Essentials

Essentials

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Yesterday at 6:56pm

Author Jill Ellingson: beloved mother, daughter, wife, and my baby sis.

For two days now, I’ve found myself caught up in the rush-rush-buy-buy that has become the Christmas season. Until this morning. This morning at precisely 8:17 a.m. I got a phone call that I had been expecting since last night. A voice on the other end of the line ‘just wanted to let me know’ that a baby was being delivered.

I had a busy day lined up – finish the shopping, make jelly, take my kids’ pictures, wrap presents, do the dishes, deliver pictures to clients…..fight the crowds once again. I was SOOO tempted to say “I’m sorry, but I just can’t now – last night yes…..but now, I can’t.” It was an impulse of a moment – didn’t last longer than the flicker of an eyelash – before I said “I can be there in an hour and a half. We just got up.”

Rush the kids into clothes (Connor stayed in jammies, the girls looked like they dressed out of the hamper – and might have!), ran a flat iron through my hair, loaded my camera, consent forms, dropped the kids at a girlfriends, and headed for the hospital.

I’m never sure what I’ll find when I arrive at the hospital for one of these sessions – often it’s a young woman, alone and afraid; sometimes her mother is with her; occasionally, a frightened young man stands by her side. The fear and ‘aloneness’ in such a room can be frightening.

I was greeting briefly, but warmly by a priest – a family friend, I assumed – and an older woman: “I’m Kathy’s mom”. As a I turn towards the bed, I’m already steeling myself for what I’ll see: parents struggling to behave ‘normally’, a mother beside herself with grief, a father ‘being strong’ and telling her that ‘it’s okay’ – even though he knows it’s a lie as he says it. Two people alone in their pain, unable to support each other, unable to be there for one another.

Instead, I see a beautiful young woman holding a pink bundle no bigger than the baby doll I played with as a small child; I see a young man with tears streaming into his beard, his massive arms wrapped tenderly around his wife and daughter. I see her hand resting on his forearm – softly stroking him, whispering small comforts in the circle of privacy his arms have created. As she speaks, her face crumples – and the strength seems to return to her husband’s limbs. He comforts her, now – stroking her hair, cradling their small daughter in his palm.

I spend about 45 minutes with this tiny, new, broken family. I take their daughter’s pictures – the only pictures they will ever have of her. I see them struggle to bring some sense of ‘normalcy’ to this day – to try to put it into a context that will have meaning for them not only at Christmas every year, but every day, all year long. The tenderness between them, the love with which they care for the daughter they can’t take home, the pain on their faces any time they happen to notice that time is passing….as they inch toward the time when they have to hand their child’s body to a nurse for the last time.

I left them, thanking them for sharing their daughter with me. As I stepped out into the sunshine of a beautiful December day in Fresno, I realized that I was no longer walking at a frantic pace; the “I’vegottabillionthingstodo” feeling had subsided. I thought back to the room I’d just left – essentials. When it’s all stripped away – the glitz, the rush, the ’stuff’ – we’re left with essentials. People who love us. Family. Those are the moments we hang onto, for as long as we possibly can.

I will never see this family again, probably, but they’ve been bookmarked in my memory as The Christmas Family.

Maybe bigger aint necessarily where it's at

An article in the Presyterian Outlook Dec. 7, 2010 takes up the issue of worship attendance, faith, and leadership. within that article, the drop in worship attendance over the past decade and a half is lamented as a sign of flagging relevance of and poor decisions by the church leaders (my interpretation and gleanings from article. (feel free to read article http://www.pres-outlook.com/reports-a-resources/presbyterian-heritage-articles/9472.html)

The author takes issue with church leaders (elders, and deacons) who have a less than committed attendance for sunday (or any other day of week) worship services. Laments the attitude that worship has simply become one of many activities that vie for the sacred spots on our calendars, a lament with which I can't disagree. The leader-types (not just the pastor) set the tenor of expectation for the congregation. If the elders aren't in worship, why should I be in worship. In many ways I think there may some truth that leaders have abdicated their responsibilities as faithful leaders, but that's not my concern (at least for this post).

I question the validity of the lament of large congregations who are experiencing decline in worship attendance. Being openly transparent, I pastor a church who's attendance has fluctuated between 75 and 50 over the past 4 years and is now residing in the mid 50s. We're an aging congregation which is seeking God's direction in revitalizing, re-defining, re-creating our role within small town S. Oregon. Definitely a challenge when we don't have the bells and whistles available to us to attract, we don't have the baseline support of younger adults to teach sunday school, let alone have the children to attend that sunday school - but I digress.

My question: was Worship ever supposed to be a 'mega' event? Was worship ever supposed to be an event where 1000s of people, where even 100s of people gathered for a cathartic experience of the divine? Is Worship supposed to be this space where one can get lost in the sea interaction? Thinking back to the beginnings of the Xian movement - with the house churches (and catacombs) the mega experience was impossible let alone impractical. (is worship of more meaning because 1000 people are all singing 'Amazing Grace'?) Never throughout history has there been a time when the 'mega' experience was employed for a valid religious worship experience (save pilgrimages to Mecca, Jerusalem, Vatican City from the Abrahamic religious traditions : being unfamiliar with other world faith traditions, they have their own pilgrimages I'm sure. ) But I think the point is, the day to day, week to week worship experience throughout history has been one very limited in attendance.

Enter the 1950s Americana - the rise in prosperity for some among this nation gave rise to bigger worship spaces, designed to house attendees who's civic duty and desire to belong compelled their attendance and then membership in the established church in their neighborhood. And from there, the mega experience has only blossomed, until now when there is this decline in the percentages of 'believers' gathering on a given Sunday (or whatever day for worship). Is Bigger Better? (has bigger ever been better - or does bigger feed something other that the worshipful?)

Maybe as we explore this decline in attendance, (and as WE of 1st PC Phoenix seek growth) we might wish to be mindful of and also reexamine the nature of what the church is called to do and be?

Avatar!! Easily see why it's reportedly the most expensive movie made

Avatar!! Amazing movie theatrics.

An obvious sense of wonder with the world of Pandora they “created”. The flora, fawna, and geological phenomena would truly have been breathtaking at first step onto the planet. Could easily see why the Segonia character was captivated by the scientific research of this cosmos. I could so get into exploring and studying all the life there on that planet of Pandora – that’s the B.S. coming round again to rear it’s little head.

As I was pouring through my copious notes, taken during this movie (yeah right) I began to feel like I was back in high school writing a literary essay for my Honors English class; maybe I’m expecting too much from these musings, eh? But in the course of the evening, was also taken back to a similar experience I had some 25 years past, where another parent took their soph/junior in HS to see a movie. We saw the Killing Fields; the occasion was the night before running in Bloomsday in Spokane. The question asked by my mom (the English/Lit teacher as we exited the theater – Well, How was it? - - -Reply: Oh, it was good. Walk, blink, blink, walk. That’s it??! Anything else??!? - - - Uh, I liked it? Thanks? Uh.

I’m rather amused to say that this parent/child exchange was not to be repeated in the ensuing drive home at the close to this Daddy/Daja night out. TheDaja was quick to point out the story threads drawn from the European conquest, invasion, or ‘landing’ (to be sanitized about it) of the Americas – (to which I would add - every other colonial occupation). We pick ed up and talked on more contemporary occupation dynamics –relationships regarding Iraq, Afghanistan. I was taken back to the WTC collapsing as the home tower was brought low by the ‘Flying People’. Images of ‘the People’ gathering on sacred/holy space in the wake of the destruction – for comfort, guidance, direction – healing – were all too familiar. I’ve been there.

There are moments in Avatar where I find my historical feet walking in the shoes of the invaders, simply wanting the resources, w/o care for who, what where when is destroyed; cause well, there heathen, barbarian, less than – why should I care? Sadly I confess this my historical shoes. And then there are moments where I’m very much in touch with the feelings, the desires, the emotions of The People, just wanting to be safe, for life/relationships to get back to ‘normal.’

Rather than the movie-scape being two dimensional, flat – it’s got texture, nuance, subtleties (and it’s not simply because it was viewed in Digital 3D) It seemed very much like a crystal that one could hold up to the light and see oneself from a variety of perspectives and roles; with a rotation of the movie scape – I find myself in a different local, from a different vantage.

The spiritual oneness of the People and the whole of creation provides the scientific motivation for ceasing the mining operation – not “it’s wrong to destroy” because it’s wrong, but rather because we might be able to exploit the creation in a yet unforeseen way. Give us time to study to see if there’s a better way of recouping our financial losses. Either way - exploitation is exploitation is exploitation.

But as to the spiritual connectiveness of the People, in some ways it’s envious. To be able to link together, by what can only be described as fiber optic filament would make the reliance on the Divine so much easier. I mean really – if all you had to do was plug yourself into spiritual hub (read USB 2.0) in order to talk to, receive validation from, feel the presence of – that would solve a lot of problems of perception. The otherside of that – what happens when the fibers are severed? Or one can’t find a dataport to connect through? Maybe that’s when we’ll truly see the wonder of Wireless Spirituality. (This could so use some more thought and discussion. )

Just some my musings on the movie Avatar. Go see it – don’t go see it. I liked it – intriguing, thought provoking, confessional, baptismal, resurrectional, and redemp - - - AS I think on the issue of redemption, I’ll have to think on it more. How does redemption play out – does it play out within the crystalline movie-scape of Avatar? Look forward to hearing some thoughts.

Peace

Rev.

What's with John the Baptist

Why John the Baptist? This is the season of Advent, preparing for the cosmic birthday of Jesus the Christ – shouldn’t we be focusing on him, the serene image of the manger with birthday cake and candle. Shouldn’t we be looking at the lives of starstruck shepherds in their neatly pressed robes, clean-shaven cheeks, and newly shorn sheep with precocious lambs?

But we’re at John the Baptist? Selah

Met with a group from the city this past week. 6 community and city representatives along with 3 clergy types (I was one of them). Topic of conversation revolved around the question: How do we the community of Phoenix, Oregon handle the issue of homelessness and the impact is has on the people who reside there.

Stemmed from a question posed: Where can these people turn when the temperatures dip into the teens at night? Discussion began here, but quickly bounced to the solution be – ‘Let’s start a soup kitchen.’ Okay ?!? let’s go there.

Without going into the blow by blow of who say what to whom – let me just say that there was a preponderance of clergy input that wanted to use whatever we did (okay, soup kitchen once a week) as a ‘come-to-Jesus’ moment. Presuming that the folks living on the streets were not persons of faith, folks who had not ‘accepted JC as their lord and savior {remember, only 7 shopping days left for you to accept JC as your Lord and Savior}. Trying to lift up the relational fact that ‘they’ have just as much to teach ‘us’ about faith and life and the putting of those two together was not ment

The image painted of a faithful person seemed to look like a Norman Rockwell painting; Mom, Dad, Gma, and kids gathered round table, in a nice house, with freshly washed clothes, with 2 cars in garage. Whereas these aspects are blessings from God, I don’t see them as signs of being blessed by God. I think John the Baptist throws a bucket of paint on THAT perception.

J. the Baptist – or rather maybe starting with Elizabeth, we’re shown a VERY different aspect. Though I think Elizabeth, upon hearing (or rather experiencing ) her own blessed news that she’s having a baby, started with that picture coming into focus. She saw her child as God finally shining on her, removing her disgrace, finally taking her shame away and replacing it with blessing.

And then came the visit from Mary – and the acute, sudden awareness (a kick in the gut) that kicked the legs out from beneath the easel of her vision. What came to her mind was that this child was for God’s purpose, was to be the servant of the child growing within her cousin (?). This child she would carry and deliver would not be pride and joy who would care for her in her age – (maybe Elizabeth was the widow who put her .02 into the temple depository), but, rather would live a MUCH different life, and in fact be taken long before his time.

The image of John the Baptist, as one who is the epitome of the faithful – looks so much less like the Norman Rockwell portrait – and more like that of the haggard, frazzled, unkept, unclean folks seen at the freeway offramps, beneath the overpass, residing in downtown doorways. Maybe we should be paying attention to the opportunities brought forth through our interactions with folks from the margins and see them as preparers of the Way for the Lord?

Maybe in understanding John better, we’ll welcome his internal kick as it serves to redirect the blessings God provides through us.