That moment when you realise you have a ton of work due tomorrow and you should REALLY stop procrastinating
Sunday, December 22, 2019
OH wait
Wednesday, December 18, 2019
"Christian Nation" (eyeroll)
For some reason, the most vocal Christians among us never mention the Beatitudes (Matthew 5). But, often with tears in their eyes, they demand that the Ten Commandments be posted in public buildings. And of course, that’s Moses, not Jesus. I haven’t heard one of them demand that the Sermon on the Mount, the Beatitudes, be posted anywhere.
“Blessed are the merciful” in a courtroom? “Blessed are the peacemakers” in the Pentagon? Give me a break!
Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country
“Blessed are the merciful” in a courtroom? “Blessed are the peacemakers” in the Pentagon? Give me a break!
Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country
Lesson/Family Home Evening: Advent 4 (Love)
Opening Check-Ins
We support each other no matter what. Invite everyone to share something that made them happy and/or something that made them sad this past week. We are here to support each other in prayer and presence.Centering in Silence and Song
If you have a household altar, I recommend using it. If not, a sense of ritual and sacred time can be initiated by lighting a candle and ringing a bell (three times is usually a good way to help everyone settle into silence). Share a few minutes of silence together. You may sound the bell again when silence is over. Children often enjoy the responsibility of these tasks (and should be supervised and assisted as appropriate).Prayer of Jesus
If you have a particular version of the prayer that you use, you are encouraged to use it.This is the "children's translation" that I wrote and use with my students:
God all around us with many sacred names
We roll up our sleeves to create a beautiful world with you
Please care for us and our needs and forgive us when we don’t do our best
Please help us to be forgiving of others, too.
Help us to be good, loving, and safe so we can help create a loving and safe world for everyone.
Amen.
Sacred Story
Background:
Today is the fourth Sunday of Advent. Last week we talked about joy. This week, the last Sunday in Advent, we talk about love.Our story today is from the Gospel of Matthew. How many gospels are in the Bible? Four. The gospels tell the stories about Jesus, mostly, but this story starts before Jesus is born. Let’s read it together.
Bible Story:
Story: Read together Matthew 1:18-25
This story tells us that Mary got pregnant before she and Joseph were married. Today when someone gets pregnant, maybe they will set up a nursery for the baby. Maybe they will have a baby shower. But Mary isn’t quite ready! She doesn’t feel like she’s set up for a baby yet, but she knows that the baby will be special and that they will have a special journey together. She knows that love is the most important thing.
Today we’re going to read a story about how baby Jesus was born, but it’s a little bit different. Let’s read it together.
Story: Read together “Home By Another Way: A Christmas Story” by Rev. Barbara Brown Taylor
Conversation:
What do you think the journey was like?When the wise men started their journey, they thought they were going to see the king. They DID go see the king, but it wasn’t what they expected, right?
Then they went and saw baby Jesus and that wasn’t really what they expected either, right?
We never really know what to expect when a baby is born. We never really know what to expect for Christmas. But the most important thing is love, right? The wise men brought gifts for baby Jesus that the stinky king in Jerusalem probably would have liked more, right? But Mary and Joseph were grateful because they know it’s the thought that counts and the love that counts. Jesus is the most precious Christmas gift, not the gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
Today our craft celebrates love and family-- the most important things about Christmas.
Story: Read together “Love is People” (p. 124-125) in A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood: The Poetry of Mr. Rogers
Craft:
CO-CREATING: Nativity Heart Ornaments
materials
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String
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Heart-shaped box
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Nativity stickers
String
Heart-shaped box
Nativity stickers
craft
We will make ornaments with the holy family in the shape of a heart.
Closing Prayer
“Dear God, thank you for the season of Advent. Thank you for teaching us about love.
Thank you for giving us people and animals who love us and whom we love.
We ask for your help to show our love to others and to help you create a more loving world.
Amen.”
Thank you for giving us people and animals who love us and whom we love.
We ask for your help to show our love to others and to help you create a more loving world.
Amen.”
Curriculum texts used:
- A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood: The Poetry of Mr. Rogers
- "Home By Another Way: A Christmas Story" by Barbara Brown Taylor
Sunday, December 15, 2019
Friday, December 13, 2019
Lesson/Family Home Evening: Advent 3 (Joy)
Opening Check-Ins
Invite all children and adults to introduce themselves. You may invite the children to share something that has brought them joy in the past week. They don’t have to share if they’re not comfortable. We are here to support each other in prayer and presence.Centering in Silence and Song
If you have a household altar, I recommend using it. If not, a sense of ritual and sacred time can be initiated by lighting a candle and ringing a bell.Set up the altar. You may wish to note any differences in the altar for the season of Advent. Invite children to collect a flower, leaf, twig (or something like that) to place on the altar. A sense of ritual and sacred time can be initiated by lighting a candle and ringing a bell (three times is usually a good way to help everyone settle into silence). Share a few minutes of silence together. You may sound the bell again when silence is over. Children often enjoy the responsibility of these tasks (and should be supervised and assisted as appropriate).
Prayer of Jesus
If you have a particular version of the prayer that you use, you are encouraged to use it.This is the "children's translation" that I wrote and use with my students:
God all around us with many sacred names
We roll up our sleeves to create a beautiful world with you
Please care for us and our needs and forgive us when we don’t do our best
Please help us to be forgiving of others, too.
Help us to be good, loving, and safe so we can help create a loving and safe world for everyone.
Amen.
Sacred Story
Background:
Today is the third Sunday of Advent. What did we talk about last week? Last week we read some from the Book of Isaiah and talked about peace.What are we talking about this week? This week we are reading from the Gospel of Luke and talking about Joy. This section in the Gospel of Luke has a special name: Magnificat. It looks kind of like a song of praise that Mary sang to God, but like other songs in the Bible, we don’t really know what it sounded like. We have the words to read, though. And we’ll read a bit from our story Bible to see what Mary was singing about.
Bible Story:
Story: Read together Luke 1:46b-55
Story: Read together “An Angel Appears to Mary” in “Children of God Storybook Bible” (p. 60-61)Mary was singing because she was happy to be pregnant! She was happy to be chosen to give birth to Jesus and raise him.
Mary was excited to have her baby because she knew he would be special and loved by God. God makes all of us to be special, wonderful, and joyful. Today we’ll read a story about when God made YOU!
Conversation:
We all know that babies are special. Has anyone heard the expression “bundle of joy”? What does it mean?
It means a baby! We think of babies as bringing joy into the world, and Mary certainly felt that way when she found out she was going to have a baby.
Our book today talks about how special all of us are. We all bring joy to God and to each other.
Story: Read together “When God Made You” by Matthew Paul Turner
Craft:
Decorate rocks like baby Jesus. Wrap him up in cotton balls and in a treasure or gift box!
Closing Prayer
“Dear God, thank you for the season of Advent. Thank you for teaching us about joy. Thank you for giving us moments of joy in our own lives and for helping us to build a joyful world with you. We ask for your help to find joy in this season and help others to find it, too. Amen.”Curriculum texts used:
- Children of God Storybook Bible by Archbishop Desmond Tutu
- Images of God for Young Children by Marie-Helene Delval
Tuesday, December 10, 2019
Lesson/Family Home Evening: Advent 2 (Peace)
Opening Check-Ins
Invite all children and adults to introduce themselves. You may invite the children to share a time or place when or where they felt very peaceful. They don’t have to share if they’re not comfortable. We are here to support each other in prayer and presence.Centering in Silence and Song
If you have a household altar, I recommend using it. If not, a sense of ritual and sacred time can be initiated by lighting a candle and ringing a bell (three times is usually a good way to help everyone settle into silence). Share a few minutes of silence together. You may sound the bell again when silence is over. Children often enjoy the responsibility of these tasks (and should be supervised and assisted as appropriate).Prayer of Jesus
If you have a particular version of the prayer that you use, you are encouraged to use it.This is the "children's translation" that I wrote and use with my students:
God all around us with many sacred names
We roll up our sleeves to create a beautiful world with you
Please care for us and our needs and forgive us when we don’t do our best
Please help us to be forgiving of others, too.
Help us to be good, loving, and safe so we can help create a loving and safe world for everyone.
Amen.
Sacred Story
Background:
Today is the second Sunday of Advent. What did we talk about last week? Last week we read some from the Book of Isaiah and talked about hope.What are we talking about this week? This week we are reading more about Isaiah and we are talking about peace.
Today in church, the grown-ups are reading a passage from the Book of Isaiah. Does anyone know who Isaiah was or where in the Bible that book is?
Isaiah is a prophet, so his book is in the section we call Wisdom Texts in the Hebrew Bible. Today we will read in our story Bible some about Isaiah.
Bible Story:
Story: Read together Isaiah 11:1-10
Story: Read together “Isaiah Becomes God’s Messenger” in “Children of God Storybook Bible” (p. 52-53)How do you think Isaiah helped make peace? I think he did so by living holy, as our book says. “By doing good, seeking what is fair, rescuing the oppressed, and caring for the widow and the orphan.”
Sometimes peace is about forgiveness, too, right? What do you think the opposite of peace is?
When I think of the opposite of peace, I think of war. When wars end, people usually need to forgive each other. Sometimes making peace is about changing the way we think about people. We have to stop thinking of people as our enemies, right?
Are there some people in the world that we are told are bad?
There is a story attributed to Hillel, a Jewish rabbi. “Attributed” means we think he said it. Do you know what a Rabbi is? “Rabbi” means “teacher,” and is kind of like a minister. Jesus was a rabbi.
Well, someone went to Hillel and said if he could tell him the story of the Bible while he stood on one foot, he would give everything he had to God. That basically means, “if you can tell me quickly,” because most of us can’t stand on one foot for very long, right?
What do you think he said?
“Love God and love your neighbor as yourself. The rest is commentary.”
So the whole point of all these stories in the Bible is to help us love each other better, right? And so when we think about how to create hope, peace, love, and joy in the world, we can usually go back to that. Love God and love your neighbor as yourself. And you’re probably on the right track.
So today I want us to read a story called “Who is My Neighbor?”
Story: Read together “Who is My Neighbor” by Sandy Eisenberg Sasso and Amy-Jill Levine
Conversation:
Sometimes we’re taught we should avoid certain people or be afraid of certain people. One of the things that we learn from Jesus, though, is to love absolutely everyone. Today we are going to send some love and peace to some people who need some extra.Has anyone ever been to a jail or a prison? They are very crowded and noisy. It can be hard to find quiet or to sleep. And of course you don’t get to leave or see the people you want to spend time with whenever you want.
We are going to make bookmarks. We will decorate them and write words of encouragement for those in the prison system who are waiting for their trial or serving their time. We want them to know they are loved by God and to feel God’s peace, especially at Christmas time.
Read together "God is peace" in Images of God for Young Children (p. 60-61)
Craft:
Bookmarks for incarcerated. These are very simple-- strips of paper decorated with markers/crayons. No stickers, string, or other supplies are allowed in jails.
Closing Prayer
“Dear God, thank you for the season of Advent. Thank you for teaching us about peace. Thank you for giving us moments of peace in our own lives and for helping us to build a peaceful world with you. We ask for your help in continuing your work of peace in the world. Amen.”Curriculum texts used:
- Children of God Storybook Bible by Archbishop Desmond Tutu
- Images of God for Young Children by Marie-Helene Delval
Monday, December 9, 2019
Bootstraps
I often struggle with a balance between my individual needs and my sense of community engagement. At what point does "self care" become "selfish" and at what point is "selfless" essentially "reckless"?
I think is important for Christians to lift up and try always to remember the interconnections that sustain and propel us. I think there is a temptation among Americans (perhaps especially among white, Protestant Americans) to buy into the "bootstraps" myth of individualism that leads people like Donald Trump to think he built his business all by his lonesome. The moment I start to see myself as a person who acts alone in the world, I not only disrespect and disregard the many lives that have helped me get to where I am, celebrated me and held me in my lower moments; I fail to see a myriad of possibilities before me that exist in the interrelationships I am a part of- the paths forward I might be blind to if I think I am walking alone.
I hope that makes sense.
I think is important for Christians to lift up and try always to remember the interconnections that sustain and propel us. I think there is a temptation among Americans (perhaps especially among white, Protestant Americans) to buy into the "bootstraps" myth of individualism that leads people like Donald Trump to think he built his business all by his lonesome. The moment I start to see myself as a person who acts alone in the world, I not only disrespect and disregard the many lives that have helped me get to where I am, celebrated me and held me in my lower moments; I fail to see a myriad of possibilities before me that exist in the interrelationships I am a part of- the paths forward I might be blind to if I think I am walking alone.
I hope that makes sense.
Tuesday, December 3, 2019
Lesson/Family Home Evening: Advent 1 (Hope)
Opening Check-Ins
We support each other no matter what. Invite everyone to share something that makes them hopeful. They don't have to share if they don't feel led. We are here to support each other in prayer and presence.Centering in Silence and Song
If you have a household altar, I recommend using it. If not, a sense of ritual and sacred time can be initiated by lighting a candle and ringing a bell (three times is usually a good way to help everyone settle into silence). Share a few minutes of silence together. You may sound the bell again when silence is over. Children often enjoy the responsibility of these tasks (and should be supervised and assisted as appropriate).This week, I changed the color of our altar cloth to blue, a seasonal color for advent. You might also discuss any altar changes and their symbolic meaning.
Prayer of Jesus
If you have a particular version of the prayer that you use, you are encouraged to use it.This is the "children's translation" that I wrote and use with my students:
God all around us with many sacred names
We roll up our sleeves to create a beautiful world with you
Please care for us and our needs and forgive us when we don’t do our best
Please help us to be forgiving of others, too.
Help us to be good, loving, and safe so we can help create a loving and safe world for everyone.
Amen.
Sacred Story
Background:
Today is the first Sunday in Advent. In church, we have different seasons, kind of like there are seasons in Nature. Seasons in nature let us know what to expect about weather and maybe let us know what holidays are coming. The church calendar is similar. The church calendar can also tell us what holidays are coming, but we might think of church seasons as seasons of the heart, times during which we talk about certain kinds of stories and feelings.The season of Advent lasts from December 1 to Christmas Eve.
Advent is the season of “waiting.” When we think about the season, we are kind of waiting for warmth and the sun to come back. But we are also waiting for the birth of Jesus and Christmas.
The color for the season is PURPLE or BLUE, even though we often see lots of red and green at this time of year. We used blue on our altar. Blue is a color that is symbolic of hope. Each Sunday of Advent, we celebrate a different theme. Today we’re going to talk about hope.
Why do you think we celebrate hope during advent?
We celebrate hope because we have hope for the birth of Jesus and we have hope for a better world with God.
Today we’re going to read one of our scripture stories from the Book of Isaiah.
Bible Story:
Story: Read together Isaiah 2:1-5
Story: Read together “Walk in the Light of the Lord” in “Shine On: A Story Bible” (p. 136-137)Conversation:
Why do you think light is a symbol of hope?We can see light from far away. So we know that even if we will have to journey to get to it, we will get there. It can help lead our way and show us that way forward to a bright future.
Today we are going to learn a carol about the wise men following a star. They followed that star toward hope.
We're also going to read a story about hope called “Butterflies Under Our Hats.”
Story: Read together “Butterflies Under Our Hats” by Sandy Eisenberg Sasso
Conversation:
Sometimes we just need a reminder to be hopeful. So we will make candle holders today to help us remember to be hopeful. We have hope for Christmas. We have hope for warm weather again! We have hope for Jesus. Sometimes we just need to see a bit of light to remind us to be hopeful.
Read together "God is light" in Images of God for Young Children (p. 12-13)
Curriculum texts used:
Special Texts used:
Read together "God is light" in Images of God for Young Children (p. 12-13)
Closing Prayer:
“Dear God, thank you for the season of Advent. Thank you for teaching us about hope. We ask for your help in remaining hopeful even when it seems hard. Help us to ignite hope in others by following Jesus’ example and walking in the light of God. Amen.”Craft: Tissue Paper Candle Holders
You can find an instructional video here:
Closing Carol
Instead of a standard prayer, during Advent, we are singing Christmas carols together. Because our theme is hope and light, we sang together "We Three Kings." If you don't feel comfortable leading song, you may prefer to listen to the song together in silence as closing.Curriculum texts used:
Special Texts used:
Tuesday, November 26, 2019
Lesson/Family Home Evening: Thanksgiving
Opening Check-Ins
We support each other no matter what. Invite everyone to share something that made them happy and/or something that made them sad this past week. You might invite the children to share something they are grateful for and/or what they are doing for Thanksgiving. They don’t have to share if they don’t want to. We are here to support each other in prayer and presence.Centering in Silence and Song
If you have a household altar, I recommend using it. If not, a sense of ritual and sacred time can be initiated by lighting a candle and ringing a bell (three times is usually a good way to help everyone settle into silence). Share a few minutes of silence together. You may sound the bell again when silence is over. Children often enjoy the responsibility of these tasks (and should be supervised and assisted as appropriate).You may also listen to this song and discuss what it brings up for each of you:
Prayer of Jesus
If you have a particular version of the prayer that you use, you are encouraged to use it.This is the "children's translation" that I wrote and use with my students:
God all around us with many sacred names
We roll up our sleeves to create a beautiful world with you
Please care for us and our needs and forgive us when we don’t do our best
Please help us to be forgiving of others, too.
Help us to be good, loving, and safe so we can help create a loving and safe world for everyone.
Amen.
Sacred Story
Background:
Does anyone know the story of Thanksgiving? Why do we celebrate this holiday?A holiday for gratitude
a history story
time with family
harvest festival-- yummy food!
When I was little, we told stories about Pilgrims and Indians. That there was a big feast and everyone shared their resources and got along. It’s a very nice story and I think it shows how we wish things always went between colonists and native Americans. I think it’s important to remember that indigenous people in this country were not always treated well by European people who settled here. While we like to tell stories about people being kind, we can’t do it in a way that helps us pretend that European Americans were always kind to Native Americans.
Have you guys learned interesting things about native americans in school?
So we don’t really know exactly how the first Thanksgiving happened, kind of like we don’t always know how stories from the Bible really happened. But we tell these stories because we know they teach us important lessons, right? We know it’s important to be thankful, to spend time with our families, and to eat healthy, seasonal food. It is a holiday that helps remind us that sharing and gratitude are important.
Are there books in the Bible that are about thanks?
Psalms are about many things, but they are a collection of songs and poems, and many of them thank God for things. We’re going to read a couple of stories based on Psalms 100 and 104 to think about ways people have said thank you to God.
Bible Story:
Read together "Thank You, God!" in Growing in God's Love: A Story Bible (p. 152-153)Also read together "God cares for the earth" in Shine On: A Story Bible (p. 130-131).
So today we are going to read TWO story books before our craft.
The first story is about a native American family. I like this story because it tells some of the story of the Americas from the perspective of indigenous people, not white people. I also like it because it celebrates family and being together and gratitude, which are all Thanksgiving themes!
Read together: “When We Were Alone”
And our next books is called “Giving Thanks,” and I think that title kind of explains it.
Read together: “Giving Thanks”
Read together "God is beauty" in Images of God for Young Children (p. 54-55)
Craft:
"Harvest Corn" with pipe cleaners and beads. We had a bunch of everything in our craft closet.
Closing Prayer
“Dear God, thank you for healthy food and for harvest festivals that fill our bellies. Thank you for special time with family and friends and for a break from school and work a little bit. Thank you for the Native American communities who were and are stewards of this land. Help us to live and work in peace with all of our brothers and sisters around the world. Thank you for all of our blessings. We will try to be especially thankful this coming week. Amen.”Curriculum texts used:
- Shine On: A Story Bible
- Growing In God's Love: A Story Bible by Elizabeth F. Caldwell and Carol A. Wehrheim
- Images of God for Young Children by Marie-Helene Delval
Special Texts used:
Thursday, November 14, 2019
Wednesday, November 13, 2019
Responses
barcofthebluebard answered: One of our cohort on the hill has told me I’m being a fool for being a Christo-Pagan, quoting scripture (of course). What would you suggest as the proper response?
Well, I don’t know if what I would say would be “right,” but here’s what is going through my head…
Firstly, I am always defensive when people quote scripture to tell you how to live your life. It’s invariably a brand of cherry-picking, as pretty much any biblical passage can be refuted with another biblical passage. Similarly, I know very few scripture-quoting Christians who uphold the “rules” in the Bible that don't mesh with their own lifestyles, like Kosher diets, ritual cleansings around periods and wet dreams, etc. The Bible’s weird, right? I hear hypocrisy.
Secondly, while not really knowing what passages they’re drawing from, Pagan religious practices probably look as different from biblical times as Judeo-Christian practices do today. Not only do biblical texts reflect the prejudices of the folks who wrote them (which we readily denounce when it comes to anti-women, anti-LGBTQ, and pro-slavery passages), but those prejudices were against a group of people whose practices have changed just as much as their own, so EVEN IF our spiritual ancestors had a point about ancient Pagans, that point might not be relevant today. Like, I wouldn’t assume someone has an attitude problem because their great great great grandmother did. Too often folks use biblical passages as if nothing has changed since the time they were written.
Like criticisms of “Pharisees” in the gospels, the anti-Pagan passages may not reflect the criticisms of biblical characters, but rather later generations who sought to shape a narrative based on their lived experiences of religious and political conflicts. The Pharisees weren’t even active, really, in Jesus’ time, and Jesus was mostly in line with their views, anyway. He would have been in conflict with the Saducees, but it was the Pharisees that first century Christians were in conflict with during the time that gospel texts were written (post Temple), so Jesus’ narrative ends up somewhat altered and anti-Pharisaic words get put in his mouth. Again, that Bible thing is weird and complicated, so most folks’ dogmatic claims that are justified by scripture are more reflective of personal prejudices “protected” by scripture passages pulled out of context.
The Hebrew Scriptures, in a variety of places, use a variety of names for God, some of which are plural, that are indicative of Jewish polytheism. Your tradition is certainly different, but oftentimes criticism against other traditions is rooted in arguments for elective monotheism and THE ONE TRUE GOD… except read that Bible. There is polytheism all over it. In fact, one of my undergrad professors (who is Jewish in personal practice and SJSU’s expert on the Middle East and cultural anthropology) suggests that YHVH (a name commonly used for God) represents an earlier pantheon, with each letter representing Ugaritic gods (mother, father, daughter, son… I have more on that if you are interested). The YHVH tradition is not exclusively monotheistic, so to suggest that Christians should be is silly.
That’s more refute-style, but the more positive use of biblical narrative for your case would (in my view) be that whole Christian movement thing. The entire history of Christianity is one of schism. I mean, Jesus wasn’t even a Christian! He was a Jew! It was later generations who decided to split off and NOT be Jewish– to do things a bit differently. Protestant Reformation. History of USA. In my view, denouncing Christo-Paganism is just as silly as it would be for me to denounce Presbyterianism. I’m not Presbyterian and the Presbyterians do their stuff differently and think differently about certain things, but we’re cool. Religion is moving and changing all the time. We need to denounce religious positions as wrong when they begin to harm people, but you and your fellow Christo-Pagans aren’t harming anyone.
Also: as far as more over-arching themes go, the Bible seems like it’s about love and people searching for God (failing at times). But if God is about Love, I don’t see how what you’re doing is wrong or foolish.
The last thing I’m thinking about is that “Women shouldn’t speak in church!” stuff from the Pauline texts (perhaps a non-authetically-Paul one? Timothy? I forget). One of my professors in undergrad (Brent Walters, he has a Bible show on KGO Sunday mornings) said that that passage reflected a first century reality that was less about gender than we think today. He suggested it was because Pagan priestesses were converting and speaking in worship spaces. He said that these new converts didn’t quite “get” the Christian thing yet (hadn’t completed Catechism or whatever) and were saying things “wrong,” hence the passage asking them to stop speaking. This may have been a case of my professor trying to make Paul sound less sexist, but what I glean from this is that people were already mixing Paganism and Christianity in the first century. You have a historical tradition that is longer than many of us can claim. Paul may have found it a bit disruptive, but Paul said a bunch of dumb stuff that we dismiss because Paul isn’t Jesus, he’s just a first century Christian who happened to write a bunch of stuff down that got saved.
Anyway, those are my thoughts for how to refute that kind of exclusivism. Also:What the Hell? Who does that? Why do you care? Mind your business.
Sunday, November 10, 2019
Lesson/Family Home Evening: World Toilet Day Prep
Opening Check-Ins
We support each other no matter what. Invite everyone to share something that made them happy and/or something that made them sad this past week. We are here to support each other in prayer and presence.Centering in Silence and Song
If you have a household altar, I recommend using it. If not, a sense of ritual and sacred time can be initiated by lighting a candle and ringing a bell (three times is usually a good way to help everyone settle into silence). Share a few minutes of silence together. You may sound the bell again when silence is over. Children often enjoy the responsibility of these tasks (and should be supervised and assisted as appropriate).Prayer of Jesus
If you have a particular version of the prayer that you use, you are encouraged to use it.This is the "children's translation" that I wrote and use with my students:
God all around us with many sacred names
We roll up our sleeves to create a beautiful world with you
Please care for us and our needs and forgive us when we don’t do our best
Please help us to be forgiving of others, too.
Help us to be good, loving, and safe so we can help create a loving and safe world for everyone.
Amen.
Sacred Story
Background:
There are many ways that our world is different than the world of Jesus and the other figures in the Bible. A long time ago, people did things very differently. We also know things about health and wellness that we didn’t used to know.For instance, people didn’t used to know that smoking was bad for you. In my great grandma’s medical book, it just says smoking is rude for women, not that it will hurt your lungs or give you cancer.
Does anyone know what a chamber pot is?
A chamber pot is one of the ways that people in different times and places have used the bathroom. People would go to the bathroom in a pot and then throw it out the window. So people’s poo was in the street and it made people sick.
Does anyone know what an outhouse is?
When my family has gone camping, we use outhouses. They are kind of like a toilet that doesn’t flush— it’s just over a big hole in the ground that someone empties once in a while. When I visited a castle in Scotland, I saw toilets kind of like that from the middle ages. A big hole.
In some places, outhouses are normal. Some of us went to Tecate and helped build houses. When we do that, we build a separate bathroom building outside.
We are very lucky that we live in a country with safe water and toilets and sanitation. It helps us stay healthy and not get sick. It means we live longer.
Does it say anything in the Bible about how to go to the bathroom? It’s kinda crazy, but it does! In the book of Deuteronomy (ch. 23), it says:
2 You shall have a designated area outside the camp to which you shall go. 13 With your utensils you shall have a trowel; when you relieve yourself outside, you shall dig a hole with it and then cover up your excrement. 14 Because the Lord your God travels along with your camp, to save you and to hand over your enemies to you, therefore your camp must be holy, so that he may not see anything indecent among you and turn away from you.
Let’s look at some pictures of toilets and sanitation from biblical times.
(pictures and discussion-- I printed photos of ancient toilets from toiletguru.com)
A bit later this month is WORLD TOILET DAY (November 19). It’s kind of a silly holiday, but it’s actually very important, because when people don’t have good toilets, they get sick more often and aren’t as healthy.
When we make our collection for World Toilet Day, we will be helping to make sure that people everywhere have toilets that will help them stay clean and healthy.
Read together "God is a savior" in Images of God for Young Children (74-75)
Craft:
We'll make toilet paper flowers! You can find an easy instructional video here:
Closing Prayer
“God, we thank you for the knowledge that scientists, engineers, and doctors have given us. We are grateful for toilets, clean running water, and access to clean environments that keep us healthy and safe. We ask that all of your children would have access to clean water and sanitation so that everyone can be clean, safe, and healthy.”Curriculum texts used:
Special Texts used:
- none
Friday, November 8, 2019
Sermon: "Veils and Walls" (Hebrews 11:1-3, 12:1-2)
"Veils and Walls," delivered 11.03.19 by Joliene Wade Gatlin at Peace United Church of Christ in Santa Cruz, CA
Based on Hebrews 11:1-3, 12:1-2
This time of year is for the mystics among us. It’s a time of transition. Of seasons changing. Of falling leaves. Of misty mornings and early sundown. As the temperature changes, we crave warmth. We find our ways to blankets, fireplaces, cocoa, tea, and contemplation.
Perhaps, then, it’s no wonder that this time of year begins the holiday season. It’s time to spend with family. It’s time to remember those who have gone before us. We lift up historical memory-- our biological and spiritual ancestors. We lift up the stories that bind us.
I entered my faith through death. Not by dying. I’m here. Obviously.
My parents, though they both come from religious families, are not religious themselves. I didn’t grow up going to church, but I spent a lot of time in cemeteries. My mother’s Irish Catholic family has worked in cemeteries for the church since their arrival in the bay area. I was 4th generation working in the cemetery industry before entering seminary.
I spent many afternoons tromping around St. John’s Cemetery in San Mateo, reading inscriptions on headstones and pondering the significance of faded trinkets left by loved ones. The stones and mausoleums were mysteries, some overgrown with moss and ivy like something out of a movie. It seemed magical to me-- to my young mind, the headstones may as well have been the ancient pyramids. They were monuments to mysterious figures of the past, black and white images of people I didn’t know and would never be able to know. We shared space, but no longer shared time.
For those of you who don’t know, I spent much of my time in my formative years with my grandparents. When I was about 6 months old, my parents had a bad experience with my babysitter, so my grandmother decided she would quit her job and take care of me herself. Eventually, my grandmother would be caring for more than just me. On some days, there were 6 of us grandchildren and on others, more, since the neighbors inevitably ended up playing dress-up in her closet, climbing the tree in the front yard, and eating tuna fish sandwiches on her patio. My grandmother continued to care for my sister and me, 5 days a week, for about a decade.
My grandfather would often return home from the cemetery in the afternoon and go through a Mr.-Rogers-like routine. It didn’t involve a sweater, but he did change his shoes and take off his flannel work shirt. He would sit in his LaZy Boy chair and read the Times, but he could easily be convinced to tell a story first.
As a child, I spent much of my time growing up at my grandparents’ house. They, like many in their generation, were constantly living their values. They cultivated the ability to love well and shared that love often. Through the stories they would tell me at naptime or after Grandpa came home from work, they would teach me values. They would help me become. We made up stories together in games of make-believe as we crafted our ideal households, ideal worlds, and the drama of our imaginations. I learned to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly without ever knowing I’d learned it. Their stories taught me morality and love, not only by the motifs in the stories themselves, but by the love with which they were shared and the creative light with which they were interpreted and retold for the particular context of their given moment.
In these moments, the moments of my adult life, they propel me forward and are the foundation of love from which I try to live my life in the image of those who have gone before me. I have my Grammie’s cheekbones, my Grandma’s gestures, and probably a little bit of everyone’s nose. I bring their stories forward, too.
When my grandfather fell ill in the mid 90s, I experienced the first big death of my life. No one that close to me had died before and at 12 years old, I was arriving at an age at which I understood life and death differently and more deeply. My grandfather had melanoma, or skin cancer. He spent his life, from the time he was 12 until his 70s-- working outside at St. John’s Cemetery. His fair Irish skin was not well adapted to California sunshine and he worked many years outside before knowledge about sunscreen and cancer developed.
His death was slow.
We had a lot of time to think about it. And it’s when I started asking questions about God. My grandfather was a devout Catholic who had given his life to the church and his community. He was simple in all the best ways. He didn’t care for new things or picking flowers. He believed in hard work and family and cared little for pretentions or dress codes. I knew his faith had something to do with his goodness. The questions I started asking would eventually lead me here, to a place quite unlike the Catholic Church in which my grandfather found his spiritual home.
He is one of my saints. His journey into death was selfless. It changed my trajectory in many ways. It brought out the best in my family. He had a way of doing that.
Anyone will tell you that death is hard. That love is hard. That grief is hard.
But they don’t tell you that it changes your life. It breaks you in a way that makes you forever stronger and weaker, a spiritual wound like Jacob. It’s make and break.
After funerals, when people stand around, committing themselves to carrying on the beautiful lights of those lost, we all quietly agree to become better people. Knowing how important John Kiely was to the world, I knew there were parts of him that I needed to carry forward. 23 years later, my life is changed.
My grandmother, his wife, passed away a couple of years ago, 2 months after Caleb and I moved to Santa Cruz County. She was 94. I was very close to her. My grandmother’s relationship with the church was different. She also grew up Catholic, but not devout. She wasn’t baptized until after the death of her baby sister, who died at 18 months old. My grandmother grew up hearing that Baby Gloria might not go to heaven because she was unbaptized. At this time of year, my Great Grandma Alice would pray for Gloria’s soul. Grandma grew up hearing various stories about how the church caused pain or refused to help her family in their times of need. She struggled with stories of our spiritual ancestors-- to believe the things she thought she had to believe. For my Grandmother, this time of year was painful.
In this sense, our relationships to our spirituality can be like familial relationships. Your mother might be supportive. She might be abusive. She might be both. Our spiritual ancestors were equally complicated. Their stories celebrate their victories as much as the ways they failed. We can use them in ways that give life or in ways that oppress. We can learn from the failures of our spiritual ancestors or repeat them.
Each generation is incorporated into our being. I am my grandmother and my mother and my great grandfather. I can see pieces of each of them in me. Likewise, though I never met my Great Great Grandmother, she’s in me, too. My ancestors raised the people that raised me.
The stories of our ancestors ripple through history, through our DNA. Our spiritual ancestors, too, ripple in our lives. I know the names of Moses, Joshua, Ruth, Dorothy Day, Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., Cesar Chavez. I know some of their stories. They influence us and become part of us. John Kiely is gone, but today I tell some of his story. Moses is gone, but his deeds remain. We tell how he killed an Egyptian and it was wrong. We tell how he liberated the Hebrews and it was right. These stories are reimagined and reignited in the work of living saints like Greta Thunberg and Desmond Tutu. We here at Peace stand on the legacies of those who built the First Congregational Church of Santa Cruz. The form changes. The building changes. The people change. But love remains.
A few years ago, I was blessed with an opportunity to go to the Holy Land. The trip was, in many ways, not just about me. It was certainly about the people of the land, whose rights to the land matter and whose are upheld, who has access to what... but it was also about my ancestors. I didn't know that until I got there.
I had a particular experience at the Jordan River that I have only told a handful of people about. So I’m going to embarrass myself and tell all of you.
Now, the historian in me feels obligated to say that many of the sites associated with the life and times of Jesus are likely not authentic. Some of the more famous sites may commemorate events that didn’t happen or be the wrong site for an event or wrong object. Some sites are busy and have long lines.
The site we visited on the Jordan River was not one of those sites. We were on the Jordan side, as opposed to the Palestinian side, of the River. A Lutheran minister brought us to a site reputed to be where John the Baptist lived.
It was just us-- maybe 20 of us. We walked around the site John the Baptist was said to live. There were ruins of a monastery built around a small cave. Locusts hopped around and there was wild honey and a spring with drinkable water. There was a slight breeze blowing through the reeds as we meandered down the gravel trail at the holy site.
In the middle of a nothing moment, and quite surprising to me, I smelled my Grammie and was overcome by a strange feeling. I was surprised by the experience. I strongly associate my spiritual journey with my mother’s father. This was my father’s mother. She was Mormon and lived in Utah. I saw my dad’s family every other year, when we would drive out to Utah for family vacation. My Grammie had a sweet, childlike spirit, even in her old age. She liked to scrapbook and bake. She was optimistic and cheerful to a fault.
Honestly, I was confused by this experience. A swirl of emotions and questions flooded my heart and mind. What was going on?
We loaded back into our vans to head toward a Russian pilgrimage site for lunch, and I sat in the back seat, looking out the window as tears poured down my face. I didn’t want to make eye contact with anyone or share this confusing experience. One of my peers, Michelle, asked me if I was okay and I nodded.
We arrived at our lunch site. There was a litter of kittens living outside of the kitchen and while I certainly couldn’t push the experience out of my mind, I managed to stop crying, cuddle some kittens, and eat some soup.
After lunch, we drove to a different spot on the river, miles from the first spot, where Jesus was supposed to have been baptized. Again, I felt strange and smelled my Grammie. Now as much as I was emotionally affected by this, I’m also quite skeptical. I wasn’t about to tell anyone about this experience because I felt quite crazy. So I started to follow each of my peers and smell them without being conspicuous. Surely one of them used the same laundry detergent as Grammie did.
After surveying the musks of my peers I determined that none of them smelled like my grandmother.
I don’t really know what happened. I still don’t quite know what I think, but I like to say that sometimes I believe in things I don’t believe in. But after my experience at the Jordan River, I started to feel my spiritual and religious roots in that land in a different way. That night, we passed the border crossing from Jordan into Israel-Palestine.
The next day, we visited the Western Wall. For folks who don't know, the Western Wall is the remaining wall of the Jerusalem temple, which was destroyed in 72 AD. It is all that is left of it.
As we entered the Jewish quarter, we found the military presence increase. There were Israeli soldiers, all seemingly younger than me, carrying automatic weapons at every turn and in swarms. To be an outsider in a militarized place felt vulnerable from the get-go, but I had high hopes and expectations for an experience touching the Western Wall-- the wall of Jesus' temple,
older than old,
felt by thousands upon thousands of pious religious folk from a variety of traditions.
I wanted that sense of connection to my spiritual ancestors.
And now I wanted to bring that sense of connection to my biological ancestors.
We entered.
Men through one door, women through another.
We got to a place where we could see the wall. It was divided--
a section for men;
a section for women.
The men's section was larger, of course, even though there were far more women at the wall praying. The women were crowded in, many waiting to get close enough to it. The men could have spread their arms out a couple times over.
A woman stomped over to our group to tell one of my peers that she was not dressed appropriately. The look on her face as she asked my friend to modify her appearance was one of disgust-- she publicly shamed her. That-- publicly shaming-- was okay in the holy site. Automatic weapons were okay in the holy site. Relegating the women to a small portion of the wall was okay. Disallowing women from the study room was okay. Banning Muslims and Christians who lived in the area for generations from returning to it was okay. My friend's church dress and blazer were not.
I wanted to touch the wall. I wanted to touch the wall with the hand I wore my Grammie's ring on. I wanted to feel the holiness seep through the stone into my hand. I wanted to feel the spiritual weight of centuries of prayer.
My Grammie was Mormon. The LDS church segregates men and women on Sundays. Women are required to wear dresses or skirts to church. My Grammie had Celiac’s disease and at one point, she became very ill and lost a bunch of weight. One Sunday, as she walked down the center of the pews, her church skirt fell down around her ankles. She laughed as she told the story of standing in her slip before the entire congregation. She had no shame as she pantomimed pulling her skirt back up rapidly.
Why did I think of that?
I walked toward the women's entrance to the wall. Two women sat at a table with head scarves for those who didn't have their own. One of the women was the one who had shamed my peer. I walked toward the table behind a different one of my peers.
"Are you Jewish?" she asked.
"No," she answered.
"You don't need it," she said, motioning her hand as if she were shooing a fly.
The look on that woman's face. Disgust. She did not want her there. That wall was not for us to share. That temple which holds prominence in our scriptures, too, was not for us.
The other woman who sat next to her offered a kind face. "No, it's okay, take it," she said. She looked apologetic.
We took the scarves. We only wanted to be respectful.
I put it on and walked toward the wall.
The wall was crowded, as I mentioned. The women were squished in. I sat in a chair and waited for a space. Should I move toward the wall? Was it okay? I doubted it now. They let us in, but they didn't let us in. We were tolerated.
A space opened up between two Israeli soldiers in uniform. No, somewhere else. The wall was so crowded. Nothing else was opening.
Should I? Could I?
I went over and stood between them. My hand was shaking as I lifted it to touch the wall.
Between the soldiers.
I could. Because I had American privilege.
It was dirty. A terrible feeling washed over me, so unlike the feeling of the Jordan River, the Garden of Gethsemane, and the other holy sites that seemed thick with the sense of reverence of centuries of pious pilgrims. This place was thick with centuries of conflict. Of division and segregation.
I lowered myself to the ground. I touched the wall again. I wanted it to speak to me. I wanted to feel something. Something wonderful, but all I felt was a wave of...
of...
It was dirty. It was desecrated.
I held my hand on the wall, wanting something to feel sacred-- not fearful, not yucky, not terrible.
...
A bird pooped on my hand.
I came back to the table and removed my scarf. The woman who had been kind and told us to take the scarves sat there. As I put it back in the box, I looked her in the eyes and with my kindest smile, I said: "Thank you." Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for treating me like a person. She smiled back at me and nodded.
I walked back toward the group.
The bird pooping on me felt like a sign. I dunno about y’all, but I can count on my fingers the number of times a bird has pooped on me. It felt odd that one of those moments was at one of the holiest sites I could imagine and during that short span of time in which I had physical contact with it. Poo didn’t seem like a good omen, but my peers told me it was a sign of luck.
I believe in things I don’t believe in. I believe that our journey continues after this life. I believe my saints are with me. Maybe only in my DNA and my stories.
We grieve for what is lost, but we can also celebrate the ways they still exist. They are brought into the body of Earth and God and they become part of the universe in a different way. They are still here in our hearts and our memories and the meaning that we give them going forward. The ways that we remember them and tell their stories continue them for the rest of us.
We carry them in our hearts. We tell people about the wonderful light they brought to our lives… and we keep their light burning by continuing the work they did and the ways they loved, by making the world a better place.
So today, I’m not here to tell you that we need to pray for the souls of sinners who’ve passed or that particular rituals will change the course of your eternity.
I’m also not here to tell you that everyone who has passed is dancing around on a cloud in a land of milk and honey. Maybe they are. I don’t know.
I believe in things I don’t believe in. I believe that our journey continues after this life. I believe my saints are with me. Maybe only in my DNA and my stories. Something remains. What remains is love. It is the core of each of us and when it is well developed, its spread is unstoppable. This week, as I continue to think about the lives that have paved the way before me and the saints who I feel called to celebrate, I will remember their examples of great love. I hope to continue their loving.
Based on Hebrews 11:1-3, 12:1-2
This time of year is for the mystics among us. It’s a time of transition. Of seasons changing. Of falling leaves. Of misty mornings and early sundown. As the temperature changes, we crave warmth. We find our ways to blankets, fireplaces, cocoa, tea, and contemplation.
Perhaps, then, it’s no wonder that this time of year begins the holiday season. It’s time to spend with family. It’s time to remember those who have gone before us. We lift up historical memory-- our biological and spiritual ancestors. We lift up the stories that bind us.
I entered my faith through death. Not by dying. I’m here. Obviously.
My parents, though they both come from religious families, are not religious themselves. I didn’t grow up going to church, but I spent a lot of time in cemeteries. My mother’s Irish Catholic family has worked in cemeteries for the church since their arrival in the bay area. I was 4th generation working in the cemetery industry before entering seminary.
I spent many afternoons tromping around St. John’s Cemetery in San Mateo, reading inscriptions on headstones and pondering the significance of faded trinkets left by loved ones. The stones and mausoleums were mysteries, some overgrown with moss and ivy like something out of a movie. It seemed magical to me-- to my young mind, the headstones may as well have been the ancient pyramids. They were monuments to mysterious figures of the past, black and white images of people I didn’t know and would never be able to know. We shared space, but no longer shared time.
For those of you who don’t know, I spent much of my time in my formative years with my grandparents. When I was about 6 months old, my parents had a bad experience with my babysitter, so my grandmother decided she would quit her job and take care of me herself. Eventually, my grandmother would be caring for more than just me. On some days, there were 6 of us grandchildren and on others, more, since the neighbors inevitably ended up playing dress-up in her closet, climbing the tree in the front yard, and eating tuna fish sandwiches on her patio. My grandmother continued to care for my sister and me, 5 days a week, for about a decade.
My grandfather would often return home from the cemetery in the afternoon and go through a Mr.-Rogers-like routine. It didn’t involve a sweater, but he did change his shoes and take off his flannel work shirt. He would sit in his LaZy Boy chair and read the Times, but he could easily be convinced to tell a story first.
As a child, I spent much of my time growing up at my grandparents’ house. They, like many in their generation, were constantly living their values. They cultivated the ability to love well and shared that love often. Through the stories they would tell me at naptime or after Grandpa came home from work, they would teach me values. They would help me become. We made up stories together in games of make-believe as we crafted our ideal households, ideal worlds, and the drama of our imaginations. I learned to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly without ever knowing I’d learned it. Their stories taught me morality and love, not only by the motifs in the stories themselves, but by the love with which they were shared and the creative light with which they were interpreted and retold for the particular context of their given moment.
In these moments, the moments of my adult life, they propel me forward and are the foundation of love from which I try to live my life in the image of those who have gone before me. I have my Grammie’s cheekbones, my Grandma’s gestures, and probably a little bit of everyone’s nose. I bring their stories forward, too.
When my grandfather fell ill in the mid 90s, I experienced the first big death of my life. No one that close to me had died before and at 12 years old, I was arriving at an age at which I understood life and death differently and more deeply. My grandfather had melanoma, or skin cancer. He spent his life, from the time he was 12 until his 70s-- working outside at St. John’s Cemetery. His fair Irish skin was not well adapted to California sunshine and he worked many years outside before knowledge about sunscreen and cancer developed.
His death was slow.
We had a lot of time to think about it. And it’s when I started asking questions about God. My grandfather was a devout Catholic who had given his life to the church and his community. He was simple in all the best ways. He didn’t care for new things or picking flowers. He believed in hard work and family and cared little for pretentions or dress codes. I knew his faith had something to do with his goodness. The questions I started asking would eventually lead me here, to a place quite unlike the Catholic Church in which my grandfather found his spiritual home.
He is one of my saints. His journey into death was selfless. It changed my trajectory in many ways. It brought out the best in my family. He had a way of doing that.
Anyone will tell you that death is hard. That love is hard. That grief is hard.
But they don’t tell you that it changes your life. It breaks you in a way that makes you forever stronger and weaker, a spiritual wound like Jacob. It’s make and break.
After funerals, when people stand around, committing themselves to carrying on the beautiful lights of those lost, we all quietly agree to become better people. Knowing how important John Kiely was to the world, I knew there were parts of him that I needed to carry forward. 23 years later, my life is changed.
My grandmother, his wife, passed away a couple of years ago, 2 months after Caleb and I moved to Santa Cruz County. She was 94. I was very close to her. My grandmother’s relationship with the church was different. She also grew up Catholic, but not devout. She wasn’t baptized until after the death of her baby sister, who died at 18 months old. My grandmother grew up hearing that Baby Gloria might not go to heaven because she was unbaptized. At this time of year, my Great Grandma Alice would pray for Gloria’s soul. Grandma grew up hearing various stories about how the church caused pain or refused to help her family in their times of need. She struggled with stories of our spiritual ancestors-- to believe the things she thought she had to believe. For my Grandmother, this time of year was painful.
In this sense, our relationships to our spirituality can be like familial relationships. Your mother might be supportive. She might be abusive. She might be both. Our spiritual ancestors were equally complicated. Their stories celebrate their victories as much as the ways they failed. We can use them in ways that give life or in ways that oppress. We can learn from the failures of our spiritual ancestors or repeat them.
Each generation is incorporated into our being. I am my grandmother and my mother and my great grandfather. I can see pieces of each of them in me. Likewise, though I never met my Great Great Grandmother, she’s in me, too. My ancestors raised the people that raised me.
The stories of our ancestors ripple through history, through our DNA. Our spiritual ancestors, too, ripple in our lives. I know the names of Moses, Joshua, Ruth, Dorothy Day, Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., Cesar Chavez. I know some of their stories. They influence us and become part of us. John Kiely is gone, but today I tell some of his story. Moses is gone, but his deeds remain. We tell how he killed an Egyptian and it was wrong. We tell how he liberated the Hebrews and it was right. These stories are reimagined and reignited in the work of living saints like Greta Thunberg and Desmond Tutu. We here at Peace stand on the legacies of those who built the First Congregational Church of Santa Cruz. The form changes. The building changes. The people change. But love remains.
A few years ago, I was blessed with an opportunity to go to the Holy Land. The trip was, in many ways, not just about me. It was certainly about the people of the land, whose rights to the land matter and whose are upheld, who has access to what... but it was also about my ancestors. I didn't know that until I got there.
I had a particular experience at the Jordan River that I have only told a handful of people about. So I’m going to embarrass myself and tell all of you.
Now, the historian in me feels obligated to say that many of the sites associated with the life and times of Jesus are likely not authentic. Some of the more famous sites may commemorate events that didn’t happen or be the wrong site for an event or wrong object. Some sites are busy and have long lines.
The site we visited on the Jordan River was not one of those sites. We were on the Jordan side, as opposed to the Palestinian side, of the River. A Lutheran minister brought us to a site reputed to be where John the Baptist lived.
It was just us-- maybe 20 of us. We walked around the site John the Baptist was said to live. There were ruins of a monastery built around a small cave. Locusts hopped around and there was wild honey and a spring with drinkable water. There was a slight breeze blowing through the reeds as we meandered down the gravel trail at the holy site.
In the middle of a nothing moment, and quite surprising to me, I smelled my Grammie and was overcome by a strange feeling. I was surprised by the experience. I strongly associate my spiritual journey with my mother’s father. This was my father’s mother. She was Mormon and lived in Utah. I saw my dad’s family every other year, when we would drive out to Utah for family vacation. My Grammie had a sweet, childlike spirit, even in her old age. She liked to scrapbook and bake. She was optimistic and cheerful to a fault.
Honestly, I was confused by this experience. A swirl of emotions and questions flooded my heart and mind. What was going on?
We loaded back into our vans to head toward a Russian pilgrimage site for lunch, and I sat in the back seat, looking out the window as tears poured down my face. I didn’t want to make eye contact with anyone or share this confusing experience. One of my peers, Michelle, asked me if I was okay and I nodded.
We arrived at our lunch site. There was a litter of kittens living outside of the kitchen and while I certainly couldn’t push the experience out of my mind, I managed to stop crying, cuddle some kittens, and eat some soup.
After lunch, we drove to a different spot on the river, miles from the first spot, where Jesus was supposed to have been baptized. Again, I felt strange and smelled my Grammie. Now as much as I was emotionally affected by this, I’m also quite skeptical. I wasn’t about to tell anyone about this experience because I felt quite crazy. So I started to follow each of my peers and smell them without being conspicuous. Surely one of them used the same laundry detergent as Grammie did.
After surveying the musks of my peers I determined that none of them smelled like my grandmother.
I don’t really know what happened. I still don’t quite know what I think, but I like to say that sometimes I believe in things I don’t believe in. But after my experience at the Jordan River, I started to feel my spiritual and religious roots in that land in a different way. That night, we passed the border crossing from Jordan into Israel-Palestine.
The next day, we visited the Western Wall. For folks who don't know, the Western Wall is the remaining wall of the Jerusalem temple, which was destroyed in 72 AD. It is all that is left of it.
As we entered the Jewish quarter, we found the military presence increase. There were Israeli soldiers, all seemingly younger than me, carrying automatic weapons at every turn and in swarms. To be an outsider in a militarized place felt vulnerable from the get-go, but I had high hopes and expectations for an experience touching the Western Wall-- the wall of Jesus' temple,
older than old,
felt by thousands upon thousands of pious religious folk from a variety of traditions.
I wanted that sense of connection to my spiritual ancestors.
And now I wanted to bring that sense of connection to my biological ancestors.
We entered.
Men through one door, women through another.
We got to a place where we could see the wall. It was divided--
a section for men;
a section for women.
The men's section was larger, of course, even though there were far more women at the wall praying. The women were crowded in, many waiting to get close enough to it. The men could have spread their arms out a couple times over.
A woman stomped over to our group to tell one of my peers that she was not dressed appropriately. The look on her face as she asked my friend to modify her appearance was one of disgust-- she publicly shamed her. That-- publicly shaming-- was okay in the holy site. Automatic weapons were okay in the holy site. Relegating the women to a small portion of the wall was okay. Disallowing women from the study room was okay. Banning Muslims and Christians who lived in the area for generations from returning to it was okay. My friend's church dress and blazer were not.
I wanted to touch the wall. I wanted to touch the wall with the hand I wore my Grammie's ring on. I wanted to feel the holiness seep through the stone into my hand. I wanted to feel the spiritual weight of centuries of prayer.
My Grammie was Mormon. The LDS church segregates men and women on Sundays. Women are required to wear dresses or skirts to church. My Grammie had Celiac’s disease and at one point, she became very ill and lost a bunch of weight. One Sunday, as she walked down the center of the pews, her church skirt fell down around her ankles. She laughed as she told the story of standing in her slip before the entire congregation. She had no shame as she pantomimed pulling her skirt back up rapidly.
Why did I think of that?
I walked toward the women's entrance to the wall. Two women sat at a table with head scarves for those who didn't have their own. One of the women was the one who had shamed my peer. I walked toward the table behind a different one of my peers.
"Are you Jewish?" she asked.
"No," she answered.
"You don't need it," she said, motioning her hand as if she were shooing a fly.
The look on that woman's face. Disgust. She did not want her there. That wall was not for us to share. That temple which holds prominence in our scriptures, too, was not for us.
The other woman who sat next to her offered a kind face. "No, it's okay, take it," she said. She looked apologetic.
We took the scarves. We only wanted to be respectful.
I put it on and walked toward the wall.
The wall was crowded, as I mentioned. The women were squished in. I sat in a chair and waited for a space. Should I move toward the wall? Was it okay? I doubted it now. They let us in, but they didn't let us in. We were tolerated.
A space opened up between two Israeli soldiers in uniform. No, somewhere else. The wall was so crowded. Nothing else was opening.
Should I? Could I?
I went over and stood between them. My hand was shaking as I lifted it to touch the wall.
Between the soldiers.
I could. Because I had American privilege.
It was dirty. A terrible feeling washed over me, so unlike the feeling of the Jordan River, the Garden of Gethsemane, and the other holy sites that seemed thick with the sense of reverence of centuries of pious pilgrims. This place was thick with centuries of conflict. Of division and segregation.
I lowered myself to the ground. I touched the wall again. I wanted it to speak to me. I wanted to feel something. Something wonderful, but all I felt was a wave of...
of...
It was dirty. It was desecrated.
I held my hand on the wall, wanting something to feel sacred-- not fearful, not yucky, not terrible.
...
A bird pooped on my hand.
I came back to the table and removed my scarf. The woman who had been kind and told us to take the scarves sat there. As I put it back in the box, I looked her in the eyes and with my kindest smile, I said: "Thank you." Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for treating me like a person. She smiled back at me and nodded.
I walked back toward the group.
The bird pooping on me felt like a sign. I dunno about y’all, but I can count on my fingers the number of times a bird has pooped on me. It felt odd that one of those moments was at one of the holiest sites I could imagine and during that short span of time in which I had physical contact with it. Poo didn’t seem like a good omen, but my peers told me it was a sign of luck.
I believe in things I don’t believe in. I believe that our journey continues after this life. I believe my saints are with me. Maybe only in my DNA and my stories.
We grieve for what is lost, but we can also celebrate the ways they still exist. They are brought into the body of Earth and God and they become part of the universe in a different way. They are still here in our hearts and our memories and the meaning that we give them going forward. The ways that we remember them and tell their stories continue them for the rest of us.
We carry them in our hearts. We tell people about the wonderful light they brought to our lives… and we keep their light burning by continuing the work they did and the ways they loved, by making the world a better place.
So today, I’m not here to tell you that we need to pray for the souls of sinners who’ve passed or that particular rituals will change the course of your eternity.
I’m also not here to tell you that everyone who has passed is dancing around on a cloud in a land of milk and honey. Maybe they are. I don’t know.
I believe in things I don’t believe in. I believe that our journey continues after this life. I believe my saints are with me. Maybe only in my DNA and my stories. Something remains. What remains is love. It is the core of each of us and when it is well developed, its spread is unstoppable. This week, as I continue to think about the lives that have paved the way before me and the saints who I feel called to celebrate, I will remember their examples of great love. I hope to continue their loving.
Thursday, November 7, 2019
The Return
The Return
God of Process
I am healing, miraculously.
It has been years since I could
glimpse my imperfection and call it Good.
Since I could hear you above the
voice of those forces which seek to bring me down.
I feel my joy and am grateful that you have brought it to me.
I rise up to kiss your face and let it become my own.
There was pain and distance–
hostility, God.
I left you for the sin of self-defeat.
I was lost.
You found me.
I sought you and found that you were there, waiting for me to break free.
Waiting for me to unearth my value, buried beneath words.
We are reunited.
We are connected. Intrinsically.
Our tie is forever.
Covenant.
Bound in love and loyalty.
In grace and beauty.
God of Process
I am healing, miraculously.
It has been years since I could
glimpse my imperfection and call it Good.
Since I could hear you above the
voice of those forces which seek to bring me down.
I feel my joy and am grateful that you have brought it to me.
I rise up to kiss your face and let it become my own.
There was pain and distance–
hostility, God.
I left you for the sin of self-defeat.
I was lost.
You found me.
I sought you and found that you were there, waiting for me to break free.
Waiting for me to unearth my value, buried beneath words.
We are reunited.
We are connected. Intrinsically.
Our tie is forever.
Covenant.
Bound in love and loyalty.
In grace and beauty.
Wednesday, November 6, 2019
Family Home Evening/Lesson: All Saints
Opening Check-Ins
We support each other no matter what. Invite everyone to share something that made them happy and/or something that made them sad this past week. We are here to support each other in prayer and presence.Centering in Silence and Song
If you have a household altar, I recommend using it. If not, a sense of ritual and sacred time can be initiated by lighting a candle and ringing a bell (three times is usually a good way to help everyone settle into silence). Share a few minutes of silence together. You may sound the bell again when silence is over. Children often enjoy the responsibility of these tasks (and should be supervised and assisted as appropriate).You may also listen to this song and discuss what it brings up for each of you:
Prayer of Jesus
If you have a particular version of the prayer that you use, you are encouraged to use it.This is the "children's translation" that I wrote and use with my students:
God all around us with many sacred names
We roll up our sleeves to create a beautiful world with you
Please care for us and our needs and forgive us when we don’t do our best
Please help us to be forgiving of others, too.
Help us to be good, loving, and safe so we can help create a loving and safe world for everyone.
Amen.
Sacred Story
Background:
This time of year there are a few different holidays. Does anyone know what holidays are happening soon (or just happened)?Halloween.
Dia de los Muertos.
All Saints.
All Souls.
Today in the sanctuary, many people brought in pictures of their ancestors. What is an ancestor?
An ancestor is someone like a grandma or a grandpa who was alive before us. We all have lots and lots of ancestors. We have parents, grandparents, great grandparents, great great grandparents, and on and on. Even if we don’t know them or never got to meet them, we all have ancestors.
Dia de los Muertos is a holiday that started in Mexico.
Who knows what Dia de los Muertos means? It means “day of the dead
in Spanish.
Even though the holiday is celebrated in many countries, everyone celebrates it a little bit differently. Many people build a special altar in their home at this time of year to celebrate and honor their ancestors who are gone. We have an altar in church every Sunday and for Dia de los Muertos, we honor our ancestors on our altar. We bring in pictures, but sometimes people put special foods and other special things on their altars, like maybe things that belonged to their ancestors. Many people believe that at this time of year, our ancestors visit us. Many people go to cemeteries and visit with their ancestors there.
Read together: “The Spirit of Tio Fernando: A Day of the Dead Story” by Janice Levy.
There is another holiday at this time of year called “All Saints.” Who knows what a Saint is?
A saint is a very special person who went to heaven. There are some special saints we know the names of, like St. Francis or Joan of Arc, but on All Saints we celebrate everyone in heaven, even people who are not famous. And we celebrate that God will make us saints, too.
Some Christians and churches have “icons.” Does anyone know what an icon is?
An icon is a picture of Jesus or a Saint, usually on wood. They’re used for decoration and worship, kind of like stained glass windows with pictures or banners or a mural.
Conversation:
Read together "God is Night" in Images of God for Young Children (p. 14-15)Craft:
Today we will make icons of our saints. We can choose a saint (like St. Francis) or one of our personal saints, like a grandma or auntie.
We can draw our own picture, use a picture we have brought from home, or use one of the coloring pictures provided of inspirational people who are living or passed saints.
I found free scrap wood at my local hardware store that I sliced into little wooden blocks for the children to decorate. I also printed out coloring pages of "saints" for the children to color and paste on the blocks. Lastly, I used shiny foil origami paper for the kids to use for edges and halos.
Closing Prayer
“God, we thank you for all of our ancestors who have gone before us. We thank you for Jesus, Moses, Mary, and all of our spiritual ancestors. We thank you for Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Mother Theresa. We thank you for our grandparents, our great grandparents, our uncles and aunts and everyone who lived before us and made our world. We thank you for all of the people living now who will be your saints in the future. Thank you for the inspiring people and lives that show us how to do your work in the world. Amen.”Curriculum texts used:
Special Texts used:
Tuesday, November 5, 2019
Family Home Evening/Lesson: Humility and Pride (Luke 18:9-14)
Opening Check-Ins
We support each other no matter what. Invite everyone to share something that made them happy and/or something that made them sad this past week. We are here to support each other in prayer and presence.Centering in Silence and Song
If you have a household altar, I recommend using it. If not, a sense of ritual and sacred time can be initiated by lighting a candle and ringing a bell. Share a few minutes of silence together. You may sound the bell again when silence is over. Children often enjoy the responsibility of these tasks (and should be supervised and assisted as appropriate).Prayer of Jesus
If you have a particular version of the prayer that you use, you are encouraged to use it.This is the "children's translation" that I wrote and use with my students:
God all around us with many sacred names
We roll up our sleeves to create a beautiful world with you
Please care for us and our needs and forgive us when we don’t do our best
Please help us to be forgiving of others, too.
Help us to be good, loving, and safe so we can help create a loving and safe world for everyone.
Amen.
Sacred Story
Bible Story:
Read together Luke 18:9-14.What do you think about the Pharisee and the Tax Collector? What do you think of the Pharisee’s comments?
Story and Conversation:
Read together: “I’m the Best!” by Lucy Cousins.Who do the different characters remind us of? Do sometimes you feel like dog? Do you feel like one of the other animals?
Read together “Sidney & Norman: A Tale of Two Pigs” by Phil Vischer.
Do you sometimes feel like Sidney? Do you sometimes feel like Norman?
These stories remind us that what matters most is what’s on the inside. Whatever our outsides look like and whatever joy or sadness they bring us, God loves us no matter what and knows our hearts. God wants us to be beautiful on the inside-- the parts of us that we can’t see!
Read together: "God is a friend" in Images of God for Young Children" (p. 72-73)
Craft:
Today we’ll make keepsake boxes, but we will decorate the inside to remind us that God loves our insides. I purchased small cardboard boxes (heart shaped with lids) that the children decorated with glitter, markers, and stickers.
Closing Prayer
“Dead God, thank you for showing us love, even when we are messy or disorganized
and even if sometimes we feel judged by others.
We know that you love what is in our hearts and want us to love each other like you do.
Help us to remember that we are all beautiful on the inside
and to look for the beauty in everyone. Amen.”
and even if sometimes we feel judged by others.
We know that you love what is in our hearts and want us to love each other like you do.
Help us to remember that we are all beautiful on the inside
and to look for the beauty in everyone. Amen.”
Curriculum texts used:
Special Texts used:
Saturday, November 2, 2019
My Grandfather
currently reading: The Road to Character by David Brooks
My grandfather was the most devout man I have ever met. His faith touched every small piece of his life in a way that was simple and beautiful. Grandpa had an unparalleled work ethic, unshakeable faith, and a very simple lifestyle. I think he would like David Brooks’ book and I think Brooks would like my grandpa.
My grandfather was the most devout man I have ever met. His faith touched every small piece of his life in a way that was simple and beautiful. Grandpa had an unparalleled work ethic, unshakeable faith, and a very simple lifestyle. I think he would like David Brooks’ book and I think Brooks would like my grandpa.
While I think that my grandfather embodied many of the values that Brooks articulates, I like to say that one of the things that made my grandfather remarkable was that he was good at loving. Love is a common theme in The Road to Character. It is something that drives us forward compassionately and is stronger than death. I often think that my failures of character can be seen as failures to love well. When I think of abusive behaviors, violence, selfishness, and other ways that people show poor character, I can also see those acts as failure to love well.
I am reminded of a man I knew who could have been a better father to his children. When one of his daughters died, I was angry at him; she was mentally and emotionally unwell and I wanted to assign him some blame for that. As time went by, I realized that this man visited his daughter’s grave every day. He watered it; he laid new sod; he was meticulous. After I spoke to him for a bit one day in the cemetery where she is buried, I couldn’t feel angry anymore because I realized how deeply he loved his daughter, despite his failures to live up to that love.
When I think about love this way and about my character as being rooted in love, it seems clearer to me that developing my ability to love well-- in ways that manifest in my life and in the lives of others in concrete, felt ways-- is developing my character. It also allows me to better forgive myself and others who may not have loved me well.
What remains is love. It is the core of each of us and when it is well developed, its spread is unstoppable. This week, as I continue to think about the lives that have paved the way before me and the saints who I feel called to celebrate, I will remember their examples of great love. I hope to continue their loving.
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