Telling Secrets

The closing Eucharist for the GOE (General Ordination Exams) was a special event designed by one of our chaplains, the Rev'd Dr. Katharine C. Black. Katharine is Priest in Charge of The Church of St. John the Evangelist, Bowdoin Street, Boston, MA, a former seminary classmate and someone I am pleased and honored to call my dear friend - proof positive that we're both still crazy after all these years.

Since the year 2012 marks the 35th Anniversary of the "regularization" of the ordination of women, Katharine proposed that we designate a special day on the liturgical calendar in Celebration of Women's Ministries.

She further suggested that we have it on the anniversary of the consecration of the Right Rev'd Barbara Clementine Harris, the first woman to be ordained bishop in The Episcopal Church.

Katherine proposed several wonderful hymns and wrote a collect prayer. I am delighted that she has given me permission to publish her sermon and the collect.

I am doing so in hopes that Katherine's "modest proposal" of a date on our liturgical calendar to celebrate Women's Ministries begins to spark some conversation which in turn will generate a movement to make this a reality.

In the meantime, enjoy the sermon. It's really quite wonderful.

LET US PRAY:
Gracious, energizing God, you fill your faithful people with gifts of leadership, hospitality, and kindness; we thank you for women in all ages, who have heard your voice, received your gifts, and responded as themselves to your call (in particular for the ordination of the Rt. Rev. Barbara C. Harris February 11, 1989:) fill us, too, with the fire and grace of their witness; through Jesus Christ our Saviour, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and inspires us, now and always. AMEN.In the name of God who created us from love, saves us through love, and loves us now and always. AMEN.

GOE Set I: Liturgy. Design a Votive Eucharist for a Common of Women’s Ministries, naming date, texts, color, music, and other details of the liturgy, making it useful for a Variety of Women and Their Ministries. Include the homilette you’d preach. Limited Resources: BCP, EOW, BOS, NOAB, authorized hymnals.

A year ago, I realized it would be both nearly Barbara’s (Harris') 23rd anniversary and my 12th and final year here, so I asked for this occasion to consider with all y’all the necessity of the 11th of February being a Day on the Calendar to celebrate Women’s Ministries, in particular.

I was a Deacon when Bishop Harris was elected and ordained. I’d asked my seminary professor what the election would be like, and he said, “Boring. Episcopal elections are boring; you’ll need two books to last the whole time.”

the Rev'd Dr. Katharine C. BlackThe voting went back and forth, until the 7th ballot. The rector for whom I worked was the lieutenant for the long-time diocesan faithful male priest, and the rector’d asked me to sit with AND vote with him. With as much ingenue sweetness as I could muster (even then,) I said I’d sit with EDS friends, with my historian friend, behind Sue Hiatt, architect of women’s ordination, and Carter Heyward the most frequent public face of those 11 women.

When Bp. Johnson said, “We have an election,” Sue and Carter looked at each other in wonder, sweetly, and then most people stood up, whooped and hollered. I turned to my friend, “Did you think this was boring? I thought it was pretty exciting.” “No, Katharine; this was not boring.”

Because Feb. 11th secured the knitted row after the ordained women’s row, it’s the date that makes most sense for celebrating Women’s Ministries. What color do you think should be used for this votive?

I think blue for Our Lady and all other women, but it’s Epiphany, so maybe green, so is this blue or green? Yes. (Note: It was teal)

What should the proper preface be? Of the Holy Spirit— “Who (by water and the Holy Spirit has) made us a new people in IX,” or Pentecost, (“lighting upon the disciples, to teach them and to lead them into all truth,”) or a Saint (1) “for the wonderful grace and virtue declared in all your saints,” or Apostles—although that may be cheeky, (“after his resurrection) sent forth apostles (to preach,”) or Baptism, (“you have) received us as your sons and daughters, (made us citizens of your kingdom,”) or the seasonal, Epiphany, (“you have caused) a new light (to shine in our hearts, to give the knowledge of your glory in the face of your Son,”) today—that—but in your doing such a liturgy, on 11 Feb, naming “in particular Bishop Harris, and... ” you might choose a more apt preface.

The hard part for me, was, of course, the scripture.

The Canadian BCP has such a votive, but its choices didn’t much suit me, and I’m not a Bible Baptist, so I sent out a plea to my bible churchy friends: to Mary Sulerud, Mary Callaway, Tony Lewis, John Hooker, Kathryn Piccard, Francine Cardman(Church History at Weston-Jesuit,), Sandi Rufo Civitareale, and other wise women and men. Several thought I was casting about for what to say, but really only texts.

Some suggested Bible women I didn’t know, to my shame: Rizpah, Vashti, and Jochabod. I’ve thought for years, that if Jews and, then Christians, had prayed instead of “in the name of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob,” or even “Sarah, Rachel, Rebecca, and Hagar,” but “in the name of Deborah, Jael, Rahab, and Judith,” a different sort of notice would have been given which might have simplified life for women for these eons.

Laurel Ulrich in Good Wives observes that it was such women’s behavior of “feminine strength and assertiveness” that was “proximately problematic for everyone in a woman’s sphere, running against the grain.” Naming such women aloud would have made them part of all our grain, to become whole grain— and we know whole grain’s better for us than just white....

People offered a range of texts. From Hebrew Scripture, the wives of the patriarchs, or wives and spares, and Hannah and Miriam, but I chose Deborah because she sat listening, was a fair judge until rudely attacked, and then found someone to destroy the enemy; patient, effective judging, and a decisive successful winning result— a fine model. The Epistle took choosing, because for almost every woman named, there’s a scholar to say a serious, “But...”

Ephesians, though, asks everyone to grow to adulthood and real maturity. That would help faithful living and mission in any/all worlds.

The Gospel choices were hardest.

The 11original Philadelphia women chose Mary Magdalene, but to me her story sounds like an irregular wife, less a woman of independence who met Jesus and continued as she was, in her best self; she’s almost more a companion—which isn’t a bad thing, but to me doesn’t add much to the Sara/Rachel/Rebecca models, oddly. Mary& Martha are fraught because of the “better” part in one text, and I can’t remember what Bp. Harris used.

This woman, the woman of Syrophonecia, comes in faith to Jesus, and he refuses to help her because she isn’t one of “his.” She refutes him, with her “Even the dogs deserve the crumbs under the table.” Whatever Jesus thought of himself after his baptism, healings, and other wondrous things he’d done, I doubt he expected a foreign woman to argue with him.

He heard her need, but more he heard that he had to expand his thinking and doing, beyond “his” sheep, and look around to help out in the whole world. Jesus, Son of God, Savior of the world, learned, changed his mind, grew, expanded and updated his vision, because a strong woman taught him more about his own nature than he’d known about himself—so she’s my choice.

Were you to do such a commemorative service, these are the elements you’d juggle.

What lists would you include in your “And in particular...” I’d start with Phillipa from In This House of Brede, by Rumer Godden, even though she’s fictional, Sr. Luke from The Nun’s Story, Willa Cather, Rose Macaulay, Dorothy L. Sayers, and P. D. James. They’ve taught me about vocation from the time I found their books.

Florence Li Tim-OiI know I’d make a day with Florence Li Tim-Oi, (even though she now has her own day,) with Sue Hiatt, Carter Heyward, and maybe Anne Robbins, the first woman to celebrate for GBEC.

I might have a music day including Kathleen Thomerson, Lesbia Scott, Cecil Frances Alexander, and Ruth Boshkoff. Maybe I’d have an NT day, with Mary, Mary Magdalene, Mary&Martha, Anna, Phoebe, Dorcas, and all, or a church history group of—who’d you pick—Monnica, Macrina, Clare, Hildegard, Joan of Arc, Hilda of Whitby, Margaret of Scotland? Maybe Joan of Arc should be in a Women of Politics day, with Queen Elizabeths I and II, Victoria, Mary Dyer, Eleanor Roosevelt, Frances Perkins, Jane Addams, and who was the first woman Senator, President of a major university or general/admiral?

Maybe I’d include the men who’ve been of support and help, Bp Ladehoff, and our bishops here, a flock of musicians and MC’s who haven’t batted an eye to play an octave higher for women’s chant, or to teach us patiently what we’d not been taught earlier because we’d never need such, to be thurifers, move in liturgical patterns as though when they taught us, it was as ordinary, as it now seems to some.

Holy Women, Holy Men does a fine job in coloring in many days on the calendar with people who’ve served in a variety of ways. The models for women have been expanded from the earlier common ones of young, beautiful, tortured, and suffering an early death, or celibate, plaster and emaciated.

Still there needs to be a Common of Women in Ministry date, and it should be on February 11th. Who’d be on your list? What lists would you develop? Women of Principle? Teachers? Unnamed women who just served?

Your best English teacher, and your kindergarten teacher who taught you to read, to love reading for life, your first woman math or science teacher, who taught women could do science as well or better—that gender didn’t matter for science. Or women artists? Mary Cassatt and who else?

Women poets— Emily Dickinson— “The supper of the heart is when the guest has gone,” a memorable thought on Eucharist, and Pattiann Rogers’ poem, “I have a need to adore,”—I fear leaving out individuals and categories.

Who’re yours? Who taught you to follow Christ as YOU are, not in someone else’s shoes or model? Who allowed you to follow Christ? Who helped you argue with, talk to Jesus to help him understand the world as it has become, so that he —with your work —your whole-hearted heart and mind’s work, play, and life—could further the coming of the reign of God?

Do develop your own observances for 11 Feb. remembering: “Life is short and we do not have much time to gladden the hearts of those who make this earthly pilgrimage with us. So be swift to love, and make haste to do kindness.”

It’s to our best selves we’re called. We give thanks for those who’ve prepared and are preparing a path for us, and for our own modest path-making, until Jesus welcomes us, each and all, into Paradise forever: Good News.

When I was a kid, there was a MacDonald's not too far from where I lived. It was considered a HUGE treat to go there because....well, I don't know....probably because we heard the commercials on the radio and saw them on television and, oh my gosh, we actually got to go and eat at a place that must be famous because....well, I don't know....probably because we were there at the very place we heard commercials about on the radio and TV.

I remember when the sign under the distinctive golden arches read "One Million Served". My siblings and I were inexplicably excited and overcome with squeals of delight in the back seat of the De Soto car my father drove as we passed by the restaurant. We - WE - had been among those millions served a greasy hamburger with melted cheese on a sesame bun along with french fries drenched in ketchup that I still think are the best anywhere.

Somehow, that made us feel...oh, I don't know..."special" in a way. I guess because it meant that we had achieved a modicum of affluence to actually eat in a place where others had also been able to afford to eat.

We lived a very modest life and going out to eat - even at MacDonald's - was a treat almost akin to getting a good report card and being treated to a hot fudge Sundae at the local ice cream parlor.

I haven't noticed a MacDonald's sign in a long while - the golden arches are now part of the landscape of Americana, so who notices, anymore - but I believe that last time I saw one, it read, "Billions and Billions Served".

I say all this because, just last night, I noticed that my site meter reported that, as of July 29, when I installed the thing, I have had over 1 Million "hits" to my blog.

Over. One. Million.

In a little less than six years.

I'm astounded.

And, profoundly humbled and grateful that so many of you actually read what I have to say about everything from all things Anglican/Episcopalian, to religion in general and politics in particular, to gushing about my children and grandchildren, to reflecting on my life on the water, to sharing recipes to ranting about something or other in the news.

Beyond the obvious narcissism of blogging - I mean, it IS narcissistic to think that what I have to say about what I think might be of even passing interest to others - I blog what I write because it has become a spiritual discipline of sorts.

The habit of writing is for me what daily exercise is for others. It's part of what I do to sort out and make sense of what's happening in the world around me.

It's a form of prayer that keeps me centered and focused. I write about it, and then I can let it go. Or, channel my passion or my anger into some form of action - even if it's just keeping folks informed about an issue and urging them to take action.

When I started this blog a little less than six years ago, I naively thought I was doing so as a way to keep my congregation informed about General Convention.  Three years earlier, I had written daily emails to my Wardens who then shared them with others. My Parish Administrator at the time suggested that I set up a blog so that everyone could read it more quickly and we wouldn't have to Xerox everything.

He neglected to tell me that, unless you make sure the settings are such that only those who are invited to your blog are the only ones who read it, the whole world can tune in.

Imagine my surprise - and, no small amount of horror - when I began getting comments from people I had never met. And, not only in this country, but around the world.

Apparently, many people were very interested in what The Episcopal Church was doing at that General Convention. That's when I learned about "Google". Type in a few words, press 'search' and voila!

I'm embarrassed to admit my ignorance and naivete but that's the Gospel truth of it.

Now, Google has - as so many things do these day - transformed from a noun to a verb. I, like so many others, google several times a day. What would I do without it?

When I returned home from General Convention, I learned about a site meter and, curious as to how many people actually read this blog (since not everyone leaves a comment, thanks be to God), I check into it from time to time.

I've not always done well with blogging.  Mistakes have been made. I've written things I later regretted writing. I've actually pulled down a few posts after writing them. And, I don't post half the things I write - like my poetry - because they are too personal to send out into the blogosphere. 

More than the number of people who read this blog,  I'm astounded by the spiritual hunger that is out there in the world. I think some people read my posts because they are struggling with many of the same issues I struggle with and they are hungry, not so much for answers, but for a little companionship in the struggle.

Sometimes, I think blogs are the MacDonald's of literary form. They are fast food for those on the go. You can drive through a pick up a Mac Nugget of theology or a Big Mac of politics with special sauce of Anglicanism.

Little Miss TiaraIt's not anywhere as substantive as, say a Filet Mignon of Hemmingway or a Shakespearean Lobster bound between two fine, rich, leather covers, but it is, I think, it's own form of artistic expression.

So, here's to you, whoever you are, who come and sit by my fire and listen to my stories and rants and other ruminations of my heart and soul about life in general and my passions in particular.

Thank you for your companionship and your comments. Thank you for your loyalty and your love.

I've made some wonderful friendships over the past six years, some of which have been "consummated" over a meal and others which await an actual incarnational, embodied visit.

Despite the occasional hate-filled, nasty comment (which I've learned to 'moderate' so only I have to read them and you don't) I've learned that mostly, a stranger is just a friend I haven't yet met.

For all the successes and failures, for all the friends I've made, for the profound privilege of being a vehicle of the Holy Spirit, and for the love of God I've known incarnate in Christ Jesus, I give thanks and praise.

I have been truly blessed "billions and billions" of times 

I'm here in a wee cabin by the lake at Kanuga Conference Center in the Western part of North Carolina where I am privileged to be a GOE (General Ordination Exam) reader.

The schedule is brutal but the conversation and companionship are wonderful and the work is intellectually stimulating and spiritually satisfying.

There are no televisions to be had. My smart phone, I've discovered, isn't so smart without a cell tower to link the AT&T signals to my phone. I can't call, text, IM, check my Facebook or email or other blogs or send the pictures I've taken.

The Wifi in the main lodge works fine but the connection here in my cottage is iffy at best. I've lost the signal on my laptop twice just typing this.

I am, for the most part, unplugged.

And, ya know what? It really ain't half bad. I mean, I'm not even annoyed. It's okay. Really.

There was life before technology.

There is life without technology.

I'm not even really sure I can claim that life is better with technology.

Oh, we're saving tons of forests (and money) by having everything available online and, when I'm near the main lodge, I can access it easily. And that is good.

However, I'm not sure that being plugged into the world for the greater part of my waking hours is as important as I once thought it was. I'm not entirely sure it is good for either my soul or my psyche.

Oh, I'd like the convenience of making a few phone calls, but mostly, I can live without the constant chatter of conversations through social media that I've grown so accustomed to being the "background noise" of my life.

On Monday night, we heard an absolutely stellar presentation from the Rev'd Dr. Patrick Malloy who is a GOE chaplain and a professor of liturgics at the General Seminary in Manhattan.

He talked about the Triduum - the three Holy Days of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, The Great Vigil of Easter - which prepare us for Easter Day.

Beyond being three separate liturgies which are parts of a unified whole, they are celebrations of our history as well as the reality of the present. In other words, because of those historical events, we can celebrate the mystery of our faith:
Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.I always knew that, of course, but hearing it in a fresh, new way has sparked something in me that deeply resonates with my present circumstance of being 'unplugged'.

I think I spend so much time being connected to the present that I sometimes miss the miracle of the moment that is right in front of me.

It's ironic and paradoxical and it's true.

I think I'm realizing that being plugged in has become a false god of sorts - a jealous, demanding god who requires more attention than it probably deserves.

No, I'm not going to dump my smart phone and lap top in the lake. Neither am I going to stop using technology to assist me in my work.

I think what I'm trying to say is that, after I leave here, I'm going to try to be smarter about using technology, so that I don't allow it to use me.

I'm not going to be so much "unplugged" as I will try to be connected to things in a new and different way.

It's a pretty liberating thought, actually.

I'm going to take a walk now, before dinner, and listen to the Canada geese and ducks out by the pond. I'm going to plug into the sounds of Mother Nature and try to turn down the noise in my head just from reading the batch of almost 100 emails that were waiting for me to read when I finally plugged back into technology.

Who knows what new thing I'll see or hear or think while I'm unplugged from one information source and plugged into another?

I wrote the following article which was published by ENS today. You can find it here or read it below. I'm hoping ENS will ask other women to write and this War on Women becomes an ENS series.

If you have something to say about this undeclared war, why not write an article about it and send it to ENS? It's one way to get your voice heard.

Note: I'm at Kanuga this week, having the privilege of being a reader for the General Board of Examining Chaplains. I just arrived. The scenery is beautiful. The schedule looks brutal. Blogging will probably be sporadic. I'll pray for you. You pray for me.

The ‘war on women’Round I: Komen vs. Planned ParenthoodBy Elizabeth Kaeton | February 6, 2012 
[Episcopal News Service] There is an undeclared war on women in this country and around the world.

The recent decision by the Susan G. Komen Foundation to essentially end its decades-long partnership with Planned Parenthood brought this struggle, which was played out in the Internet at head-snapping speed, to a different new battleground.

Komen’s founder and chief executive, Nancy G. Brinker, held a news conference and insisted that the organization’s decision had nothing to do with abortion or politics. Rather, she said, it resulted from improved grant-making procedures and was not intended to make a target of Planned Parenthood.

Her comments directly contradicted those of John D. Raffaelli, a Komen board member and Washington lobbyist, who reported that Komen made the changes to its grant-making process specifically to end its relationship with Planned Parenthood.

By the end of the week, Brinker apologized and said that the grants promised to Planned Parenthood – $700,000 last year, a tiny portion of its $93 million in grants to finance 19 separate programs – would be re-instated. Indeed, in the process, Planned Parenthood received over a million dollars in additional contributions – including a very public matching grant of $250,000 from New York Mayor Bloomberg – in less than 72 hours.

No one from the Komen Foundation is talking, but from the buzz on the Internet, hundreds of thousands of people – men and women – are pledging not to support the efforts of the organization that made pink ribbons an outward and visible sign of the “race for the cure” to end breast cancer.

That battle was won but the war is far from over. The reproductive rights of women are under sharp attack from the religious and political forces of the evangelical right, the Roman Catholic Church, and the Tea Party wing of the Republican Party. The battle plan is patently clear: limit women’s access to abortion, birth control, and services after rape and sexual assault by changing laws, state by state, and ensure that government funding is not delivered to any agency that supports reproductive rights in any way. Do this with a ballot in one hand and a Bible in the other. And when you don’t get what you want, cry “religious intolerance.”

On another front, human trafficking is a mega-billion dollar global industry unregulated by any country or international body. It is a criminal activity ignored and/or tolerated with devastating consequences for the person involved. Trafficking ranks just behind drug and arms trading as the most lucrative forms of commerce. It is no surprise that the vast majority of trafficked persons are women and children. Nor is it any shock that most of those who do the trafficking are men.

The violence continues unabated. A report released in late December 2011 by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention states that one in four women in the United States suffers “severe physical violence,” and one in five is raped at some time in their life. Millions of women are suffering serious violence quietly at any time.

According to another CDC survey, four women die because of domestic violence every day in the United States of America. For every woman who dies, hundreds keep suffering without any recourse, without any letup in violence. They remain alive, but are not “living” by any dignified definition of the word.

These are just some of the battles of this war. There are many, many others, including employment, education, immigration, access to affordable health care options, health insurance, the military and yes, the church,

As national convener of the Episcopal Women’s Caucus, I receive calls and e-mails from women – ordained and members of the laity – who tell horrific stories of unfair employment practices, which include discrimination in salaries as well as hiring, firing, insurance and pension benefits. These may not show up in the statistics of the church, but the anecdotal evidence is overwhelming.

The recent battle between Komen vs. Planned Parenthood gives us many insights on how women and men of quality can fight back for equality. The fatal flaw in the Komen battle plan was to consider Planned Parenthood just another organization. It is not. It is what it always has been: a movement. Organizations are fine. Movements are better.

Social media played a critically important role in this battle. Women can mobilize without the cost of meetings and gatherings and travel expenses or salaries for executives and staff. It is relational but not incarnational, so it does have its drawbacks, but it remains a highly effective way to have our voices heard about what happens to our bodies.

“The personal is political.” That was the battle cry of the early feminist movement. It has never been more true than today. It is also deeply spiritual. Women of faith must begin to use the tools offered to us in the post-modern world to fight a battle that in many ways is as old as the Garden of Eden. With a modicum of organization, we can become a movement that is a force to be reckoned with.

So, pick up your smart phones, ladies, and take up your fax machines, turn on your laptops and fire up the Internet. Let’s tweet, text, IM, Facebook, fax, phone and e-mail our way to justice and equality.

There is an undeclared war on women in this country and around the world.

– The Rev. Elizabeth Kaeton is an Episcopal priest in the Diocese of Newark and the national convener of the Episcopal Women’s Caucus. She was recently elected to a three-year-term on the national board of the Religious Coalition for Reproductive Rights.

Agnus DayOf all the things Jesus said and did, texts like this one from Mark 1:29-39 are the ones that make me squirm in my stiff white collar. We'll hear it tomorrow morning in church.

Jesus had no Temple or Church. No office hours. No one made an appointment to come see him. He went out to where the people were and preached and taught and healed them where they were.

He collected no salary or pension or health or life insurance. No travel or housing or continuing educational allowance. No car, in fact.

He hoofed it on foot, walking all over Israel, from the North to the South and sea to shining sea.

In a way, I envy him. He never had to worry about the Three Killer B's of Parish Ministry: Budgets, Boilers and Bishops. (There are another B-words some use to describe some of the people in the pew - or the pastor in the pulpit - but since this is a family blog, I'll refrain from elaboration.)

St. Paul told the early church in Corinth: "For if I do this of my own will, I have a reward; but if not of my own will, I am entrusted with a commission. What then is my reward? Just this: that in my proclamation I may make the gospel free of charge, so as not to make full use of my rights in the gospel". (1 Corinthians 9:16-23)

What he means by this, I think (and whoever knows what Paul is really thinking), is that he didn't want to give anyone any ammunition to discredit him or impugn his motives for preaching the Good News.

You have to admit, it's a powerful argument.

When I was going through the ordination process, someone on the Commission on Ministry asked me, "So, what's in this for you?" At the time, I was shocked and deeply resented the question. I was angry and hurt that anyone would question my motives.

Understand, please, that I was the fourth woman to go through the ordination process in a diocese that had been intensely hostile to ordaining women. I automatically assumed that his question was filled with gender bias.

Perhaps there was some of that in there, but I was comforted when I later learned that he asked that question of all aspirants for Holy Orders who came before the COM.

It's a good question. It's an important question. It's a question everyone who is doing any kind of ministry - lay or ordained - should ask themselves and each other: Why you are doing what you are doing in the church?

What are you getting out of it? I mean, besides the fact that you love Jesus and want to live a sacrificial life of servant ministry? What's in it for you, besides the good feeling that comes from feeling good and righteous and noble?

Tough question, isn't it? Makes you squirm a little, doesn't it?

The thing of it is that, unless we get clear about our motives for ministry, we set up ourselves and others for all sort and manner of power dynamics and dysfunction.

Agnus DayThere's an excellent article by Bradley N. Hill in this month's Christian Century: "An elephant in the room?: How meeting agendas get hijacked".

When someone claims there is an elephant in the room it generally means a huge and hot topic present that is so volatile everyone tacitly agrees to avoid it.

"The elephant," Hill writes, "is an obvious but hard truth that is not being addressed, in part because to face, name and own the related issue would be frightening. Honesty becomes taboo. No one wants to cause embarrassment. The group prefers avoidance and feigned ignorance to bold but painful confrontation. It is a form of denial."

More often than not, however, it's more like crying wolf in the midst of sheep. Or, yelling "Fire!" in a crowded movie theater.

It's a power-play.

"As a result," says Hill, "the elephant crier takes over the meeting and the elephant - whatever it is, however big or small - defines the terms of engagement. We must deal with the elephant before we can do anything else. The elephant crier usurps the agenda and owns the floor......Either way, any other discussion is cut off because of the urgency of this "new" issue.

I submit that the real issue in these cases can be found in the murky baptismal water of motivation for ministry.

I know I'm going to sound really, really jaded when I say this, but here it goes: I suspect that all this talk in the church - well, these days, in The Episcopal Church - about mission is not about mission but a power-play that serves the institutional church.

Here's why I say this: A plan that seeks to 'restructure for mission' which limits the power of the baptized but not ordained is not an honest plan. It's not at all about mission but institutional preservation.

The presenting problem would seem to be declining membership and finances. Instead of putting our energies into dealing with the problem, we invite a herd of elephants into the room which are not the problem but may be part of the diagnosis of the problem.

Besides "not doing mission" - which is a valid issue, here are some of those elephants I've heard:
 * Liturgy and music and preaching have to be more 'relevant' - the definition of which changes depending on which elephant is crying loudest.

* We've got to "get back" to using *only* the BCP.

* We've got to have more "creativity" and use language that is not only expansive and inclusive but more reflective of the times. * We have to have more "ethnic" music.

* The sermons have to be shorter - or, longer - and more expository in nature.

* The liturgy has to be "fun" or (gasp!) "entertaining".

* The younger generation is not just missing, it's members are missing because they don't have a youth group or a designated meeting room, or they're not allowed to 'tweet' or 'text' during the service, or the "music doesn't speak to them", or the service is not otherwise "youth friendly".

* We don't "market" our church. We need a mission statement that relentlessly appears everywhere on everything: the agendas of every meeting, the committees of the Vestry and even the budget has to be organized around the mission statement.

* Unaddressed issues of 'sin' - primarily among the leadership, staff or members.

* The congregation has never 'healed' from past disastrous leadership. They need 'time'.

* "Money follows mission". (This one makes me cringe. Every. Time.) If we just started doing the mission of the church - whatever that is - we'd have lots of money for the church. (As if those were two separate things.)Mind you, these may be valid components of the reason congregations (and dioceses) are stuck and do not have something we like to call 'vitality' but, like 'mission', we're not really certain what that means.

We don't really have a consistent set of 'vital signs' to be able to determine whether or not a congregation has 'vitality'. Clearly, the old weights and measurements of ASA (Average Sunday Attendance), numbers of Baptisms, Marriages and Funeral, the number of children in Church School, and the Accounts Balance Sheet do not give the whole picture.

What if we looked at other standards, like, say, how many of the congregants feel that what they hear in church on Sunday shapes and forms what they do the rest of the week?

Or, how many of the church members have a strong sense that they are better equipped to be moral agents in their families, neighborhoods, and work and market places in the world because they are members of a faith community?

Or, here's my own, personal favorite 'vital signs' of a faith community:
How is 'church' defined - locally, diocesan, nationally and internationally?

How many would say that the church is a vehicle of transformation and healing?

Do the community members see themselves as servants of the Gospel of Jesus Christ?

Do the ordained leaders model servant leadership?

Do people in the congregation sense the living presence of the Risen Christ?

Is the focus of the church on what happens on Sunday morning or does what happen on Sunday morning shape and form what happens in the church - and the world - the rest of the week?

What risks has this community taken - what sacrifices has it (and it's individual members and leaders) made - for the Gospel?

Is the wilderness wild enough for them to confront their demons?

Is the desert dry enough for them to let die what needs to die?

Is the well deep enough for everyone who is thirsty to drink?

Is the spiritual food rich enough for everyone who hungers to be fed - and empowers and enables them to go out and feed others?There are lots of reasons for church decline and financial difficulties, but crying 'mission' as the elephant in the room is to not confront some of the more difficult problems inherent in the fact that 'trickle down ecclesiology' - financial support of the institutional church at diocesan and national levels as the major focus of the church - has become *the mission* of the church.

Jesus came to save and heal others - not the church.

I remember hearing the rector of the congregation that supported me in ordination process preach, "The church that lives for itself, dies by itself." That is the picture that is emerging from the last Executive Council meeting. Clearly, that is the picture we'll be confronted with at General Convention in July in Indianapolis.

Clearly, that's not the picture we see in either Sunday's Gospel or in the snapshot Paul gives us of the early church in Corinth.

There's a little non-denominational evangelical church up the road from me that always has sayings on the church sign out front that sometimes makes me angry, sometimes makes me laugh, and sometimes makes me squirm.

This month, the sign reads: "Free coffee and eternal life at every service."

The gospel, says St. Paul, is "free of charge". He says that this is lest anyone question or impugn the motives of those who bring the Glad Tidings of God in Christ as we read it in the Gospels.

And the rest, as they say, is history. The Gospel was spread and the church grew and has lasted for centuries.
In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. And Simon and his companions hunted for him. When they found him, they said to him, "Everyone is searching for you." He answered, "Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do." And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons. (from Sunday's lectionary).I know, I know. It makes me squirm, especially as I sit here typing this on my seven-year old $600 lap top in my nice warm home on the water, living frugally but comfortably on the pension I earned which is calculated by the income I received from working for the institutional church and the itinerant ministry I now perform.

Perhaps squirming is the beginning of the process of transformation. You know, the way you decide to begin to diet and exercise when you begin to feel too snug in your favorite jeans.

Perhaps transformation begins with the clarifying question, "So, what's in this for you?"

I suspect that question is the biggest elephant in the room.

I've been intrigued by the reports of the "dueling budgets" at the recent meeting of Executive Council.

At least at one point, part of the discussion was whether or not the "asking" from the folks at 815 (As in "Second Ave., NYC, NY", The National/International headquarters of The Episcopal Church) to the dioceses ought to be 19% or 15%.

Which is interesting because, at least at one point and in my diocese, we subscribed to "50/50 Giving". The scheme was that every church give 50% of its operational budget away - 25% to the diocese and 25% to mission. In turn, the diocese would do the same: 25% to "headquarters" at 815 and 25% to mission.

I never understood it. I mean "50/50 Giving" sounds more like a raffle than a Stewardship Plan.

In my diocese, we've reduced our giving to the National/International Church (815) from 25% to 19%. We still owe a couple hundred thousand dollars from one year when - oops! - we somehow didn't pay our pledge, so we're paying that back $10,000 a year until we're solvent again.

The bishop, in his State of the Diocese address, said that the majority of congregations in our diocese pledge 10% of their congregational income. He said that wasn't enough and we had to improve.

I have a few questions about this whole 10%, 15%, 19%, 25%, and "50/50 Giving" thing.

First of all, what is the scriptural basis for anything other than 10%? I've been asking that question for almost 25 years and I've never been given an answer.

Yes, 10% is the "minimum standard requirement" we find in scripture. We give more when we can.

St. Paul told the church at Corinth that if you 'sow sparingly, you will reap sparingly", but if you 'sow generously, you will reap generously'.  (2 Corinthians 9:6)

Indeed, Jesus said to the rich young man / ruler, "If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me". (Matthew 19:16–30, Mark 10:17–31 and Luke 18:18–30.).

In Luke, it is reported in this way, "When he heard this, he became very sad, because he was a man of great wealth. Jesus looked at him and said, "How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God! Indeed, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God."

And, he applauded and gave as an example to his disciples the widow's mite who gave everything she had to her name (Mark 12:41-44, Luke 21:1-4).

So it's pretty clear that tithing is a spiritual discipline. It's the habit of  a generous heart.

It's also pretty clear that it's 10% or everything.

So, where, exactly, did we get these other percentages?

Beyond the math and theology, there's an issue of leadership. One of the most important lessons I've learned as a leader - besides having authenticity and integrity and honesty - is that consistency is incredibly important if you want to get your "message" across.

One of our daughters reminds me that people in the business of marketing report that a person needs to hear a message seven (7) times before they really "hear" it.

The consistent message of "striving to tithe" is 10%. That's scriptural. We teach people to "strive to tithe". And to "live into the tithe" as a spiritual discipline vs. simply "giving to the church".

Clergy are to model that behavior. We reinforce it every year from the pulpit and in Adult Forums and during Stewardship Season.

And then, without fail, clergy find ourselves sitting around the finance committee - some of us with smart, experienced business people - formulating the budget for the next year, or trying to figure out how to balance the budget we developed, when someone says, "Tell me again about the 10% tithe and why we need to give 19% to the diocese?"

So, we launch into the fact that the 10% is a minimum standard and that "to whom much is given, much is expected" and that this is part of living into the words of the Nicene Creed when we say, "one, holy, catholic and apostolic church".

Someone else says, "I get that, but who decided that 19% was 'beyond minimum' when 19% is actually almost twice the minimum? Why can't we give 11% or 12%?"

Insert awkward smile here which accompanies the awkward response, "Erm....the bishop?"

Someone else says, "I understand the scriptural thing, but that was when the church was the only social service agency in town. Now, there are organizations that do things and care for people in ways that the church can't. And, they do it better. So, is it reasonable to give the church the entire 10%? Why not give 5% to the church and 5% to some of these organizations? Or 6% and 4%? Or........But, 19%? What's up with that?"

Awkward silence fills the room.

"So," another member pipes up, "Where does this 19% go anyway?"

"To support the diocese," we say, relieved to have a concrete answer.

"And, what does the diocese do with it? I mean, what comes back to us? To put it another way, what 'bang' to we get for our 'buck'?"

"Well," we say, "that's the way the world may think of it, but this is not "trickle down Regeanomics" The church is a community. That's the 'catholic' part of what we say in the Nicene Creed. We give so that the diocese can help other churches. And, in turn, the diocese gives to the church at the national (and international) level, which, in turn, supports the Anglican Communion."

"Okay," says someone else, "So, it's like a 'membership fee', but what do we get from the national and international church and the Anglican Communion, except grief about how we do things at the local level? I mean, haven't you been teaching about this nasty thing called 'The Anglican Covenant'? Is this what we get for our 'membership dues'?"

The priest responds by placing a hand on the forehead and silently curses because this was never covered in any of the seminary courses she took.

You see where I'm going with this.

The thing of it is is that people have been listening and they ARE taking tithing and pledging seriously. This is why people are asking such difficult questions. They want to know. They are confused. Because the message has not been consistent.

Frankly, I've never had an answer that met with anyone's satisfaction. Including my own.

I've actually been part of a family conversation about stewardship where the single mom in a scruffy urban congregation handed me her pledge card and said, "I was only able to increase my pledge by $50 this year. I figure that new winter coat I need can wait until next year."

When the total pledges for that congregation didn't reach the amount required by the diocese, the chief financial officer at the time actually said to me, "I don't think you are teaching your congregation about Stewardship."

"Oh,", I said, "actually, they are teaching me. You should come and listen to them. You'd be amazed at what you could learn."

Look, I always thought Herman Cain's "9-9-9" tax plan was seriously flawed but at least it did have its own logic. It was consistent. Apparently, it made a lot of sense to a lot of people.

I'm not proposing that there is a simple answer to the problem of financial support for the church. I'm certainly not espousing simplistic solutions to a complex situation.

I simply think it's time that the church developed a consistent message about Stewardship.

The 'old' system isn't working. You can ask people to "do better" than 10%. You can also expect to get blood out of a turnip but don't be too surprised if all you get it red colored water.

If we ask people to "strive to tithe" and "live into the tithe", then why don't we ask churches and dioceses and The Episcopal Church to do the same?  Make the same sacrifices we make? Reduce some diocesan staff? Do without some travel and entertainment expenses? Move diocesan offices out of costly, energy-deficient old buildings and share some space with some inner city churches who'd love the company and benefit some financially?

Why can't we expect dioceses - and, indeed, The Episcopal Church - to "live into the tithe"?

That's a serious question.

I'll expect your answers on my desk - single page, type written, double spaced - by 10 AM tomorrow morning.

Because, I, for one, really need to know.

Dear Congressman Rohrabacher,

I happened to catch a rerun of last week's (1/27) episode of "Real Time with Bill Maher" on HBO. You were on the panel along with Mario Batali, Kennedy, and Martin Bashir.

I was listening but not paying close attention to the conversation - honestly, it was so much of what I've been hearing in the Republican debates that, after a while, it just becomes background noise - until it came to the topic of immigration.

I don't have the transcript, but I remember hearing you say, "The children of immigrants are bringing down the level of education in our classrooms. They come here and they don't speak English and they are taking away time from *our* kids [Note: I am quite certain you said "our kids"] which denies our kids the opportunity to learn".

Rep. Dana. RohrabacherThat's not an exact quote but close enough, as it is said, for government work.

I was shocked and disturbed by your comments because I have always thought of you as one of the more "moderate" Republican Conservatives in the House. Not a Tea Party Republican but a man after Ronald Reagan's own heart, having served as one of his senior speech writers with input into the development of his "trickle-down" economic plan which has come to be known as Reaganomics.

So, I went over to your webpage to learn a bit more about your political positions. I was especially interested in your posture on Immigration. Here's what I found:
Rep. Rohrabacher vigorously opposes any attempt to legalize the status of millions of illegals and continues to support common sense immigration policies that serve the American people first. This year, Rep. Rohrabacher has co-sponsored bills to end birthright citizenship, declare English as the official language, strengthen the E-verify program requiring employers to check the work eligibility of all applicants, and introduced H.R. 1822, the No Health Care Subsidies for Illegal Immigrants Act. Rohrabacher's bill would prevent illegal aliens from receiving health insurance subsidies under the new health care law by requiring proof of citizenship for eligibility.In light of all that, I was especially intrigued by your term "common sense immigration policies" and wondered what those might be, exactly.  Especially those that "serve the American people first".

When I read the June 3, 2010 report in the LA Times about your unannounced visit to a Mexican consul's office which had been established in a restaurant on Catalina Island, I began to understand.
The Mexican consul’s office first offered the photo identification cards to local illegal immigrant workers two years ago, setting up shop for a day in the upscale Catalina Island Country Club restaurant. The matricula cards can be used to establish credit, open bank accounts, buy insurance and apply for government services.Apparently, after being quoted as saying,“Where you have illegal immigration, crime and drugs are sure to follow," you forced the Consul to move out of the restaurant, as apparently the restaurant did not have federal approval to host the Consul’s operations. The Consul then moved to a nearby church. You followed. Here's that report as published in the LA Times:
At 10 a.m., Rohrabacher and an assistant strode into the church to personally express his concerns, raising eyebrows. Rohrabacher was greeted by Deputy Consul General Juan Carlos Mendoza Sanchez of Los Angeles in the middle of a room where Mexican specialists were typing information into laptop computers from two dozen men and women seeking their services.

But all eyes were on Rohrabacher and Sanchez, who launched into a carefully worded dialogue, expressing strongly opposing opinions.

Standing inches apart, Sanchez told Rohrabacher, “We have a lot of respect for you. At the same time, we have certain responsibilities.”

Rohrabcher responded: “I understand that. But there is a problem in our country; there are too many illegals here.”

“This is not done with any type of belligerency,” Rohrabacher added, referring to his unannounced visit.

“Everyone has their own point of view,” Sanchez said. “We are performing this activity under international law.”

“Well, that will be decided in Washington and Mexico City,” Rohrabacher said.Photoshopped by The Orange Juice BlogI would hope this incident has since come to some satisfactory resolve for all parties, but I tend to doubt it.

I write all of this to allow the readers of my blog to have some context in which to understand what I'm about to say to you.

I am one of those "immigrants". No, not Mexican. Portuguese. I grew up in an apartment above my grandparents in a tenement house in Fall River, MA. All the men in my family worked in the factories and mills and all the women worked in the 'sweat shops' which were part of the 'garment industry'.

Our neighborhood was, for all intents and purposes, a little Portuguese village transplanted from Lisbon and the Azores where most people who were my family and neighbors were born. We all spoke Portuguese.

When I went off to school, I could only speak enough English to purchase what my grandmother needed at the local market. There was no Head Start or Kindergarten, so I was excited to be learning my ABCs and 123s.

Except, there were no provisions made for immigrant kids like me, so I began my academic career in a classroom for those with "special educational needs".

To enlarge for easier reading, click on imageWe didn't really know much about learning disabilities then, so the fact of the matter is that I was in a classroom with high functioning children who had low IQs. Not low enough to be institutionalized, but high enough for the educational system to be compelled to have to do something with and for them.

My parents were mortified. Horrified. They knew I didn't have a low IQ but the tests I had taken were all in English, so I had failed miserably. Enough to qualify me to be in the class all the other kids called "The Retards". I was embarrassed and confused.

My teacher, a feisty Irish woman named Mrs. Kelliher, looked deep into my eyes and said, "It's okay, honey. You will learn English. I'm going to teach you."

And so, while other kids were learning how to identify colors and stack blocks and wipe off trays and tables in the cafeteria, Mrs. Kelliher taught me English. With her help and the encouragement and support of my parents and family, I did so well that, by the end of the first quarter, I was placed into the 'normal' classroom.

Today, I am a productive citizen of the United States. I am an Episcopal Priest with my doctorate and have done post-doctoral work. I have been gainfully employed since I was 15 and a half years old. I pay taxes, mow the lawn, and do not have chickens in my living room nor goats in my front yard.

Oh, and I vote.

Our six children are all gainfully employed and wonderfully educated. Most are married and have blessed us with five grandchildren, all of whom attend public schools. I have no doubt that they, too, will grow to be productive citizens of the United States of America.

I have made certain that they know the story of how their grandparents came to this country and how they worked hard so that their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren - and children of all future generations - could enjoy the liberty and justice guaranteed for all in our Constitution.

Here's the thing, Congressman Rohrabacher: We don't have too many "illegal aliens" in this country. We do not have enough Mrs. Kellihers.

We have immigration laws that are unjust, when they're not draconian, and need to be reformed. And, not to "serve the American people first" but which are in service of the principles of "freedom and justice" which are the foundation of American society.

We have too many "good American" small businesses who are only too happy to hire those "illegal aliens" so they don't have to contribute to payroll taxes, social security and Medicare.

We also have too many "good American" big businesses who "outsource" their employment to other countries so they can keep production costs down and profits up and then get special tax breaks because they are in a higher income bracket.

Which is part of the reason our educational system is in trouble and there aren't enough Mrs. Kellihers in classrooms anymore.

And, don't even get me started on the Evil Twin of the debacle of our immigration system: Human Trafficking. 

I know these words will probably fall on deaf ears and blind eyes, but I wanted you to know that in your righteous indignation and anger about "illegal aliens" taking educational opportunities from "our kids" and jobs from "the American people," your words fall heavily on my heart.

I know you're not a bad person. I'm sure you love your country and serve it with pride. You've simply and rather conveniently neglected the fact that we are a nation of immigrants.

Except for the First People - the Native Americans - and yes, many of the Mexicans who are part of your constituency, everyone is a foreigner in The United States. Everyone came here from a different place. My grandparents did. Perhaps your grandparents or great-grandparents or great-great grandparents did.

Every single one of those people contributed to making this country what it is today. Indeed, they helped to make us who we are today.

I don't want big government either, Mr. Congressman - especially in terms of Reproductive Rights - but the worst of it is that we pretend like we have an immigration policy, we make coming into the United States without our permission illegal, and then we actually don't enforce it because it benefits big business.

As long as we give tax breaks to big business, we're going to have big government.

It also seems to me that as the American public continues to focus more intensely on illegal immigration and securing the nation's borders, the number of members of the House Immigration Reform Caucus continues to grow as the situation grows worse.

I'd like to see some "common sense immigration policies," too, sir. Ones that serve the American principles first so that the American people can be served.

I urge you to spend some time with some of those "illegal aliens" in your district. No, they don't vote. Yet. But, they want to become American citizens and if you help them, they will vote for you.

Listen to the stories of their lives. Work with local, small businesses as well as large corporations to hire and pay them fairly. Help their children get a good education so they will grow to be contributing, productive citizens of this great country of ours.

It's called The American Dream. For too many, it's become the American Nightmare - for those who are immigrants as well as everyone else in this country.

We can change that.

It takes equal amounts of common sense and compassion.

I don't imagine I've changed your mind, but perhaps I have touched your heart.

Political dogma without compassion is surely the ugliest blight on 'America the Beautiful' which is reaching epidemic proportions in this country.

Along with Terry Waite, the British envoy to the Archbishop of Canterbury who was held captive in Lebanon for four years, I believe, "At the end of the day, love and compassion will win".

I believe that because I have lived it and know it to be true.

If you open your heart, your mind will follow and you'll know it, too.

Today marks the one year anniversary of the murder of David Kato, Ugandan gay-rights activist.

Kato was 46 years old. His life had been threatened for months. His picture even appeared on the front page of a right-wing Ugandan newspaper which bore the headline: "100 Pictures of Uganda's Top Homos Leak" and "Hang Them: They are After Our Kids".

I wrote about his funeral last year in a piece I titled, "Unbearable Sadness". Indeed, blogger stats report that it's the 5th highest read blog post here at Telling Secrets, with almost 11,000 page views.

I had been deeply moved by a video shown on Rachel Maddow that night which depicted scenes from Kato's funeral. Local town and religious officials said hateful things and tried to disrupt the prayers and attempts to give Kato a dignified, peaceful burial.

I don't think it's an overstatement to say that Kato's death has achieved martyr status in many communities around the world.

Which is why there has been talk at the Creating Change Conference, held this past week in Baltimore, Maryland, to nominate a Queer activist for a Nobel Prize.

According to Jay Michaelson over at Religious Dispatches, there are two leading candidates for consideration: Frank Mugisha and Kasha Jacqueline Nagabesera, two Ugandan LGBT activists who have risked their lives to advance the cause of freedom, in one of the most hostile societal contexts on Earth.

Although he, himself, is heterosexual, I would add the name of Bishop Christopher Senyonjo, Anglican Ugandan bishop who stepped up at Kato's funeral, faced down the angry mob and officiated at the burial service. 

He told the mourning LGBT friends of David Kato: "Do not be discouraged. God created you. God loves you. God is on your side".

Bishop Christopher lost his pension and his ability to function in any ecclesiastical way in Uganda as the cost of his discipleship to LGBT Ugandans.

One way to create change in the hearts and minds of people is for an international committee to recognize the work of these activists to bring peace and reconciliation for people who have long been held in the vice grip of the violence inherent in oppression.

It's about time.

I'm sure David Kato did not want to die at age 46. I'm quite certain that no one wants to be bludgeoned to death by a hammer in their own home.  I'm also convinced that no one wants to be oppressed or feel the cruel sting of bigotry, prejudice and hatred because their very existence doesn't meet the criteria of those in power and authority to be deemed fully human.

How is his death at the hands of people who had been seized by homophobic rage any different than being killed - or threatened with death or life imprisonment by laws enforced by the State and supported by the Church - because they were Irish or Black South African or the Middle Eastern or Polish or Serbian or.... fill in the blank?

A Nobel Prize would recognize on the international stage that a great injustice is being done. It would recognize and reward those who are actively working to relieve the suffering of a targeted group of people. It would also inspire those around the world who are working to create change and bring about peace and reconciliation.

Most importantly, it will bring a form of judgment against those who create and perpetuate archaic and draconian laws and, perhaps, create some change in some of the most hostile societal contexts on the face of the Earth.

No, it won't bring back David Kato, but it might prevent the deaths of other David Katos in Uganda and around the world. It might provide some measure of protection for LGBT people and encourage young LGBT people that their lives are worth living and not ending in suicide.

It will remind the right wing that sticks and stones can, indeed, break bones and names can not only hurt but kill people. The truth of the matter is that right-wing rhetoric leads to right-wing violence, and not only must it end, but those who perpetuate this violence must be held accountable for it.

A Nobel Prize to an LGBT Activist would be a tribute to the life of David Kato and become his best legacy. It won't make sense of his death, but it may instill some sense into those who hide behind Scripture and The Law while they wield swords (and hammers) of hate.

On the first anniversary of the unbearable sadness of his death, I can't think of a better way to honor his life than to continue his work.

At Kato's funeral, Ugandan Bishop Christopher Senyonjo said,"Do not be discouraged. God created you. God loves you. God is on your side".

I think a Nobel Prize for an LGBT activist is the best way to embody those words.

Don't you?

The Diocese of Newark, where I am canonically resident, is, at this moment, gathering in Parsippany, NJ at Annual Diocesan Convention.

Last night, Bishop Mark Beckwith gave his convention address. It is a great address. It is both passionate and inspiring. You can read it here.

He begins by telling the story of the Prophet Jeremiah.
The assignment from God to the prophet Jeremiah is a tough one. God asks, no God tells Jeremiah, that he has a prophetic sermon to preach: to “pluck up, tear down, overthrow and destroy – in order to build and plant.”Bishop Beckwith goes on to say how "a variation of Jeremiah’s dissembling message is just what we have been hearing and seeing for the past several years" - in our economy as well as our educational, religious and social systems.

Yet, the bishop encourages the diocese to "Risk something big for something good."

I'm a risk-taker. I'm no stranger to it. I know it confounds and concerns and yes, annoys, those who have an aversion to risk - especially those who disagree with what I believe to be 'good'.

Oh, I'm sure I've been considered 'abrasive' by some - especially by those who like their women to be pink and soft, sweet and nice and, well, 'good' - by which they mean doing what others expect them to do. You know, like be a 'lady'.  Well, that's not going to happen any time soon, so just get over it.

I'd like to think that I've not be reckless. Rather, I'd like to think that I have been thought-full and prayer-full and care-full in my decisions.

Sometimes, those risks were small. Other times, those risks were big. In each decision to take those risks, I was not always certain of the outcome but I was very clear that God was calling me to take that risk for something good.

Whether the outcome has been good or not-so-good, I have found that 'je ne sais quoi' peace that passes human understanding in knowing that God has been with me every step of the way.

I have found comfort in knowing that, even if I didn't get what I want or that things didn't turn out exactly as I wanted them, it changed me and changed others.

Sometimes, we are God's bricks, building a road that brings us and others closer to catching a glimpse of the Realm of God.

This week end, across the miles to the "Left Coast", the good folks at All Saints Episcopal Church in Pasadena, CA are celebrating the 20th Anniversary of the first time their rector, George Regas, presided at the Blessing of the Covenant, this one made between Mark Benson and Philip Straw.

Susan Russell, so-called (by people who disagree with her) the "Archlesbian of the Episcopal Church" writes:
A 1992 editorial in The Living Church wrote of the service : “Undoubtedly similar events have taken place in clandestine circumstances but this is the first known “public” blessing in a prominent parish.”Well, once again, The Living Church got it wrong. They often do. Mostly because they don't pay attention to things they don't want to see or admit.

Truth is, "public" blessings had been going on all over The Episcopal Church. It's just that this one caught the eye of the secular media. That tends to happen more on the Left Coast which is 'blessed' by the presence of lots of secular media.

Meanwhile, back - way back when - in Jerusalem, tomorrow's appointed Gospel allows us to witness another event of risk-taking. Jesus entered the synagogue in Capernaum and spoke and taught "as one having authority, not as the scribes".

He even healed a man with "unclean spirits" - a Schizophrenic, perhaps? - and everyone was amazed and kept asking, ""What is this? A new teaching - with authority!"

Clearly, Jesus did something good in healing the man with "unclean spirits".

The risk is that he did so without authorization from the local authority. 

In doing so, he also attracted the "media" of his day. Mark tells us, "At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee."

I'll just bet it did. And, I'll bet the 'living church' of his time didn't get the story right, as well.

Authority is a big issue in the church. In fact, it's huge.

I've told this story before on this blog, but it bears repeating. When I took General Ordination Exams, one of the questions was, "What is the difference between 'the good' and 'the right'?" One of my colleagues had a brilliant - and correct - answer, "God is good," she wrote, "and the bishop is right."

I think the issue of authority is often the biggest stumbling block to church growth. Bishops talk a good line about 'taking risks' but their job description to "guard the faith, unity and discipline of the church" often renders them highly aversed to risk.

Unless, of course, it is a risk which the bishop authorizes because s/he agrees that there is "something good" to be gained from the risk, and "cost-benefit" analysis is something to which s/he is willing to subscribe.

If not, you're on your own, pal. Which, I don't have to tell many of you, is a HUGE risk. It takes a mature, patient, wise and very courageous bishop to support and encourage her/his clergy (or laity) in endeavors which s/he may not see the good to be gained in outweighing the risks to be taken. Or, in an issue which s/he is in sharp disagreement.

It has been my experience that bishops often use the authority of their office in service of their vision. If your vision doesn't happen to fit in with that of the ecclesial authority, well, my experience informs me that you're in for a journey on some very rough baptismal waters.

Just ask George Regas about the fallout he got for blessing the covenant made between two men.

Or, ask the so-called "Philadelphia Eleven" and the "Washington Four" who felt called to priestly ordination even though it wasn't yet "authorized" for women in the Episcopal Church.

Or, ask The Rev. William Wendt who invited Alison Cheek to celebrate at St Stephen's and the Incarnation in Washington, DC., and was later charged, tried and disciplined for violating canons.

Or, The Rev Peter Beebe who invited Alison Cheek and Carter Heyward to celebrate at Christ Church, Oberlin, OH., and was charged and tried for violating canons.

Or, perhaps you might like to have a little chat with Jack Spong about his ordaining Robert Williams as "the first openly gay man" (tosh, of course) in The Episcopal Church and was formally 'disassociated' from his colleagues in the House of Bishops.

If Walter Righter were still with us, you might speak with him about his heresy trial for ordaining Barry Stopfel, another openly gay man, to the priesthood.

All of these people - and many, many more, too numerous to mention here - risked something big for something good. Each one has paid a very dear price because the highest risk they took was not so much the good they were trying to achieve; rather, the something good was also a direct challenge to the institutional authority of the church.

It has ever been thus in the church.

Just look what happened to Jesus.

The thing of it is that the decision about what, exactly, is "something big" is just as important as deciding what, exactly, is the "something good".

What seems a 'no brainer' for some can prove to be a monumental decision for others.

Here's the thing about authority: You have to claim it. Even when someone won't give it to you.

You decide what's right. You decide what's good. You decide what risk you're going to take for God as you know God to be revealed in Christ Jesus, having been guided by the Holy Spirit.

Sometimes, that's a bigger risk than the actual risk itself. 

And, the 'something good' it does your soul may be even better than the good you intended.

Sometimes, we are God's bricks, building a road that brings us and others ever closer to catching a glimpse of the Realm of God.

One brick at a time.

I'm fascinated by dreams. Always have been. Probably always will.

The unconscious mind is a vast, mostly unexplored space that often comes to life when we are asleep.

One of the most dramatic, life-changing things for me happened when someone I was seeing in therapy charged me with asking "The Dream Maker" to come and visit me when I was asleep at night.

"Ask her to give you an image of yourself doing what it is you think you are supposed to be doing," she said.

Sounds easy, right? Not so.

Well, first of all, I had to admit that there was something - or someone - known as "The Dream Maker". Well, maybe not 'admit' so much as accept the possibility of the existence of such a being who only exists in an unconscious state of mind. 

Then, I had to get past my sense of the ridiculous in asking this "Dream Maker" to "visit" with me - while I was asleep.

I mean, it sounds positively batty, doesn't it?

Finally, after having the dream, I had to be willing to wake up, write down my dream, and then share my dream with my therapist so together we might be able to interpret the images and symbols and actions in the dream.

It all seemed fairly daunting - when not flat out ridiculous - but I gave it a try.

At first, nothing happened. For weeks, it seemed, nothing happened.

Or, at least, nothing that I remembered or could report.

"Have you ever had a dream that you liked?" my therapist asked. "Or, one that perhaps you're not so fond of but it comes to you anyway?"

Why, yes, I said.

I have had this recurring dream that I am standing on a very tall building. I think it's in New York City but I can't really be sure. At least, I don't see any familiar landmarks, but it must be because that's the city I associate with very tall buildings. It doesn't seem to matter to me in my dream.

I'm standing very close to the edge and I can feel the wind blowing on my face and through my hair. I am not afraid of heights, but I don't especially like them. And yet, in my dreams, I'm without any anxiety or concern or fear.

I don't know what I'm doing there, up so high on that very tall building, but I know that I'm supposed to be there. I'm exactly where I ought to be. Of this, I am quite certain. Nothing else seems to matter.

I look down and I can see people on the sidewalk. They look very tiny, but as I move closer to the edge, I can see some of their faces.

A few people have noticed me, up there on the ledge, and they're talking to each other, pointing up at me, letting other passersby know what they see.

I can hear a murmur of concerned voices. Others are nervously giggling and saying derisive things. I step up to the ledge and stretch out my arms like wings. I hear some of them gasp. I am calm and unconcerned.

Slowly, deliberately, I move forward as the crowd gasps. Someone yells with great alarm, "She's going to jump!"

I wait for just the right moment - the right feel of the wind, the beating of my heart, the lightness of my body - and then, I lean forward as I feel my body leave the ledge and begin to fall into the sky.

I am floating gracefully as the crowd gasps, but as I get nearer to them, I pick up my head, lift my arms just so, and begin to soar upwards. I lean to the left and then to the right, gently swooping and soaring before I begin to return to the ledge.

I circle and circle and circle the crowd, to their gasps of concern and applause of delight. Someone says something about calling the police or an ambulance. Still, I soar and swoop and fly.

And then, my dream ends.

I've had this dream many times. Sometimes, I ask the Dream Maker for it to return. I know it is an anxiety dream. Risk-takers often get them. Well, not in this exact form, but the themes are there. I suspect it's one way risk-takers assure ourselves that we're going to be okay.

It's also quite grandiose, isn't it? I don't know how to take a risk without someone criticizing that you've over-stepped your bounds, or that you've got a 'big ego', or that you're selfish in not being concerned about others who care about you and your safety.

And, it's admittedly, unashamedly narcissistic. Then again, all dreams are. Jung said that we are every person in our dreams, and every person in our dreams represents a part of us.

I grew up hearing Cinderella sing, "A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you're fast asleep." Like all little girls, we were carefully taught to dream for our Prince Charming to come and sweep us off our feet and carry us back to the Castle where we would live "happily ever after".

What we learned is that "happily ever after" is a crock. And, we learned that you can't live someone else's dream, much less someone else's idea of what a dream is for you.

What I've also learned is that, if you can dream it or imagine it, you have a better chance of making it happen. In many cases, we do create our own reality - through our dreams.

Indeed, what I've learned is that, if you can see yourself doing something and you believe it, others will see it, too.

It's a very powerful lesson about the power of the unconscious and the power of dreams. As Cinderella sings:
In dreams you will lose your heartaches
Whatever you wish for, you keep
Have faith in your dreams and someday
Your rainbow will come smiling thru
No matter how your heart is grieving
If you keep on believing
the dream that you wish will come trueMy grandmother would hear me sing that, twirling around in my stocking feet on her kitchen floor like the princess I dreamed I would be, and she'd harumph, "Wishes don't wash dishes."

She was right, of course.

Wishes and dreams don't happen all by themselves. It takes work - hard work, often, a lifetime of struggle - and sometimes even then, life sometimes seems to conspire to render our dreams foolish for even dreaming them.

Without dreams and wishes, however, life is dull and often seems meaningless. Indeed, without hope, we perish.

In one of the Morning Prayer Suffrages in The Book of Common Prayer, we say,
V. Let not the needy, O Lord, be forgotten
R. Nor the hope of the poor be taken away.I'm afraid we in the Church have lost touch with the power of dreams.

Indeed, the problem with the Church is not lack of money or resources.

The problem with the Church is that we lack imagination and creativity.

Don't believe me? Here, read Bonnie Anderson, the President of the House of Deputies, and what she had to say as Executive Council convened today.
I believe that the best way to find out what the future looks like is to invest where we know that mission and ministry is already most effective and closest to God’s people.

Let’s reduce the amount that we ask dioceses to send to the Church Center. Let’s study the best use of the building at 815 Second Avenue with an eye to freeing up for mission the $7.7 million dollars that is earmarked for facilities cost and debt repayment during the next triennium. Let’s expect that dioceses and their networks know best how to build up God’s church and support ministry where it is most effective. And as we change the budget, let’s acknowledge that we also need to change our models of accountability and responsibility to be mutual and respectful of the entire people of God, not just those with ecclesial power.MKL's 'I have a dream' in 'Wordle'. Mutuality. Respect for the entire people of God.

This is the stuff of the dream of our baptismal vows.

It's time for us to roll up our sleeves and "follow our dreams to reach our goals and follow our goals to reach our dream."

Yes, it's scary stuff. Sort of like jumping off a tall building and expecting to be able to fly.

Edward Teller, a nuclear physicist once said,
When you get to the end of all the light you know and it's time
to step into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing
that one of two things shall happen: either you will be given
something solid to stand on,or you will be taught how to fly. Actually, I think all dreams are little bits and pieces of God's dream in the first place.

Dreams are just an occasional peak into the mind and heart of the divine within each and every one of us. They happen when we're asleep because we couldn't bear the truth of them when we're wide awake.

So, c'mon, church. Have some faith.

Dream a little dream with me.

Who knows? We may just step out on that ledge and, together, learn to fly.