“Lead us not into temptation” should be “stop me from making a fool of myself.” God is not leading us accidentally into temptation. We are blissfully racing at top speed into temptation’s cozy embrace all on our own. It starts so innocently with a few sweet glimpses, stolen gazes, and it ends with you waking up in a bathtub full of ice and missing both kidneys.
How did I get here? I had my kidneys yesterday. All I did was take a small bite. I was free to choose, but now I am not free at all. Temptation never has big bold letters on it that warn: “I am a bad idea!” Instead it is subtle. It could be good if… It is that damn “if” that tangles us in its web.
So, Lord, don’t just “lead us not into temptation.” If you would, Lord, please leap on top of me, hold me down, knock the phone from my grip, and don’t let go. I am powerless in the face of temptation. You know it. I know it. The whole American people know it. Sit on me, Lord, I think I am about to make a fool of myself again.
Friday, July 31, 2009
The Real Wedding Guide
Like most of America, I've watched the You Tube video of the bridal party dancing down the aisle at their wedding (notice the female officiant - you go girl!). Avant garde, yes; also joyful. And real. I've had a few of these weddings that are concerned more with love and joy than a social event. They're wonderful.
So what makes every priest, pastor, or minister I know roll her/his eyes at the mention of weddings? Because many (maybe even most) aren't so wonderful. Weddings are too often a social event first and a prelude to a life together second. Truth be told, get us all in a room together, ply us with some good wine, and you'll hear more than once, "The church should get out of the wedding business." Or maybe we should publish our version of Bride's magazine that addresses the wonderful aspects of a covenant made before God and God's community. Perhaps the first article would look something like this (you knew the humor was coming somewhere, didn't you!):
So, he's given you the ring, declared his love, and you're actually getting married! Congratulations. This is a wonderful time in your life. If you're getting married in a civil ceremony, good for you - you can do everything exactly as you'd like. But if a church wedding is in the plans, remember these tips to make the day one that won't be the subject of a story for clergy that begins, "You will never believe this wedding I did!"
Remember you're getting married in a church, not a nightclub. Ergo, dresses should be of reasonable length. Plunging necklines aren't so attractive, especially on the grandmothers of the couple. If you reverence the altar in a short hemline and down-to-there bust line, the congregation and the altar party see far more than they want to see. This is a church service, not Skinemax.
And while we're on the church, if you have to introduce yourself to the priest, pastor, or minister of the church where you'd like to wed because you've almost never darkened the door of the church, what are you thinking? Go on Sundays. Get to know the congregation. Be part of the ministry of the church. Be known to the clergy and the treasurer (which means put your money where your faith community is). If you simply want a church wedding because it will be pretty in the pictures, go to one of those specially built wedding chapels. If you want to be married and live your life together within a faith community, go to a church.
Let the experts select the music. Reserve the Celine Dion, Whitney Houston (before she lost her marbles), Britney Spears, and other pop singers for the reception. Of note, Pachelbel's Canon in D is overused, and the Wedding March by Mendelssohn occurs when the bride marries an ass. Food for thought when selecting music. The church organist is quite able to select lovely pieces that aren't overplayed or related to wedding an ass or the devil.
And while we're on music, just because your sorority big sister sang in the talent component of the Miss Upper South Lower Delta pageant does not mean she should sing anywhere else. Friendship is not a valid reason to ask someone to sing at the wedding. Talent, however, is. And by talent, we mean someone who has actually had formal voice training and whose high notes don't make the congregation's teeth fall out.
Limit the wedding party. The number of bridesmaids and groomsmen seem to be increasing exponentially, like rabbits in the throws of unbridled sex. A large wedding party doesn't mean you are popular or loved. Every one you have ever known does not need to parade down the aisle in an unflattering dress. Your friends should be delighted simply to be present on the day of your wedding.
If you are visibly pregnant, opt for a smaller wedding. We all know that most clergy haven't married a virginal couple in, say, decades or perhaps eons. But gliding down the aisle in white at six months? I'll just say it: tacky.
Flowers. The phrase nothing exceeds like excess does not apply with floral arrangements at weddings. Go for the Coco Chanel guideline - less is more. Always. And also, get them out of the church after the wedding. Clergy aren't part-time florists on the clean-up crew.
It's a church service, not a beauty pageant. If you're spending more time and money worrying about false eyelashes, the outfits, and the flowers than you are the words and vows you will say before God, step back and reevaluate. It's sort of like a rock star known for excessive drug use and whoring around thanking God for his Grammy. I'm just saying...
Remember etiquette. Invite the clergy to the rehearsal dinner and the reception. Say, "Please" and "Thank you" to the church staff. And if your wedding gown is strapless, don't stuff a ratty tissue between your boobs to wipe away your tears of joy. It freaks out the priests.
So what makes every priest, pastor, or minister I know roll her/his eyes at the mention of weddings? Because many (maybe even most) aren't so wonderful. Weddings are too often a social event first and a prelude to a life together second. Truth be told, get us all in a room together, ply us with some good wine, and you'll hear more than once, "The church should get out of the wedding business." Or maybe we should publish our version of Bride's magazine that addresses the wonderful aspects of a covenant made before God and God's community. Perhaps the first article would look something like this (you knew the humor was coming somewhere, didn't you!):
So, he's given you the ring, declared his love, and you're actually getting married! Congratulations. This is a wonderful time in your life. If you're getting married in a civil ceremony, good for you - you can do everything exactly as you'd like. But if a church wedding is in the plans, remember these tips to make the day one that won't be the subject of a story for clergy that begins, "You will never believe this wedding I did!"
Remember you're getting married in a church, not a nightclub. Ergo, dresses should be of reasonable length. Plunging necklines aren't so attractive, especially on the grandmothers of the couple. If you reverence the altar in a short hemline and down-to-there bust line, the congregation and the altar party see far more than they want to see. This is a church service, not Skinemax.
And while we're on the church, if you have to introduce yourself to the priest, pastor, or minister of the church where you'd like to wed because you've almost never darkened the door of the church, what are you thinking? Go on Sundays. Get to know the congregation. Be part of the ministry of the church. Be known to the clergy and the treasurer (which means put your money where your faith community is). If you simply want a church wedding because it will be pretty in the pictures, go to one of those specially built wedding chapels. If you want to be married and live your life together within a faith community, go to a church.
Let the experts select the music. Reserve the Celine Dion, Whitney Houston (before she lost her marbles), Britney Spears, and other pop singers for the reception. Of note, Pachelbel's Canon in D is overused, and the Wedding March by Mendelssohn occurs when the bride marries an ass. Food for thought when selecting music. The church organist is quite able to select lovely pieces that aren't overplayed or related to wedding an ass or the devil.
And while we're on music, just because your sorority big sister sang in the talent component of the Miss Upper South Lower Delta pageant does not mean she should sing anywhere else. Friendship is not a valid reason to ask someone to sing at the wedding. Talent, however, is. And by talent, we mean someone who has actually had formal voice training and whose high notes don't make the congregation's teeth fall out.
Limit the wedding party. The number of bridesmaids and groomsmen seem to be increasing exponentially, like rabbits in the throws of unbridled sex. A large wedding party doesn't mean you are popular or loved. Every one you have ever known does not need to parade down the aisle in an unflattering dress. Your friends should be delighted simply to be present on the day of your wedding.
If you are visibly pregnant, opt for a smaller wedding. We all know that most clergy haven't married a virginal couple in, say, decades or perhaps eons. But gliding down the aisle in white at six months? I'll just say it: tacky.
Flowers. The phrase nothing exceeds like excess does not apply with floral arrangements at weddings. Go for the Coco Chanel guideline - less is more. Always. And also, get them out of the church after the wedding. Clergy aren't part-time florists on the clean-up crew.
It's a church service, not a beauty pageant. If you're spending more time and money worrying about false eyelashes, the outfits, and the flowers than you are the words and vows you will say before God, step back and reevaluate. It's sort of like a rock star known for excessive drug use and whoring around thanking God for his Grammy. I'm just saying...
Remember etiquette. Invite the clergy to the rehearsal dinner and the reception. Say, "Please" and "Thank you" to the church staff. And if your wedding gown is strapless, don't stuff a ratty tissue between your boobs to wipe away your tears of joy. It freaks out the priests.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Real Adventure for Adrenalin Junkies
Are you a risk taker? An adrenalin junkie? Do you like living on the edge? Are you ready to bungee jump from a prop plane while it flies at 100 miles an hour? I propose that skydiving, swimming with sharks, rock climbing, and navel piercing are for amateurs. If you really want to live on the edge, I suggest these ideas:
Try making a lifelong commitment to someone else. It sounds easy when you first meet and he has abs you could bounce a quarter on, but wait until he starts picking his ears with his keys. Can you take this ultimate challenge, or will you run screaming from the living room?
Are you able to spend a lot of time with young children? Have you ever volunteered all week long at Vacation Bible School? Have you ever tried teaching or tutoring? If you want to ratchet up the fear, try spending time with a lot of children on a camping trip.
Have you tried therapy? How about actually dealing with your emotions and learning to accept the emotions of others without rolling your eyes or changing the subject? Can you talk about your feelings or are you chicken?
So are you ready to take some real risks?
Try making a lifelong commitment to someone else. It sounds easy when you first meet and he has abs you could bounce a quarter on, but wait until he starts picking his ears with his keys. Can you take this ultimate challenge, or will you run screaming from the living room?
Are you able to spend a lot of time with young children? Have you ever volunteered all week long at Vacation Bible School? Have you ever tried teaching or tutoring? If you want to ratchet up the fear, try spending time with a lot of children on a camping trip.
Have you tried therapy? How about actually dealing with your emotions and learning to accept the emotions of others without rolling your eyes or changing the subject? Can you talk about your feelings or are you chicken?
So are you ready to take some real risks?
Monday, July 27, 2009
So you think you're a priest?
Sure, the bishop may have laid hands on your head, and you may have been surrounded by fellow presbyters who joined in the calling down of the Holy Spirit. You may even wear vestments on Sundays and pray the prayer of consecration, but are you really a priest? Sure you are, but like the newbie college football player with the unblemished helmet, there's value to scuffs and stickers on the back of your game gear. And for those of us who are a bit weary and whose muscles are sore (particularly from restraining ourselves from slapping stupid people), there's value to being a veteran. So, a few hallmarks of the seasoned priest:
1. You've used the following phrases during a conversation: "I'm sorry you feel that way," "How nice," "Bless your heart," and "Oh, that's interesting" to mean "F**k you," "Kiss my vested foot," "Please, get back on your meds," and "Why do you think I care about having this conversation for the 100th time?"
2. You've learned how not to be disappointed when the bishop fails to make yet another decision. Actually, you've simply learned to expect the response to a controversial issue or problem whose resolution will mean some are disappointed to be a committee. And you've found credible reasons for avoiding appointment to said committee, task force, or commission.
3. You've spilled a chalice of wine, consecrated or otherwise; broken pottery altar ware (perhaps on purpose, but you'll never tell); prepared a sermon on the wrong Gospel reading; tripped on chancel stairs; and/or completely screwed up the prayer of consecration. Double points for trying to sing the Ascension preface cold, only to public disaster.
4. You've gracefully fended off the unwanted advances - several of them - of the single males who are single because God loves women and God knows that our monthly periods and being paid 80 cents for every dollar a man makes really are enough challenges for any gender to deal with.
5. You've not so gracefully flirted with a single male in your congregation, thus causing him to flee from the church.
6. You've celebrated the Eucharist while your recent ex-boyfriend sits in the fifth pew back with his new girlfriend. And yes, while all the logic of, "Only a dud would do such a thing and you're better off without him" ran through my mind, did she really have to be a size 0 with perfect hair?
7. You've celebrated the Eucharist with your bra strap at your elbow. Or your panties creeping into a place no fabric should ever be.
8. You've had parishioners give you fashion advice. Unwanted fashion advice. And, for that matter, unhelpful. Like, "You'll never meet a man if you don't start wearing lipstick in the pulpit." Because all women clergy were called to preach the Gospel and find a husband in one fell swoop. I'm just saying...
9. You've make a sarcastic remark that bordered on inappropriate to someone who in no way appreciates sarcasm blended with God. And you've had to tuck tail and apologize, even if you're secretly thinking, "Really? THIS offended you?"
10. You've had days where you wondered why you'd knelt in front of the bishop anyway and there's no way I get paid enough for this when a parishioner tells you that your sermon made him think or your visit made her smile or that your presence reminded them of God.
1. You've used the following phrases during a conversation: "I'm sorry you feel that way," "How nice," "Bless your heart," and "Oh, that's interesting" to mean "F**k you," "Kiss my vested foot," "Please, get back on your meds," and "Why do you think I care about having this conversation for the 100th time?"
2. You've learned how not to be disappointed when the bishop fails to make yet another decision. Actually, you've simply learned to expect the response to a controversial issue or problem whose resolution will mean some are disappointed to be a committee. And you've found credible reasons for avoiding appointment to said committee, task force, or commission.
3. You've spilled a chalice of wine, consecrated or otherwise; broken pottery altar ware (perhaps on purpose, but you'll never tell); prepared a sermon on the wrong Gospel reading; tripped on chancel stairs; and/or completely screwed up the prayer of consecration. Double points for trying to sing the Ascension preface cold, only to public disaster.
4. You've gracefully fended off the unwanted advances - several of them - of the single males who are single because God loves women and God knows that our monthly periods and being paid 80 cents for every dollar a man makes really are enough challenges for any gender to deal with.
5. You've not so gracefully flirted with a single male in your congregation, thus causing him to flee from the church.
6. You've celebrated the Eucharist while your recent ex-boyfriend sits in the fifth pew back with his new girlfriend. And yes, while all the logic of, "Only a dud would do such a thing and you're better off without him" ran through my mind, did she really have to be a size 0 with perfect hair?
7. You've celebrated the Eucharist with your bra strap at your elbow. Or your panties creeping into a place no fabric should ever be.
8. You've had parishioners give you fashion advice. Unwanted fashion advice. And, for that matter, unhelpful. Like, "You'll never meet a man if you don't start wearing lipstick in the pulpit." Because all women clergy were called to preach the Gospel and find a husband in one fell swoop. I'm just saying...
9. You've make a sarcastic remark that bordered on inappropriate to someone who in no way appreciates sarcasm blended with God. And you've had to tuck tail and apologize, even if you're secretly thinking, "Really? THIS offended you?"
10. You've had days where you wondered why you'd knelt in front of the bishop anyway and there's no way I get paid enough for this when a parishioner tells you that your sermon made him think or your visit made her smile or that your presence reminded them of God.
Friday, July 10, 2009
General Conniption
Every three years, the Episcopal Church holds its big family reunion. We call it the General Convention. I'm sure it has some other official, longer, and perhaps more pretentious name, but we in the family call it GC. Maybe you've heard of it. Six years ago we were all over the news when the GC houses (bishops and deputies) voted to approve the election and consecration of Gene Robinson, the first openly gay bishop in the church (although certainly not the first gay bishop in the church, but closeted hypocrisy is another blog entry).
So we're gathering again, liberals; conservatives; wholly sane and bat-shit crazy and all those in between; laity, deacons, priests, and bishops; active and retired; those who are new to the voting convention and those who just can't find a way to admit their time is passed and bow out gracefully; the family, actually.
Because for all the legislative debates and theological discussions, maybe the most important part of this gathering is just to see what this huge Episcopal family looks like. We look like the family of God. We look like the ancient Christians who were slaves and regal imperial families, each trying to figure out how to accept one another as equals. We look like rich and poor, still struggling to find the true north between too little, enough, and too much. We look like crazy Uncle Charles and generous Aunt Ella, who've been married for decades, but no one is sure how either hasn't knifed the other over dinner. We look like real people, who don't agree, but who know the value of family and friends and community. We celebrate together and throw our conniption fits in full view of everyone - maybe a strength or maybe not.
I am Episcopalian because I love this crazy, faithful family. Yes, oh yes, I complain about its faults. I make biting sarcastic comments about the apparent connection between wearing purple and losing one's cohones. And I wonder, sometimes, if Jesus would slap us silly for all our committees and commissions and dialogue groups while the poor ask for bread and shelter. But I do so because my heart is in this ancient and modern church. The church is bigger than the building where I celebrate on Sundays. This church bursts boundaries and challenges me to get over myself. I am part of a community family of faith - big and passionate, foolish and wise, breath-taking and fumbling.
I am better because of the whole. I am also frequently more stressed and frustrated because of the whole, but I also laugh more, too. I am Episcopalian, thanks be to God.
To read a good blog about GC, check out Canon David Johnson's blog (Diocese of Mississippi).
For the offical General Convention web info, check out this link.
So we're gathering again, liberals; conservatives; wholly sane and bat-shit crazy and all those in between; laity, deacons, priests, and bishops; active and retired; those who are new to the voting convention and those who just can't find a way to admit their time is passed and bow out gracefully; the family, actually.
Because for all the legislative debates and theological discussions, maybe the most important part of this gathering is just to see what this huge Episcopal family looks like. We look like the family of God. We look like the ancient Christians who were slaves and regal imperial families, each trying to figure out how to accept one another as equals. We look like rich and poor, still struggling to find the true north between too little, enough, and too much. We look like crazy Uncle Charles and generous Aunt Ella, who've been married for decades, but no one is sure how either hasn't knifed the other over dinner. We look like real people, who don't agree, but who know the value of family and friends and community. We celebrate together and throw our conniption fits in full view of everyone - maybe a strength or maybe not.
I am Episcopalian because I love this crazy, faithful family. Yes, oh yes, I complain about its faults. I make biting sarcastic comments about the apparent connection between wearing purple and losing one's cohones. And I wonder, sometimes, if Jesus would slap us silly for all our committees and commissions and dialogue groups while the poor ask for bread and shelter. But I do so because my heart is in this ancient and modern church. The church is bigger than the building where I celebrate on Sundays. This church bursts boundaries and challenges me to get over myself. I am part of a community family of faith - big and passionate, foolish and wise, breath-taking and fumbling.
I am better because of the whole. I am also frequently more stressed and frustrated because of the whole, but I also laugh more, too. I am Episcopalian, thanks be to God.
To read a good blog about GC, check out Canon David Johnson's blog (Diocese of Mississippi).
For the offical General Convention web info, check out this link.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
How to date a priest...the early dates
For you particularly daring boys out there who my be considering asking that cute, adorable priest out for coffee or drinks or a movie - some tips just for you.
1. Avoid detailed and ongoing references only to Jesus, God, the Holy Spirit, your current view on church issues, which liturgy you prefer, or other theological and/or spiritual talking points. Really. We don't want to spend the evening doing what we do every day and twice on Sundays. Assume we watch current television shows (no 7th Heaven conversations, please, but we all love The Vicar of Dibley), listen to music other than hymnody, and enjoy the parts of sporting events that occur after the moment of silence/prayer.
2. If, for some ungodly reason, the priest of your romantic attentions is wearing a collar on your date (and ladies, really - there isn't a good reason to do this on a first date. I'm just saying...), it is simply an annoyingly unbreathable blend of polyester and cotton with a plastic or, in more pretentious cases like me, starched cotton. Look past the shirt and collar to the woman inside. Just because you notice her curves in a clergy shirt does not mean you will burn in hell. However, if she is wearing her collar on a first date, there may be deeper issues here to give you pause. Again, I'm just saying...
3. Don't talk about the Bible to impress us. We probably know more about Holy Scripture than you, anyway. Refer to tip #1 for further explanation. I once had a date who said to me, "The two parts of the Bible, the King James Version and the New Testament, make for interesting reading." Yeah. I know. And if you don't know what's wrong with what he said, don't date clergy.
4. This should go without saying, but the following topics are no-no's for first dates with priests or anyone, for that matter: how you feel about your ex-wife; your teenage daughter's criminal misconduct; engaging conversations with your therapist; personal fantasies that may be illegal in parts of the South; and any story that includes the phrase, "Hey, y'all, watch this!" We are women. We expect to be treated like women, not a free psychologist. And no one wants to date Woody Allen.
5. "So what's it like being a girl priest?" is not an original question.
6. Don't ask us out for a late Saturday night date. Unlike the rest of the known world, we work on Sundays. Oh, and don't ask us out because YOU are interested in being a priest. Dating a priest and being a priest are not the same thing.
7. Yes, girl priests are girls, first. Yes, we like to kiss and canoodle, too. No, this isn't something you should ask on an early date, but I'll tell you so you can know.
8. If you ask a priest out for lunch and/or dinner, we don't all pray before a meal. Some do. Others don't. You'll just have to figure this one out, awkward as it may be.
9. Just because you aren't Christian or Episcopalian doesn't mean you can't ask a girl priest out. We Episcopalians recognize that God is bigger than anyone can imagine. And love has it's reason of which reason knows nothing, so ask her out.
10. And if you ask a girl priest out in the South, she expects you to a) hold the door open for her; b) pay for the meal; and c) compliment her on her clothing, smile, football affiliation, or sense of humor. Some things are holy mysteries. Just accept them and move on.
1. Avoid detailed and ongoing references only to Jesus, God, the Holy Spirit, your current view on church issues, which liturgy you prefer, or other theological and/or spiritual talking points. Really. We don't want to spend the evening doing what we do every day and twice on Sundays. Assume we watch current television shows (no 7th Heaven conversations, please, but we all love The Vicar of Dibley), listen to music other than hymnody, and enjoy the parts of sporting events that occur after the moment of silence/prayer.
2. If, for some ungodly reason, the priest of your romantic attentions is wearing a collar on your date (and ladies, really - there isn't a good reason to do this on a first date. I'm just saying...), it is simply an annoyingly unbreathable blend of polyester and cotton with a plastic or, in more pretentious cases like me, starched cotton. Look past the shirt and collar to the woman inside. Just because you notice her curves in a clergy shirt does not mean you will burn in hell. However, if she is wearing her collar on a first date, there may be deeper issues here to give you pause. Again, I'm just saying...
3. Don't talk about the Bible to impress us. We probably know more about Holy Scripture than you, anyway. Refer to tip #1 for further explanation. I once had a date who said to me, "The two parts of the Bible, the King James Version and the New Testament, make for interesting reading." Yeah. I know. And if you don't know what's wrong with what he said, don't date clergy.
4. This should go without saying, but the following topics are no-no's for first dates with priests or anyone, for that matter: how you feel about your ex-wife; your teenage daughter's criminal misconduct; engaging conversations with your therapist; personal fantasies that may be illegal in parts of the South; and any story that includes the phrase, "Hey, y'all, watch this!" We are women. We expect to be treated like women, not a free psychologist. And no one wants to date Woody Allen.
5. "So what's it like being a girl priest?" is not an original question.
6. Don't ask us out for a late Saturday night date. Unlike the rest of the known world, we work on Sundays. Oh, and don't ask us out because YOU are interested in being a priest. Dating a priest and being a priest are not the same thing.
7. Yes, girl priests are girls, first. Yes, we like to kiss and canoodle, too. No, this isn't something you should ask on an early date, but I'll tell you so you can know.
8. If you ask a priest out for lunch and/or dinner, we don't all pray before a meal. Some do. Others don't. You'll just have to figure this one out, awkward as it may be.
9. Just because you aren't Christian or Episcopalian doesn't mean you can't ask a girl priest out. We Episcopalians recognize that God is bigger than anyone can imagine. And love has it's reason of which reason knows nothing, so ask her out.
10. And if you ask a girl priest out in the South, she expects you to a) hold the door open for her; b) pay for the meal; and c) compliment her on her clothing, smile, football affiliation, or sense of humor. Some things are holy mysteries. Just accept them and move on.
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