Disguised Blessings

I have a question: why do blessings wear disguises? I would really like to know why a blessing feels the need to wear a trench coat in its approach, causing fear and anxiety. Lately, I have been wondering about these new disguised blessings: my position ending on June 1^st, my crush getting married (Darn you, Jason Stratham) and not having a new position yet. I keep hoping these “blessings” would toss off there Groucho Marx glasses and reveal their exquisite beauty and grace.

I am reminded of Jacob wrestling with the angel. He demands that the angel bless him. Well, he blessed him all right! Jacob got a limp and a name change. I guess that is the strange nature of blessing, like a beautiful untamed beast. It might bite you, but it will be worth it for the ride. This makes me wonder what exactly the nature of these current disguised blessings is.

I try to think about similar situations in my past, times of terrible uncertainty. There was always a lesson and a gift that demanded my faith. Can I have faith that God is doing something miraculous and impossible in my life? Certainly God has done it before. I can look around my life and see those points of grace and blessing that wore unusual or even threatening disguises. One is staring at me right now with big brown eyes from her exersaucer.

So I guess the question really is: am I ready to wrestle? Can I trust that the blessing will be revealed in all its beauty and terror? I certainly hope so because the match has all ready begun.

Big Girls Need Big Diamonds

Elizabeth Taylor died this past week.  As you can imagine, we at Dirty Sexy Ministry hold Liz as one of the best examples of Dirty Sexy Ministry.  She was quite imperfect, like all of us, but stepped forward with a prophetic voice for support of HIV/AIDS when most of the world, including our very own governments, dared not utter the word.  Her marriages weren't exactly models of how to do commitment, but she kept trying.  She was far from a saint, but never needed perfection as a reason to respond to others.  And her scene in Cleopatra alone where she tells Mark Antony to kneel before her, saying, "I asked it of Caesar; I require it of you," is a moment that all who have ever been treated as an underling simply love.  And she did it all with soignee.

Liz was many things, but shrinking violet was not one of them.  People criticized her and tried to diminish her, but she lived her life anyway.  In her own words, "Big girls need big diamonds."

I'm sure Liz said this quote with a hefty dose of literalness.  After all, she was known for her diamonds.  And sapphires.  And pearls.  And rubies and emeralds.  We may not have a stash of precious jewels from the earth to wear around our necks and on our wrists, but we all do have a stash of precious gems from the heart of God.  All of us have our big diamonds, our jewels within our souls that can gleam and glitter in the world - our gifts, our passions, our vocations.  We all have jewels within our souls, those treasures that God has mined and entrusted to us.  We are born with them, and our life experiences, our delving into the abyss where we stumble and recover the treasures of our life, give us access to them to share with the world.    

We all have them, but many of us hide them, lock them in a safe, or pretend they aren't our jewels.  Sometimes we do this because we are afraid of using them and losing them - our stuff to outgrow.  But in recent conversations with clergy and laity who are women, I've become more and more aware of a distressing pattern - that we allow our diamonds to be usurped or diminished by others because we are fearful of repercussions.  We have a splendid idea for a program or share our treasure to create holy space, and then allow it to be claimed by a superior or trivialized because, "anyone could have done it."  We share our time and treasure within the community, and hear another clergy dismiss it as something that isn't as important as what he or she is doing in the community.  Or we are not allowed to share our treasure at all, instead required continually to keep it locked in a safe because if we did break out the big diamonds, we fear attack.

From shared experiences, the fear of attack is genuine.  Again, it's a distressing truth in the church and the world that a hefty number of superiors and peers are insecure about their own treasure, so they devalue the treasure of others.  We all have that shadow within us, that our treasure isn't good enough.  Some of us act out by devaluing others; some of us live it out by allowing our big diamonds to be buried.

Either way, nothing good comes out of this experience.    

Those of us who haven't run the world for the past few thousand years, those of us who are women, minorities, gay, lesbian, bisexual, struggling with poverty, overcoming a disability, or whatever makes us less-than in the eyes of some, are inherently told by society that we don't need big diamonds.  And through the years in my ministry, I've watched many of my fellow clergy who fall into the aforementioned categories diminish themselves so some else's fragile ego would not be deflated.  I've seen them have their passions for ministry belittled, their program ideas usurped, and their accomplishments devalued.  I've allowed it to be done to me.  We learn from others that playing small to maneuver around other's insecurities is a right and good thing to do.

It's not.  To quote from Marianne Williamson, "There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people will not feel insecure around you."

Because a truth is that shrinking won't help someone who is insecure be more secure.  It just makes us slowly fade away to feed their insatiable hunger of insecurity.  God isn't into people fading away.  God would rather we give ourselves room to shine with love.   Another truth - there are a generous plenty of people who love to invite everyone to share their gems so that the shine and shimmer becomes greater for all of us.  There are a generous number of places where we are required to wear our fabulous gems, and our stunning jewels are complimented, not envied, by these communities.  There are, in fact, many places where big diamonds are de rigeur.    

Because big girls have big diamonds, and God wants us to wear them, to let the sparkle of our deep gifts illumine the world.  Liz managed to wear her big diamonds.  When those would try to diminish her big diamonds because of their own insecurities, she wore them anyway.  And so did a goodly number of women in the faith:  Mary, Mary Magdelene, Rahab, Ruth, and Tamar, to name some of the real big diamonds in the crown.

So ladies, wear the big diamonds.  And if people around you complain that the sparkle is too much, wear them anyway.  And smile, because we were born to radiate God's love with our treasure.  

The Bare Essentials for Ministry

On more than one occasion, I've noticed that couples who announce their weddings in the New York Times have been legally wed by ordained ministers of the Universal Life Church.  Yes, I read wedding announcements without a care as to what the bride wore or who the groom's parents are; I am interested in who married them.  Often, I know the priest.  It's a weird clergy thing.  But I finally had to investigate this Universal Life Church phenomenon for myself.

For those not in the know, the Universal Life Church (ULC) is a legitimate church (and by that I mean the IRS says they are legal) that offers free and easy online ordination, complete with credentials and degree options.  Everything you need to get started as a real minister:  deluxe wallet credentials, a certificate (suitable for framing - and what, exactly, is unsuitable for framing?), your choice of official honorary degree (including, but not limited to, a Doctorate in Metaphysics or a Doctorate in Motivation), your choice of title (Mystic Warrior and Jedi Knight are my personal favorites, but you can invent your own), and a press pass.  Ordinations are conducted several times a week, after your name and information are reviewed by pastoral staff.  Computers do not ordain, according to the site, which must mean there is someone in Modesto, California, praying over the names submitted via email.  You won't be rejected for faith beliefs, but submitting your pet for ordination or your spiritual name are frowned upon.

Oh, were ministry this easy.  We imagine it is, that ministry, ordained and lay, is about getting some validation for ourselves - a role we can claim, a collar we can wear, or a program that is "ours."  That part about ministry the ULC gets exactly right.   The Mini Clergy Package, which gives the bare essentials for new ministers, gets you a certificate suitable for framing, a card to carry around to prove you are ordained, and an instruction book.  More elaborate and expensive packages, called Complete Ministry Packages, get you titles and doctorate degrees, even a sticker for your car so EVERYONE will know you're ordained.  

We might laugh at this whole online ordination (and believe me, I've laughed), but it reminds us of the shadow side of ministry - that we are more interested in being ordained than we are interested in truly serving as ministers. A shadow side is that we grasp at the essentials for ministry because we need certificates of external validation:  how big and/or rich our churches are, what successful programs we can take full credit for, or how many weddings or baptisms or ordinations we've done.  We recount our successes with joy and add titles to our names or talk about how l-o-n-g we've been involved in some particular ministry, making sure everyone knows our presence in said ministry is essential to its success.   Oh yes, we human beings embrace these certificates of validation of our ministry.

Not all of these certificates are bad or wrong.  Like everything in human existence, it has a good side and a shadow side.  Ministry, lay and ordained, isn't instantaneous - even ULC recognizes this.  The deep, grounded ministries take time and effort and blood, sweat, and tears and laughter.  In a word - work.  So yes, validation keeps us working through the desert times.  Hearing we've done a good job or getting a diploma when we complete a course affirms us and gives us something suitable for framing.  Seeing the fruits of labor are a cool drinks of water that give us sustenance.  And in many traditions, having the external sign such as laying on of hands, reflects the internal grace of a call to ordained ministry.  Having the externals, in the best way, reflect our internal selves or give others a sure way to identify your ministry, at least in a surface way.  I display my seminary diploma (which takes up half a wall).  I wear a clergy collar at times.  I have my parish's bumper sticker on my car.  So yes, I have a few certificates of validation.  We all do.

But those certificates, mine or anyone's, are not the essentials of ministry, and when we make them the essentials, we get ourselves stuck (and we all get stuck, too).  Essentials have nothing to do with externals.  The best ministry often occurs in ways that can't be added to our resumes or discussed in an nominating committee's interviews.  The deepest, holiest ministry, the essentials, are not certificates, credentials, or honorifics.  They go directly to the teachings and ministry of Jesus, who does not seem to be an alumni of any institution of higher education, but he did eventually get an honorific.  I suppose, however, if you are betrayed, crucified, and rise again, you get to add Christ to your name.

What would Jesus say the essentials of ministry are?  What are the most important parts of our ministries?  Are they the number of things we've done?  Or are do we instead value the quality of things God has invited us to do?  Do we find validation in the size of things, meticulously measuring how big or how many?  Or do we see the essentials in small gatherings with people who have very little, but who are willing to share their stories and experiences with you.  Perhaps an essential for ministry is the ability to sit quietly in the storms of human lives and just not know, resisting the seduction of usefulness (not my line - from my Bishop) and the violence of unsolicited advice.  Perhaps an essential for ministry is recognizing that none of us have any real idea what God is calling us to do as we fumble and stumble into the abyss of love and service with God anyway.  Perhaps an essential is being willing to fail and admitting our failures, as much as we're willing to claim and announce our success.

Maybe, just maybe, the essential of ministry is to spend our lives, however we may serve the people of God, by allowing God's grace to shine through us, letting those we meet on this pilgrimage of life know that they matter and are loved.  No.  Matter.  What.

That seems to be the essential of Jesus's ministry.

But I'm still pretty envious of that press pass, and I think the Rev. Laurie Brock, Jedi Knight, has a particular ring to it.

What No Priest wants to hear on his or her sabbatical.

1.      Hey, I know this is your sabbatical and all, but …

2.      I am not sure I can fit into this spandex number for church, why am I suppose to wear this every Sunday? 

3.      You know the term “bat in the belfry”?  It’s not just figure of speech anymore.

4.      Nothing to worry about, it was a small fight, but I did tell the police that my name is Father Your Name.

5.      I think I can get those stains out of your rugs, but you know what?  You have lovely wood floors.

6.      Has your dog always chewed furniture like that?

7.      How much do you think a green, left side panel for a Porsche costs?

8.      Oh hi, I just thought I would call to chat.

9.      I love this new work schedule, but shouldn’t someone be here during the week?

10.  God can really take something bad and make it good.  Worshipping outside is really great!  I think you will grow to love it when you return.

11.  Some might look at this as a disaster, others might see opportunity.  I am seeing a capital campaign worth of opportunity.

12.  Do you know what might be flammable in your office?

13.  This hand puppet ministry is really taking off!

14.  I am really enjoying these Sundays without a sermon, but it’s a little odd not having any priests at church.

15.  Are acolytes supposed to be wearing cut offs, tank tops, and flip flops instead of albs?  This is the Episcopal Church, for heavens sake!

16.  When did we phase out the organ?  For that matter, when did we phase out the building?

17.  The Bishop has been coming around, and he is piping mad!

18.  Angelina and Brad came by about a wedding.  They wanted you to do it, but I told them you were on your sabbatical and to beat it!

19.  Which of the copes is your favorite?  Please not the white ones, please not the white ones.

20.  God bless homeowners insurance!  Where might your policy be?

Shedding Shells

I don't actually care for the taste of lobster.  I know, I know, it's a high-priced crustacean and a carrier for butter, and the latter usually means I think it's a fine food.  And don't get me wrong:  I'll eat lobster drenched in butter.  I just prefer a nice rare filet sizzling in butter.  About the only thing I won't eat with butter are brussel sprouts, but that's another post.

What I do like about lobsters:  they remind us about lenten growth.  Actually, almost all of nature has some truth about God or the cycle of faith in some way.  But we're in lent, and lent is an old English word for spring, and spring is about growth (just so you follow the logic).  And lobsters, like most living things, grow.  They are hatched into the sea world looking a great deal more like mosquitoes than lobsters, and live as floating little bugs until time passes and they begin to resemble the lobsters most of us see in the restaurant tank.  Lobsters are crustaceans, meaning they have a shell.  A nice, hard, protective shell that discourages all of the other neighbors under the sea from eating them.  Underneath that shell, the living tissue that is the body of the lobster grows.  Lobster shells lack spandex, so when the living body of the lobster grows to a certain size, something has to give.

That something is the shell.  Thus, our lobster friends molt.  They shed their shells in a process that, after reading, pretty much ensured I won't eat lobster for a while.  Now we have Mr. Lobster who has outgrown his shell and molted said shell.  Because the option is shed or die, and the natural process is to to live a bit longer and molt.  Except there's a catch (isn't there always).  To grow and live, our lobster friend must be exposed to all manner of danger until the new shell hardens.

Yep, Mr. Lobster is now Mr. Naked Lobster who wishes he could live in a pineapple under the sea until the new shell becomes hard enough to discourage others from dining on lobster lunch.  Eventually the newly exposed shell hardens and the lobster continues to grow until the whole process begins again.

Growth, apparently, involves risk for many levels of the created order.  Lobsters and humans are no exception.

While we like growth in theory, it always comes with risk.  Always.  As our souls grow, the shells we've developed from previous experiences and older understandings must be shed.  Of course, we can resist growth.  We can decide that life and faith as we've lived them are completely perfect, so any need of growth is always someone else's problem and never ours.  Many do, and I direct them to look at ancient pictures of Chinese foot binding, because when growth is stifled, deformity will be the consequence.

But when the growth cycle is allowed, we will find circumstances where God is calling us to shed our shells.  That itself is a fairly unpleasant experience, as we've blogged before.  But even more frightening seems to be the time afterward, after we've shed the shells of previous expectations and assumptions, after we've released old ideas and older prejudices, and we are naked in the universe on our journey with God.  We might not be where we were, but we aren't safe (or at least our version of safe).  We are exposed and vulnerable to the forces that would discourage us from growth; that would convince us that the old ways are just fine and we should go back to our old selves; and that would whisper words of anxiety and doubt. We should go back and find our shells and squeeze ourselves back into them.

Can't breathe?  That's okay.  You're safe.

Can't move?  That's fine.  You're safe.

Can't live?  That's fine.  Better to die safe than to live vulnerable.

Because that's the price of straining to live in our old shells and refusing to grow.

Living without a shell is frightening, for good reason.  But the Lenten journey of Jesus and his friends reminds us that living in constant fear of anything is tantamount to ceasing growth.  Growth happens when we realize we were wrong because the cock has finally crowed three times; when we recognize we can't stay where we were, even if we aren't sure where, exactly, we are going.  Growth happens when we choose to walk away from hurtful relationships lived on another's terms and feeling akin to settling (because it is), even when living on our own terms may mean we seem to be alone, for a while.  Growth happens when we are disappointed in a situation, and decide to take responsibility to change.  Growth happens when we recognize a hurtful, distressing pattern, and we're done with responding in the same old way.  Growth happens when living under rocks because we're afraid we'll be eaten just doesn't work anymore, and we venture forth.  Growth happens when we lose sight of the shore and dare to sail on the open sea, trusting that the ruach of God will guide us to new adventures.  

So this Lent, I pray that skins and shells are shed (take Advil when the pain gets bad), and that we are vulnerable and brave enough to grow.

The other option won't allow you to wear cute shoes.