Summer Reading: Luke

For the past several summers at Living Word, we have committed to reading a book together over the summer. This book (biblical) becomes the focus for preaching and worship, Bible study and conversation. This year the book is the Gospel of Luke.  We'll read a couple chapters each week (prior to worship Sunday) through the summer, through the entire book, so we get a "feel" of what Luke is like, what he's talking about, what his version tells us about God's saving work in Jesus in first century Palestine, and God's continuing working of salvation through the Holy Spirit for all times and places. 

This blog will be a place for introductions to the chapters, sermons, and conversation.  As with all we do at Living Word, all are welcome to participate as you are interested and able.  Our prayer is for revelation-- may you learn something new about God, about yourself, the world around you and your place in it, as we read Luke together. 

June 2	Luke 1
June 9	Luke 2-3
June 16	Luke 4-5
June 23	Luke 6-7
June 30	Luke 8
July 7	Luke 9
July 14	Luke 10-11
July 21	Luke 12-13
July 28	Luke 14-15
Aug 4	Luke 16-17
Aug 11	Luke 18-19
Aug 18	Luke 20-21
Aug 25	Luke 22
Sept 1	Luke 23-24

Confession

I just finished watching Glee 4x17, "Guilty Pleasures", which provoked thoughts of confession in me. The Shrekian concept "better out than in" is true in most cases, which is why we confess. As a spiritual practice, confession is a way of "cleansing"--getting rid of the crap that keeps us from being the amazing people we truly are. By naming something, especially out loud, we limit its power over us; we define it and contain it in a manageable way, outside our heads. When we confess we can sort through what is guilt (feeling bad about having hurt another) and what is shame (feeling bad that we are the kind of person who would do that). And once we have owned up to what we needed to confess, we can seek to make amends and ask forgiveness, so our relationships can continue.

But it isn't so easy to do. Our culture rewards and emulates an image of people who have it all together, who appear to be perfect in every way, who don't make mistakes. I don't think being church = being counter-cultural all the time, but this is an instance when it's a good thing for the church to be different--lying is fairly unattractive, after all, so we can leave that out of church. What if we could be who we are right in front of God and everybody? What if they knew our guilty pleasures, our brokenness, our struggle? What if they knew we made a bad choice, a mistake, that hurt ourselves or someone else? What if they knew we aren't perfect but we're trying to keep on keepin' on and some days it's good enough just to remember to breathe? Guess what--they do know, God and everybody, because they're living it, too.

Our concept of confession tends to make us feel more guilty, rather than to alleviate our feelings of guilt, which is why we don't like to do it. But anyone who knows anything about psychology knows that repressed feelings will come back to bite you in the butt somehow. So we have this rite of confession--private or corporate in the Lutheran tradition--as a way to take care of our soul, not to require our selves to hold on to so much crap, but to let it go. We tell another person (pastor, priest, BFF, 5th step trusted friend) because it's harder to wiggle out of the task when someone is waiting to hear what we have to say. We also tell another person to honor our humanity, to be reassured that relationships can be repaired and restored, that forgiveness can be offered, that absolution and release from sin can be proclaimed. Confessing that you love some cheesy music from the 80s as a guilty pleasure is not exactly the confession that is good for the soul. But trusting another to receive that from you is a good first step.

My guilty pleasure? Jake Puckerman. Duh.

And... I own 6 Barry Manilow albums on vinyl. And the sheet music for Phil Collins' "Against All Odds".

That is all the confession you're getting out of me, by this medium!

What about this LENT thing?

February 13, 2013, was Ash Wednesday. On that day I posted a prayer as my Facebook status: "O God, you have called your servants to ventures of which we cannot see the ending, by paths as yet untrodden, through perils unknown. Give us faith to go out with good courage, not knowing where we go, but only that your hand is leading us and your love supporting us; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen." (from Evening Prayer, ELW page 317) This has led to a conversation with one of my cousins, which I expand here. What is it about Lent? When I was a teenager I was amazed to discover I had friends who were very active in their churches, who did not know what Lent is. Being from a liturgical church tradition (my bio begins, "I was born at Iowa LUTHERAN Hospital...") I had always observed Lent, always "given something up" for Lent, always counted the days to Easter by the weeks of Lent. There was a time when Lent was dedicated to focusing on Christ's sacrifice for sinners and to shape our response to that. I suppose that's still part of the emphasis, but it has taken on a more practical approach, at least in my mind. I use this time of Lent to practice some of the classical aspects of a life of faith: prayer and fasting, doing good works for others, giving generously, and giving and receiving forgiveness. Perhaps there's a sacrificial element in devoting my time to these things rather than to endless GLEE reruns, but I view it more as an opportunity to live more deeply into my commitment as a follower of Jesus. In my Ash Wednesday sermon I referred to Lent as a "six-week trial period", during which we get to try out some new behaviors, perspectives, and attitudes about what it means to be faithful. By the end of 6 weeks, if we've been intentional, these new things are now routine. Another aspect of intentional faithfulness is setting time aside for particular things--prayer, scripture reading, worship, Bible study, service to neighbor. These are all "good ideas" but they often get pushed to the bottom of our to-do list unless we are intentional about them. Lent is this intentional time, a season of life set aside for a particular purpose. I used the above prayer in worship for Ash Wednesday because Lent feels like a journey--being open (opened?) up to experience God in a new way. If we don't believe God does anything new, we'll probably miss all the things God is doing. The first step on this journey, I think, is turning toward God (the literal meaning of "repentance")and taking one step on the journey on which God leads us.

The President has spoken; now, can I?

I just listened to President Obama's interview in which he admits he thinks same sex couples should be allowed to be married. When he was elected in 2008, I was awed and amazed that America had elected a president who is not of European descent; perhaps this is even more shocking and more important. While I do not like to talk politics much on this church blog, I do want to share some reflections as a pastor who serves a congregation in which several of our members are same-sex couples, and why I think it's important to acknowledge such commitments publicly.
I have been married for almost 21 years. The legal benefits I enjoy from being married I take for granted: I can draw money from our joint bank account without my partner being there to verify my doing so. We can hold loans for the house, the cars, the college debt, together. We can speak for one another in an emergency medical situation. When one of us dies before the other, there will be financial benefits from the federal government and from private investments. I have not had to make special arrangements or pay extra lawyer fees to make these things happen; when we both signed our wedding license in 1991, they automatically took effect. Of course there are spiritual and emotional benefits as well: I know who I am because of who I am when I am with my partner; he has shown me something of God and what it means to live a life of faith; we are better together than either of us could be apart. And, as our wedding scripture reminds us, "Two are better than one...if two lie together, they keep warm." (Eccl 4:9-12)
When I do premarital counseling with same-sex couples (the same conversations I have with heterosexual couples, of course), the motivations to marry are the same: there is a promise of emotional, spiritual, physical, and practical stability, they are called to share life together, they are better together than either can be apart. I have never had a couple tell me "We want to get married so we can ruin the fabric of American family values"; nor have I ever encountered a couple divorcing because of someone else's gay marriage.
A lot of people are choosing not to be married. The commitment itself smacks of patriarchy, they say. They don't want to be tied down. Marriage will ruin their relationship. But there is something about making that commitment, in front of God and your parents and lots of other people, that cements the commitment. Being public about the relationship allows the public to support it--when a couple has said, "This is important enough to celebrate", then friends and family know it's important to them. They aren't always supportive, of course, but they know it's important and real.
Same sex couples who have some kind of ceremony, regardless of legal status, have told me that it makes a difference in the way they think about their relationship. It's no longer private, but all those witnesses at the wedding are part of the deal, too. So if couples choose to be married, so they can enjoy the stability and support of a publicly-supported and recognized relationship, as well as the benefits of a legal partnership--doesn't that support family values? Providing a safe place for people to bring out the best in each other, to love one another well and teach children these values? Having more people who can combine income, assets, and credit for greater financial stability? Being allowed access to care for one another in practical and long-term ways?
This is a political issue; but it's also a human issue. And I believe God calls us to build one another up in love, to support one another and bring out the best in each other, in romantic relationships and among friends and family. From a pastoral perspective, I firmly believe the more support we have for ALL families, the better our American family values will be upheld: love, trust, honesty, loyalty, belonging, kindness, patience, peace, joy. These are the values in my family, and in many families I know. These values do not have to be ratified by law; they are who we are as human creatures. Can we provide enough room for all families to teach and shape their values, and to support them in doing so? Umm... yes!

April Bible Study: Job, part 1

Resuming our "Bible Study on the Road" in this Easter season, we begin with the book of JOB, which we will take in two parts. In April, chapters 1-21, in May, chapters 22-42.

Job is a teaching myth in Hebrew tradition, a grand story that raises significant theological questions with which we still struggle today. In a very poetic and poignant way, Job wrestles with the question of undeserved suffering: where does suffering come from? how are we to respond when we suffer, and in supporting others who suffer? what does God think or do in the midst of human suffering?

In the opening scenes, there is a gathering of the heavenly "court", with a character called The Satan serving as "prosecuting attorney"--his role is to be on the watch for things going awry and for treason--serious offenses to be brought to the Judge (God). The Satan in Hebrew understanding is, therefore, very different from the Devil of the New Testament, who does not relate to God as an equal but tried to undermine God secretly by targeting faithful believers. The scene in Job is set up as an agreement between God and the Satan; not an evil deed of a devil that God has to undo.


As you read, consider:
Who does Job understand God to be?
How do the friends think of God?
How do you think of God?

In his suffering, Job is visited by friends, who come from some distance to sit with him, then to try to figure out why Job is enduring this suffering. Job has a reply for all their accusations; his replies become more vehement through the story (so much for "patience"!).

Consider: think of a time you were suffering over a period of time. How did friends respond to you? What part of their response was helpful? What was not helpful? Did the response make you feel God was closer to you, or more distant?

In the first 3/4 of the book, God is the object of many conversations and conjectures; in the last 1/4 God becomes subject. Join us for the conversation and see what God will have to say!

Wednesdays
April 11 6:45 pm Helen's (Austin)
April 18 10:00 am Living Word (Buda) [WELCA]
April 18 6:30 pm Bailey's (Buda)
April 25 6:30 pm Ruge-Jones's (San Marcos)

May 2 6:30 pm Schlortt's (Kyle)
May 9 7:00 pm Helen's (Austin)
May 16 10:00 am Living Word (Buda)
May 16 6:30 pm Bailey's (Buda)
May 23 6:30 pm Ruge-Jones's (San Marcos)

iFast

One of the primary spiritual practices of Lent is FASTING, along with prayer and almsgiving (giving to the poor). I have practiced fasting during Lent for about 30 years. I started in high school, fasting on Good Friday, and enjoyed a day off from school, make-up, hairstyling, and food--until one of my college profs called me on that, reminding me that we are not to display our fasting to others (Matthew 6:16-18). [disclaimer: I truly regarded that practice as a fast from vanity and peer pressure to look my best at all times, not as a flaunting of my piety. And the prof noticed it because I skipped his class, per my usual practice of not having school on Good Friday, and had to make up an exam.]

My fasting has expanded in recent years, first to add Ash Wednesday to the Good Friday practice; and now to include one day a week during Lent. What I "give up" in Lent is one day of eating, one 24-hour day each week. Over the years I have come to associate the feeling of hunger, during this fasting time, as a spiritual nudge from God, as a grumbly tummy reminds me that I am fasting, and that fasting is for not being distracted from God. In my current practice, I fast 40 hours each on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, and 24 hours once a week in between.

So why do I fast? I had this conversation with my spiritual director a few years ago, asking her that very question: why do I fast? Well, there are several reasons, any one of which might be the reason any given week: I am a cradle Lutheran, from a tradition that has for centuries included fasting as part of spiritual discipline during Lent. Not eating reminds me that the sense that I have complete control over my life (I can buy food and eat whenever I want to) is only an illusion--truly my life is in God's hands. Fasting reminds me that some people feel that empty grumble almost every moment of almost every day, and challenges me to examine how my habits around food contribute to this inequality. Not taking time out to eat gives me a little more time for other things (ideally, prayer), and not spending money on food frees up that bit of cash to be given to the poor. Being hungry for awhile is a bit of a test--am I willing to take up that cross and follow Jesus to communities that live hungry all the time?

This Ash Wednesday (Feb. 22) I felt the fasting not so much physically as spiritually. I felt deeply connected to the Divine, through my gut. I prayed several times throughout the day, sometimes driven there by light-headedness that required I sit still for awhile. I prayed formal prayers, and I prayed for others, both for their needs and praying their prayers for them when they were not able to join us for worship.

Fasting draws me in to myself, which is not a common or comfortable place for me, an extreme extrovert who practices spirituality by focusing on others--praying for them, serving them, walking with them. But the depth to which fasting allows me to go is the place I find God on these holy days, a personal and intimate meeting that my soul needs, even if my extroverted mind won't admit it.

I commend this spiritual practice to you, precisely because it is not normal or expected, and it is not easy. In such jolts from our routines, God often gets our attention.

You Count

Not too long ago I read an article about keeping track of worship attendance. It's something I do for statistical purposes, and the congregation is small enough that I can keep track of who's been absent for a few weeks in a row. Of course worship attendance is not the only measure of commitment or faithfulness, which I'm learning in real ways as I observe and interview lifestyles and time patterns of very busy families. The number of families who go to worship on Sunday morning more often than not because it's "the right thing to do" is decreasing, but I continue to find passion and commitment for [ministry, God, Jesus, spirituality] running strong among those who do not or are not able to attend worship every Sunday.

That understood, I will continue to count worship attendance, in addition to attendance at other events and ministries, including book club, Sunday school, home Bible studies, women's events, senior events, confirmation, and summer camp. I will still visit people in the hospital, call them at home, visit them at work, find them on Facebook, pray for them, and send birthday cards--personal contacts that are not related to worship. I do this not to boost my stats (they only count once a year for ELCA reports) but because that aforementioned article reminded me of the importance of counting. We count not to induce guilt or to pad reports. We count because people count--YOU MATTER. In Luke 15 we hear the parable of a shepherd who leaves his 99 obedient sheep to find the one who strayed. Not being a shepherd myself, I may miss how ridiculous this is; a shepherd would probably not risk 99 for the sake of 1, but rather take the loss. But the Good Shepherd reminds us that every single one counts, and when the count is taken and one is missing, nothing is more important than finding that one.

Sometimes YOU, dear reader, are that ONE--the one who has not come to worship today, the one we are missing, the one whose absence changes the constitution of "WE". Being part of a congregation is not about obligation to attend so you (and your offering) can be counted. It's about the relationships you make with others through which the love of God is conducted, practiced, shared, grown. It's about the way your presence has changed our life together, and your absence changes it again. It's about what we know about God and faithfulness because of what you have brought along and taught us.

You do not need to feel guilty; but please feel missed. Know that your presence, or your absence, makes a difference in a community of faith, and if the primary form of togetherness in that community is worship, well, then...this "shepherd" is counting, because YOU COUNT.