Friend or Not-Friend: A Grocery Store Litmus Test

Is it wrong to make judgements about people based on the experience of standing behind them in line at the grocery store? 

I wondered this the other day as I stood in line at Safeway waiting my turn, idly observing the man in line at the register in front of me and thinking: “Well, obviously he and I could never be friends.”

My unconcious musing startled me, because I like to think I crave diversity in my life and even work to insure it’s there, so even though his behavior indicated he and I were perhaps a little different, I was surprised at my conviction. 

But I could just tell . . . just from standing behind him in line . . . that we would never be friends.

For one thing, my line companion was obviously militant about ecological grocery shopping.  This I generally applaud, and I joined him in having brought along my own reusable grocery bags for the occasion.  I had mine readily at hand, however, unlike my not-friend, whose bags were stuck at the bottom of his ecofriendly rolling cart under a very heavy ecofriendly (cloth) bag of recycling yet to be recycled. 

Note: it’s hard (and awkward for everyone in line) when you try to get your grocery bags out from under your recycling at the bottom of your rolling cart in the very small aisle between the moving conveyor belt and the gum and candy rack. 

Annoying.

Next, my not-friend unloaded all of his produce.  This was quite a large percentage of his grocery order, but it was not contained in any sort of grouping mechanism.  I suppose that if you really cared about the environment you’d want to avoid store-provided produce grouping mechanisms (also known as plastic bags), but surely you could think of another solution instead? 

If you don’t, you see, all the (organic) apples and oranges you buy will roll all over the conveyor belt as the cashier attempts to get them to the scanner.  What resulted, in the case of my not-friend line buddy, was numerous apples dispersing every which way, some falling completely off the conveyor belt and rolling under the counter, his ecofriendly cart, my not-ecofriendly cart, the candy and magazine racks, and the not-ecofriendly carts of the two people in line behind me. 

Imagine, if you will, the ridiculousness that ensued after that. 

Also annoying.

Once the various fruit items were all rescued, accounted for, weighed (albeit with a significant degree of difficulty for the cashier), and added to the bill, the other grocery items in my not-friend’s ecofriendly cart were placed on the conveyor belt.  Previous events had hinted at the unlikely prospect of he and I ever being friends in real life, and as I watched him put his remaining groceries on the belt and compared them, one by one, to mine, I knew it for sure.  In fact, maybe I casually threw my coat over my own not-ecofriendly cart because I was a little chagrined about what I had in my cart.

Note:

• His cart, about 10 organic apples.
• My cart, about 10 bottles of Safeway brand apple juice cocktail (not even pure apple juice, I know, but it was on sale, geez!).
• His cart, two bunches of organic broccoli (shedding broccoli dust all over everything, btw).
• My cart, two bags of Safeway brand quick frozen (not organic) broccoli chunks.
• His cart, snack items including dried cranberries, cashews, and several bags of Genisoy (low fat, low sodium) chips.
• My cart, two extra large bags of Doritos, one bag curly Cheeto cheese puffs, one bag Lay’s Sour Cream and Onion Potato Chips (not low fat), and the ever-healthy bag of Tostitos Brand corn chips.  (Corn=healthy, right?).

The contrast went on, and it was striking.  Him, organic yogurt.  Me, Yoplait Thick ‘n Creamy (full fat).  Him, a block of tofu.  Me, Oscar Meyer hot dogs, two packs.  Him, 5-grain organic whole wheat bread.  Me, one loaf Wonderbread (vitamin enriched, if you must know . . .).

You get the idea.

It’s true, I could probably take another look at the level of healthiness (or unhealthiness, as the case may be) represented in my cart, but this blog entry is not about the nutrition of myself or my family. 

Instead (would you disagree?) my assessment was, immediately, that my line mate and I would never be friends, either in line at Safeway or anywhere else.  The disparities in our grocery lists alone would surely mean we’d share nothing in common in real life at all.

Finally all of his hemp bags were packed and he was on his way out the door to load up his bike, then I got my turn in line.  I confess I was thoroughly annoyed with my not-friend and glad to see him and his organic produce go.  Later, however, I wondered about my grocery store litmus test.  My line-mate and I clearly had different tastes in grocery items, but did that really mean we could never be friends?  And, if it did, what does that say about my own ability to tolerate and even welcome diversity in my life?

Despite my best efforts at ignoring the obvious, it seems I left the grocery store that day with more than a few bags of Doritos.  With all the talk about diversity in congregations in general and our own attempts at Calvary to be thoughtful and intentional about how we welcome each other, seems I need to think a little more about the litmus tests I used to categorize people in my life. 

And maybe, possibly, I might concede that the grocery story litmus test might not be the most accurate.

Committed

Last Sunday Calvary’s congregation spent worship thinking about what committing your life to a community of faith might mean.  There were some powerful shared thoughts from members and a shared litany that spoke of our significant recommitment as the church year begins again.  I know this kind of commitment is a lot to ask from folks, especially when our lives are so busy and chaotic.  But, I have to wonder how the absence of this community of faith would impact each of our lives . . . seems to me that this steep commitment is the least we can do for the holy honor and opportunity of experiencing God in this place:

Calvary Baptist Church, just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of us all, who is above all and through all and in all.

Many are the gifts of God given to us and we are grateful: God’s love to energize us, the grace of Jesus Christ to redeem us, God’s Spirit to lead us to courageous witness, and a shared life to sustain us.

Calvary Baptist Church, in faithful response to the call of God in this time and place, put off the old nature with its practices and put on the new nature, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its Creator.  You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, that you may declare the wonderful deeds of God who called you out of darkness into God’s light.

Great is the message we seek to live and proclaim to the world: We reject the powers of this world that separate us from the love and healing of God. We accept, instead, the freedom and power that God gives to claim redemption and peace. We put our whole trust in the grace of Jesus Christ and claim the healing offered through relationship with Jesus Christ.

Calvary Baptist Church, not that we have already obtained this or have already reached the goal, but together we press on.  Forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead,  we press on towards the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Holy is the commitment to which we have been called. In the year ahead we will:

• carefully listen for the voice of God for our lives and for this community
• diligently seek to practice our faith and grow as disciples of Jesus Christ
• generously offer our lives and our possessions as faithful stewards of all God has given us
• tenaciously seek peace and honor our differences with love for each other
• courageously respond to the leadership of God’s Spirit, even when we cannot see what the future will bring

Calvary Baptist Church, do you recommit yourselves to the work of God in this place for the year ahead?

With God’s help, we do.

Morning Prayer

O God, set your blessing on us this day.  Confirm in us the truth by which we rightly live.  Confront us with the truth from which we wrongly turn.  We ask not for what we want, but for what you know we need, as we offer this day and ourselves to you and to you, through Jesus Christ our Savior, Amen.

from the Iona Abbey Worship Book

I Wish You Could Stay Forever

There’s something about the dawning of a new year that always makes me think about change. 

It’s inevitable, I guess. 

As the calendar registers a new number that I will certainly get wrong for the entire month of January everytime I write a check, I can’t help but wonder what’s ahead and, honestly, wish I could see a little bit around the bend.

Before, when I was younger and more apt to face the unexpected with a sense of adventure, the changing of a new year didn’t seem so daunting.  Now, though, with what feels like some hard life experience behind me, I find the coming change rather . . . fear-filled, to be exact. 

Who knows, after all, what could be coming up ahead?  Certainly not me.  And sometimes the unknown makes me want to wish I could stay here forever.

I thought about this recently when I visited my sister’s family for a few days in Colorado.  My 11-year-old niece Emma graciously let me camp out in her very cool turquoise bedroom, on one wall of which she has a whiteboard.  I’m not exactly sure, but I think Emma uses her whiteboard to keep track of school assignments and other important information, but for the duration of my visit she used it to write me messages. 

There’s nothing like arriving after a long day of travel and seeing “I love you Auntie Amy!  I am so glad you are here!” welcoming me.  Come to think of it, I’ve never had that happen anywhere before, which went a long way toward making me feel extra special.

We had a lot of fun together, Emma and me.  For one thing, she is a crackerjack bowler who decimated me everytime we played Wii bowling together (although I did see some improvement once she started giving me tips).  I got to go with Emma when she got a new haircut, which makes her look incredibly grown up and reminds me that time is marching on faster than I can keep up.  And, in the advent of her newly acquired email address, I did the reasonable thing and taught her how to Google Chat—just so we can keep in touch better and she can fill me in on whether or not my sister, her mother, is behaving.  (Doubtful.)

Over the days I was there Emma wrote various messages on her whiteboard.  On my last day at Emma’s house I noticed a new message written in red ink in her sweet, 11-year-old print.  Emma’s message said, “I wish you could stay forever.”

We don’t get to see each other too often, Emma and me, so I know how she feels.  I wish I could . . . see her everyday, live perpetually in the glow of the Christmas lights, eat fabulous meals that I don’t have to cook every single night, tell family stories that make us laugh until our sides hurt, experience firsts together that we don’t often get to do living so far apart, chat about the critically important things in life—like hairstyles . . . .  I wish I could make my front-row view of the amazing young woman she is becoming a permanent place to hang out. 

Emma, I sometimes I wish I could stay forever, too, in places like this one, places where love is the defining quality and warmth and peace and hope and promise prevail.

But we never can really stay forever, can we?  The calendar just flipped over to a new year, and who knows what’s coming in 2010?  Since we can’t ever stay where we are forever, I guess it’s into the uncertainty and promise of a new year we go.  And as I do I am whispering the words of a prayer I heard from the pulpit last Sunday, as I visited Emma’s church: “It’s with gratitude that we look back at the way your hand has led us this year . . . “ and add my own whiteboard-worthy message to God: “. . . and whatever is ahead, lead us still.  Amen.”

Blessed 2010.

A Very Calvary Christmas

Our Christmas Eve at Calvary was beautiful and wonderful and so, so Calvary. 

The activities of Christmas at Calvary never fail to amaze me in their ridiculous strangeness and, simultaneously, in the holiness that inevitably infuses them all.  And, after seven years of Christmas Eves at Calvary, I can’t imagine why any of this would surprise me.  

We started late in the afternoon Thursday with decorating the stable.  “The stable” in our case would be a large structure conceived and built by dedicated woodworking members of Calvary.  Although I cannot historically verify my thoughts on this matter, I feel most certain that our stable is much nicer than the one in which Mary delivered Jesus.  For one thing, our stable is very clean, and full of space for all the heavenly host to crowd in around the manger.  The wiring with up-lights and the twinkly star above the stable also add an elemement of comfort that I imagine Mary would have enjoyed.  Once all the lights were up I proceeded with my the solemn and holy task of tossing hay around the sanctuary and dragging the little cradle up from the childcare center downstairs.

After the stable was set up, activity in the building concentrated in the chapel, headquarters of the donning of the Christmas Eve costumes.  For the past couple of years we’ve had a live manger scene in Christmas Eve worship, ably managed by Calvary members who help shepherds find old microphone stands to resemble staffs . . . raid the baptismal closet for angel costumes . . . wrap turbans for kingly headgear, etc.  It seems like every corner of Calvary’s diverse congregation was represented in the manger scene again this year, with a wise woman wearing vestments from law school graduation, to a 6 foot, Puerto Rican Angel of the Lord wearing a crown of tinsel, to a church staff member wandering around in his bathrobe.  Thank goodness there was plenty of floor space in the chapel, allowing the littler costumed angels to chase each other around to get rid of some of their extra energy before worship began.

All the while, just around the corner in Woodward Hall the Burmese youth choir was practicing for their part in the evening’s worship.  What I didn’t know when I heard them practicing “Here Comes Santa Claus” was that that particular song was not the song they planned to sing in worship—it was for the Christmas play they were performing later.  After a frantic trip down to the music suite just to make sure Santa Claus would not be coming to town during our Christmas Eve worship service, the craziness continued.

Cider and cookies were set out, and little angels and shepherds kept sneaking out of the chapel to grab handfuls of decorated sugar cookies outside the watchful eyes of their parents.  Calvary members arrived, groups of relatives in tow.  Folks I’ve come to recognize from their once-a-year visits to worship began to wander in looking vaguely uncomfortable.  All the candles were set out for Silent Night.  The organ was on and the musicians warming up.  Bits of hay, tinsel, and angel feathers floated all over.  Barely controlled chaos is what it was . . . barely controlled, but holy, for sure.

And then all of these activities translated into the start of worship.  Families crowded in together, teenagers ushered ably, the stable glowed as it awaited its inhabitants, the organ hummed, the Christ candle was lit, voices rose together, “O Come, O Come Emmanuel . . . “

And he did, as he does every year.  He came to be among us, in all the chaos of hay and candles and too many Christmas cookies and antsy, tinsel bedecked angels running all over the place.

For all the holiness of the family of God, gathered in the crazy diversity, chaos, and gritty realness that makes us human and, most of all, for Emmanuel, God With Us, who came to be with us our humanity . . . again this Christmas, I say thanks, thanks be to God.  Amen.

Light in the Darkness

Reflections for Advent, especially if this is a hard one for you, posted here. 

Advent blessings, everyone.

Guest Blogger

We recently completed a preaching class for laity here at Calvary.  One of the assignments for each participant was to write an essay addressing the question, “What is good preaching?”  Without exception, all the essays were well thought-out and quite insightful–reading them made me wonder what I possibly had to teach participants!  From time to time I will be posting some of these essays, as I think you will find them thought-provoking as well.  Special thanks to Susan Sevier for permission to print her essay here:

I must confess that I’m not really a big fan of preaching as a literary genre. I am more of a nonfiction reader, personally.  I’m sure that in the course of my too-many-degreed life, I’ve read countless famous sermons, even more countless excerpts from important sermons.  And I know for a fact in a good 40 years as a church lady, I have mostly likely heard 1500 or more sermons from the pulpit (yes, I did deduct for the years in which I took a sabbatical from my church-going ways).

And, I have been fortunate.  Many of these sermons have moved me, made me think, caused me to question, given me comfort, and some, particularly since I have come to Calvary, have allowed me to cry and truly experience for at least a moment my condition as a member of the human race.

This brings me to my first point about what, for me, makes an excellent sermon.  My first question is:   do I hear in the words of the person preaching, their humanity?  Do I hear their struggle with life, with faith, with the experiencing the Divine in their life?  At this point in my life, the only thing that I know with any certainty is, that we all struggle with life, with faith, with experiencing the Divine…but I am only interested in the thoughts of someone who is humbled enough by that uncertainty to admit it.  I have no use for someone who has all the answers, because I know that it just is not true.

My second question is (if I am in my observer mode, not my experiential mode):  do the words of the speaker include me or push me away? This is a continuation actually, of the first question, but I think it would be possible to accomplish the goal of displaying your humanity in your sermon and still give the impression that it is only the speaker’s experience or that somehow the speaker’s experience is “special”.   A good sermon opens a door and invites the listener in; I need to feel that it is possible for me to be part of the story unfolding before me, if I will just walk through the door.

My third question is:  as I listen, am I experiencing the act of creation along with the speaker?   I certainly don’t mean that I only enjoy sermons delivered without notes. By creation I mean a sense of excitement, a sense of discovery, a sense that what the speaker is sharing with me bears the mark of new insight – that somewhere along the way the writer experienced an “aha” moment that they now share with the listeners.  One of the reasons we exist and learn in community is because each of us is an individual expression of divinity – it’s the beauty of life on the human plane – our common divinity is filtered through our individual human expression, and therefore when we bring the message to the world it comes as if through a faceted jewel – and you never know which facet of light will fall on which soul and bear fruit.  A sermon writer has to be able to turn the jewel, and view the message from its many facets, and present as many facets as possible to reach as many different people as possible.  That requires the ability to examine the text from a wide variety of perspectives, and frankly, that requires both an act of  creation and an act of empathy, the ability to question from the perspective of the Other.

My fourth question, and this may seem a silly one, but here it is:  does the speaker really understand what they are talking about?  I realize that if we really understood scripture, there might not be a need for sermons, but by “understanding” I actually mean, have they gotten the intellectual work out of the way?  I think you will never get to the “aha” moment if you don’t get the intellectual work out of the way –  the historical and cultural must be processed and out of the way; yes, these pieces of information can fuel a revelation, but it is not interesting to listen to these things delivered as the revelation itself.  I can read a history book myself, and I can read the notes in my study Bible.

In closing, what is most interesting to me after asking myself the question “What is Good Preaching”, it is fascinating to me that my evaluative guidelines are similar to those I would give if you ask me the question “What is a good singing?”  There are all the technical responses:  well-prepared, good vocal technique, good diction and language skills, accuracy of delivery.  But it is the less tangible qualities that make for a great performance:  does the performer display a sense of understanding of the music, are the inviting me as the audience member into the process, am I witnessing an act of creation before me (because in live performance music only lives for an instant).

In both singing and preaching, for me, the most important evaluation is:  does the conversation continue once the sermon (performance) is over – did it inspire, stir up questions, cause me to want to seek and question more, to listen more, to read more, to change, to grow, to reach out, to stretch.  Because it is in the quest that I as a listener feel alive and included.  Now that’s a sermon that works.

A Little Help From My Friends

Since I am the one always blathering on about community, it seems ridiculous that the events of the last few days have shocked and amazed me.  Well, you know what they say about the blind leading the blind–I guess in the case of Calvary Baptist Church it’s more often the blind leading everybody else who can see just fine, thank you very much.

I realized early Thursday morning that my lofty goal to move this weekend with the help of my incredible sister, Katie, was realistically unattainable.  It was only a unit to unit move, not a major geographical relocation, so I guess I was lulled into thinking it would be a snap.  I sent out an SOS to our church moderator, Amy Dale, who waved some magic church moderator wand or something, and team after team of congregation members showed up with boxes and food and strong backs to move all the accumulation of life from one place to the other.

Today I woke up in a totally moved in, painted, decorated, organized new home, and my gratitude is so overwhelming I can hardly express it.  In fact, this has been an ongoing theme in my life lately, as I tried to express here. 

This past week, I needed a little help from my friends.  No, really, I needed a lot of help from people who are so much more than friends.  Thank you, church family.  Thank you so much.

Break it Up

All of you pastors out there who regularly lament the disinterest and apathy of congregations, all I have to say is: be careful what you wish for.

I help facilitate a small group on Wednesday evenings here at church.  This fall we’ve been studying a different theological term each week—defining it, understanding its scriptural context, and exploring how it shows up in our own lives.  I worried a little bit at first: What if people weren’t interested in theological terms?  How would I handle it if I unveiled all the exciting things about, say, “BAPTISM” and nobody thought it was near as exciting as I did?

I shouldn’t have worried; I already know there are many opinionated people here who are more than happy to share their thoughts on anything from the snacks in coffee hour to the controversy over the authorship of the book of Hebrews.  And, I should have remembered this when we began to explore the theological word “SIN.” 

I went into the session thinking we would try to define sin, then briefly discuss the Doctrine of Original Sin, move on to confession as a spiritual practice, then read a Psalm and go home. 

Wrong.

We barely got into doctrinal matters by the time the hour ended.  With so much more to cover, I decided we needed one more session on SIN.  Upon hearing the news everyone groaned and made the predictable jokes (more sin??!?) but I knew they were secretly as happy as I was.

The second sin session was just last night.  Just to mix things up I decided to make us all relive the controversy of the 5^th Century church between Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, and Pelagius, a British monk.  Using 1 John 1:5-10 as our platform, we defended the positions of both Augustine and Pelagius using the same scripture, hoping that by the end of the evening each of us could more clearly articulate our own personal positions on the doctrine of sin.

You might think that your average church people might be intimidated when their pastor throws around the names of early church fathers and other thinkers long labeled heretics, but not my church people.  Thoughtfully planting themselves in their respective camps, heated discussion ensued around critical topics like: “Do we have a choice whether or not we sin?”  “Are we born sinners?”  “What does it mean to be created in the image of God?” “How do we articulate what we all recognize to be our inability to live up to God’s standards?”  “What do with thing about the theology of atonement?”  “Where does Jesus come into the picture?”

The list of heated debate topics could go on for awhile, but eventually I had to call time when the hour was over.  I think the group would say we did not fully decide whether we want to stick with orthodoxy and Augustine or whether we’re fully ready to try to redeem Pelagius.  Regardless, I think I can safely say that none of us who attended were anywhere close to bored last night.

For engaged, committed, thoughtful church members, I am giving thanks this morning.  And, I think we might just be needing at least one more session of sin, to which I will wear a referee’s shirt and maybe even bring a whistle!

Opinion: The Pastor Goes to the Movies

I’m sharing my thoughts all over the place these days.  Recently I pontificated on the new Coen brothers’ movie, A Serious Man, on the Associated Baptist Press website: http://www.abpnews.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=4547&Itemid=9.