A Kiss from Jesus

So here's the news: Jason Statham is filming the hot new B-movie (directed by Sly Stallone) at one of our churches. We've read the script. Trust us, B-movie is generous. But plot is not the issue. The issue is this hot, hot man who appears in every movie shirtless. Hoo-ray! Unfortunately, the script does not call for a shirtless scene in front of the altar, but we can't get everything we want, can we? Jason is our hottie of the month, and trust us, we will be perched, collar and all, in the pews while they film, fantasizing that he will see us and be wholly intrigued by these two female priests and take us to dinner to discuss current theological issues and his personal spiritual journey. Then he would declare us his spiritual confidants and we'd go to the premiere, not in collar. I'd be spray tanned, since I'm so pale I'm blue most of the time and spandex would be my new best friend.
Isn't fantasy boyfriend land wonderful?
Because really, Jason Statham is a Hollywood hottie who dates tall women who barely eat. Spiritual life? Probably not. He looks edgy and brooding, which in real life means you'd date a guy like him, decide you love him, then wake up one morning in an ice bath wondering where your other kidney was or in the bed with him and a corpse on the other side of the room. When your eyebrows arched upward with questions about the dead body, he'd simply shrug and say, "I didn't have time to properly dispose of him. I'll get to it later." THAT kind of guy.
Which goes to prove that real-life boyfriend land is much more troublesome, but we live in real life, at least most of the time, with husbands and boyfriends and friends who have faults and are clueless and forget to dispose of the bodies (maybe not so much the last one). And we have faults and are clueless, but we are loved by God and we struggle to love each other. All in real life.
But for a day, these two girl priests will be praying in a church watching fantasy boyfriend act in a terribly written film with ear-shattering dialogue. We'll giggle and hopefully get our picture taken with Mr. Statham and share a glass of wine with just ourselves (girl priests only) to talk about the day. And we'll have our complete sets of kidneys.

We sing a song of the saints of God

So I've just perused the list of the names proposed for inclusion in Lesser Feasts and Fasts. For those not clergy, that would be: possible future saints of the church. Unlike the Roman Catholic tradition, Episcopal saints don't have to have their nails grow after death or have an uncorrupted body twenty years after death. They do have to have done something profound with their lives. Marched for justice. Shown profound love to the outcasts. Known Jesus personally (like, lived in the First Century personally, not a metaphysical experience at a tent revival).
But the proposed list includes people who composed music, who left the Episcopal church to further their ministry, and who did things I'm not sure really constitutes sainthood. Yes, yes, I know. We are ALL saints, but is it sainthood to simply do things in one's life that glorify God? Where is the line between living one's Baptismal Covenant and actually living into sainthood (I'll give you martyrdom as a bright line rule, but after that...)? A friend who has been to a General Convention assures me that hundreds of names are proposed, but very few make the final cut. Like all things Anglican, saints, too, are a bit of a middle way. We honor those who have been heroic in their love, but recognize that all of us are capable of vestiges of sainthood-like acts in our own lives.
Just some thoughts...

Proven Methods for Dealing with Difficult People

• When you are at a social event, grab a little bite to eat (it does not matter what), hold it in a napkin until the difficult person approaches, cram the morsel in your mouth, and then promptly spit it into your napkin. If need be, keep opening and closing your mouth, sticking out you tongue like you are coughing up a fur ball. This will buy you some time.
• If someone asks you a hard question, look him or her straight in the eye, take a deep breath and blow it out, look up and to the left, and then stare them down. Do not say a word! Chances are, he or she is backing away, but even if he or she is not, step towards them. In a quiet voice say: “you remind me of my mother.” Briskly turn around and walk away.
• Finally, should this difficult person be your boss, respond to any question or any statement with: “Really?” Feel free to add emotion to your inflection. Boss: Did you do this? You: (with sarcasm) Really? Boss: You can’t take off that day. You: (with malice) Really? Boss: We will be working late. You: (with fear) Really?

Let's compete!

In life, we are encouraged and expected to compete. It is the law of the jungle. We compete for scarce resources like food, shelter and water. We are in awe of those that exceed the pack in their prowess in a certain area because they are better than us in that area. We even compete against ourselves, striving for excellence. There is one place that does not welcome competition. Yep, you guessed it, the church.

Church is one place where we frown on competition. It is also one place where competition really does not make sense. For a priest, there is no preach off (at least I have not been invited to one, but I am really, really good). There are no hospital/ home visit relays. There are no Good Friday service marathons (except maybe where I serve- the service is 3 freaking hours).

Certainly, it would be distasteful if we were competitive in the church. Who can pray the longest, fastest, with most results or the best? Who is the most pastoral and caring? Which church gave the most? Who could answer those questions?

At the same time, one cannot help but want to compete and compare ourselves with others, even if we want to deny our nature. We say we want to cooperate with others, but we also want to be the first and best, showered with accolades. How did God do all of this before my advent?

Grace is a slap in the face. We did not earn God’s love. We just are loved. We cannot move ourselves ahead, nor fall behind our brothers and sister in that Heavenly Jerusalem. The measuring stick is broken.

I am not exactly sure how one reconciles the natural inclination to compete with overwhelming Grace. I do believe that God loves us just the way we are, even when we do compete. Perhaps we can use our nature to compete for others. Perhaps the questions can change from who can pray the best to how often can I pray for others? From who is the most pastoral to am I pastoral and caring, how can I learn to do that? From which church gave the most to can we give more of ourselves?