The Co-Pastor Experiment

An experiment in love, partnership, and ministry.

[co-pastor]

Tell the Stories

When I die, please tell the story of how I dove down the marble steps of the church.  Or say that I was a loving mother...kind of obnoxious, actually.  That it was like my kids walked on water, which is improbable even for the children of two Presbyterian ministers.  Or say I was demanding of the people around me, but most of all myself.  Say I was difficult, a pest, capricious.  Say I was a nomad who thought she’d lost her Texas accent, but she never really did.  Whatever you do, don’t say I was nice.

It’s not that I am not nice.  I figure I pretty much am, but ‘nice’ doesn’t say much about a person.  And, when a person dies, at their funeral is when the people gathered want to hear something that reminds them of who they are missing.  They want to hear something that connects with the person they knew; so you’ve got to tell real stories.

If you want to know how to prepare an effective eulogy here’s how:

1) Say your name and how you are related to the deceased - you know, the deceased’s family knows, but everyone might not know that you are his daughter or her great nephew

2) Don’t be afraid to be funny - it’s a great time to tell a funny story...but really just one or two.  If he has a funny nickname, tell how he got it and maybe a time it got him into trouble.  If she once dove down the marble steps of the church, tell it, and say she got up, dusted herself off, and then laughed about it later.  Say her ego was bruised but not nearly as badly as the physical bruises in straight lines across her body every 10 inches from where she hit the marble edges at full force.  And that all the while, her skirt somehow didn’t fly up to show her wares.  A funny story tells about a person, even if it doesn't seem entirely flattering, it is entirely telling of who they were.

3) Don’t be afraid to be sentimental - it’s the perfect time for that, too.  If the deceased had a great faith, or integrity, or artistic genius or was an unfailing friend, say it.

4) Don’t be afraid to cry - If you’re afraid you’ll cry, so what?  You’re at a funeral, for goodness sakes, your tears will mix with all the others!  If you’re really worried, take a hard copy, and ask the pastor or rabbi to jump in if you can’t go on.  S/he will be glad to oblige.

5) Tell about your own experience with the deceased - it’s the only perspective you have, and it’s a good one.  I mean, you’ve been asked to speak at the funeral, you must have an important perspective - trust it.  If it’s genuine, it will relate to others.

6) Don’t say everything - there will be a reception afterward where you can tell other stories, and days and weeks and months and years ahead to reminisce about the deceased; so please, please, please, don’t feel you have to say everything today, right now, in the eulogy.  Even the best public speaker is going to loose the crowd if s/he goes on too long.  Always leave them wanting more.

Even if the stories you tell are not 100% good, don’t worry.  No body is 100% good.  People will recognize in those stories, the real person they knew who was bigger, broader, more interesting than rose-colored stories, and that, after all, is who they came to see today.  It’s who they’ve come say good bye to today, and who you’re saying good bye to, as well.

So, the good and the bad, the funny and the sentimental.  Whatever you do, tell the stories.

[co-pastor]

Enough

I thought I would be starving by now.  I am not.

For the last four days I have lived on 97% fruits and vegetables, and almost nothing else.  There was a 1/4 of oats for breakfast and two corn tortillas at dinner.  Otherwise, it was vegetables, fruit, spices, and beans.  No salt.  No oil.  No eggs.  No dairy (expect a bit of milk in my mostly decaf coffee).  No meat.  And I thought I’d be beyond hungry by now, but I’m not.  Rather than hungry, I’m wondering how in the world I could actually eat a pound of raw vegetables, a pound of cooked vegetables, a cup of beans, and four pieces of fruit in one day!

The fruit I can manage.  It tastes like candy.  Seriously, after a bit of tastebud detox, the fruit is amazing!  We had the most divine cantaloupe this week.  I bought more.  I fear they won’t live up to the high bar set by their predecessor.  The beans are even doable if they are divided between meals.  But a pound of raw and a pound of cooked vegetables?  It’s nearly impossible.

Something I have noticed within myself before is a natural satiation point when it comes to vegetables.  I can eat and eat and eat broccoli, but then, I get full.  And when I get full, I cannot even think of putting another piece of broccoli in my mouth.  It’s like my body, knows to tell my mind, “No, absolutely not.  There’s no room left.”  And so, I don’t eat.  But if, at the exact same meal, when I’m feeling completely full of vegetables, I think of eating, say, cake, then, miraculously, my little full tummy scooches a little broccoli this way, and some that way and says, “I think we can find room in the inn for just a little piece of cake.”  Enough, when it comes to sweets, isn’t, after all, enough...but it should be.  

This is a problem beyond the food we eat.  We, humans, are consumers.  We can find room for just about anything we see, if we have the money to buy it.  We consume and consume, finding more room for more stuff we don’t need - expanding our waistbands, our credit card bills, the piles that are our closets.  Want, want, want drives our every appetite and, not only is that bad for our bodies...not only is it bad for our environment...but it is also bad for our spirits.

It is bad for our spirits because it is good to long for something that you have not yet gotten.  It does a spirit good to want for a little something, to give it hope for something ahead.  Sometimes a little longing will propel us forward giving us something for which to strive.  Sometimes longing for rather than buying something will make room for other things, better things.  Another reason it is bad for our spirits is that it impedes our experiencing the world around us.  We are deadened by our incessant consumption, so focussed on getting, that we forget...cannot see the actual world, real life going on around us.  For some, the consumption is a strategic plan intended to do just that - cushion us from experiencing the world around us.  For others that deadening of our senses means we cannot see past the things we have to the things that are or the things that can be.  It’s another way that consuming squelches hope.

It’s also contrary to the way the Bible teaches us to live.  When the Israelites were wandering in the desert and God fed them with the manna from heaven, they were to collect as much as they and their families could eat in a day.  They ate heartily of this narrow diet, and, at the end of the day, any that was left would waste away.  There was no banking it for another day.  They did not need to bank it for another day - they were full; so what need did they have for more? and God was going to provide for them the next day.  To try and store it was to show a lack of faith.

Is it that different for us today?  Do we not worry about there being enough?  Do we not store away our riches (be they food, clothes, money) for fear of what may come rather than trusting that God will be with us not matter what may come?  

It is not easy to rely so heavily upon God.  It is not easy to let enough be enough, especially when it’s vegetables and cake can be had.  But it is worth the struggle in order to be more aware of ourselves and the world around us and more open to what God is doing for us, to us, and through us.

[co-pastor]

Day 1 - Breakfast was good...

On day one (I’m not exactly sure why we thought that giving up meat, dairy, oil, and caffeine the day after Easter would be a good idea...that is, the day after we had just spend the entire week planning, preparing for, and leading the most important worship services of our church year!  Spent and tired, we started a new thing...hey, come to think of it, that sounds downright biblical...I bet the disciples were pretty bedraggled that morning after, too), breakfast was good.

Breakfast was wonderful, actually, it tasted amazing.  It was a small amount of oatmeal with cinnamon, currants, walnuts and ample blueberries, banana, shredded apple.  I thought, I could do this every single day...and I may have to.

The premise of Eat to Live by Dr. Joel Fuhrman (eat mostly vegetables, fruits, and beans) seemed easy enough.  I like salad well enough.  I can eat sugar snap peas as a snack...heck, I could probably make a meal off of them.  Fruit is delicious...if it’s ripe.  Beans are fine.

It turns out, that’s about all I was working with.  Salad, fruit, and a can of beans.  I’m having to learn a completely new way of cooking while I’m also trying to learn a new way of eating.  I’m surprised that it is doable, but it is also excruciatingly time intensive, especially difficult with two very small children biting about the ankles, and has absolutely nothing to do with ease. 

My old way of cooking was, very often, easy.  ‘I don’t know what we’re having for dinner...I know, I have some pasta.  I throw in some chicken.  It’s a meal!’  Now, there’s no chicken, no pasta, no meal.

For lunch we had ginormous salads with balsamic vinegar.  

For dinner we had large salads, with balsamic vinegar...and some really crappy lentils I made.  

It’s going to be a chore, this.  I miss salad dressing immensely.  I would like to have had rice with the lentils...or good lentils at least.  Tonight I ate purely to nourish my body, not for enjoyment, and that was not easy, but then, I think, maybe eating...that is nourishing our, bodies should be a little bit harder than it was.  We were nourishing ourselves into obesity; so clearly we had it too easy.  Maybe we need it to be more difficult so that we can readjust our relationship with food, recalibrate our tastebuds.  

Aside from breakfast, today has been unsatisfying not because I wasn’t full, I definitely was, but because the food had not depth, no diversity.  I love variety and my vegan repertoire has none.  Thankfully, Hubby went out and bought Dr. Fuhrman’s recipe book.  Hopefully it will make this whole endeavor a bit easier...but not too easy.

[co-pastor]

Sustainability

I’m drawn to eating nutritarian half for the prospect of what it will do for my waistline and half because I believe that it is what we (humanity) need to do to protect our planet.

I believe that we have to eat less meat in order to protect the land, the air, the waterways.  Meat is such a costly food to rely upon.  It takes absurd amounts of energy and water to produce.  And it does not give a return on that investment on par with non-meat protein sources.  So much of our farmable land is used to grow corn and soy, which are intended not for people’s tables, not to feed the hungry of our world, but to feed cows so that we can have our burgers and steaks.

It’s the globe I’m concerned about, more than the animals.  I am concerned about the treatment of the animals - both in how their treatment diminishes the quality of the product (my meal) and in how it diminishes the quality of their lives.  I’m just concerned about sustainability more.  And the most sustainable way forward is to decrease meat consumption and increase vegetable, fruit, and bean consumption.  Oh, and hey, in doing so we’ll be healthier, too!  Healthier bodily and healthier ecologically.

[co-pastor]

Eating to Eat

It’s no exaggeration to say that we eat to eat.  We don’t sit around eating food non-stop, but Hubby and I follow our tastebuds and our whims to satiate our palates.  I don’t think we’re very odd in that regard, but Dr. Fuhrman would say that it is wrong headed...or wrong for our guts, anyway.  

Our palates are (Fuhrman would say) addicted to sugar and fat and caffeine.  So, to follow them is to follow our addiction rather than to follow our bodies’ needs.  What our bodies need is nutrients and micronutrients, not fat and sugar.    As long as we follow our palates, we will feed the addiction; whereas breaking the cycle will feed our bodies and change our palates...so Dr. Fuhrman said.

We agreed we’d start the new way of eating after Easter, but even as we were reading the book, we couldn’t help but change the way we were eating.  We naturally incorporated more vegetables and fruits into our meals.  In so doing, we already began to lose weight, we already began to notice a change in our palates...and our waistlines.  It’s incredible how simple it is to eat more vegetables and fruit...as long as you have them in the house.  Now we’re thinking about our kids, too.  They are still very small.  The baby is coming right into this.  She’ll know no different.  The toddler, well, he’ll be harder to convince, but easier now than in a year’s time.  

We’re not going to to hardcore on him, but we are going to slowly weed the jun food out of the house and out of his diet.  Wish us luck as we dive in!

[co-pastor]

You Should Read This Book

A few weeks ago Hubby went to the doctor for a physical.  All routine.  It’s for Credo.  We hadn’t bothered to find a doctor since moving here...at least one that is not involved in birthing babies.  We have some of those, but they aren’t much good to him.  

I think he picked the one closest to our house, who works with our insurance.  He went for his appointment and came away without having had a physical (that will happen in several weeks) and with the recommendation of a book - Eat to Live by Dr. Joel Fuhrman.  

Turns out the doctor is into integrative medicine, which we like, and takes a holistic approach to care, which we also like.  Hubby’s #1 reason for not wanting to go to the doctor is because he doesn’t want to be prescribed medicine; so the new Doctor is a great fit.  Thankfully.

On the way home from the appointment Hubby, dutiful as always about his homework, went to B & N and bought the book and began to read it that night.  He was stunned by what he was reading.  Some of it was stuff I’d said (a potato does not count as a vegetable) and some of it was new, like what eating copious amounts of sugar can do to your body physiologically.  He pretty quickly realized that following what the guy was suggesting made some sense, and to follow the book’s recommendations, would require a pretty radical change...a change that would not work without me on board.  

Just about every book he reads he thinks I will like.  “You should read this book,” he’ll say about a murder-mystery or an historical novel or a biography of some random guy I don’t care enough about to read a synopsis much less a tome.  But every page or two, he was uttering some amazement and then saying “you should read this”...so I got the book and started to read.

Indeed it was amazing.  So much of it made sense - if you eat primarily plants, your body will have to use its stored fat and you will lose weight.  Some seemed like a leap of conjecture and akin to Christian Science positive thinking- eating vegan will prevent every ailment known to humanity including cancer and arthritis.

Basically, the premise is: eat food that is the highest quality (highest nutrient per calorie).  From this perspective lettuce is more nutrient rich than meat.  That is partially due to the wide variety of nutrients in lettuce and partially due to the extremely low calorie count for lettuce.  You can eat a boat load of lettuce, get a boat load of nutrients (including protein, who knew!) and still not rack up the calories of a small steak.  Dr. Fuhrman calls this way of eating and thinking about food “nutritarian”, since nutrient density is the focus.

In practice it looks like this:  you can eat as much food as you want as long as you eat vegan 90% of the time.  The remaining 10% you can do what you like to an extent.  You can use meat to season vegetables, for instance; so it’t not verboten, but it’s not the main event, either.  The salad should be the meal and anything else should be a side.

So...we’re giving it a go.

[co-pastor]

Things NOT to Say to Your Pregnant Pastor...and Things to Say Instead

I’ve talked with several other pregnant women recently, and we all concur that people seem to feel free license to comment on our size, weight gain, and shape in a way that is not otherwise, or even then, ok.  On reflection, I’m sure it’s an extension of the body objectification that women face regularly, and certainly that women pastors face far and beyond that of their male counterparts, but people seem to feel all the more able and willing to make comments, as if the burgeoning baby bump negates any meanness or sensitivity...it doesn’t.  

In my ‘vast’ experience (76.5 weeks of pregnancy - 41 the first time and 34.5 and counting this time), I can say that, while I love my bump, and more so the wiggly, little being it contains, I remain self-concious about my body, and your comments (innocent as you may think they are, padded as you may think they are by the bump) still bug me, and even hurt.  

So here is a small list of things to consider NOT saying to your pregnant pastor, and some helpful alternatives.

1)  Instead of: Wow!  Are you sure you’re not carrying twins?  Try: Wow!  You look great.  Unlike 50, 40, or even 30 years ago, I have had sonograms with my pregnancy.  You know this because you have seen them.  Likewise, the baby’s heartbeat has been monitored at every check up.  I have absolutely no doubt that I am not carrying twins, nor did I think I particularly looked like I was carrying twins until your unhelpful comment.  Now I will spend my remaining X# of weeks of my pregnancy paranoid that every random person I meet, who has not seen my sonograms or heard me talk about my pregnancy, thinks I’m carrying twins.  

Conversely, you can never go wrong in (almost) any situation telling another human being that they look great.  That is especially true of pregnant women, pastors or otherwise.

2)  Instead of: Oh my goodness you’re big!  How much bigger are you than last time?/You are so much bigger than last time!  Try: Oh my goodness, you are so pregnant!  The reality is, I’m smaller than last time, thank you, it’s just sitting differently.  And, until this moment, I was feeling pretty good about myself.  No thank you for this little bit of self-loathing you’ve just given me.  

Conversely, I AM so pregnant, and I know it; so while it is a redundant statement, it has no judgement attached.

3)  Instead of:  How much weight have you gained?  I only gained 15lbs with my pregnancies.  Try:  Wow!  You look great.  I really don’t care how much weight you gained when you were 20 and pregnant.  I am not 20 and pregnant, but, more importantly, I am not you, and I do not intend to tell you or anyone else, save my husband, how much weight I have gained.  

Conversely, you can never go wrong, in (almost) any situation, telling another human being that they look great.  That is especially true of pregnant women, pastors or otherwise.

When in doubt, go positive.  I know it seems like an easy open season when the belly is protruding and the clothes seem to be shrinking and straining, but the same old body image issues that were there before the sperm met egg and started dividing are still there, and, in many cases, made worse, in some cases, much worse by the bump.  

If you can truly not imagine saying something positive, it is completely acceptable, and extremely advisable, that you embrace the immortal words of the philosopher Thumper:  If you can’t say nothin’ nice, don’t say nothin’ at all.

[co-pastor]

Pardon Me If I Sleep

These were my husband’s words to me this morning.  

He briefly roused from his deep slumber, his muffled snores pausing.

Someone’s up early, he said, as we both listened to the early morning chattering of our toddler.

Yea, I said, realizing I’d probably just squandered the first hour of my awakeness...my solo awakeness looking for breakfast recipes on Pintrest.

Is the baby kicking, he asked.

Yes, but I’m just awake, I said.

Pardon me if I sleep, he said...as if I thought (or he thought) he’d do anything else.

The first time around, when pregnancy insomnia was keeping me up, I had high hopes of what would happen after the baby was born.  He had assured me, long before we were ever pregnant, that he would get up with the baby, too.  That he would bring me the baby to feed and then change the diaper and put it back down.  I held onto that hope, that, after the baby had left my body and I was again able to sleep on my back or my stomach or my right side comfortably, we would share some of being awake in the dark hours of the morning.

When reality hit, and real sleep deprivation took hold, those utopic dreams - mine AND his - evaporated.

The truth is, I don’t want him to be unable to sleep.  It’s miserable.  I’m cheap, but I would probably pay money to sleep like him.  I’d probably pay money, sometimes, to be able to roll over and go back to sleep through the early morning songs of our toddler...or to be able to completely ignore his questions and demands while watching golf (well, maybe not golf, but something enjoyable...though, maybe even golf if it meant I could just absorb myself in a pre-child-having away).

As far as co-parenting goes, sleep is definitely a low point.  My husband is great with our son.  When I leave he isn’t “babysitting” he’s parenting.  He parents him in church when I lead worship.  He parents him sometimes even when I just need a few minutes to myself, but the ‘co-’ in co-parenting doesn’t divide quite so 50-50 as I had imagined, especially when it comes to nighttimes cries in the dark or early morning wake-up calls.

Oh, of course I wouldn’t change it.  I love the Wee Guy.  He’s a dream and a joy, but I wish I could turn myself off like my husband, just shut down with no regrets, worries, or guilt that I’ll miss the Wee Guy’s plaintive calls...or sleep past 4:30am when pregnant.

[co-pastor]

Sunday Morning Quiet House

Only the little cat and me stirring lightly through the gentle quiet. Wee guy sleeps, big guy sleeps, while we work. I preparing while the little cat hunts unseeable beasties in the early morning darkness.

[co-pastor]

Bleh, Chef Mommy

"Oh it's easy," my friend said.  "I made all my daughter's food.  I just used what we had and put it in the little food processor and she loved it!"

How hard could it be, afterall?  I mean, I'm a decent cook, at least according to the friends I've subjected to my cooking.  I can make an All American Beef Stew, a scot-approved cottage pie, a darn fine curry, if I do say so myself.  Pie crusts are a weakness, but with my cobbler recipe, who needs crust?!

So I figured I could engage my creative cooking side, save a little money, and feed my dear 2.0.

I started with carrots and broccoli.  I steamed them and then began to attempt to grind them.  Grinding broccoli is no easy task...or neat.  I had the most brilliantly orange Technicolor mess all over my kitchen counter.  Some of it made it into these little storage containers my friend generously passed on to us.  Some I put right on the dinner table.

Unfortunately I didn't ask 2.0 his thoughts on the subject of homemade vs store bought food. 

In what will, no doubt, be the first of many good efforts for naught, I put my heart and soul and elbow grease (who knew a food mill could be a cardio workout) into healthy homemade food for his blessed little tummy, which he gagged over and then threw-up.  Yes, seriously. 

I think it's a texture thing.  Maybe the food mill doesn't result in a smooth enough puree.  Maybe I need to incorporate some more water.  Maybe I need to use the blender and puree the crap out of that stuff. Or maybe I just need to keep the Gerber coming.  I mean, I don't know any high school kids still Living on the stuff, right?

[co-pastor]

Mind The Gap

The tax deadline is 8 days away, and, as we contemplate, stew-over, and are perplexed by our annual earnings and IRS forms, it has come to our attention…again...that women make less than men.  In fact, women make 19% less than men.  Some will cite reasons such as women not having the skills, women taking time off for childbearing and raising, and women not needing to make as much because their husbands also work.  All are absurd and mere tools of gender-based discrimination that we, as women, are often too ‘polite’ to confront.

SKILLS – When I graduated from seminary I still had some ordination exams to pass and some paperwork to fill out.  I’d made good grades, great, in fact, and had strong recommendations.  My PIF (Pastor Information Form) was well written and thoughtfully filled-out, yet, I did not receive a call while others of my classmates in the same situation, often with worse grades, did.  The only skill they had that I did not was the ability to pee standing up.  Yet, these guys were called to churches who were willing to let them finish their qualifications while on the job.  Also while there, they were given the opportunity to develop their skills.  Too often women are expected to already HAVE all the skills they will ever need while men are allowed to ‘learn on the job’.  It’s not really a matter of skills, it’s a matter of gender, that is gender discrimination.

  CHILDBEARING – Last I looked, and since 2.0 is only 7.5 months old, it was pretty recently…last I looked, women didn’t have children on their own.   Some do, don’t get me wrong, and more power to them, but the vast majority of children out there were born of two parents.  Married, unmarried, committed, uncommitted, it doesn’t matter the situation, it takes two to tango, and yet mothers are generally the ones penalized for bringing new consumers into the world, and they are penalized two fold – crappy maternity leave and poor job advancement and payment. 

America’s basically non-existent maternity leave policy and standards means that women too often have to make the choice between caring for an infant or maintaining a job.  Forced back to work after a mere 6 weeks or less, many women feel they can neither be a good employee nor a good mother.  Subsequently, many feel the need to choose one or the other, and jobs being easier to quit than motherhood, they take time off and loose professional standing.  Once out of the job market, it’s hard to get back in.  Those who stay in the job market receive unspoken demerits for time spent with sick kids, and covering during school and day care breaks.  Increasingly, men are sharing in these familial tasks, which is great, but they, too, are feeling the pinch of parenthood.

PARTNERS – I have heard this line myself.  “We paid you less because we knew your husband was working.”  Wait, what?  What do his job and pay have to do with my getting paid fairly for the work I’m doing?  Do people look at a man and say that he doesn’t need to make as much when his wife is working?  No!  A person should get paid for what they are doing, without regard for what their partner is doing.  Period.

The flip side of all of this gender bias against women, is the vice grip it has on men.  I know men who would gladly become stay-at-home dads or would delight in working a more moderate schedule to spend more time with their kids, but are locked into high demand jobs because their families rely on their higher pay. 

I have spoken mainly of different-sex couples.  I do not know how this pans out in same sex-couples. But, the fundamental foundation is the same:  People should be paid based upon the work that they are doing.  Period

[co-pastor]

The Affordable Care Act and Pregnancy Coverage

I spent part of last Friday paying bills related to giving birth to my son.  I have insurance...good insurance, and yet my out of pocket expenses for the pregnancy and birth are substantial.  I love him more than words or hyperbolic phrases can indicate and (we'll see how I feel in approximately 12 years when the tween years are in full swing, but for now...) I think the bills are probably worth it.

It's been really amazing to walk around as part of my baby's entourage.  Wherever we go, people stop to look at him, and often melt into puddles of adult sentimentality and goo to elicit a smile or even a passing glance from my infant.  People love babies.  Even people who do not like children, who profess to stay away from them at all cost, cannot help but look at the baby and track his movement with their cynical eyes softened.

Yet, I've been struck by how little people want to pay for babies.  People love babies, but don't want to have to pay for them.  I found this with maternity leave, which was surprising, but I have been shocked all the more by the stories I've seen and rants I've heard from people complaining about having to pay for maternity coverage under the Affordable Care Act.  I've got news for ya'll: babies come from mamas and mamas need maternity care for babies to be healthy and cute and smiley for you to play with in the grocery store check-out line!

Yes, I get that you are a single male who never intends to have kids...or you're a woman who really will never have kids.  I get that, I really do.  I don't like paying for things I'm not going to use.  Just last week I bought a pair of leopard print heals on a whim that I now realize I won't be using, and that's annoying, but here's the thing about you paying for maternity coverage you won't be using:  That's the way insurance works.

See, I don't have cancer and I don't intend to get cancer.  In particular I will not have prostate cancer...and yet, I pay for insurance that covers cancer in general, and prostate cancer in particular.  My insurance bill pays for cancer because I might, someday, have cancer and I definitely won't be able to pay for treatment out of pocket.  My insurance bill covers prostate cancer because you might, someday, have prostate cancer and by my paying my insurance bill for your cancer it means that I share in your cost just like you shared my cost for prenatal care.  We all pay in a smaller amount so that none of us has to pay a HUGE amount.  That's not a racket or a ploy or some sort of absurd attempt to reward all those "bad women" who manage to get pregnant all on their own (oh wait, that can't happen...).  No, we all pay into insurance for ailments and diseases we aren't going to have so that everyone else can get coverage for what s/he needs.  And everyone else pays in for ailments and diseases we have so that we can get the coverage we need.  Again: That's the way insurance works.  

So kindly stop complaining about sharing in the cost of my pregnancy and I'll kindly not mention your prostate.

[co-pastor]

Divine Incarnation

We found out we were pregnant during advent.  I was at the very beginning of my pregnancy while Mary was, once again, coming to the very end of hers, but I could not help but think of her.  

I could not yet feel the baby move.  That it was there was more academic than experiential, and yet, I knew there was a life being knit together within me...just an ordinary life, a miraculously ordinary life.  It is part me, part Dutch.  A small, tadpolish conglomeration of cells, and yet, already I was wondering would it have his eyes or mine or some of its very own?  Would the baby have my chin or his, his hair or mine, my temperament or his or be nothing like either of us?

Each new week of the baby's gestation we have marked by reading, in What to Expect When You're Expecting or on the Pregnancy App I have on my phone, what is happening in the baby's body, and in mine.  These little mile markers helped me through the first queasy months.  Limbs are developing, I can feel rotten for arms and legs...The heart is differentiating in to chambers, I can endure another week of constant sea-sickness for a good heart...

And with each thought, I've thought of Mary.  I've never been one to emphasize Mary and her holy role in Jesus' life, mainly because I think she's played up a bit much, oftentimes.  Or maybe the feminist in me has been annoyed that she is considered remarkable only because of her ability to procreate.  But my mind keeps returning to her and what she must have been thinking and feeling - without books or apps to guide her along the way, without, even, the benefit of friends and family toward the end.  She, too, must have wondered what her baby would look like, what kind of eyes it would have, what kind of chin.  She, too, must have dreamt of holding it and watching it grow.  Mary, too, must have marveled at and been confounded by the wee foreign body within her own ('The Alien' or 'The Tapeworm' as I often call it) growing, demanding food and rest, moving, and being still.

My mind boggles at the thought that the food I put in my body plus the biological engine within these dividing cells has knit together a baby in my womb that continues to grow, already makes me laugh, and melts my heart before I've even seen its face.  Mary must have been all the more bewildered by the Incarnation happening within her.  How much stranger must she have felt? How much more foreign the being within?  How much more humbling to know that it was God's?  

And yet...every time I stop to think of the being who has woken me at 4:30 this morning because it has tapped my reserves and my stomach is so empty it's growling, or when it seems to delight at the sound of music in worship, or reacts to Dutch's voice when he speaks nearby, or forces me to my knees in the afternoon in need of a power nap, or anyone of many ordinary and surprising things, I cannot help but marvel at the divinity of its incarnation, at how miraculous it is that the process even exists and works, but even more so that God has allowed it to happen in my body, allowed me to be a part of it and experience it.  

The divinity I recognize within the growing baby of my womb, opens my eyes to the divinity of each of us.  The power we each hold to do good in the world, or bad if we choose.  I do not think our baby will be the savior of the world.  With two pastor parents I hope that s/he will find something of her/his very own that makes her/him happy and the world a slightly better place, but I hope, too, that I do not loose this sense that the baby is divine, that it is a gift to have her/him in my life, that s/he is only entrusted to me for a time to teach and love before sending out to play her/his part, however small or large, in the history of the world and the unfolding story of God's salvation.  In that way, I think Mary and I are not so different, and I hope I can have Mary's poise to differentiate between myself and my child, my hopes and dreams and its.  I hope when it's late for curfew or has just broken a beloved wedding present or scared the dickens out of me by wandering off, that I can love its independence, its curiosity, its ingenuity, and recognize it all as divine.

I suppose, like Mary, I don't have to go it alone.  I've got Dutch to help to keep the crazy at bay and God to guide the way...if I remember to listen to either of them! 

[co-pastor]

A Text Resurrected

I've always been annoyed, if not outright against, the story of Jesus resurrecting Lazarus.  I know it sounds silly, maybe even horrible that a minister should reject a resurrection story, but I have.  It's not that I don't believe it happened.  I believe it probably did, but I have rejected it as useful for sermons and pastoral care because it doesn't happen today.

Ok, yes, you can tell me about all the adorable children and hardened adults you've known or heard of who have had 'near death' experiences.  You can tell me about how they saw the warm glow of the afterlife or even conversed with a being sent to the middle to help them decide whether to come or go, but really, if in fact those things do actually happen, they are so exceedingly rare and beyond the norm that they are not helpful, especially because what I deal with, my bread and butter, is the normal deaths of real people.

No death is really normal.  Everyone is extraordinary in its way, even if that way is simply that is the first time this person, this family has experienced it.  But in the moment of this extraordinary, normal death, the story of Lazarus is of no help.  Sitting at the bedside of a man whose body is slowly being taken over by aggressive, unstoppable cancer cells, talking with him and his wife of 60 years as she holds his hand and can't imagine living without him, how is Lazarus' resurrection helpful?  I cannot in good conscience tell them that this lovely man might be resurrected by Jesus and live here on earth some more.  I can't even, in good conscience tell them a healing story, for that matter.  This man is going to die and the healing I see that will be done is that he will be at peace in the presence of God.  They get that, they are lovely and devout and brave.  Why mess with that?  Why muddy the theological waters with Lazarus?

So Lazarus has remained on the back burner, avoided as much as possible.  When Lazarus is walking down the lectionary street, turn a corner and take another lectionary street, opting for the Old Testament or the Epistle, but yesterday, in a women's Bible study at my church, the story of Lazarus was resurrected for me.

People will say that they can read the Bible on their own, that they can practice their faith or spirituality on their own, and they can, but it will not be as full, as challenging, or as beautiful as faith practiced together, as the Bible read together.

A woman, a constant member of this church for all but the first three years of her life when she didn't live in this town, who raised her three children in the church, and now brings her grandchildren when they are in town, who has cooked unknown quantities of food for church events and done so many more large and small things for the church, in known and unknown ways, changed this story for me forever.  

We were talking about the resurrection of Lazarus (John 11.1-44), she she shared that she thought Jesus said that he had done this so that the disciples would believe because he knew what was ahead for him, that he would be resurrected.  And then, she said, he resurrected Lazarus for the disciples to see resurrection so that when the time came and he was resurrected that they would be able to believe that it truly was him, that he was not a ghost or a dream, but really him resurrected by the power of God.

I think she thought I was kidding or mocking when I reacted to her telling.  I think she thought I was making light of her, but I was genuinely so grateful to her for having opened this passage to me in a new way, in a way that is helpful, even useful to me in my preaching and ministry.

For me, yesterday, a story was reclaimed, my perspectives were broadened and again I rejoiced at the way the Holy Spirit works in Bible study, using people who think their Bible skills are weak, or not as strong as 'the pastor', to teach me and everyone else in their presence about the glories, and providence, and teaching moments of God.

Thanks be to God for 'ordinary people' who engage with the Word and talk about it in Bible study.

[co-pastor]

That Not-So-Fertilly Feeling

For a class in seminary about women in the Old Testament, we were broken into groups to give creative presentations.  Some groups presented dramatizations of texts, others looked at art, music, and poetry, ours decided to create commercial breaks.

It all started with a classmate during a brainstorming session.  "Do you ever have that 'not-so-fertilly' feeling?" she asked in her best feminine hygiene commercial voiceover voice.  We all jumped in. "Do you watch your husband's other wives and concubines conceive while your womb remains closed and barren?  Do you feel that God's hand isn't with you?  Well, now there is a solution:  Levi's Mandrakes.  When you consume Levi's Mandrakes, God will heed your call and open your womb."  We practically rolled on the ground laughing at our handiwork.  To this day I can't remember our other commercial, but I remember that one.

I've always been frustrated with the idea of barrenness (in modern terms: infertility) being seen evidence of God withholding fortune or blessing from a woman.  It irks me because I understand the reproductive process and that it can just as easily be a result of the male as the female.  And it irks me because I don't believe God works that way.  I don't think God withholds the blessing of children from some people as a lesson or a condemnation.  For goodness sakes, if that were the case, wouldn't there be far fewer children in child protective services?  Wouldn't God withhold the blessing from people who were not fit to be parents more than those who were?  Plus, I just don't believe God is that capricious.  Life is, but not God.

And yet, when faced with infertility personally, it was hard, after a while, not to think it was about God's blessing or lack there of.  I have struggled within myself about this.  I do not think God withholds children or creates 'barren wombs', but it certainly feels like that is what is happening when your in the middle of it.  

We did everything right: used a basal body thermometer, used pee strips that confirm ovulation, used online calendars that compile the info and tell you exactly when to have sex.  Eventually, we moved on to medications that were supposed to create ovulation for you  We did everything we could...for three years, and got no results.  And all the while we (mostly me) endured the uncouth comments of neighbors and acquaintances who 'helpfully' urged us not to delay having children.  Told us, as if we didn't already know, that we weren't getting any younger, that having children really was the best thing ever, that we should just go on and have kids.

In the midst of it all - the ticking of the biological clock, the stress of a regimented sex life, and the pain of enduring caddy comments - it is difficult not to condemn yourself and your partner, too, not to mention God.

I'd drift off the sleep at night praying to God to please help us to conceive and wake up praying my period would not start that day.  I'd scream at God begging to be heard and wail at God for another month of grief.  I'd plead and moan to God and cry in my partner's arms, but even then I could not believe it was God's will.  What I do believe is that trite answers (God's got a plan) and caddy comments make the speaker feel better, but reflect nothing of God.  What I believe is that God was with me, with us in it, through it all.  And God gave us the strength to swallow our pride and seek help doing this thing teenagers seem so easily to be able to do by accident.  Through it, despite our loneliness and frustration, God was emmanuel.  God is God with us.  We are not alone.  We are not unblessed.  We, like so many others, are just infertile.

[co-pastor]

Can one transform without action?

As I was cleaning the patio yesterday (sweeping away a summer worth of dead leaves and twigs, spider webs, and acorn shells; scrubbing mildewy handrails; and weeding the garden stones), I was mulling over whether it is possible to have transformation without action.

I know, personally, I've given it a good try.  For years I've been trying to become slimmer and more athletic by sitting on my couch.  I have, I suppose, been transforming, but not in a positive direction.  Through my inaction I've been becoming more dumpy and less agile. Recently, though, I decided to try a radically different method.  I've been getting up and moving.  The results aren't monumental, but there are positive, my pants are less tight and my endurance has sky-rocketed.

The same can be said about my writing and my spiritual life.  I have tried to transform while diligently doing nothing, and nothing has happened. But when I put out the effort, I can feel transformation creeping in, even if in tiny, little bits.

So, it made me wonder if any kind of transformation can occur without action.  I mean, there is the rich, ancient tradition of hermits and mystics closing themselves off from the world to get in better contact with God, but they had to hunt and gather to feed themselves, that's not exactly inaction.  

Let's just say for a second that transformation requires action, then is our worship a conducive environment for transformation?  

We (and by that I mean pastors and clergy of generally mainline denominations (in which I include non-denoms b/c they are as codified as are we, at this point)), tend to do the work for the people.  We are, therefore, disabling them from the work of worship and stripping them of the possibility of transformation.

While on Iona a few weeks back, I spent time with some friends at the Wild Goose Resource Group week.  One thing the Geese said again and again was that liturgy literally means 'the work of the people', and yet, how many people usually do this work?  A few trained folks up at the front do the vast majority of the work.  In the last year, we have expanded the role of lay worship leader, but there are still only a comparatively few people who are willing to be worship leaders.  We have a choir full of lovely, talented lay people, but that doesn't that just disempower the congregants?  Doesn't the choir tell them that they are not fit singers and to leave the real singing to the professionals?  

My point is not really about what we are doing now, it is about what we could be doing.  How can we make worship more active?  How can we make it more participative?  How can we create avenues of action so that our busy-lifed faithful flocks might have the opportunity to act and be transformed?

It may begin with the worship space itself.  Pews do not lead to action.  They constrain it.  They say to the people sitting in them, "be decent and orderly while you sit and watch."  Changing worship may begin with changing content, making it less about a monologue and more about a discussion.  Most of all, I think that the change required is within clergy - ministers, pastors, elders, deacons, all those ordained to some role in worship.  I think the onus falls on us to let go, to relinquish some of our tightly held order, and let the people engage and act and, dare I say it, play in worship.  We the ordained have got to let go of some of our control and let the Holy Spirit take control in worship.  We've got to be open to new and different styles of worship and not be too afraid of the 'old guard' to give them a try.

If we take the great leap of faith and order and loosen the style of our worship while keeping the content just as challenging and deep as it is now, then more people will engage in the work of the Word and we might, in letting go, create more opportunities for transformation.

[co-pastor]

A Beef About Bar-B-Que

We are thick in the middle of our first full summer in our new home.  We moved last year in the middle of July and so may have missed some crucial outdoor cooking opportunities.  That may be why it took me nearly a year to realize that these people don't know what bar-b-que is!

When people invite us over for 'bar-b-que', my mouth has stopped watering at the sound of the word.  For my tongue and my brain have learned that these people use 'bar-b-que' to mean any form of cooking outdoors, primarily cooking upon a grill.  

Yes, I'm a great lover of words so you may think I'm taking the semantics too far, but it's not just words we're talking about here.  Bar-b-que is a whole genre of food.  It involves slow-cooking and basting.  Lots of basting, for sauce is the key to bar-b-que.  No marinated chicken breast should dare to be called 'bar-b-que', nor should a shish-kebab feign to wear that name.  Marinade is not sauce and if it is not sauced, it is not bar-b-que!

What do I mean by sauce?  If you have to ask, you might not understand, but I'll try.  It does not involve any form of salad dressing, for starters.  It can, if you are from North Carolina and don't know any better, involve vinegar, but it must, yes must, involve tomatoes and spices.  No, see, I see what you're thinking, ketchup does not qualify.  Ketchup on a burger is just ketchup on a burger.  It is not bar-b-que.  Now, if you wanted to put a flavorful sauce of tomato and spice upon that burger, and slow cook it so that the sauce and burger meld into one incredible meal, then, and only then can a burger be called 'bar-b-qued'. 

So please, America, stop misusing 'bar-b-que'.  Say you are going to 'grill' or 'cook-out' or 'cook and dine al fresco', but don't call it 'bar-b-que' if you don't have the sauce!