When I was a kid, I used to read this magazine called Zillions. I don’t know if anyone else remembers it. It was Consumer Reports for kids, but way more fun than Consumer Reports, because they tested things like candy and toys and backpacks and bikes. They used real-life kid testers to rate the different products – a job I wanted badly for several years. Their slogan was, Zillions of kids can’t be wrong!
By the same logic, 34 million, 500 thousand should be a pretty convincing number. That’s how many hits you get if you google ‘temptation.’ And if you tried to learn about temptation by reading those pages, you’d come out with a pretty strong sense that temptation is mostly about sex, which you should avoid whenever possible, and secondarily about body lotion, beer, chocolate, and ice cream. Either that, or Motown.
I think most of us probably grew up with an idea of temptation that’s pretty similar to this. Temptation is whatever’s exciting or enticing to us – what sounds fun or tasty or new. It’s in contrast to the right or good thing, which is inevitably also the boring thing. Sometimes it works that way, but it seems to me our lives would be a lot simpler and quieter if that’s all temptation meant – picking the obviously right thing over the obviously wrong thing – or just “do the opposite of what you want.” But even setting aside the horrific theological issues of assuming that what we want is automatically wrong, most times it’s just more complicated than that. 34 million, 500 thousand people’s opinions notwithstanding, sometimes temptation is just doing what’s easy as opposed to doing what we know is right. Sometimes, even, temptation is doing what’s there or what’s obvious instead of doing the work to figure out what’s right.
In that vein, it’s tempting for me to stay here at Reconciler instead of to move on. I love this congregation. It would be easy for me to stay and hang out with you all, to go through the liturgical motions of serving as a deacon and let everything else slide. Most transitional deacons, the ones that will eventually be priests, do. Either people get ordained at Christmas of their senior year of seminary, and spend the next six months serving in the deacon’s role liturgically at their field ed parish but otherwise just training to be a priest, or they get ordained right before they take their first jobs, and spend the next six months trying to do the priestly and pastoral work they were hired to do while limited in their liturgical function. The transitional diaconate is usually time spent looking at our watches, waiting for the required amount of time to pass before we can ordain people priests. It’s tempting to take the path of least resistance and stay here and do that among people I like and respect.
Leaving Reconciler, as it turns out, isn’t nearly so tempting, initially. Leaving means asking new questions – examining why this experiment here ended as soon as it did. Exploring where I go from here with only a few months left in seminary. Leaving means putting an end date of February on my resume instead of the expected end date of May or June. Leaving means being honest with myself about how much I can afford to give to a congregation, and, for good or ill, what that says about where my priorities are this year. Leaving means trying to figure out how to integrate my diaconal ministry when my liturgical roles are all at Seabury and my ministry of service in the world is primarily in other places.
In fact, leaving Reconciler may well mean that I am setting my face toward the cross instead of toward comfort. It may be hard to explain this choice to a diocesan committee when I go before them to interview for my priestly ordination. It may make rectors or search committees suspicious when I am interviewing for jobs in the next few months. It may mean more hard questions and even some unpleasant consequences.
But I also know that that’s where God has called me to go now. I made vows last June when I was ordained. I promised God and the church and myself that my diaconate would be about more than just wearing my stole sideways. As I considered whether or not to leave here, I thought about those diaconal vows. I figured I had the promise to study the Scriptures and proclaim the gospel pretty well in hand through my schoolwork and my preaching in various places. But the thing that makes the diaconate unique among the other orders of the church is not those things, but when the bishop says “You are to interpret to the church the needs, concerns, and hopes of the world.” This is made practical earlier in the bishop’s examination of the candidate when he or she says, “In the name of Jesus Christ, you are to serve all people, particularly the poor, the weak, the sick, and the lonely.”
This church doesn’t need a deacon to interpret to you the needs, concerns, and hopes of the world. You all bring the needs and concerns to the pastoral team already. You are far more connected to those needs than I am. If this church is to be served by a deacon, you need a deacon who can take you the next step – who is with you among the poor and oppressed and can help you connect the dots between your work for justice outside this place and your worship inside it– and I do not have the kind of time and energy it would take to be that deacon for you. If I am to serve a community as a deacon right now, I need to serve in a place that can use my hands to work a few hours at a time. That is all the diaconate I can offer the church right now, as I finish my studies, and I owe it to the whole church to do so with integrity, not to spend these next months watching you all do the work of the church.
The choice to leave Reconciler, though it was made in consultation with many others, was ultimately mine. But of course, this kind of dilemma is not mine alone. We all face these kinds of decisions in our lives. As we begin Lent, I invite you to contemplate where you too might be called to turn your faces toward the cross. Are there choices where you too find it tempting to follow the smoother, easier path, where God might be calling you to risk doing something even more right? When I leave Reconciler tonight, our ways will part, even though I will come around to say hello. But perhaps by turning our faces in the same direction, we can journey together toward the cross to the new life Easter promises us on the other side. Will you join me?
Sunday, February 10
Saturday, February 9
Reconciler Update
"The elements of joy and renewal are as important as prayer, fasting, and self-denial in the Lenten observance, which otherwise becomes a forty day repetition of Ash Wednesday." -- Dr. Leonel Mitchell, Lent, Holy Week, Easter, and the Great Fifty Days
+++
"Happy Lent!"
I've been saying that to a few friends and colleagues lately, and we've laughed at the irony. Because Lent is not traditionally supposed to be a happy time, but a somber season. In Lent, Christians confess, fast, give alms, give stuff up, prepare for baptism, and in other ways examine and purify our lives.
But I agree with Mitchell and others that joy and renewal are essential to Lent. We don't have to approach Lent in a spirit of self-flagellation. No hairshirts required. Yes, we are called to take Lent seriously. Examining our hearts is so important. But to wallow in a sense of sinfulness or inadequacy is to miss the point. We are not being invited to depression and despair, as if we had no hope of resurrection. Lent gives us permission to be serious, to look at ourselves, think and pray about where we want to grow, and extend ourselves to others. Taking time to do this improves our lives, ultimately increasing our experience of joy.
So when the world is cold and dark and you feel hard-pressed -- like this winter in Chicago -- remember that "Lent" is an Anglo Saxon word for "spring." And that is what we are moving toward in Lent. Even now the days are slowly lengthening.
Lent is not doom and gloom. It is sober preparation for the joy of new life. We are walking the way of the cross toward the glory of resurrection.
In that spirit I wish you a happy as well as a holy Lent.
God's peace,
Laura+
The Rev. Laura Gottardi-Littell
for The Pastoral Team
The Church of Jesus Christ, Reconciler
Announcements
Today is our deacon The Rev. Beth Scriven's last Sunday with us. She will be preaching. After the service, there will be some goodies and a chance to say goodbye to Beth and wish her well.
At 7:30 p.m. Wednesday Feb. 13 at Immanuel, the "Children of Abraham" Lenten series begins. In this five-week series, several ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church of America) speakers, as well as representatives of Jewish and Muslim congregations in Edgewater, will share perspectives on relations between the three Abrahamic faiths: Christianity, Judaism, and Islam. A community dinner, open to all, is offered at Immanuel at 6:00 on Wednesdays, followed by an evening prayer service at 7:00. The Lenten series will then follow at 7:30 in Immanuel's sanctuary. Join us Wednesday evenings in Lent for what promises to be an informative, prayerful and illuminating time.
We are looking for people to coordinate with Immanuel's altar guild and properties committee to help maintain this space and Immanuel's property. A couple of you have responded but if others are also interested please talk to Larry or Laura.
Immanuel is looking for members of Reconciler who would be willing to serve as ushers and greeters at our joint services on Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter Vigil and Easter Sunday Services. Talk to Laura or Larry if you would like to serve in this way at any of these services.
+++
"Happy Lent!"
I've been saying that to a few friends and colleagues lately, and we've laughed at the irony. Because Lent is not traditionally supposed to be a happy time, but a somber season. In Lent, Christians confess, fast, give alms, give stuff up, prepare for baptism, and in other ways examine and purify our lives.
But I agree with Mitchell and others that joy and renewal are essential to Lent. We don't have to approach Lent in a spirit of self-flagellation. No hairshirts required. Yes, we are called to take Lent seriously. Examining our hearts is so important. But to wallow in a sense of sinfulness or inadequacy is to miss the point. We are not being invited to depression and despair, as if we had no hope of resurrection. Lent gives us permission to be serious, to look at ourselves, think and pray about where we want to grow, and extend ourselves to others. Taking time to do this improves our lives, ultimately increasing our experience of joy.
So when the world is cold and dark and you feel hard-pressed -- like this winter in Chicago -- remember that "Lent" is an Anglo Saxon word for "spring." And that is what we are moving toward in Lent. Even now the days are slowly lengthening.
Lent is not doom and gloom. It is sober preparation for the joy of new life. We are walking the way of the cross toward the glory of resurrection.
In that spirit I wish you a happy as well as a holy Lent.
God's peace,
Laura+
The Rev. Laura Gottardi-Littell
for The Pastoral Team
The Church of Jesus Christ, Reconciler
Announcements
Today is our deacon The Rev. Beth Scriven's last Sunday with us. She will be preaching. After the service, there will be some goodies and a chance to say goodbye to Beth and wish her well.
At 7:30 p.m. Wednesday Feb. 13 at Immanuel, the "Children of Abraham" Lenten series begins. In this five-week series, several ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church of America) speakers, as well as representatives of Jewish and Muslim congregations in Edgewater, will share perspectives on relations between the three Abrahamic faiths: Christianity, Judaism, and Islam. A community dinner, open to all, is offered at Immanuel at 6:00 on Wednesdays, followed by an evening prayer service at 7:00. The Lenten series will then follow at 7:30 in Immanuel's sanctuary. Join us Wednesday evenings in Lent for what promises to be an informative, prayerful and illuminating time.
We are looking for people to coordinate with Immanuel's altar guild and properties committee to help maintain this space and Immanuel's property. A couple of you have responded but if others are also interested please talk to Larry or Laura.
Immanuel is looking for members of Reconciler who would be willing to serve as ushers and greeters at our joint services on Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter Vigil and Easter Sunday Services. Talk to Laura or Larry if you would like to serve in this way at any of these services.
Tuesday, February 5
Sunday, February 3
Sermon: The Transfiguration
The Feast of the Transfiguration
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Readings: Exodus 24:12-18, Ps. 99, II Peter 1:16-21
Gospel: Matthew 17:1-9
Preacher: The Rev. Laura Gottardi-Littell
+++
This past Friday I had the opportunity to hear the presiding bishop of the Episcopal church, Katherine Jefferts Shori. Shori is the first woman to lead the Episcopal church. She has a Ph.D. in oceanography, is a small craft pilot, and is married with a grown daughter. She was in town last week for the ordination of the new bishop of Chicago. On Friday Chicago-area clergy had an opportunity to meet with her as a group, to hear some of her reflections and ask her questions.
Someone in our audience asked Shori if the deep calm she exudes is for real. The presiding bishop said it is in fact who she is, most of the time. Her awareness of herself as God’s beloved allows her to be strong in her own convictions yet open and receptive to others. Shori is a bridge-builder, a lover of dialogue, a believer in keeping everyone at the table. And she needs all that in her job as head of a church that’s currently very divided.
Shori began our conversation by talking about the word “conversation” -- noting that conversation and conversion share a common root.
She spoke about today’s gospel, noting that at both Jesus’ transfiguration and baptism, God speaks out of a cloud and says about Jesus: “This is my beloved son. With him I am well pleased.”
Shori said that understanding our selves and others as God’s beloved can pave the way for more constructive conversations, sometimes even conversion. Particularly when we disagree with the other, or when they are different from us, it’s important to remain rooted in this understanding of our mutual identity as God’s beloved.
Today’s gospel makes Jesus’s real identity clear.
Jesus is up there on a mountaintop with John, James, and Peter.
And at one point Jesus’ face begin to shines, and his garments turn a dazzling white
The disciples see Moses and Elijah there on the mountain talking with Jesus.
A voice from the clouds says: “This is my beloved son, with whom I am well pleased. Listen to him!”
We call this event, as recorded in the gospels, the transfiguration.
The transfiguration is about who Jesus is and it’s also about the glory of God, as reflected in Jesus. Our other Scripture readings today are also about God’s glory. Moses experiences the glory of the Lord on Mt. Sinai. The first letter of Peter offers a eyewitness account of the transfiguration, from Peter’s perspective. Our psalm speaks of God’s glory and might.
As human beings, we all participate in the glory of God, all are part of God’s glorious creation.
At the same time we live in a fallen world.
Paul says all of us have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.
That’s our human reality.
But if see ourselves and others only as fallen, flawed, limited we take part in disfiguring our collective humanity. Our conversations become ones of blame, misunderstanding, and contempt. This adds to the fallen-ness and brokenness of the world, rather than helping transform it.
And God is about transfiguring rather than disfiguring humanity.
Jesus’s transfiguration prefigures the cross and resurrection. It’s a preview of coming attractions. In Luke’s account, Moses and Elijah talk to Jesus about the exodus Jesus is going to lead in Jerusalem. They use that word exodus, Greek for departure. Jesus, the second Moses, is going to lead another exodus, going to set humanity free through his departure via the cross. He will allow himself to be disfigured in order to bring about his and our transfiguration.
The cross was an instrument of torture designed to literally disfigure the human person
The forces of hate, fear and judgment put Jesus up on a cross and disfigured him. Those same forces continue to disfigure human beings today, mentally and physically.
But the resurrection proves these disfiguring forces have no ultimate power over our true identity. Nothing could prevent Jesus from being loved by God, not even the cross. He was nailed there in part because he went around saying he was God’s beloved and that others, mostly the wrong people, were also God’s beloved. Samaritans, prostitutes, lepers, tax collectors, the poor -- Jesus had the nerve to believe God loved them. Naturally this irked political and religious authorities who believed they had the right to determine who was in and out with God, and that they could control the folks Jesus was going around transfiguring.
The powers and principalities of this world can feel very threatened by the idea that all humans are beloved of God. Because when people feel lovable and valuable, we may demand to be free, may act as if we have rights. Strong and free people aren’t easily controlled.
What would become of wars, racism, sexism, classism, all the other isms, if the whole world saw ourselves as God’s beloved? How would any of that stuff have a leg to stand on?
So this knowledge of our true identity is radical, life-changing, even dangerous, in a world that regular undermines our value, that often cheapens human life. Jesus came that we might have life and have it more abundantly. He came that we might know who and whose we are. He came that we might know that we are part of the glory of God’s creation and that we might live ever more fully into that transfigured reality.
On one level it’s a simple idea – we are all God’s beloved – but it’s very challenging to remember and live out on a daily basis. Do we live as if God knows all about us and still loves us? Can we stop judging ourselves and thinking if only I were x, y, or z, then I would be loveable? Can we stop our petty comparisons and one-upmanships, and act as if there is enough of God’s love to go around?
Can we converse with others, grounded in the knowledge that both we and they are God’s beloved? Can we listen with open minds and hearts? When we seek to deeply understand another’s condition, and hold up the mirror that shows who they really are, it can be life-changing for them. This is the essence of much effective counseling, spiritual direction, and confession –all are ways of bringing a person’s original identity and lovability back to their awareness.
I’ve grappled with my own sense of being God’s beloved. Some years back, I was fortunate to receive a very nice scholarship to Garrett seminary. I had a wonderful three years there and in the process, earned many accolades and affirmations, even an award. After graduating I was fortunate to earn recognition in my work as hospital and hospice chaplain. These were mountaintop moments. I felt a great joy combined with an equally deep humility.
The humility came because I knew on some level, these things were happening because of God’s grace, and for the glory of God. Yes, I had worked hard and cared for others but much of it was God working through me. The joy came from feeling loved by God and in touch with my own identity, my calling. I was doing what I loved and I was appreciated for it.
But there were hazards in all this achieving – sometimes I could forget it was the glory of God, and not my own glory. Another danger was feeling like I had to keep achieving in order to feel worthy. As if the source of my worth was my accomplishments. At one point a good friend and I had a very helpful conversation. She said: “Whether you make a mistake, or whether you achieve something, you are still Laura. You are still loved.” Her words struck a deep chord in me, touched a place that needed to know I was loved and accepted, regardless of what I did or didn’t accomplish.
There were also times in my ordination process when people didn’t always affirm or even see my gifts. That was hard. Then I had to hold on to my own sense of being God’s beloved. I was fortunate also to have friends and colleagues who could hold onto that for and with me.
I think the real deal – as Jesus shows us – is that whether we’re on the mountaintop feeling dazzled by the glory, or whether we’re on Calvary feeling the agony – we’re God’s beloved. As Paul writes, nothing can separate us from the love of God.
There are a lot of people out there who think they have to earn love. Who need to be reminded about grace. Lots of folks walking around who don’t know they’re loved, don’t know how to love themselves or anyone else. But this is the great gift of our faith, that all are God’s beloved. And we need to be shouting it from the mountaintops and rooftops.
I would like to ask you now, as Bishop Shori asked us, to spend a few minutes in silence experiencing yourself as God’s beloved, one with whom God is well pleased. And see what that brings up for you. And if you want to, we can talk about it in our discussion period after the sermon, or another time. We can have a conversation.
+++
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Readings: Exodus 24:12-18, Ps. 99, II Peter 1:16-21
Gospel: Matthew 17:1-9
Preacher: The Rev. Laura Gottardi-Littell
+++
This past Friday I had the opportunity to hear the presiding bishop of the Episcopal church, Katherine Jefferts Shori. Shori is the first woman to lead the Episcopal church. She has a Ph.D. in oceanography, is a small craft pilot, and is married with a grown daughter. She was in town last week for the ordination of the new bishop of Chicago. On Friday Chicago-area clergy had an opportunity to meet with her as a group, to hear some of her reflections and ask her questions.
Someone in our audience asked Shori if the deep calm she exudes is for real. The presiding bishop said it is in fact who she is, most of the time. Her awareness of herself as God’s beloved allows her to be strong in her own convictions yet open and receptive to others. Shori is a bridge-builder, a lover of dialogue, a believer in keeping everyone at the table. And she needs all that in her job as head of a church that’s currently very divided.
Shori began our conversation by talking about the word “conversation” -- noting that conversation and conversion share a common root.
She spoke about today’s gospel, noting that at both Jesus’ transfiguration and baptism, God speaks out of a cloud and says about Jesus: “This is my beloved son. With him I am well pleased.”
Shori said that understanding our selves and others as God’s beloved can pave the way for more constructive conversations, sometimes even conversion. Particularly when we disagree with the other, or when they are different from us, it’s important to remain rooted in this understanding of our mutual identity as God’s beloved.
Today’s gospel makes Jesus’s real identity clear.
Jesus is up there on a mountaintop with John, James, and Peter.
And at one point Jesus’ face begin to shines, and his garments turn a dazzling white
The disciples see Moses and Elijah there on the mountain talking with Jesus.
A voice from the clouds says: “This is my beloved son, with whom I am well pleased. Listen to him!”
We call this event, as recorded in the gospels, the transfiguration.
The transfiguration is about who Jesus is and it’s also about the glory of God, as reflected in Jesus. Our other Scripture readings today are also about God’s glory. Moses experiences the glory of the Lord on Mt. Sinai. The first letter of Peter offers a eyewitness account of the transfiguration, from Peter’s perspective. Our psalm speaks of God’s glory and might.
As human beings, we all participate in the glory of God, all are part of God’s glorious creation.
At the same time we live in a fallen world.
Paul says all of us have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.
That’s our human reality.
But if see ourselves and others only as fallen, flawed, limited we take part in disfiguring our collective humanity. Our conversations become ones of blame, misunderstanding, and contempt. This adds to the fallen-ness and brokenness of the world, rather than helping transform it.
And God is about transfiguring rather than disfiguring humanity.
Jesus’s transfiguration prefigures the cross and resurrection. It’s a preview of coming attractions. In Luke’s account, Moses and Elijah talk to Jesus about the exodus Jesus is going to lead in Jerusalem. They use that word exodus, Greek for departure. Jesus, the second Moses, is going to lead another exodus, going to set humanity free through his departure via the cross. He will allow himself to be disfigured in order to bring about his and our transfiguration.
The cross was an instrument of torture designed to literally disfigure the human person
The forces of hate, fear and judgment put Jesus up on a cross and disfigured him. Those same forces continue to disfigure human beings today, mentally and physically.
But the resurrection proves these disfiguring forces have no ultimate power over our true identity. Nothing could prevent Jesus from being loved by God, not even the cross. He was nailed there in part because he went around saying he was God’s beloved and that others, mostly the wrong people, were also God’s beloved. Samaritans, prostitutes, lepers, tax collectors, the poor -- Jesus had the nerve to believe God loved them. Naturally this irked political and religious authorities who believed they had the right to determine who was in and out with God, and that they could control the folks Jesus was going around transfiguring.
The powers and principalities of this world can feel very threatened by the idea that all humans are beloved of God. Because when people feel lovable and valuable, we may demand to be free, may act as if we have rights. Strong and free people aren’t easily controlled.
What would become of wars, racism, sexism, classism, all the other isms, if the whole world saw ourselves as God’s beloved? How would any of that stuff have a leg to stand on?
So this knowledge of our true identity is radical, life-changing, even dangerous, in a world that regular undermines our value, that often cheapens human life. Jesus came that we might have life and have it more abundantly. He came that we might know who and whose we are. He came that we might know that we are part of the glory of God’s creation and that we might live ever more fully into that transfigured reality.
On one level it’s a simple idea – we are all God’s beloved – but it’s very challenging to remember and live out on a daily basis. Do we live as if God knows all about us and still loves us? Can we stop judging ourselves and thinking if only I were x, y, or z, then I would be loveable? Can we stop our petty comparisons and one-upmanships, and act as if there is enough of God’s love to go around?
Can we converse with others, grounded in the knowledge that both we and they are God’s beloved? Can we listen with open minds and hearts? When we seek to deeply understand another’s condition, and hold up the mirror that shows who they really are, it can be life-changing for them. This is the essence of much effective counseling, spiritual direction, and confession –all are ways of bringing a person’s original identity and lovability back to their awareness.
I’ve grappled with my own sense of being God’s beloved. Some years back, I was fortunate to receive a very nice scholarship to Garrett seminary. I had a wonderful three years there and in the process, earned many accolades and affirmations, even an award. After graduating I was fortunate to earn recognition in my work as hospital and hospice chaplain. These were mountaintop moments. I felt a great joy combined with an equally deep humility.
The humility came because I knew on some level, these things were happening because of God’s grace, and for the glory of God. Yes, I had worked hard and cared for others but much of it was God working through me. The joy came from feeling loved by God and in touch with my own identity, my calling. I was doing what I loved and I was appreciated for it.
But there were hazards in all this achieving – sometimes I could forget it was the glory of God, and not my own glory. Another danger was feeling like I had to keep achieving in order to feel worthy. As if the source of my worth was my accomplishments. At one point a good friend and I had a very helpful conversation. She said: “Whether you make a mistake, or whether you achieve something, you are still Laura. You are still loved.” Her words struck a deep chord in me, touched a place that needed to know I was loved and accepted, regardless of what I did or didn’t accomplish.
There were also times in my ordination process when people didn’t always affirm or even see my gifts. That was hard. Then I had to hold on to my own sense of being God’s beloved. I was fortunate also to have friends and colleagues who could hold onto that for and with me.
I think the real deal – as Jesus shows us – is that whether we’re on the mountaintop feeling dazzled by the glory, or whether we’re on Calvary feeling the agony – we’re God’s beloved. As Paul writes, nothing can separate us from the love of God.
There are a lot of people out there who think they have to earn love. Who need to be reminded about grace. Lots of folks walking around who don’t know they’re loved, don’t know how to love themselves or anyone else. But this is the great gift of our faith, that all are God’s beloved. And we need to be shouting it from the mountaintops and rooftops.
I would like to ask you now, as Bishop Shori asked us, to spend a few minutes in silence experiencing yourself as God’s beloved, one with whom God is well pleased. And see what that brings up for you. And if you want to, we can talk about it in our discussion period after the sermon, or another time. We can have a conversation.
+++
Saturday, February 2
New Bpatist Covenant
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