and kittens.  Advent contains most of my favorite things.  Prophets.  Hymns I love, and the word “harbinger”.

First you’ve got the general themes of advent. Preparing, waiting, watching. And while I’m good at preparing, waiting isn’t one of my strengths. But looking around in our culture, I’d suggest few of us are good at it anymore. Waiting is something that’s not only devalued in our society, it’s almost a sign of weakness. We’re living in times of immediate gratification, one-click ordering and one day shipping. To wait for something means you are wasting your time and don’t have sufficient resources to speed everything up around you. I love Amazon delivery. One click, and a bag of dog food is delivered to my downtown apartment. Easier than schlepping it on a bike!

And to be clear, waiting isn’t necessarily fun; it always indicates that someone else is in control of something important to you. Your order, your doctor’s appearance, the water to boil, traffic to let up.  We don’t like wasting our time,  and we don’t like being dependent upon someone else’s timeline and priorities.  It indicates that we are in fact, not in control. But instead of being frustrated, maybe we can look at it as a pause – albeit of someone else’s choosing. But when you’re waiting, you aren’t doing, running, or solving anything. Times of waiting can provide needed space, time to hear yourself think. 

Today we hear all about John the Baptist. Not only is the Gospel focused on John, but in the place of a regular Psalm, we hear another passage from Luke, known as the song of Zechariah. Zechariah was the father of John the Baptist, and this canticle, or song is all about John the Baptist. An angel came to Zechariah, explaining that his old barren wife Elizabeth would bear a son and they should name the child John. When he questioned the likelihood of this unbelievable birth, he was rendered unable to speak until the child was born and named.  When his son was born, he wrote a note that the child’s name would be John, and he could again speak. What he spoke was this song, the Song of Zechariah.  “You my child will be called the prophet of the most high” Tender words from an old unexpected father. 

So back to the Gospel. It begins with the lengthy run down of places and rulers and on first blush, seems not relevant. “In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius. . . “  etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.  Why do we care who was in charge? There are a couple of reasons to care. The first is that this is how stories were told, to put the story in context of time (the 15^th year) and space (governor of Judea).  They didn’t have clocks and calendars like we know them, so this was a way to mark a moment.

But there’s another interesting thing this section does. It gives us a very clear and early picture of what Jesus cares about, where he goes, and who he serves.  We’re at a time where the Roman empire has brutally conquered this region of the world. They were not known to be benevolent or kind in any manner. The people were oppressed and tired. They’re waiting for their savior to ride in on a white horse and kick those Romans to the curb.  The seat of power of the Roman empire is, in fact, Rome. So if there’s going to be a change in this world, it’s going to take place in Rome, right?  And that’s how this place setting phrase begins. In the 15^th year of the rule of Emperor Tiberius – Rome. But then it continues. In Judea – but at least it’s a Roman in Judea.  But wait.  While all of these names are institutions of power, they’re getting further and further away from Rome and the Romans. By the end, we’re not even on the map. We’re in the wilderness, coming to a nobody. And this is who’s going to prepare the way? To usher in a new world?   Yes! Precisely.  And the same happens when Jesus arrives, in the backwater village of Bethlehem.  And it continues through Jesus’ ministry.  He loves all.  He dines with tax collectors and sinners. He heals the unclean. He seeks and serves the lost, the least and the last.  And he asks us to, too.  And John is sent to usher in this new world.

So what are to make of John the Baptist, with his animal skin clothes, insect diet, and wild hair?  What does it mean to be a prophet after all?  Culturally, there are two things I think of when I hear prophet, both of which are not entirely accurate, or at least don’t do John the Baptist justice. The first notion is that a prophet can see in the future. Truth be told, they cannot.  But what a prophet does do is to envision a world in the future that’s right and true. Using language from Presiding Bishop Michael Curry, prophets hold out for us God’s dream. That can be inspiring and promising, and comforting.  There is another way. 

The challenge with prophets is while some inspire and make real this vision of the future, other prophets are called to identify and name where we are now. Again, using Bishop Curry’s language, our human nightmare. Here’s where we are (hand down low), and here’s where we can be. 

That’s where the second image problem comes for prophets.  Once a prophet has identified God’s dream, and our human nightmare, a prophet identifies the breach – the gap between where we are, and where we might be. This is where we get the image of the bible-waving street corner prophet. You’re all doomed. Repent.  This kind of prophet, the John the Baptist kind of prophet makes us really uncomfortable. First, maybe their vision of the future is not my vision. And second, who do they think they are telling me I’m doomed?

To be clear, we need all kinds of prophets. Outlining the vision of where things can be, of God’s dream is critical and it gives hope.  And calling out the bad is also important, especially when society grows complacent. Someone needs to call out the wrong. The farther we are from God’s dream, the more we need the truth-telling prophets. It’s uncomfortable. John’s uncomfortable. And it’s necessary. 

John the prophet knows what this new world is to be like. He sees God’s dream for us.  And John also sees the human nightmare that people were living in, a nightmare of their own making. He called the out to turn away from those ways, and head towards the dream. 

We are all called to be prophets.  Not the scary condemning or freaky fortune teller kinds. I would challenge you this next year to give some thought to where you are called to be a prophet. Where do you see a human nightmare? Or of all of the nightmares you see, where are you most drawn?

And once you land on your nightmare, how are you called to be a prophet? To be the dream-maker, inspiring people to see and live into God’s dream for them? To provide hope and vision? Or are you called, like John, to be a truth-teller, to call out this human nightmare we are causing. Again, both are needed.  And because of that, maybe we need to find someone who’s the other kind of prophet, to go out in pairs.  To hold out God’s dream, and to call out the human nightmare. 

Whichever way you do it, be a prophet. As Zachariah tells you, “You, my child, shall be called a prophet of the most high”. 

Amen.  

                                 

December 4 #AdventWord #FOCUS

Today, I'm thinking about what focus isn't. It isn't multi-tasking. Other than when we're talking about computer processers, we should eliminate the concept from our vocabulary. Studies have found that humans cannot multi-task. We may be increasingly efficient at switching between one thing and another, but during that switch, everything suffers - time is lost as your brain re-focuses on its new task, and you have to quickly recall where you were with the new task. It's a dumb concept for humans. 

I'm striving to be less multi-tasked at work, in my brain and with my family, to actually focus on one thing at a time. Novel, huh?  

     At work, I have a ginormous list that I've historically flit through. Recently, I've identified the 3-5 things I need to accomplish today. Magically, when I focus on the big things, they are completed. When my 3-5 things turns into 10 because of a super-busy day, I lean on gimmicky-but-effective tools, like the Pomodoro Method, which work very well for me. 

     At home, I will keep the phone down at all times, except when I'm alone. or need to do something as a part of our conversation. I'll listen intently.

     In my head, I'm really good at pretending to multi-task. I think hundreds of thoughts, each of which receives about 3 seconds of my attention. That means they're all half-baked, both the bad and the good. Journaling in the morning has helped that. I spend 20 minutes writing. It affords me the time, and trains my brain to finish a thought; to focus on one thought to its completion. How else would I have had anything to say about Focus? And how else would I take time for thinking about faith and God?

For this new church year, I aim to continue to focus on where I am, what I'm doing, who I'm with. I'd like to increase my focus on what I think about faith, God and that dance I'm in with the Holy.

The Grand Experiment Concludes

So it’s been almost three whole months since I last worked full time. Yesterday was my first day back. Here are some observations about that much time away. 

-      It is incredibly easy to fritter away the time. While there were no days that I actually did NOTHING, there are many days, I did NOT MUCH.  Big bike ride, gym, grocery store, dinner, email correspondence. Maybe that’s what I needed, or maybe that was genuine slothfulness. I’m not sure, but I do have a slight bit of concernabout what happened with that time. (I was originally thinking of the word regret,but it’s not that bad. At all)

-      It is wonderful to have significant time away to reset. In clergy and academic worlds, people get sabbaticals. They’re a time to rest, refresh, learn, deepen spiritual practices. I episodically treated my time away as sabbatical. I obviously rested. I signed up for a course on music theory, and am slowly making my way through that. And I restarted a morning reading & journaling practice. I’d recommend a significant, intentional time away for all my FT working friends. It’s sort of like a “stay-cation”, but your whole family doesn’t need to be involved. It’s for you. 

-      It was wonderful to have a big chunk of time to figure out a new town and new way of living. We’ve acclimated to the urban no house & no car life.  I bike most places, and with the luxury of an urban setting, I’ve augmented bike transport with a few bus, trolley and train trips, Ubered to church one rainy Sunday, and short-term rented someone else’s private car to get to an event 20 miles away, using Turo.  It’s all worked well. 

-      It turns out, there is no market or no interest in helping me develop a 60” waterproof bike friendly garment bag to carry vestments on a bike in the rain. Ha!  The luggage stores have garment bags that are water resistant, but are only for suits so they’re only 45”.  There are online bike-friendly garment paniers and backpacks, but they’re 45” long. Fancy stores sell gown garment bags that are 60”, but alas, they’re not designed to pack on a bike in the rain. I have a 60” bag that folds in thirds, with a nice shoulder strap. But it’s not waterproof nor is it exceptionally comfortable slung over one shoulder for a bike ride. But I’m working on ways to make it waterproof (garbage bag over the whole thing, probably), and make the bike transport more comfortable.  Did you know they sell backpack straps?  I’ve got a few months before the weather turns to figure this one out. Otherwise, I’ll be relegated to other modes of transport when I’m bringing vestments in the winter. 

-      I’m still figuring out food. Getting groceries is certainly more challenging without a car, mostly because I’m still planning weekly, which is too much to carry on one bike trip. Shopping needs to be more frequent, and we’re still working on it. Meanwhile, I purchased some food containers to put lunches and maybe a few dinners in. There are whole communities on social media of folks who make all their healthy, work-day lunches on Sunday, and store them in the fridge in beautiful matching containers. If you doubt me, look up Meal Prep Sundays.  I actually did that this week, with a lovely kale salad, which should hold up quite well. I’m happy I did that for my first week, and it seems like it makes sense. We’ll see if I stick with it. 

-      Finally, I’m extremely grateful to be working again. It’s a daily schedule that’s familiar, and good for my soul.  And with one day complete, it’s a great job, and beautiful bike commute.  So far so good. 

Who told you?? Proper 5B

Proper 5B
June 10, 2018

Today, we hear of the first interchange between humanity and God. After creating humanity, God’s first comment is, “Where are you?”  God was looking for Adam and Eve. And although God had created humanity and all of creation, God was not in Adam and Eve. God didn’t know where Adam & Eve were.  To me this says that God was separate from Adam and Eve, during that encounter with the serpent and the tree.  But after they hid, God pursued.  

God’s second statement was, “Who told you that you were naked?”  For God to be asking, suggests that it was not God.  God had created these beings – created them naked.  But something separate from God, separate from humanity influenced them at that precise moment.  There was an influence other than God that drove them to disobey. 

And to be clear, it wasn’t just Eve that had a problem. She is not the sole cause of the fall.  Yes, she ate of the tree. But Adam did too, and he blamed Eve. I’m not sure where or why Eve took so much of the heat for this exchange, but it is not grounded in the passage we read. 

So from these first two utterings between God & the created world, we learn that God was either temporarily distracted when A&E encountered the serpent, or present and silent as they ate of that fruit. Second, we learn that there is another voice or influence in their world. These two put together cause all sorts of trouble for people of faith. Yes, Adam and Eve were disobedient to God. And the big problem with that is that they – we – operate with very limited knowledge, and forces other than God.  Their first assessment after getting this knowledge? They hid from God, ashamed and naked.  But had they not been created by God, beautiful, complete, and naked?  

I’m not suggesting that ignorance is bliss. But I do think that when we gain knowledge, we jump to thinking we can accurately assess everything, especially with the other voices and forces in the world, with our modern-day serpents.  We make judgements and decisions that are not helpful. Like Adam and Eve, our acquisition of “knowledge” is wholly useless if we aren’t discerning God’s will at every step, every decision. 

It is only grounded in God and bolstered against the other voices that we are able to rightly discern.  The collect says that it is God that gives us the inspiration to think those things that are right, and to act on them.  

I think this is part of what is happening in the Gospel story. Jesus’ family comes out to see him, but instead of following, loving, supporting, they try to restrain him, because people were saying that Jesus had gone out of his mind. The scribes went on to say he had a demon.  So both his biological family and the scribes had knowledge and based on what they “knew”,  judged him to be wrong, out of his mind or possessed by a demon. They had “knowledge” and again, got it wrong.  Putting this back in Eden, I can imagine the exchange going some thing like this. God says, “don’t listen to the mob, don’t get hung up on the religious law”, and then humanity acts, based on the other forces and God says,  “Who told you he was out of his head” or “Who told you he was possessed by a demon”?

From the beginning, humanity has substituted knowledge for faith. God said, trust me, and don’t eat from that tree. Adam and Eve learned that the tree enlighten them between good & evil.  Jesus’ family tried to restrain him, because they’d heard he was out of his mind.  Up until the end of his ministry on Earth, Jesus was battling with what we’d done with the knowledge we’d gained.  From the cross, Jesus exclaimed, “Forgive them Father. They know not what they do.”  

Knowledge. It’s a dangerous thing.  It is one of the seven deadly social sins, published by Ghandi back in 1925. Knowledge without character.  

I don’t think today’s Gospel from Mark is as much a condemnation of family, as much as it’s a conviction of how knowledge is only part of the story. With our knowledge of anything, we jump to action, conclusions and judgement.  God doesn’t ask us to know. God asks us to trust and love. 

How do we get it wrong so frequently? I think it’s because of all of the modern day serpents whispering in our ear. Power. Prestige. Money. Fame.   These things entice us away from God’s will, and we don’t even see it happening.  

To be clear, it isn’t easy. It wasn’t easy for the religious leaders of Jesus’ time, or for his family, or for Adam and Eve. Sometimes it’s downright hard to tell the difference between a choice that brings us closer to God, or one that moves us further away. There are social issues tearing up our nation, with well-intentioned Christians on all sides arguing they’re standing on God’s side. Immigration. Gun rights. Police brutality. Race relations. Hunger. In my previous job, I worked for the Eugene Police Chief. Most of the politically charged issues the police get wrapped up in are not nearly as one-sided as either side would have you believe. 

But Presiding Bishop Michael Curry has tried to simplify it a bit.  He has said, if it isn’t about love, it isn’t about God.  

To be clear, I have strong opinions about many of those social issues, of political leaders, of institutions and oppression.  But at the end of the day, my certitude is sometimes based on knowledge, and knowledge cannot get me to God’s heart.  I can’t possibly have all of the knowledge to make a right judgement, particularly when it comes to people. Yes, all of humanity will be judged – by God. Yes, there may be people and positions that are patently “wrong”.  But we can’t possibly have sufficient “knowledge” to know.  That judgement is God’s, not ours. 

At the end of the day, I think it’s all about love, about loving all of God’s people. Love for the immigrant. Love for the homeless. Love for the police officer. Love for the president, and the cake baker.  

So in these politically and socially challenging times, one of our greatest challenges is to refrain from judgment, because we can’t possibly know enough to get it right. Instead our job is to follow the will of God. And love. Everyone.  

Amen. 

The Journey Begins

So can you call it vacation when you’ve been off for almost 2 months?  Yes, I think you can. Tomorrow we head off on a week-long adventure. We start with a train trip from Portland to Boston. I’ve always wanted to take a long train trip, but it’s always been seemingly silly to take all that vacation time just for the journey. Two things are different about this train trip journey.
1) I’m not working, so I’m not taking vacation time.  Nice.

2) I have a new-found appreciation for the journey itself. Depending on how this goes I could imagine taking another train trip, when I do actually have to take vacation time.
We leave Portland Monday at 08:00 and arrive in Boston Thursday at 20:00. We’ve got a bag of snacks, loaded up the digital toys with books and audio books, and even a few Masterpiece Theater episodes. Hopefully, we won’t want to watch tv, but if we do, we’re ready.  I’ve even got a nice knitting bag packed, working on a lightweight cardigan.

We have a sleeper car for the overnights, which comes with meal service, and early boarding. I’ve done some looking into the tricks about train travel.  Did you know you can bring your own beverages on, as long as you have a private room? And it makes sense to go claim a seat in the view car.  I even heard a story of someone who’d taken the train back to Portland and to their surprise, the dining car was separated part way, so they were without expected meals, so we have extra snacks.

After the trip out, we’ll meet our son and his girlfriend outside of Boston for a long weekend. We picked Boston before we knew he was going to school there, but after we decided Watertown NY was not likely an ideal vacation destination. So we’ll meet in Boston, and be tourists Thursday through Monday. Monday, we fly back to Portland.

I’m well through my 3 month time between jobs, having left one job in early April, and starting the next July 1.  This week's “vacation” is a nice reminder to use the time well, both during this next week, and for the remaining time off. I was feeling a little bad about all the time off, when someone reframed it for me. They suggested I was taking a sabbatical.  Hmm.

 I’ve coached people who are taking sabbaticals, encouraging them to use the time for self-betterment, through study, spiritual practice or discipline, and rest. We’ve been busy enough getting settled in a new city and life, that I haven’t done as much study and practice, but I have rested well. So now, I’ll focus on the study and the practice, at least for the next few months, and I’ll use this trip to set my intentions for my remaining time off.

That’s why journeys, in and of themselves, are good. They give us time to think and be, as opposed to doing. To be clear, I’m both skilled at doing, and enjoy it. And I enjoy the space I achieve when I’m just being. As Carl Lewis said, It's all about the journey, not the outcome.

Observations on our move - One Month

May 16.  It’s hard to believe, but we actually moved in April 16. And in the past month, I’ve learned and experienced many things about our new world. 

• While I’d gotten very efficient at mass shopping and cooking, I need to discard that way of planning and prepping food. This is due to several reasons..  
• For one thing, without a car, I’m not as likely to transport 30 days of groceries on my bike. 
• I’m back to cooking for 2 people, rather than 5.  
• There’s a farmer’s market 2 blocks away with spectacular produce, once a week.  Buying fresh produce only weekly is tricky. Must cook or use delicate things first, while hardy produce can wait until later in the week.
• So this means that my weekly planning is a little more fluid; I’m not quite sure what’s fresh at the market until I get there, which then means the weekly plan might change. We also need to phase the shopping over the week, so we’re packing only ½ week of food on the bike at a time.  This is all very doable, and enjoyable. And different.

• We’ve found a great way to store and access our bikes. While the apartment has storage in the basement, it’s up 5 stairs and down an elevator ride to get there. The electric bike, while a great mode of transportation, isn’t light, so that wasn’t my first choice.  Instead, for a fee, we’ve become community member users of the Portland State Bike Garage program. There are at least three secure bike garages within walking distance. Our ID cards get us in, and we lock the bikes up there. From there, we walk 2 blocks home, and all is well.  

• In the past 30 days, I’ve put over 250 miles on my bike. Much of this is trips to the store, allergy shots, and church. But probably even more is made up with our afternoon adventures. We’ve ridden to all corners of Portland, exploring gardens, mansions, parks. We’ve also fabricated errands we don’t really need, just to use that as an excuse to explore on bike. We’ve found our local Tru-Value which we really enjoy, found three different bike shops in three different directions, and crossed most of the brides in town, for the sole reason to see what was on the other side.  

• Last night felt like a quintessential evening. We rode to the Apple store to look into new gadgets & tools. On the way home, realized we needed refreshments to go with our taco salads for dinner. We parked our bikes in the bike garage, took off the batteries to be recharged at home, and stopped at a new Growler store 1 block away. We bought our growler, and headed home – carrying an Apple bag, two bike batteries, and a growler of beer. Our new normal. 

• With less than 800sf of space, cleaning is super-easy and fast. 

• I've scoped out the safest, prettiest, and quickest way to get to my new office. Of course, the three aren't the same. I'll err on safe and pretty.  Through woods, on trails, along the river, and through a beautiful old cemetery. Door to door, it's about 60 minutes. The bus is always an option, and given where we moved, it would be about 25 minutes.  

So far, there hasn’t been a day where we haven’t marveled at our world now.  It isn’t perfect, but all of the things we’ve traded seem like good trades so far.  Car for bike. Garden for time.  Inside house space for cleaning time and coziness. Suburban for urban.  Windy roads for sidewalks. Car for bike and bus. 

I'm not suggesting this is the best thing for everyone, or even for us for all times.  It is definitely a good move for us for now.  The most interesting thing for me is that there were so many people who seemed envious of our choice, and action. Many seemed to have made the same choice, but were unable to actually execute.  I'm grateful we were in a position to contemplate a change, and to pull it off. Besides, none of this is permanent. If something doesn't work, we'll fix it.  But for now, it's working.  Well.  

Observations on our move - Stuff

I’m finishing my first month after leaving my last paying job. Two of those weeks were in Eugene, and the rest have been here at our new abode in Portland.  Things have been so disrupted these past weeks, but oddly, I’m feeling pretty settled. 

It’s interesting how I can measure my life phases by the stuff I purchase or unload.

Upsize that, please

We were in a pretty good status quo phase for years, until September 2017, when started a major upsize phase. We converted a bedroom in the back cottage to a kitchen, complete with stove, fridge, and washer & dryer. Our plan was to put it on the short term rental market.  We purchased a second set of kitchen supplies, and two more bedrooms full of beds and bedding. I enjoyed purchasing a starter kitchen set of dishes, knives, glassware. I was able to use years of house management experience to start it right. In hindsight, I’m sorry we don’t have 20+ years of house management experience when we first start out setting up our first house!  It would be so much easier and more efficient. 

We really enjoyed being short-term rental managers. With all of as-yet-unknown-but-still-imminent changes looming, we only rented it out for 3 months. It was pretty easy and we could set how much time we needed between rentals to clean everything up and make it ready again. We never rented in the more lucrative spring and summer months, but even in the winter, we probably made around $500 month. I’d do that again. 

Wait. Downsize that. 

In February we decided to relocate to Portland. We had to shut down the short term rental, and begin to divest of not only our houseful of stuff, but the extra things I’d purchased. We got rid of most of the stuff through donations. Throughout the week, we’d move stuff into the garage we wanted to get rid of, and on the weekend take loads to the donation sites. Some stuff ended in the dump, and a few things we sold. Getting rid of the things I’d just purchased for the cottage was easier than the harder inventory of our home stuff. But we needed to go through that too, because our home in Eugene was 1200 sf, not including the cottage, and the apartment is just under 800 sf.  

Relocate in shifts.

When we’d gotten rid of everything we thought we could and were left with just the essentials, we took one load to Portland while still working and living in Eugene. Comfy chairs, coffee table, occasional clothes and kitchen linens, winter coats. This actually made the move easier, because we were able to move half of the things in, get them somewhat settled, and return to a very sparse house. But that meant when we returned with the second load a week later, we didn’t have to load and unload the truck and unpack everything that first night. 

After getting everything moved and unpacked in Portland, we still wanted to get rid of things. We’d grown accustomed to the space we’d made by moving in two loads. These things went to kids and family friends. Finally, I think we’re nearing the right amount of stuff for us.  And the nice thing is that I don’t miss a single thing I don’t have.  It feels like I have more room, because there’s more empty space here, even though it’s smaller. Observation:  I wonder what our old house would have looked and felt like if we’d gone through this exercise of off-loading the lovely but unnecessary stuff we had. I kind of wish we had.

Bearing Fruit. (Easter 5B)

Good morning. I’m Carter Hawley, archdeacon for the Diocese of Oregon. As archdeacon, I support the rest of the deacons in the Diocese, including Deacon Stephen. And by way of a quick explanation of what a deacon is or does, I’ll share a quote that started me down the path of being chased by God, as a deacon. It was actually originally said about the journalism trade, but it is fitting for a deacon – My priest said that if deacons had a tagline or a motto, it would be this: Deacons comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. 

Said another way, deacons bring the church out into the world for service and love to our brothers and sisters in need – comfort the afflicted. And we bring the needs of the people and the world into the church, assuring that the church knows of the needs, concerns and hopes of the world – afflicting the comfortable. Now, to be clear we are all called to comfort and serve others in our baptismal covenant – seek and serve Christ in all people. Deacons are called to support and lead the church in that service, to mobilize and motivate others in that service, or in Greek –  in that diakonia. This is the source of the term deacon. Get it?

This is who I am to my core, both the comforting, and the afflicting, motivating and mobilizing. And add to this my paying job history as an administrator and manager, and voila, I’m both well trained and passionately committed comforting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable, and with helping other deacons do that too. 

Today’s readings are all spectacular. And while I know I’m biased, I think they all exemplify and highlight the ministry of a deacon.

Our first reading comes from Acts, stories of the earliest church. We hear about Philip sharing the Word with the Ethiopian eunuch. We aren’t told a lot about the Ethiopian, but we can infer some things from his description. First, we know he was from Ethiopia. He was of a different ethnic and racial background than the people of Israel. This made him an outsider. The eunuch was likely wealthy, wealthy enough to be in a chariot. Finally, he was a eunuch, a castrated male. According to purity law, this made him unclean. He was an outsider, both because of the religious laws, and because of the differences in his sexual identity as a eunuch. Finally, this wealthy outsider was also humble. He’s reading from the prophet Isaiah, and acknowledges to Phillip that he does not understand what he’s reading and could use some help. Unlike the Ethiopian eunuch, Phillip was not likely wealthy. Far from it. So this wealthy outsider asks for help from Phillip, the scruffy religious zealot.

This reading is often pointed to as an example of inclusive sharing. On Phillip’s part, race, ethnicity, sexual norms, - none of that mattered. At the spirit’s prompting, he chased after this person, who so perfectly was an “outsider” to engage in hard conversations. Can. You imagine talking to someone in your world about scripture, let alone someone so very different? 

Phillip was not alone as an example of inclusive boundary busting. On the part of the eunuch, wealth and status, that did not matter. Despite the differences, race, ethnicity, sexual norms, wealth, status, insider, outsider – these two engaged in a deep and meaningful conversation about scripture. 

And ironically, it’s this outsider who is the first to hear the Gospel of Jesus Christ and understand that if it’s true at all, it must be true for him. What’s to stop you from baptizing me, he asked. Sometimes this passage is referred to as the conversion of the Ethiopian eunuch. It may have very well been an even greater conversion for Phillip, who at the prompting of the spirit, encountered the ultimate outsider, and this outsider knew that if this good news was true, it was good news for him. They both afflicted each other’s comfort levels, with what was normal and expected. The Good News transcends all of that status quo. No one is excluded. 

Moving on to the Epistle from the First Letter of John. The community which received this letter had grown complacent in their care for the other. It was a community under attack, so they had grown  pretty insular, and kept to themselves. They were hunkered down in a mode of self-preservation. But this letter from John dispels the idea that you could love within your community or love God, but disregard others. “Those who say ‘I love God’ and hate their brothers or sisters are liars”. And “Those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also”. To be clear, this is not a relative, or conditional commandment. Love is love is love. Love of all. We love, because God loves us. That was certainly uncomfortable to hear then. It is a little uncomfortable to hear now. Afflict the comfortable. But when we get it right? When we are able to love all?  That’s some fine comforting, there.

So that takes us to Jesus’ story about the vine-grower. To put this in context, he’s sharing this after the events we celebrate on Maundy Thursday – the last supper, the foot washing. This is an intimate farewell to his followers, and Jesus is trying to explain to the disciples who he is, and who they are to each other. He explains that he is the vine, and God is the vine-grower. And the disciples – we – are the branches. I think this is both an individual you, and a collective you - you personally, and you the church. His example offers several distinctions of different kinds of branches, each of which deserves a little closer look. 

There are the branches that are not connected to the vine. A branch that is not connected to the vine withers. This reminds me of forcing flowers in the spring. You can cut budded stalks of flowering trees, put them in water and they will blossom. And eventually, they will wither and need to be thrown away, cut off from their life source. But they will bloom. 

Then there are the branches that are connected to the vine but do not bear fruit. These branches are cut off by the vine keeper. 

And finally, there are the branches that are connected and bear good fruit. These branches are pruned so they produce more. 

To be clear, I do not think this is fundamentally a story about judgment and being thrown into the fire if we aren’t doing enough, or if we haven’t professed Jesus Christ as our personal Lord and Savior. In some Christian circles, this passage is used to support a hellfire and damnation God. That is not what I think Jesus is talking about. It’s so inconsistent with his other loving teachings. Rather, I think this is a story about God’s unending and irrational loving care of us, and what happens to us, based on our choices about connectedness and bearing fruit, individually and collectively. 

As a church, as a gathered people of God, I believe there are groups that have gotten away from Jesus Christ’s redemptive love and grace, from loving God and your neighbor. These are the branches that are cut off from the vine. They focus on judgment and hate. Or maybe they’re just apathetic or blind to the needs of the world. They can do some good things – like the forced spring branches. But without being connected to the vine, without being nourished and restored by Jesus Christ, they will wither. 

There are Christian communities that are connected to the vine, to Jesus, but don’t produce fruit. I imagine this as a group that focuses solely on themselves, with no ministry beyond the walls. All worship, no love beyond here and now. Deeply faithful groups that fail to love and serve their neighbors can be connected to the vine, to Jesus Christ, but back to the Epistle, “Those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also”. 

That leaves us with the final kind of branch, and this is sometimes the hardest to hear and understand - the branches that are connected and do bear fruit. In the story, those branches are pruned by God, the vine keeper. What??  Pruned for good efforts, for producing fruit?  Some hear this as punitive, or not-good-enough. But that’s not at all what pruning is about. Anyone who’s ever had a garden knows that pruning is critical, getting rid of some of the great blooms or fruit, to encourage more, bigger, better. You don’t prune punitively. It’s never done with the intent to harm or punish. Quite the contrary. It’s intended to help the plant do what it’s supposed to do – flower, fruit, thrive. 

We as church communities must always be willing to look at what we are doing and who we’ve become and be willing to lovingly, and with great concern for what’s ultimately best for the whole vine, prune those things that have grown old and no longer work, or those branches that are holding back our future potential. This isn’t easy, but like pruning, when it’s done with loving care, it is beneficial and reaps much. 

In my home parish in the Seattle area, we owned a building in a neighboring downtown city that was used as a thrift store, and the proceeds were used for small grants to neighbors in need. This ministry was started when there were a lot of stay-at-home moms, and not so many large thrift stores. By the time I was a young mom, the ministry was struggling to get donations, shoppers, and volunteers to sort the stuff and staff the store. After much prayer, the building was sold. Sure, everyone grieved the end of that wonderful ministry. But the proceeds of the sale were used to reincarnate a new outreach ministry that better met the needs of now. Pruning. 

In this story, the various parts are called out. God’s the vine keeper. Jesus, the vine. We’re branches. So what exactly is the fruit that we’re supposed to be producing, connected to Jesus and pruned by God? Maybe there isn’t just one answer, but if there were just one, I think the Epistle reading spells it out – Love. We are commanded to love God and love our neighbor. To be clear, this is not a sentimental feeling. This is a hard thing to do, it’s an active verb. To love is to feel with, to care for, to support, to work on behalf of. As it relates to our neighbors, it is diakonia.

So if the fruit is love, what does this Gospel say to us individually? What does connected, not connected, and bearing fruit look like for you and me?  

The branches that are not connected? They can flower, but eventually wither. I think this is like well-intentioned social service providers. They can produce fruit. They can love and serve their neighbor. But eventually they get burned out without being connected to the life-giving vine.

Branches that are connected but not producing and are cut off?  Regardless of our connection to Jesus Christ, are we loving our God, and loving our neighbor? Not just concerned for, but actually doing something? Are we seeking and serving Christ in all people?  This is one way deacons are called to serve in the church. We help people who are already connected to the vine bear that fruit of diakonia.

Finally, branches that are producing and pruned? This is where we each need to take an honest inventory of our fruits, of our efforts, and prayerfully, lovingly, allow God to pick up God’s pruning shears. God prunes things out of our lives that we may really, really want and like. But if that’s the case, God’s pruning to get us to thrive, blossom, fruit. What is the fruit I’m producing?  After prayer, and reflection, what needs to be lovingly pruned so I thrive in Christ. 

All of us are called and commanded in our baptism, in the covenant we make with God and to each other, to seek and serve Christ in others. As a deacon, I fundamentally believe this is one of the greatest fruits we can bear. If you want to know more about deacons or how you can bear more fruit in the loving service of others, feel free to contact Dcn. Stephen or me. And in the meantime, now is the time for us to reaffirm our strong connectedness with the vine, with Jesus Christ, through the Eucharist. So let’s go get connected, and then head out and bear fruit!

Amen.

What a year that was. What a year this will be.

Wow. What a year I’ve had. 

Yesterday, in a moment of peace, my husband said we’d had a year that could make it into a Christmas letter. A very full Christmas letter. The problem is, the stuff that’s happened, you’d never ever see in a Christmas letter. 

My daughter was in a car accident where she totaled our car, lost her license, and had significant cost and challenges to get out of that hole. No one was hurt. 

I acquired a permanent stalking order against my perennial stalker after months of court dates and it taking way too much of my attention.

The health of my in-laws deteriorated so they needed to move into assisted living. This was after we’d moved them out from Iowa from assisted living, so they could be together, and with us. 

I welcomed my in-laws back for one stay at home, where my father-in-law took advantage of Oregon’s Death with Dignity law, truncating his suffering, and allowing for a more orderly, loving transition for his wife with dementia, surrounded by family. 

My day job continued to be a challenge, with retirements, resignations, and reassignments that further destabilized my already tenuous and vague job. 

Throughout all of this, there were still many many things that brought deep joy, including a loving husband of 27 years, with whom I felt I could weather anything; a deepening faith that through this, God was clearly present; a wonderful church community to work and occasionally worship; and good colleagues and friends. 

I embarked on a daily gratitude campaign, snapping shots of simple things that brought me joy every day. Not because life was without drama. Not because I wanted people to think everything was all roses. But because despite the storm, there’s beauty, and plenty of places to experience gratitude. We just need to stop and see it. 

Today, mid-April, I feel like I’m through one challenge, and staring down another. This time, I’m inviting the storm, and it’s full of promise and excitement.

It all began when I felt the urge to do something different with my paying job. I began to apply for jobs all over the Northwest. Unfortunately, my days as assistant city manager or associate vice president were getting farther away in the rearview mirror, and although I knew I could do the jobs, nothing panned out. Repeatedly, I’d get an interview, only to receive the “Thanks-you’re-the-next-runner-up” letter. Nobody likes me. Everybody hates me. Guess I’ll go eat worms.  I was the one and only guest at the greatest pity party I’d ever hosted. 

John was a few years away from being fully vested in the Oregon Public Employees Pension, so we were trying to make a go of sticking around. We’d decided to change up our life in Eugene, sell the house and move into a downtown apartment. We found one we really liked and put a deposit down on it. 

Right about that time, I’d pouted to a colleague in Portland, who said he’d hire me, but I was in Eugene, not Portland. Hmm. . It’s an organization I care deeply about, and people I respect and would like to work with. Hmm. .  

John and I had already gotten our heads into the space of selling our house and moving into an apartment. Why did it matter where the apartment was?  

Um. If you’re serious about hiring me, let’s talk. I’m serious.  So we began conversations about the possible job. As we were exploring options, he said, “If it is of God, it will work out”. With that, I was all in. 

John and I started in earnest to find an area in Portland to move and got our house on the market. 

With our house officially on the market 5 days, we’ve had three offers. The first was over the asking price and came in 2 days. Alas, the buyers walked away. The second offer came one day later and was a full cash offer. Alas, those buyers walked away too. The third offer came another day later. We’re in negotiations for that offer. I have cautious optimism that this will go through, but then again, I did for the previous two offers as well. I cannot approach it any other way. 

The challenge with our home is that it’s a quirky mix of expense and expanse, with constraint and repairs. It would not be considered a starter home because of the price. It’s on 2 acres, with 2 creeks and a pond and a spectacular garden. We’ve invested a lot in the inside and outside of the house and cottage and built a spectacular garden. We salvaged and brought back to life a beautiful northwest mid-century modern home. But it still has 20+ foggy windows, needs some stucco work, and the greatest constraint is that the main house has only one bedroom. I suspect buyers in this hot market are quick to make an offer on the house they imagine, and then slowly realize what it would take to achieve that vision. 

We’ll know within a week or so if this offer will stick. If not, the house will go back on the market. 

Meanwhile, we’ve secured a great apartment in downtown Portland, between Portland State and the Willamette River. It’s a one-bedroom unit on the 21st floor, with a west-facing balcony. The location is perfect, with easy access downtown, a quick walk to the grocery store, bike access everywhere and when needed, transit routes right outside the front door. 

We are actually moving to Portland this week, into our new, small apartment, and I couldn’t be more excited. 

Yesterday was my first day without a full-time job to go to in decades. My new job will not begin until July, which will allow me to get settled and established in a new city and new world. We’re still working out job details, so I don’t have much else to say about the job, but it will be absolutely spectacular, because I am certain it is of God. 

This week we’re getting a little reflective about our time in Eugene, going through all of the Remember When… conversations. And the I love . . . conversations. There’s no remorse. And it’s not sentimental nostalgia. But we are trying to acknowledge that a lot happened to us and our family during our time in Eugene. We’re trying to memorialize the places that trigger those memories, so we can take them with us. 

Rest assured. I’m still grateful. Daily.  When we’re settled in our new world, I’ll be back to sharing those moments of gratitude. And sharing how this new world unfolds. 

Love. Maundy Thursday 2018

Maundy Thursday 2018

Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.  Tonight I want to focus on the all encompassing, over the top love of Jesus. Undeserved, extravagant, unconditional and unending love of Christ. 

And this love? It wasn’t the sentimental emotion we experience in early relationships, not romantic love, burning hot and fast. It’s more like a willingness to act, to serve or help the other. And with tonight’s reading, Jesus tells the disciples what they’re expected to do in loving service, shows them what they’re to do, and gives them the new commandment that undergirds his entire ministry.  

He loves them to the end. He loved them fully, perfectly.  He knows what’s going to happen, and how before too long, he’ll be denied, betrayed and abandoned – by his friends. And yet in the face of this, he loved them to the end.  

Jesus has been healing and preaching and teaching, and his disciples have followed. But tonight, Jesus once again tries to teach, this time by showing the disciples what he’s been talking about. During the meal, he tied a towel around himself and began to wash the disciples’ feet. 

Not only was this action of Jesus a visible in-person example of what the action of love looks like, it required immense humility. In Luke’s Gospel, during this last supper, the disciples are still arguing about who’s the greatest, who gets the best seat, who’s most special.  All along, Jesus has been telling them that the first will be last, that service and love of the other are important. And yet, on this night, they’re still quibbling.  None of the disciples would have dared stooped to perform this task, reserved for the lowest of lowly servants. That would have risked their perceived importance. Instead, Jesus their lord and teacher washed their feet, because still the disciples didn’t understand.  

To truly love and serve the other requires humility.  Not humility as in feeling embarrassed, but as not having any ego or agendas in the game. Jesus knew he had nothing to prove, and nothing to lose. And when it came to loving and serving others, that is what we wanted the disciples to know. They had nothing to prove, and nothing to lose.  If I your lord and teacher wash your feet, so you should wash each others. He told them, and he showed them.  Serve and love each other.  

And remember that this washing happened during the meal.  He washed all the disciples’ feet. Including all of those who abandoned him. Peter who denied him.  Judas who betrayed him.  He loved them until the end.  He loved Judas to the end. 

Madeline L’Engle, author of the “Wrinkle in Time”, and a great theologian, wrote a story that speaks to this perfect love. 

“After his death Judas found himself at the bottom of a deep and slimy pit. For thousands of years he wept his repentance, and when the tears were finally spent he looked up and saw, way, way up, a tiny glimmer of light. After he had contemplated it for another thousand years or so, he began to try to climb up towards it. The walls of the pit were dank and slimy, and he kept slipping back down. Finally, after great effort, he neared the top, and then he slipped and fell all the way back down. It took him many years to recover, all the time weeping bitter tears of grief and repentance, and then he started to climb up again. After many more falls and efforts and failures he reached the top and dragged himself into an upper room with twelve people seated around a table. "We've been waiting for you, Judas," Jesus said. "We couldn't begin till you came."

After loving them - and in great humility - serving them, he concluded with crystal clear direction.  I give you a new commandment. That you love one another, as I have loved you.

It’s hard for us to do – loving others with that kind of intimacy and humility. It’s much easier for us to distance ourselves from others, or to decide some don’t deserve our love, our service.  The addicted or undocumented. The prisoner or the mentally ill. The democrats, the republicans. We are so quick to excuse our inaction and our lack of love and concern, because of what we perceive as the actions or intentions of others.  As if their presence – their being – is somehow not worthy of our love and respect because of their life circumstances or choices.

But Jesus loved them all, including Judas and Peter, until the end.  He commanded them to love each other. No conditions. No exceptions. No limitations. No pride.  No judgment.   

Just as I have washed your feet, so you should wash each other’s feet.  

We are commanded to love each other. And it is hard.  Often it’s harder than fighting, or being proud, or ignoring.  

20th Century Priest & Theologian John McKenzie wrote:

Not by annihilating the wicked, not by forcibly eliminating evil from among humankind is righteousness to be realized;

the Lord wills to rehabilitate the world by turning sinners from evil ways that they may live.

And we must admit that this is more difficult than the use of force.

Jesus Christ, on the night he was handed over, commanded us to love.  The beauty of this night, and this weekend, is that we are invited to spend time in deep prayer with the God who loves us that much and who will strengthen us to love like that. And we are invited to get close to Christ who showed us how.  

How to share and show that Undeserved, extravagant, unconditional and unending love. The perfect love of Christ. 

Amen.