Children's Lit Theology: Mid-Week Reflection

EMILY RUTLEDGE, YOUTH MINISTER

For an English major I must admit that the majority of my reading for the past four years has included a plethora of online blogs and the entire collection of Dr. Seuss. While the vocabulary is much more palatable that middle-English Chaucer the lessons on life are just as meaningful and poignant. My poor children and husband often have to sit with me as I tearily read through another one of Seuss’ books that teach a lesson I should already know or that I desperately want my children to learn without the pain of the life-experience that goes with it.

For a long time I wanted to emulate the faith and Christianity of those I admired. I wanted to be able to text a perfectly applicable bible verse to a friend who shared with me a person struggle. I was desperate to be able to argue my case on heated religious topics with accurate historical support that I could summon from my brain without needing to go back to books I had scribbled in and stuck post-it notes all over (funny how when in those conversations asking someone to wait so you can collect your thoughts and get your information together doesn’t really work).

I love and admire people who can do those things, it has brought joy to my life and helped me feel solidified on the Holy ground I walk on.

I am not those people.

I have found that when someone tells me something hard I can hug them really well, listen hard, and with the right person, find the perfect picture from the internet that is witty and a bit crass but describes their situation perfectly to text them. I can’t spout out religious history or argue well my case when it comes to controversial topics regarding hot button issues but I can point to the cross and duck.

I can give the simple answer, God is love. If it’s not about love… it’s not about God.

This whole faith thing, following Christ, aligning our living with the living of Jesus, it’s complicated. If you are like me you get in your head about it and start to look around and wonder if everyone else is a New York Times Christian and you are just sitting there reading Dr. Seuss and learning the basics. I’ve come to accept something: I’m okay being a One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish Believer. I’m okay with the fact that I find Christ in Children’s books and send ridiculous memes as pastoral care. I’m okay because I’m me. God knit me together to love Her, understand Her, and discover Her in a way that feels right to me.

There is no right way to do this Christian thing. There is only your way.

The questions are complicated and the answers are simple. They are inside of you to discover in a way that is true and real and meaningful for you. The Holy dwells in you, its form in each of us is different and miraculous and life-giving. We must stop looking around to find out how it compares and instead honor it and share it with the world that is in desperate need of that unique life-giving love.

The Devine Physician: Mid-Week Reflection

THE REV. DAVID STODDART

This week, many of our parishioners are undergoing diagnostic procedures: lab tests, MRIs, PET scans, biopsies, you name it. Most of these protocols are not fun; all of them entail waiting and anxiety. And even as I hold these people in prayer, I cannot help but remember on this Ash Wednesday that we are—all of us—subject to a rigorous spiritual assessment as well.

When I write that, I am not referring primarily to moral failings. We certainly have plenty of those, but so often they are merely presenting symptoms of a deeper malaise. Indeed, the word that leaps to my mind as we enter this penitential season is not “guilt” or “shame.” What I think of is “brokenness,” and what our Lenten liturgies call us to is a thorough and unflinching diagnosis. We have thoughts, habits, attitudes, and ways of being in the world that harm us and hurt others. Can we honestly name them? Are we willing to expose them to God’s healing light?

When I think of myself and ponder my personal confession, I try to admit the things that stop me from loving God and others as much as I would like. It’s not a pretty list: it includes selfishness, comparing myself unfavorably with others, stress that I don’t handle well, an innate perfectionism I afflict on myself and those around me, and a besetting fear of failure. I know these things inhibit the free flow of grace in my life as surely as clogged arteries block the flow of blood to the heart. And I know that, while your list may be different than mine, you do have one. All of us are broken in various ways: that’s what it means to say that we’re sinners.

But Jesus, our divine physician, does not seek to condemn any of us. If he puts us through a painful diagnosis, it is only so that we can undergo healing and renewal. The more we own and accept our spiritual ailments, the more room we give the Holy Spirit to move within us and make us whole. In fact, if I were to suggest a Lenten discipline, it would be simple: spend time looking with God at the most broken parts of your life. And I mean just that: look with God. Don’t judge. Don’t excuse. Don’t condemn. Just keep breathing and look at all of it in the unquenchable light of God’s love. She’s waiting to pour mercy on us; she’s longing to mend us. We cannot control or predict how God will do that, but I’ve experienced it enough to know that it’s true and to make me want more. And as Jesus, Ash Wednesday, and the medical travails of my parishioners all remind me, every successful cure begins with an accurate diagnosis.

Jesus' YES: Mid-Week Reflection

EMILY RUTLEDGE, YOUTH MINISTER

We are entering one of my most dreaded times: college acceptance season. Each time my phone goes off and I see a high school senior’s name my stomach clenches and I am afraid to read what the message says. The excitement and heartbreak that comes with the YES or NO from a university is life altering. Within seconds dreams and imagined futures begin to come to fruition or quickly change. The worst part is; it’s arbitrary. I’m not saying that in a universities-don’t-know-what-they-are-doing way but in the reality that qualified and worthy students are being turned away from schools. It is not because students’ grades are not sufficient or their SAT scores are too low. It’s not their lack of extracurriculars or a horrible recommendation. A friend of mine who works in college admissions has told me how wide and deep the applicant pool is to draw from and that sometimes it is just luck.

In our culture of smarter, brighter, and better we are achieving at such high rates that the cream at the top is thick. Superb students are rejected from schools and as I comfort them I can’t help but think ‘who in the world did they pick over this kid?’ I am completely sure that I would not be accepted at my alma mater if I applied today. Praise God for the timing of my birth.

With the competition steep students are overscheduled and overworked and parents often wonder if it is worth the fight to get their kids to church. Their child is working their tail off at school and sports and with every other extra to help them rise up in this pool of super-achievers: does it really matter if they come to worship once a week (because, let’s be honest, that's definitly not getting you into college)?

Shouldn’t you let them sleep in if they want to? You can’t MAKE a child believe in God, you took them to church when they were little, you'll let them find their path just like you did. They say they don’t get much out of it. They don’t really like the other kids. It’s always a fight. You just don’t have the energy for it.

I have heard it all and it’s all true; it’s hard… and teenagers are hard, and tired, and it appears like they are getting nothing out of church sometimes.

Then there is this moment: There is an arbitrary decision by a university. A cut made by a coach. A social blow-up that excommunicates them from a group. A breakup with their first love. There is a devastating rejection. There is a glaring NO.

And then there is Jesus. Whose only answer is always, without a doubt, YES.

“Do not be afraid. For I have bought you and made you free. I have called you by name. You are mine! When you pass through the waters, I will be with you. When you pass through the rivers, they will not flow over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned.” Isaiah 43:1-2

And that gift of YES is why we push for church. Why the fight matters. When you think they aren’t paying attention… they are. You know how smart they are, look at all the do! The yes comes from worship, from the surrounding community, from the Eucharist, from the liturgy. From the knowledge that no matter what; Jesus is the same and you are already accepted into the community of Christ.

The need for Jesus’ YES is universal and timeless. It’s as important at 16 as it is at 60.

Jesus’ YES is so much louder and sweeter than any NO we will ever hear.

Light: Mid-Week Reflection

THE REV. DAVID M. STODDART

Epiphany is the season of light: the light of God shining in Christ; the light of Christ shining in us; the light of Christ shining through us.

Wait a second. That sounds very exalted and saintly. You may not be feeling very exalted and saintly as you read this. But please keep reading and don’t click your mouse on another entry yet.

God shining through us is not about feelings. I watch parishioners give of themselves in so many ways, from hands-on acts of service to attending meetings. I imagine that often they are just doing what they’ve got to do, trying to get through the next thing on their schedule. Certainly I feel that way at times. If reflecting the love of God consisted in feeling loving or holy, we’d all fail on a regular basis.

But being channels of God’s light and love does not demand particular feelings: it calls for a gentle and continuing surrender to the grace of God wherever we are and whatever we’re doing. Whether we feel energized or tired, happy or depressed, God is in each moment and each circumstance of our lives, always seeking to work in us and through us for good. Faith involves remembering that and trusting that. I may not “feel” it when I sit in a Finance Committee meeting or visit a sick parishioner at the end of a long day, but it is nonetheless true. And I have found over the years that surrendering myself to the demands of the moment, whatever they may be, knowing that God is always working, leads to peace.

And it also produces results. One of the joys of my vocation is seeing other people make a difference, often in ways they don’t realize. I watch God shine through parishioners as they care for each other and engage in very ordinary acts of ministry. I listen to them as they share with me how someone else made their day or touched their lives. The Spirit is indeed always moving. Imagine if all of us embraced that and lived each moment knowing that Christ is living in us and being revealed through us. Imagine it. God certainly does.

This is why the blessing we use during the season of Epiphany is my favorite blessing of the year: “May Christ, the Son of God, be manifest in you, that your lives may be a light to the world.”

Yes. So be it.

Target, The Happiest Place on Earth: Mid-Week Reflection

EMILY RUTLEDGE, YOUTH MINISTER

A week ago my little family had to make a trip to Target (normally the happiest place on Earth). As we worked our way through the anxious crowd of people our band of small humans did what they do best; scream, grab things off of shelves, and ask when they were going to eat. It took much longer than normal and I could feel my own anxiety rising. I began to buy into the feeling that I should be purchasing more unnecessary gifts and my husband would promptly remind me about that thing called ‘a budget’ and that we didn’t 'need' a life-sized bear head in our bathroom and place each thing back on the shelf.

When we finally returned to the car and got everyone and everything buckled in we all took a deep breath in the silence. My calmer half looked at me and said,

“I am totally sure that this was not what Jesus intended when he was born.”

As people poured out of shops with carts brimming with things I couldn’t help but agree with him. Besides the fact that I am sure if Jesus was able to dictate where we bought gifts celebrating His birth he would want us to buy local, I am also fairly sure God wasn’t intending on this offshoot celebration of Jesus’ birth. Mass amounts of gifts and cookies and debt combined with the societal pressure to have the HAPPIEST and most JOYFUL season ever seems counter to the entire reason Jesus was born in the first place.

Jesus came because of our brokenness.

A brokenness that does not disappear when December rolls around and glowing trees go up and coffee shops switch from pumpkin to peppermint. For many adults, I would hasten to say for all of us, there is a sadness that comes with Christmas. It may be a tinge or it may be an all-consuming cavern but combine short days, dreary weather, darkness, the façade of a world with perfect functioning families juxtaposed on the reality of our own family or lack-there-of, and the reminder of loss that seems to be marked by the coming of a new year that will begin without those whom we have lost and there is some level of grief that accompanies Christmas for each of us.

The joy of Christmas must must must be in Jesus. There is no other balm to soothe the pains we walk through as people. There is nothing else that can fill us up, make us whole, and deliver us from our own brokenness besides Him. The gift of Christmas is owning our true emotions and knowing that despite all of it, despite all the crap that will happen to us throughout a year, Jesus will come again and deliver us with a love that is all-consuming and free for the taking.

You can’t buy that at Target.

Waiting for Christ: Mid-Week Reflection

THE REV. DAVID STODDART

So I am waiting for Christ as my car sits in stop-and-go traffic, painfully inching my way through the Corner. I am late, and I feel impatience rising up within me, confronted yet again with circumstances I cannot control. This busy time of year affords many such moments: juggling band and choir concerts; getting home and church ready for Christmas; dealing with sermons, pastoral visits, Facebook posts. It feels like my schedule controls me more than I control my schedule. And yet . . . the Gift is still there, waiting to be given. So sitting in traffic, rushing around, working assiduously—in all these things, I am waiting for Christ.

If the Incarnation means anything, it means that God has come among us in the concrete circumstances of human life. There is no situation too prosaic or too awful for Christ to enter. We could expend huge amounts of time and energy trying to create the perfect holiday setting for Christ to appear in or manufacture the right religious feelings to greet Christ with—and then miss the Jesus who has been coming to us all along. The fact is, if I cannot wait for Christ in line at the grocery store and be receptive to him then, I probably will not find him at Midnight Mass, either.

It is never too late to observe Advent, to practice waiting for Christ in the here and now, wherever we are, whatever we might be doing. I know that when I remember this and try to live it, however imperfectly, I realize the Presence more fully and experience a greater measure of peace and joy.

A favorite poem of mine has been surfacing in my consciousness recently. It gets at this theme of meeting God in the reality of our lives. It is written by Galway Kinnell and it’s entitled, “Prayer”:

Whatever happens. Whatever
"what is" is is what
I want. Only that. But that.

So be it. Amen.

Healthy: Mid-Week Reflection

EMILY RUTLEDGE, YOUTH MINISTER

“There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit distributes them. There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. There are different kinds of working, but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God at work.” -1 Corinthians 12:4-6

Three weeks ago we had our annual Fall EYC Retreat. Each student was asked to pick a block on a very large canvas and fill it completely. It will hang in our new space as a touchstone of our community at this time. Unique, gifted, and beautiful. Each block is splendid and intricate but when put together as a whole--breathtaking.

Last weekend I led a workshop at our high school diocesan retreat on body image. We began by brainstorming all the ways we are told our body should be. A list emerged that looked something like this, Women: thin, curvy, tall, short, muscular, toned, soft, clear skin, no ‘oddities’, great hair that is both curly and straight on alternating days, a gap between your thighs… and, don’t wear clothes that are too revealing but don’t be too covered up. Men: ripped everywhere, not too muscular that it’s creepy, smell good all the time, don’t smell too much that it seems like you are trying, and have great hair. Also be very tall, except not over 6’5. And although it is not on the outside: everyone should be funny but not too funny it is annoying.

Please note: healthy was not once mentioned.

I’d love to think that we move past these expectations as adults but I am confident we do not. We have to work past them. It reaches far beyond our bodies into our careers, families, homes, and social lives. We create a standard in our minds that is a mishmash of media, expectations, other peoples’ lives, and our own desires to create a chupacabra of goals. The expectation we have for each facet of our existence can mirror what a teenager (and adult) is told their body must be: curvy, thin, tall, short, muscular, and smooth aka…impossible. We forget about the one thing we should hope to be: healthy.

Healthy in our lives looks like living into our gifts. When we are being true to ourselves and living our lives sharing the gifts that God has given us we are our best selves, not a manipulated version of a mythical self we have dreamed up. Living into our own gifts means that our lives do not mirror the lives of our siblings or our friends or our parents. Living into our God-given gifts means that we work to discover the few things that inspire us and bring Light to the world through us… then WE DO THEM. When we each begin owning our gifts; unique and beautiful, and stop comparing them to other’s gifts, but instead stand side by side shining light into the darkness together, we become something breathtaking.