My Wonderings

One of the most heart-wrenching, gut-wrenching aspects of hospital chaplaincy is watching the panic-stricken face of an elderly person who suddenly and unexpectedly loses their spouse of, say, fifty some-odd years. There is a moment in that early stage of the grief process that the survivor realizes that they don’t know how to live without their companion or even if they want to live. I don’t mean in the sense that the pain is so great that life is unbearable. That is a horror shared by many different types of survivors in sudden death situations. I’m talking about a realization that dawn on widows who have lived so long and so richly at the side of a life-partner, that their entire world-view is dependent upon their mutual perspective. I’m not talking about when a survivor becomes aware that there are certain life functions that they now have to learn, such as balancing the checkbook or doing the laundry. Though, that is a real and difficult aspect of loss. I’m talking about a dawning realization that one no longer knows how to be without the other.  I’m talking about something on the level of breathing; of involuntary biological systems.

When I first became aware of this dynamic I was awe-struck by the power of a love that is so pervasive and long-lasting. I was awed by the psychological defenses that are necessarily built up to protect one from ever imagining life without their lover at their side. These widows were all smart, grounded, psychologically healthy people. They knew that no one lived for ever. They had watched their friends die and their friends survive. But they didn’t know what they didn’t know. It is an impossible knowing in a love this profound. When I first became aware of this dynamic I was afraid to look at it, afraid to be in its presence; because I, too, could not imagine for them a future. I was afraid I would fall to pieces and add to their pain. But I could no more leave them alone or pretend I didn’t notice what I saw. I just had to take a leap of faith and go over the edge.  And when I did step into that scary, frightening free-fall space with them, I stepped in to the Kingdom of God.

I stepped into that absolute future, the sphere of the impossible, terra incognita. This is the realm that God beckons us to join her; where you must leave all your known resources at the door. In this kingdom, there is only room for faith, hope and love. None of our past experiences or knowledge can help us here; for each time we enter, we must go empty handed. For we cannot truly know hope if we have not known hopelessness; we cannot recognize love if we have never known utter disregard; we cannot know faith if we’ve never known doubt. It is in this absolute future where the wild things are. It is in this land of unlikeness where Beauty falls in love with the Beast, where things that were cast down are being raised up, and things which had grown old are being made new. It is where the Impossible becomes possible. It is where the lion lays down with the lamb.

Have you ever had to walk into this Impossible Future? When? What happened? What did you find there?

What other images (songs, photos, art, literature, poetry) can you share that helps us to understand this Absolute Future from the foreseeable kind of future?

• J. Naughton: “Our church has not sought to increase the strain in the communion, but to redistribute it” #ecgc http://bit.ly/k5jXP #
• RT @TexasMonthly: Evan Smith remembers Walter Cronkite, the most trusted man in America: http://bit.ly/lSNUB #
• #ecgc Katherine is now my girl crush. Well, maybe Bonnie is. They both are such impressive women. I am proud of the way they rep us! #
• To you, GC HUB I give a standing ovation!!!!!!!! Thank you for everything. #ecgc #
• RT @rrchapman: A more traditional version for the closing of General Convention http://bit.ly/dJA9i #ecgc http://twubs.com/ecgc #
• #ecgc if you are directing your tweet to a specific person, or replying to a specific tweet, you add the @ sign to the user account name. #
• #ecgc the letters RT stand for ReTweet. Use that when you are re-broadcasting someone’s tweet. #
• #ecgc … if you CAN give names or diocese of bishop or deputy that you are referring, please do. #
• #ecgc … I would add quotes if there is any question that readers will mis-attribute your tweet as your own thoughts. #
• #ecgc …. i.e. I would start a tweet with HoB or HoD so we all know of which house you are commenting on. #
• #ecgc … I’m hoping we’ll all contribute to suggestions for ways to provide commentary based on our own needs. #
• I was warned never to RT a spam message because it might get you blocked also. #ecgc #
• If you’re “commentating” please add HoB or HoD at beginning so we’ll know to which House you are referring #ecgc. #
• PB talks about much of tension “out there” as a result of mis-information and the need to correct that #ecgc http://twubs.com/ecgc #
• remind me never to pray with my “pastoral” voice #
• Just talking to a spiritual companion about “loving the unlovable” and then I wondered — what if I’m that person for some people? #ecgc #
• My friend, radio host, and Episcopalian @sandraschubert has a great “Ubuntu” styled video http://bit.ly/1608P2 #ecgc http://twubs.com/ecgc #
• I can’t stand it when Twitter tells me I can’t follow myself; it really ‘misunderestimates’ my narcissism. #
• RT @episcopalcafe: Bp of Durham: HoB is “formalising schism initiated 6 years ago”: Wright, the Bp Durham . http://tinyurl.com/mslaox #ecgc #
• I am very frustrated that people seem to deliberately misconstrue a resolution (D025) thus creating a false voting environment; #ecgc #
• This is a very reasoned response to D025 from Bishop of TX who voted “no.” Good, pastoral tone I can listen to even if I disagree. #ecg … #
• Happy Birthday to a classic Tweetipalian, @MoAmy!!! One of the Twiteratti in the Episcopal HOD #ecgc http://twubs.com/ecgc #
• What I understand is D025 is a snapshot of the reality of our church, today. A “this is who we are” so to speak. No more, no less. #ecgc #
• New tweetup! Manic Monday TweetUp Marriott Lobby 9:30 pm. Tweet “yes #ev7-ecgc” to RSVP #ecgc http://twubs.com/ev7-ecgc #
• Ouch! RT @scottagunn: Youth rep: my involvement n activities n church not labeled “youth” hasbeen disheartening. #ecgc http://twubs.com/ecgc in reply to scottagunn #
• Hey guys! Come check out and join the Twub for Episcopal GC09 #ecgc at http://twubs.com/ecgc #

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Many people have been wondering with me about the purpose of Twitter. The Rev. Chuck Culpepper, of MS, likened it to the CB Radio of the Millenium; just a platform that allows many people to broadcast to many people. And it is that; but so much more. Back in the “BreakerBreakerGoodBuddy” days of old, one had to find a channel that was both static-free and one that your friends or others of value to you were also utilizing. With Twitter, static distraction is eliminated. Because of the search function, the number of available Twitter “channels” is equivalent to the total possible permutations of keys on the keyboard (letter/number/symbol.) Plus, there is no limit imposed by physical distance to a signal tower. Take a moment to wrap your brain around the implications! From anywhere in the world, anybody with internet access and a computer or smart phone can come together and have a conversation in real time. The only thing missing in Twitter (and I’m sure that will soon be resolved) is translating languages to your preference.

Those of us following the Episcopal Church General Convention 2009 created a “channel” entitled #ecgc. The acronym was for Episcopal Church General Convention. The # symbol is called a hashtag in twitter and it is used to indicate that this particular permutation of keystrokes is a deliberate combination formed for a specific group to track a conversation. We immediately realized that there were a few other streams of conversation about the convention being made so we formed a hub to gather all these streams together. Thus, the “Twub” was created at www.twubs.com/ecgc. This was a godsend for me; I didn’t have to remember to use my hashtag when I sent a message because it automatically added it for me. I could see the thumbprints of the pictures, videos and webpages that were linked with people’s messages without having to open the link at all. This made it easy to filter what I wanted to explore further. I could see a cool visual of our developing internet community through a grid of the faces/image associated with each Twitter account.

You may be wondering about the tweeps (people) who were part of this gathering. There were clergy and lay, conservative and liberal, young (20s) and not-so-old (60s), gay and straight, lovers of TEC and haters of TEC, attendees of convention and at-home folk like me. It was (go-figure) a gathering made up of folk much like the church! On the first day, we had a slam of porn spam that would have turned a blue-haired white. But that was quickly resolved by the Twub company who were probably more horrified and shocked than us Episcopalians! And we did have a “troll” try to impersonate “815″ but he or she was quickly exposed and we all campaigned to have that account terminated. If anything, that troll only accomplished bonding our group of disparate Anglicans together during a very contentious week.

And I know (from the many tweets of others) that I am speaking for many people when I say that there have been a lot of transformative moments in our little byte of the Twitterverse. Personally, I had an extraordinary exchange with a fellow priest from the diocese of TX who is a conservative greatly fearing the direction this convention is taking. We shared our stories, albeit in little 140 character chapters at at time. And in our exchange, I was healed a little bit more from some old wounds.

I witnessed folk ask for forgiveness when emotions got the best of them. I witnessed the previously uncomforted assure the previously comfortable that there would always be a warm welcome offered. I witnessed our group self-regulate by calling someone out when their tone became snarky. The group self-corrected when inaccurate information was given. The group collaborated when someone requested information that was not accessible to them. Our group self-organized with some folk volunteering to give play-by-play commentary for those without access to the GC HUB live feed. We even had internet DJs tweet dedicated song links to us. Some of our group were wondering if we could continue an online network of Episcopalians when convention concluded. To that I say: “That’s What I’m Talking About!!” Sign up at Episcopalians.pbworks.com to stay informed of our growing network.

And Warren, thanks for believing! Kurt and Joyce, thanks for making it happen. And to all my new friends: gideony, WhatOneCanDo, Kvoets, ktkimble, CarlosRAlvarado, scottagunn, JosephPMatthews, Liturgy, swancommarachel, gaytheologian, AuntScilly, bgclick, franklogue, davidrpeet, putmeinabox, GRobit625, loribythesea, FredinAtlanta, chaplain_mdiv10, mooregardening, Floridagordon, ktkimble, rrchapman, johnleesandiego, JeffreyShy, vagabondfaith, and a bunch more … thanks for being Church for me this week.

I know it’s cliché to write about the bittersweetness of your child (especially, the first) leaving the nest but when it’s your own Mother’sHeart, there’s nothing trite about it. I know there have been other milestones before — high school graduation, moving to college, graduating from college — but really, that’s all practice for this big one, the real one, the series finale. She begins the spinoff this week. I think it’ll be a hit. She’s ready; she’s that good. But I hate that I can only watch from afar as she learn’s to live life on life’s terms. Because I know what those terms can be. So I have a few hopes for her.

The first hope is about the community she makes for herself. Maybe it doesn’t even go without saying that she WILL have to make it for HERSELF. For surely, making community well for oneself is one of the most important grown-up skills. I wish friends for her that each represents a specific characteristic she wants to emulate e.g., courage, generosity, compassion, wisdom. I wish friends for her that are consciously on a path of self-awareness and support one another’s personal growth. I wish for her easy acceptance when friends rotate in and out of her life.

My second hope for her is a baseline expectation that “Life is Hard” as M. Scott Peck once wrote. That she won’t be surprised at being surprised and she will be a non-shockable presence among the most shocking. I hope she finds a healthy balance between cynicism and optimism. I hope she views reality through a minimum number of neurotic filters and forgive me for the distortion I have caused.

My third wish for her is a Polonius one, minus his hubris. I hope she finds integrity easier to master than I have. Or maybe, my wish is that she appreciate how truly difficult it is to master integrating one’s outward self with one’s inward reality and that a lot more people think they have integrity than actually do. I hope she realizes that most people won’t assume she’s as vulnerable as she is and therefore, will not be as careful with her feelings as they would if they really knew how deep they cut. I hope she learns that her only defense to this truth is to be non-defensive and transparent. And finally, I hope she has a secret pact with herself that she will never do or be in private differently than she would do or be in public.

Leaving on a jet plane – chantal kreviazuk

• Just watched Phyllis Tickle on demand. Hilarious AND wicked smart at same time. Be sure to view! #ecgc http://twubs.com/ecgc #
• RT @TexasBishop: KJS: We r sent to be interruptors and intwrrupted by the reign of God. #ecgc #
• Barbosa “Any church can make a decision because of fear. Fear cannot be our counselor … ” #ecgc http://twubs.com/ecgc #
• Just read Te Paa’s fantastic speech. Any1 know how prevelant is this sentiment in Anglican? http://bit.ly/SbyOP #ecgc http://twubs.com/ecgc
• RT @wfleener: Best line “I have bn informed tht pple have trouble hearing me when they r talking 2 others.” GC09 #ecgc http://twubs.com/ecgc in reply to wfleener #
• We are a people of signs/symbols: Keep your Twitter followER/followING ratio ~ equal, esp. if ur a leader GC09 #ecgc http://twubs.com/ecgc #
• What does “Networking the members of the Body of Christ” mean as a mission priority?????? #ecgc http://twubs.com/ecgc #
• Episcopal tweeters! Come check out and join the Twub for #ecgc at http://twubs.com/ecgc #
• Hey guys! Come check out and join the Twub for #ecgc at http://twubs.com/ecgc #
• Live streaming of #ecgc here. Marshal Ganz of Harvard teaching Public Narrative
  http://gchub.episcopalchurch.org/ http://twubs.com/ecgc #
• I just became a member of the Twub for #ecgc at http://twubs.com/ecgc #

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“In the world the powerful lord it over the others. This must not happen among you” (Luke 22:25-26).

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• Gorgeous visual rep of a map for Social Media – And it's a poster!: http://digg.com/d1nWwW?t #
• Summertime and the living is….. http://tinyurl.com/l2b8nd from: @followstlukes #

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When I was growing up, the Sunday school children who were celebrating their birthdays in the upcoming week knelt at the altar rail for a special blessing by the priest. The priest would lay his warm, big hands on my head and ask God to “bless and guide me as my days increase; to strengthen me when I stand; comfort me when discouraged or sorrowful and raise me up when I fall.” What an amazing request: that God would pick me up if I fell down. Boy, that would help matters! I was so hopeful that God really would pick me up if I fell down. I hoped my brother and sisters would be there when it happened so they could see how much God loved me.  I hoped I’d remember to say “Thank You” afterward and  to be charming and memorable when we finally met.

Then I wondered why God hadn’t picked me up off the ground up to this point in my life if that’s what gods were supposed to do. I wondered if I had to fall in a terrible manner before God would take time out of (his) busy day to help me to my feet. Maybe I had to fall down a cliff and get snagged in a crag or something equally dramatic dramatic to warrant such extraordinary divine attention. After all, I had seen the picture of God’s son taking care of that lamb. I wondered if lambs were more worthy of God’s help than little girls like me who usually fell down because I was doing something stupid. Like running around the pool deck when I had been told many times that it was dangerous. Or falling out of a tree because I grabbed a limb that only a novice tree-climber would think could hold them. Or I was reading a library book while walking in line back to homeroom and tripped over a break in the sidewalk. I figured little girls fell and hurt their knee, elbows, and bottoms or their pride because they weren’t good girls. Lambs, on the other hand, seemed like innocent victims of circumstance. They just put their heads down and focused obediently on the task of munching grass when the ground suddenly disappeared beneath them. In my understanding, the lamb was in this precarious position because the shepherd had been negligent and not adequately supervised snack-time. God chose to intervene then because it was a matter of justice; a matter of restoring the balance.  

God never did pick me up like I wanted. And I fell a lot. Although mostly, other than scraped skin, the only thing that got hurt was my pride. That got bruised a lot. The only thing that helped my bruised pride was time and that didn’t work all the time. I still feel my face get warm remembering when I rode my bicycle straight into the back bumper of a car parked on the street curb. I had been looking intently to to the side at the tennis courts of the Pierremont Oaks to see if the love of my childhood was teaching a class. Unfortunately, he was. And my stomach still gets tight when I drive over the Horace Wilkinson Bridge to Baton Rouge. That’s the location of my first big-girl fall.

I had to drop out of college in October of my junior year because of clinical depression. For weeks I had been able to do nothing but lie in my bed and cry while my friends looked on in confusion and frustration. Eventually, the school authorities called my mother who had to drive the four hours from Shreveport to get me and my stuff and to help me officially withdraw from the university due to medical disability – sub-categorized “mental health issues.”  I was told I wouldn’t be able to return within a certain time frame without a psychiatric evaluation. As Mom and I were driving over that bridge, the shame of it all filled my stomach. I was crazy!  I was certifiable! I was a loser! I had failed. And everyone would now know that I couldn’t manage what was expected.  Where the hell was God now I wondered? Surely God could expend a little divine energy to set things right for me. Because, frankly, it did seem to me a matter of justice.

Prior to this depression I had become a fanatic of (His) Son. I had prayed the prayer of salvation. I had been re-baptized to get the immersion experience. I had prayed the Prayer of Salvation and followed the Roman Road. I had studied the Four Spiritual Laws and led numerous people to Christ. And now, when I’m in this much pain, couldn’t God bother to show up and pick me up? Really? What more did I have to do or be to be considered worth His time?

I am so human. And I hate that. But, I’m trying to learn to manage that disappointment. I’ve been trying to learn that since that day driving over the Horace Wilkinson bridge. The day I exposed my human-ness to my sorority sisters.  It’s been over twenty-five years now. A lot more people have found out I am human. When I’m not trying to keep that a secret, I feel free. Free to be me.  I eventually went back to college and did real well. I think I made A’s in part because I was free to fail since I knew I could survive it. God still hasn’t ever picked me up like I’ve always wanted — but I do get up. It just isn’t with ease or with grace or very quick. Have you ever seen a middle-aged, out-of-shape, never-ever snow skier try to right herself on a slope for the first time? Then you get the picture. It’s not a divine look if you’ll pardon the saying. Next time you have an opportunity, watch the adult never-evers on a bunny slope. And then ponder this: “God came down and was incarnate and made man” – just like that flailing fool in the powder blue parka. That makes me ROTFLMAO.

I feel free to laugh with my foibles because I take my freedom to be me very seriously. I take my freedom from depression with tremendous gratitude. I don’t always love my process but it is my process. It is a process that has taken me to where faith was not an experienced reality; to a place where I could do nothing but wait to see if God would pick me up. 

“Free To Be Me,” Francesca Battistelli

Reflection based on Center for Action and Contemplation series “Freedom”

• How has grace brought me freedom?
• How does one trust God’s process?
• What is free will to me?
• What experiences of love have set you free?

Our understandings of vocation as individual and corporate response to and expression of relationship with the living God move beyond a matter of compulsive obedience to superior order or an acquiescence to preordained determinism. As in any creative partnership, communication is central to the relationship, and it is vital to vocation and discernment. Commitment to mutuality in relationship entails commitment to a conversational imperative, a free, open disclosure of self to the other, without which intimacy cannot be sustained.

When I was growing up, children who tried to have a conversation with adults were often accused of back talk. Children had conversations with other children; those of equal status. Necessarily, if it was considered rude to talk back to adults, it would have been blasphemous to talk back to God in conversation. When I came of age to have a mature relationship with God, I was heavily influenced by evangelical and fundamental movements that emphasized prayer as what one did to try to understand God’s will for one’s life; for understanding the preordained determinism. My vocational call, then, was interpreted under these filters. I didn’t approach the discernment as a conversation, as a place where my will was valid, respected or relevant. Little wonder, I came to resent God and my vocation when the circumstances surrounding both became painful and difficult.

This conversational imperative is in lively evidence in the stories and lives of Moses and the prophets, of Jesus and Paul. In theirs and countless stories related in the scriptures, in Hebrew midrash and Christian patristic writing, in the witnesses of saints, in sermons and songs ancient and modern we experience this lively, living conversation among partners intimately caught up in and bound to committed relationship. . . .

God and I have been in a lively, living conversation for a while now. Ironically, it would be fair to describe my tone and attitude in this conversation as back talk, even insolent. But I suppose that is a necessary corrective to my earlier compulsive obedience. During this time away from the church, there was never much doubt in my mind that my faith was alive and well; even though, to many, it appeared lost or dead. My spiritual friends who were well versed in the stormy faith journeys of the patriarchs and saints were less concerned for my spiritual welfare.

Jesus was at pains to insist that he neither wanted nor had followers, but friends. “I have called you friends,” he explains to his disciples, “because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father” (John 15:15). Those who sought to learn from him would not copy his attitudes and behaviors, but would undertake the more difficult business of plumbing their own depths, exploring and embracing their own selves, and shouldering full responsibility for their very being. Or, as he famously expressed it, they would take up their own cross—a cross that was distinct from his.

This was the paragraph that made me stop and pause. As I read it, I had an “ah-hah” moment. Is that what these last five years have been about? Is this a plausible meaning for the aridity I have experienced in the sanctuary lately and finding connectedness and understanding only on the therapeutic couch? Is this why finding sobriety through Alcoholics Anonymous felt wrong for me in spite of the profound respect I have for the program? Is this why I needed to find sobriety solely based on my own will and responsibility for my behavior — to declare that I have power over choosing alcohol or not? Is my greatest spiritual struggle not in knowing God’s embrace but in coming to embrace myself?

This learning process, this discipleship, is dynamic and subject to constant variation, consistent with any relationship between and among living beings. . . . The process of daily, constant learning about self and one’s world is a demanding discipleship and the central activity of discernment. Understood this way, we see that any so-called discipleship that obscures or escapes such learning is not worthy of the name; it is just evasion, denial, busyness, and distraction, and ultimately, destructive dishonesty. True discipleship not only dirties the hands, it breaks the heart, opens the mind, and stretches the nerves, as all good learning does. Yet, paradoxically, it is this very dangerous conversation that constitutes the core of discipleship and the intimate heart of relationship with God.

From Transforming Vocation by Sam Portaro, a volume in the series Transformations: The Episcopal Church of the 21st Century, edited by James Lemler. Copyright © 2008. Used by permission of Church Publishing Incorporated, New York, NY. www.churchpublishing.org