Thank You! I figured out the facebook button. Thanks so much. Recovering from exhausting carnival. Too tired to blog.

Don't want to blog since I can't seem to do it on my awesome phone

Blogger won't let me blog from my phone, apparently, and I'm so disappointed that I can hardly bear it.

Obviously, the wireless situation, as you can see, has been attended to. Matt is on his computer, I am on mine and so we don't need to speak any more or stuff like that. What a relief!

But I don't really intend to blog. There's too much else going on.
We've been going many interesting places--the Alamo, the Corpus Christi Boat Show, the Rodeo, Christ Church San Antonio, the awesome mall where you can get enormous plates of rice and teriyaki chicken.
The baby, in a matter of days, has gone from eating one tiny bowl of cereal once a day to eating three massive bowls of cereal (breakfast, lunch and supper).
And we FINALLY got her ears pierced.
We've been cooking lavish suppers (salmon, chicken, tilapia) and the children have been eating candy all day long.
Elphine has been devoting herself to Fun with Dick and Jane and Gwendolyn has developed a passion for the letter 'E'.
Romulus has devoted himself to TV of any and every kind (even the news if that's all he can get).
Alouicious managed to celebrate his birthday for an entire week by manipulation, trickery and whining.
And Matt has an impressive stack of books that he dozes over.
In short, we're exhausting ourselves with "rest".

OH!!!! Someone asked about facebook. I've been wasting time trying to put a fancy facebook button on my sidebar but I still am failing in that way (can any of you tell me what to do? Blogger doesn't seem to have a 'gadget for that). So see if you can find me on FB as Anne Carlson Kennedy. And if that doesn't work I'll hopefully still be able to post the link. Have a great weekend!

update from Temple

There is a large grey cloud settled over our hotel and all the rest of Temple where we are all indulging in the forbidden pleasures of Watching TV!! All the cartoons (or partoons, as we call them) are just as awful as I remember them to be. Matt isn't watching TV. He is jumping rope and making me feel slothful. However, this bed is so extraordinarily soft, after the pleasures of camping for three nights, that I cannot bring myself to move.

When I finally do drag myself into reality we will all go back to Matt's grandmother's for breakfast. And then its back into the car for San Antonio to see an allotment of cousins.

Have set my expectation bar as low as I possibly could, I can say with enthusiasm that we had a good time camping and that our instincts--that children who have been in the car for 8 hours should not then be expected to go to a hotel and a restaurant, but rather should run around and collect fire wood, roast marshmallows and get filthy--was a true and correct instinct.

See facebook for continued sarcastic one line updates!

On the road...tomorrow

Yeah, um, so, we're not leaving today.

The car it too small the house is too filthy to just jumble everything in and drive away. We're going to go calmly and methodically through the day and take off as early as we can in the morning.

We made excellent progress yesterday. Turns out our borrowed tent is deluxe in every aspect and not difficult to put up, and I've carefully filled Matt's old army duffel to the brim with clothes for the road, and my food box is tidy and easy to access. But you can see, that's only about half of all the work that needs to be done.

The children were desperately disappointed for about 3 and a half seconds (one reason I NEVER tell children in advance what's going to happen--today we're going to the store and then for ice cream and then a clown is coming over--because the clown might not come over and then everyone is hysterical. No, their lives are routine based with sudden, unannounced and unexpected trips to the store, to church or whatever else we do weekly) until Matt told them we'd go to the park (broke the rule Again!). Apparently going to the park is equal in the amount to pleasure derived to driving all the way to Texas and camping along the way.

Anyway, I'm really grateful for this extra day. Being an eminently impractical person, I intend to shove in a lot of unnecessary items that some might not require but will make the whole experience bearable--things like the tulips from my front walk, real dishes and cutlery, a tea cozy, an array of West African cloth to use as table clothes, blankets, towels etc., and a large stack of books that I'm sure I'll have time to read but if I don't they will at least look nice, candles and their holders. I'm not big on 'nature' and 'roughing it'. If we have to go be in nature, I'm going to take as many things with me as I can. I have my mother to thank for this. Long car trips in Africa were always packed full to the brim with everything necessary to set up a full coffee break in the bush (table cloth, chairs, table, coffee, real cups, sugar, milk--Mommy, do you have that picture?).

Fortunately, the top car carrier does work and so I can take as much stuff as I want and I have a whole day to pack it.
'roughing it', in Africa

Its already thursday and my week of 'packing' is almost over without ever actually beginning

I'm going to be perfectly honest. It is very very very very unlikely that I will ever give a detailed account of Holy Week on this blog. Right now I am lying here with a dinky baby sucking desperately on my elbow, an angry non morning child who appears to have slept in his brother's knight costume against his brother's will, a small child shouting louder and louder, 'I don't want a Pider Man Book! I want a Princeth book. My face hurts,' and two other children moving in closer and closer so that I am about to fall off the bed.

How many is that? Looks like all five.
I've vaguely glanced through many interesting blogs of people who manage to read wonderful books. I've read some of the news. I've wasted 14 minutes on facebook.

So it looks like maybe we should all crash downstairs and whine and complain our way into breakfast.

Not a real post

Happy Easter!

I'm too foggy with post Easter tired to think through the past week. I intend to give a varied and delightful account of all the proceedings as soon as I fully awake from my stupor. I also intend to work out every day this week, read the three books of the Bible I'm behind on in my reading the Bible in a year schedule, cook enough food for a week, unroll a vast tent and see if it works for real, carefully pack a small number of carefully selected summer like clothes (which means digging out all the summer things), and loose fifteen pounds in order to be able to stuff myself into a stunning vintage cocktail dress on loan to me for the days to come.

That's right, we're getting ready to drive to Texas! in a car! with five small children! and camp if it doesn't rain! and take all our own food! and make a pilgrimage to Independence Kansas to see the Little House on the Prairie!

Its going to be so fun. We're going to have such a good time. And maybe someone can offer us free marriage and family therapy when we get back.

Here is a link to all the sermons of the week.
And here are the two pictures we remembered to take of the whole week (sorry! I'm going to put them all back in their Easter clothes and stage a picture. Sorry Sorry Sorry).

The Great Vigil of Easter: Sermon, Year C

Let's begin in Matthew. If you want to open your Bible,
its Matthew 28.
Its before dawn.
I would imagine that Mary Magdalene,
the other Mary,
who is probably Mary the mother of James,
Salome and Joanna and one other woman--
that is all the women listed in all the gospels-
-probably haven't gotten very much sleep
between Friday night and Sunday morning.

If you remember,
Jesus died on Friday around three o'clock,
and Joseph of Aramathea
and Nicodemus
had rushed to take his body down,
wash and wrap him as best they could
and get him into the tomb before sun down,
marking the beginning of the sabbath.
The women had had to watch unable to participate.
It is very likely that Joseph didn't know what exactly to do,
or that there just hadn't been time to do anything properly. Traditionally,
in the absence of many high tech funeral parlors and homes,
the women of the family
would have had the task of coping with those who had died--
washing,
anointing with oil and spices,
wrapping the body.
They would have known what to do
and how to do it.
It is very unlikely that Joseph of Aramathea and Nicodemus
knew what to do
or how to do it.

But they might have also been anxious
about the two men themselves.
Remember, Nicodemus came to Jesus at night
and we have no indication that Joseph of Arimathea
was known to the the disciples as a follower of Jesus.
They were both part of the Sanhedrin
and therefore wielding some sort of power.
They displayed incredible courage
in associating themselves with Jesus in his death,
but their motives were more than likely hidden
from Jesus' hiding friends.

I imagine the women looking on
in desperate helplessness while Jesus is wrapped and buried.

Then everyone would have hurried away
before the encroaching sunset so as not to break the Sabbath.
Under normal circumstances the women
would have had Friday to spend preparing for the Sabbath--
cooking, cleaning, putting everything in order for a day of rest.
But they weren't home,
they were all in Jerusalem gathered together,
and the whole of Friday
had been taken up with the horrific and sudden death
of their beloved friend.

I imagine imagine the resulting Sabbath
would have been unbearable.
They couldn't do any work,
they couldn't create any order in the absence of order.
They couldn't clean,
they couldn't cook food all day,
they couldn't go anywhere.
Some of them were probably very far away from their homes,
making do in Jerusalem over the Passover.
The solace of work was forbidden to them.

I don't like to generalize,
but I think this may be hard for men to understand.
Lately I've gotten it into my head
that we should really try to do Sabbathy things on Sunday,
the day of our Lord,
and so I get worked into a frenzy on Saturday
getting ready for Sunday--
cleaning,
cooking as much as I can,
laying out Sunday clothes,
bathing the children,
having my Sunday school lesson ready,
and a pretty table cloth on the table,
and I'm beat by Saturday evening.
When I don't accomplish everything
on my list I am very unhappy.
Often when Saturdays are overrun by other priorities,
Matt starts saying at 11am,
'I forbid you to clean the whole house today, do you hear me?
I forbid you'.
Today was one of those days.

Overlay intense unexpected life shattering grief
over exhaustion
and I imagine that Saturday was a rough day.

But at sun down on Saturday
everyone was allowed to work and go places again.
I bet the house,
perhaps the house with the upper room,
where ever it was that they were all staying,
received a thorough and complete cleaning,
and probably some food was prepared
and some of them managed to eat,
and the rest of the night
would have been taken up
preparing the spices and burial linens
needed to deal with the body of Jesus
in a way that would satisfy them.
At least they could do that much.

They set out in faith for the tomb,
knowing there is an unmovable stone,
sealed no less,
as if that would make any difference.
They wouldn't have known about the guards posted.
You might remember that the Pharisees broke Sabbath,
going after the sun had already set,
and Jesus was already in the tomb to ask for a guard.
And it would have had to be a Roman guard
because Jewish temple guards
wouldn't have wanted to break sabbath.

The women go without any real plans.
They're going to have to convince someone to roll the stone away.
We know from John that they think maybe a gardener will help them because of Mary Magdalene's confusion.

If you look at your text in Matthew,
it looks like they might be there for the earthquake,
but we know from the other gospels,
that this is not the case.
Matthew wants us to know how the stone was moved
and so he puts it here.
Certainly, they probably felt it as they were walking.
Its the second earthquake in a matter of days,
the first one occurring when Jesus breathes his last.

don't know if Palestine is given over to earthquakes

in a normal way,

but certainly,

as the God of the heavens and the earth,

as the controller of all weather,

an angel descending from heaven

and rolling the stone away is excellent cause

for a second earthquake.

And certainly,

seeing an Angel descend from heaven and push away the stone

is reason enough for any red blooded Roman guard

to pass out from sheer fright.

This is important,

as I'm sure you know,

because the guards were not allowed to go to sleep while on duty, and should it have been found out that the seal was broken,

the stone was rolled away,

and the body gone,

they would have been summarily executed.

However, as you can see in verse 11,

as soon as they regain consciousness,

they hustle off,

not to their commanding Roman officer to be killed,

but to the Chief Priests who pay them money to lie

and give them cover for the lie.

This little plot is the first of many many many attempts

to deal with the fact that Jesus is not in the tomb

when the women arrive.

He just plum isn't there.

Big tomb, no body.

The angel tells them that Jesus is risen.

The tense here is so important--

not has risen,

or will rise,

but is risen.

That's what we say Sunday after Sunday--

Christ has died,

Christ is risen,

Christ will come again.

Risen is present.

That's what he is,

not dead, but risen.

They're supposed to quickly absorb this information

and go tell the disciples

but before they get there,

Jesus meets them.

And they take hold of his feet

and worship him.

Zephaniah the prophet wrote hundreds of years earlier,

Sing aloud, O daughter of Zion;
shout, O Israel!
Rejoice and exult with all your heart,
O daughter of Jerusalem!
The King of Israel, the Lord, is in your midst;
you shall never again fear evil.
16 On that day it shall be said to Jerusalem:
“Fear not, O Zion; let not your hands grow weak.
17 The Lord your God is in your midst,
a mighty one who will save;
he will rejoice over you with gladness;
he will quiet you by his love;

On this quiet dark night,

while all the world runs crazy

buying ham and Easter eggs

without knowledge and without purpose,
grab hold of your beloved's feet,
worship him,
let him quiet you with his love.
Rejoice,
sing aloud.
The Holy One,
the King of Kings,
the Lord of Lords is alive,
he is risen,
he will never die again.
And at the last day,
he will raise you up,
in your body.
In your flesh you shall see your God,
your King
whom you yourself will see
and not another.

Alleluia, He is Risen!
The Lord is Risen indeed, Alleluia!

Sermon: Maundy Thursday Year C

I see looking out over the vast throng that many of you were here on Sunday.
I talked about, if you can cast your mind way way back,
how Jesus took up his human nature in such a way
that he perfectly showed God's nature
as a Being who pours himself out,
who does not cling or hold on to himself
but rather pours himself out into creation and into his Son,
Jesus, to redeem the world.

Now, that's a very pie in the sky theological idea,
one that Paul drove home to the Philippians
so that they wouldn't just think about it,
they would live it.
If you're wondering where Paul might have gotten the idea
that Jesus,
who was in his nature and essence God,
became in his essence and nature a bond servant or a slave,
he got it from the gospel we just heard read.
Now, its likely that Paul did not have this text in hand,
nor that he had read it in its form here
when he wrote his letter to the Philippians,
but he certainly would have heard this story,
possibly word for word.

Now,
I want you to put your bookmark both in John 13 and in Luke 22.
I was not sure which text we would have before us tonight
and so I took the liberty of writing two sermons
and I'm going to preach them both now.

Luke and John are describing the same event--
that last supper which was celebrated and eaten
during the Jewish Passover.

Passover is the English word for Pesach
from which we get Paschal.
The passover was celebrated and eaten by the Israelites in Egypt
on the night before they fled Egypt,
going over the Red Sea on dry land into the Sinai Desert.
The meal was eaten standing up and in a hurry
so as to be able to leave Egypt right away.
The meal consisted of lamb--
a lamb without spot or blemish,
a year old.
The lamb was killed and roasted
and the blood of the lamb was smeared
over the posts and lintel
of every door
of every Israelite
so that when the Angel of Death came to take the first born
out of all of the land of Egypt,
the tenth, final and most devastating plague,
the Angel would see the blood and pass over.

I read a really interesting blog every day written by a young Jewish woman living in Israel. To get ready for Pesech, or Passover, she has to deep clean her house on a level I can only dream of, and she has to wash all the clothes and scrub every pocket and corner and inch of her house getting rid of, can anyone guess?
Leaven, or yeast. Right.
The people had to also eat unleavened bread.
Jesus likens leaven to the false teaching of the Pharisees--
a little bit goes through the whole batch
and grows and grows and grows.
It is like sin--a little bit goes a long long way.
The people were covered with the blood of the lamb--
the Angel Passed Over--
and when they went into the promised land
they were supposed to be holy, blameless to the Lord.

So Jesus,
the perfect spotless lamb,
the only person ever to be holy and blameless to the Lord,
the perfect Israelite,
sits down to eat the passover with his friends.
And let's be honest,
all that fancy theological stuff we talked about on Sunday,
they weren't there.
They weren't overwhelmed by the divine nature of Jesus
and the human nature of Jesus
together perfectly in the one person of Jesus.
They weren't awe struck over how much he loved them
and how he had already done so much for them by being born
in the first place.
They were arguing over who was the greatest--
you can see in Luke 22:24.

If you've spent some time in the gospel of John,
you will know that besides doing the shocking thing
of washing the disciples' feet
John 13:4-5,
Jesus took the opportunity to preach a fairly long sermon
over the course of this meal.
The vine and the branches stuff in John 15
happens during the passover meal,
the I and the Father are one bits,
the love me as I have loved you.

I thought it rather helpful this last Sunday,
when all the children's Sunday School was downstairs
remembering this special meal together--
there were about 20 of us--
and it was quite an expanse between the top of the table,
where Jesus,
played by Joe Osgood,
was sitting,
and the bottom of the table where many of the disciples were sitting and talking to each other.
Once or twice Joe yelled out,
'I have something to say!'
and the crowd would sort of quiet,
although there was always some murmuring going on,
'one of you will betray me!'
he shouted down the table and a general uproar ensued--
who? me?
It helped me picture how a 'dispute could rise up amongst them'.
In a dinner that long,
with that many people,
its very much apparent how all the attendants could continue on
in their own little worlds,
thinking about their own little concerns
and their own little problems,
never noticing that so many things were going on.
I'm just going to quickly list just
some of the things that were happening.

One: The Passover Lamb, the true Passover Lamb, Jesus, was sitting there with them.

Two: He is also holy and blameless, the thing that Israel was supposed to be. He is standing in for Israel, doing what Israel never did.

Three: That he was in the form of a servant, he took on the lowest possible most disgusting most humiliating task of the meal, that is the washing of the feet.

Four: That as the Passover Lamb, the true sacrifice for sin, he has made his own body the means by which we come into the Promised Land, that is, eternal peace with God. That is, his blood poured out, for those who accept him, for those who trust in him, covers the post and lintel of your heart. When the angel of death passes by, he sees the blood of Jesus and passes by you, you are safe with God.

Now, can anyone tell me, in the Old Testament,
were the people of Israel allowed to eat anything with blood in it? Right, absolutely not.
When they killed any animal,
for a sacrifice or just to eat,
they were supposed to pour the blood out onto the ground
and eat the animal without any blood in it at all.
No blood sausage, well, no sausage, no blood cakes, none.
So, if the people of Israel really did follow this law,
they would have gone through their whole lives
eating various animals
but not the blood,
because, said God,
the blood is the life of the animal.
So when Jesus holds up the cup and says,
'This is my blood, poured out for you, drink it'
his disciples,
besides being shocked out of their minds,
should have seen that he was going to be their life.
His body, the manna that came down from heaven,
his blood, both the guard against death over their heart,
and the life that would sustain them.

The fact that they are arguing about who is the greatest
magnifies how completely they did not get any of this.
One way you can know that the Bible is true
is that their complete lack of getting it is recorded
and preserved here for us.
If they wanted to make something like this up,
they would have added in that they were
1. paying attention and
2. getting it completely.

So, we're about to do all the things that Jesus just did--
we're about to wash feet, a sign of humility,
because Jesus told us to.
We're about to eat the bread and and drink the wine of communion as he told us to.
And I wouldn't be surprised if many of us might not get it,
or only understand part of it.
And, so you are not left up to the imaginations of your own hearts, I thought I'd list some ways you might miss the moment.

One way you might miss all that is going on here is if you have never been to church before. You may have heard Jesus' name and know that he was an awfully good person and that's it. If that's you this evening then there's only one thing for you to take away--
and that's that Jesus came to earth to take the burden of your sin,
to die in your place,
to offer you himself in exchange for you.
Its not a fair exchange,
but he loves you,
and he will give himself to you
if you give yourself to him.
If you've never done that before
and you don't even know what I'm talking about, please don't leave the building tonight without grabbing hold of me, or Matt or Ife or Carrie, she's up here in the front, and we can tell you more.

The second way you might miss it
is by being here for your whole life.
Familiarity, as the saying goes, can breed contempt.
The disciples' had been there for every word Jesus had spoken,
and here,
at the critical moment,
they have no idea what he is talking about.
If you've been here for years and years
hearing all the words
but never understanding them
or giving yourself to Jesus,
you have missed the point.

The third way is the problem Peter fell into. If you look at John vs. 6-9. First he's incredulous, then he says no, then he wants a bath. What is he doing? He's trying to control Jesus. He's trying to tell Jesus what to do and manage the whole event. It looks pious, but its a sign of both insecurity and pride--two sides of the same coin. Either way he's instead of giving himself to Jesus out of obedience and love he's keeping all the attention and focus and trying to manage the moment.

Fourth, you might miss what's going on by making a list of all the other people you think should hear this. No, take a good hard look at yourself.

In a moment we're going to get out some water,
and towels and you are all welcome to come up and have your feet washed.
You don't have to, please don't freak out.
But I have a word of caution.
When you come up,
let your body action of coming forward,
taking off your shoe,
putting your foot in the water,
let that body action reflect an action of the heart and mind
to let Jesus have access to all those things you're hiding from him. Are you angry?
Are you hurt?
Are you proud?
Are you ashamed?
Are you guilty?
Are you lazy?
Is there something you're not dealing with?
When you come up you need to give that thing to Jesus.
And then,
when you come forward for communion,
and you open your hands,
let that action of your body,
coming forward,
opening your hands,
let that also be an action of your heart and mind to take Jesus,
to cling to him,
to trust in him,
to love him.
So first,
even if you don't actually come forward for your feet to be washed, give yourself to Jesus--everything.
And then, when you come for communion, grasp hold of him.

Its Holy Week

and that means that I barely have a breath to spare.

I love Holy Week. It is arguably my favorite week of the year. As I was racing around on Saturday evening setting up for the Sunday school children to celebrate the Last Supper together, and helping Matt with altar details I realized again how thoroughly I enjoy church and everything related to church. I find it thus remarkable again that we are living in the shadow of the church and that I can run over at any moment of the day to fuss and arrange and do whatever.

This week on Wednesday is Tennebrae (one of my top favorites), Thursday is feet washing, Holy Eucharist and the stripping of the altar, Friday is the liturgy of the hours and the Stations of the Cross in the evening, and of course, Saturday is the Great Vigil of Easter. I grow lyrical about the Great Vigil of Easter but I have a sermon to write and lemon curd to make (for Easter dinner dessert), various shoppings to do, acolytes to sort out, a wok to find for the Vigil fire, and a couple other dozen odd jobs to attend to. I hope you all have a blessed Holy Week walking in the way of Jesus.

Sermon: Philippians 2:5-11

This is basically what I preached this morning. I veered more off my text than ever before, rearranging whole paragraphs as I talked. I don't know if it went well but we all got through it.

Our text this morning will be Philippians 2:5-11. One thing that always strikes me when I read any of the Gospel accounts of Jesus' last hours is how spare they are. Unlike so much of my own writing, or the way we communicate in general, there is not one word extra. It is written as matter-of-factly, as undramatically as possible. The lines are so spare so bare, so restrained, like if you started to add more a dam would break and you would never be able to contain it all on one piece of paper.

Because this is the case, it is possible that we might quickly pass over this account of Jesus' death. We're so used to big signals, like sad or majestic or sinister music and fancy camera angles that we might miss that something so bare, so spare could be important.

That is why I would like you, if you, can, to turn to Philippians 2. Paul is going to help us understand what Jesus was doing, who he was and how, when you give yourself to him and and trust in him, you will become like him, you will walk in the way he walked and do the kind of things he did and ultimately, have a 'mind' like him--that is think, talk and act like him.

Paul writes, 'have this mind among yourselves'.
If you are holding an NIV it will say
'your attitude should be the same as that of Jesus Christ'.
Attitude is a fine enough word, but basically,
probably out of worry that you won't get it,
they've plastered over the incredibly lovely structure of this text.
The ESV says 'have this mind among yourselves'--
the "this" referring back up to the instructions Paul has just laid out--
thinking of others as better than yourself
you can look up and see that we,
all of us who belong to Jesus,
ought to have a mind in common,
ought to be of one accord,
ought to have the same love for each other
and to think each other better than ourselves--
'Have this mind' is the bridge between the two sections
and more fully links our common mind together--
but then here is the kicker...
these are not only things and attitudes that we must make an effort to do...
these are things we can do and can have
because we have already been given the mind of Christ.
The full verse reads:
Have this mind among yourselves,
WHICH IS YOURS IN CHRIST JESUS
This mind is already yours,
now by grace live up to it...
then he goes on to describe who Christ is and what he did
AND since you and I have this mind,
who we really are and what it looks like when we live accordingly
So really the first verse provides a measure--
we, who are believers,
can lay ourselves down beside this and ask--
do I look like Jesus?

Verse 6. 'Who', that's Jesus, 'though he was in the form of God'.
Form is a difficult English word.
It sounds like he was the form of God but he wasn't really God.
The Greek word would better render
'who was in his essential nature God'
'did not count equality with God something to be grasped'
or held on to tightly.
Jesus, in his essential being and nature God,
did not grasp or cling to this nature.

verse 7, but made himself nothing.
The but doesn't mean that he did something that was outside of his nature.
Rather, making himself nothing
perfectly shows the nature of God as completely and totally self giving.
That who God is is a being who pours himself out
and makes himself nothing out of love.

Taking on the form of a servant.
Again, form here means the being and essence of a servant,
really a bond servant which is not many steps away from a slave.
The Greek word is doulous--
he bound himself to the created world, to us,
as a doulous, a slave, a bond servant.
Being born in the likeness of men.
In other words, we are born, created in the likeness and image of God,
Jesus is like us,
he is in the image and likeness of us,
we can recognize him as one of us,
he is one of us.

Paul has, again,
so elegantly and beautifully,
with the repetition of the word 'form'
revealed the two full natures of Jesus--
he is Both God and Man
and yet his manhood was taken up in such a way that it reveals perfectly the agape,
the self-giving love,
that God has for sinners.

He humbled himself by becoming obedient to God the Father to the point of death, even death on a cross.

We have a beautiful cross hanging here behind me.
Just about every room in the church has a cross hanging in it.
The Philippian church,
hearing this letter read for the first time
would have had no such symbols around them.
The very idea of taking a cross and making it the symbol under which to all rally,
well, no one would have had such an idea.
It wasn't just the most perfectly constructed instrument of torture ever conceived of,
it wasn't just the most brutal horrific painful way to die,
it was humiliating.
I don't know about you
but I spend most of my time trying not to be humiliated.
That's one reason I hate conflict so much,
I might come out looking bad or feeling bad or feeling diminished in some way.
And because the line between humiliation and humility is not very very thick,
I, and perhaps many of you might sort of not consider humility,
or thinking of others as better than me
because it is so desperately uncomfortable.

But Jesus, who in his being essence and nature was God,
and because God in his being is someone who does not grasp,
does not hold on to himself but rather pours out himself completely,
Jesus humbled himself to the humiliation and horror of death on a cross.

Why? Paul doesn't answer the question right here but the NT is full of answers.
One you all should know by heart,
John 3:16,
for God so loved, he loved so much that he sent his only begotten son Jesus, that who so ever believeth in him should not perish but have everlasting life.
God is love.
I've really, in Philippians,
been trying to wrap my limited mind around the immensity of the fact that God,
at the cross,
didn't do something different from who he was.
That Jesus, bleeding, dying, suffering in silence
was showing us perfectly the perfect nature and character of God.
But there's a principle in the Bible that stuff is in their for a reason.
Paul is showing us the true nature of Jesus and of God for a reason.
It should not be hard to guess.
We are not characterized by love.
We are characterized by rebellion and destruction,
and sometimes,
even though we have been given the mind of Christ,
we do not live that way.
In fact, we take who we are,
our lust for equality with God,
our pursuit of rights,
our dislike of pain and suffering of any kind,
and spiritualize or rationalize it.
All week long as I studied this text I kept running up against a verse in Psalm 50,
that always feels like a smack in the mouth to me, when I read it.
You don't have to turn to Psalm 50, the Psalmist writes in verse 21.
These things you have done, and I have been silent;
you thought that I was one like yourself.
It is the very most ancient kind of sin,
that we make ourselves the standard by which we judge God and each other.
We might look at the cross and say, yeah, I mean of course,
Jesus loves me and so of course he died for me.
And he should give me this this and this because that's who he is.
He is love.
But we understand it to be our kind of love,
our kind of holiness,
as if we are holy.
And because, perhaps,
we aren't pursuing God as he is in himself in the scriptures,
or seeking the mind of Christ,
or laying the dark corners of our minds and hearts bare before him,
we don't hear him much when he does speak to us,
and then into that perceived silence we pour ourselves.

This hymn in praise of Christ puts a lie to that,
line by line.
Jesus,
the Son,
did not think equality with God,
something to be grasped.
We do.
We are constantly trying to make ourselves equal to God.
He took on the position of a slave,
he completely dropped any rights, any claim to glory.
I don't know about you, but most of the time,
I'm trying to gain what's 'rightfully' mine, I'm measuring out--
I'll do this act of service,
but then someone else either better notice and match it.
A slave?
That's so unequal.
That's so unfair.
He humbled himself to death, a death of humiliation.
Humble?
I got mad because someone referred to me
in vaguely condescending terms as a 'lady' this week.
Don't get me wrong,
you're welcome to hold open the door
and defer to me graciously
but don't pat me on the head...
I'm equal with you, bla bla bla.
That's not humility.
That's not the mind that Jesus has.

I don't want us, in this holiest week of the year,
to do that.
I don't want us to walk through these days,
walking in the steps of Jesus,
thinking that Jesus died to vindicate our way of thinking,
our set of priorities,
our way of loving.

This is the mind that we are to have,
the mind of Christ himself.
He did not think that being God was something to be grabbed hold of.
He grabbed hold of you instead.
He did not set about to glorify himself,
he set out to rescue you.

Therefore God has highly exalted him,
exalted him more than anyone has ever been exalted before,
and given him the name that is the very name of God,
the name so holy that it is not even said.
When you see it written, you say The LORD, for it is so holy.
And it is this name by which you must be saved.
There is no other name.
There is no other way.
God has not been silent.
He has put an end to sin and death and human rebellion.
Let the same mind be among you.
Do not hang on to yourself.
Do you think you will be diminished if you let go of yourself?
Not if you give yourself to Jesus.
As Jesus poured out himself for us, we pour out ourselves for each other, for him.
No measuring.
No holding on to your rights,
your equality,
what's fair.
No counting out,
love for love,
job for job,
penny for penny.
Do you think, if God highly exalted Jesus he will not also bring you into his own glory? That somehow your suffering will so diminish you as to destroy you?
No, when you pour yourself out, Jesus fills you up.
When you humble yourself, he will raise you up.
When you suffer, he is glorified.
Take on the mind of Christ.

7 Quick Takes

-One-

The board has agreed on a name for the school we're starting this fall. And it is (don't say it if you already know)....Soli Deo Gloria Classical School. I love it. I'm so excited. It sums up our vision and purpose besides rolling really beautifully off the tongue. This was a fairly arduous process, worse, as I said before, than naming a child. We would have had Academy instead of Classical School but it turns out, in NY, that you can only have Academy for High School grades and we won't be doing that for another few years.

-Two-

The baby's eating schedule is upside down and its driving me crazy. She sleeps nice long chunks of the day and then eats all night. She's getting heavy and round and I'm getting a shorter and shorter fuse as I loose more and more sleep. I really hate to let her cry it out this young but I don't know what else to do. You all were so helpful on the shoe question, any advice?

-Three-

Church of the Good Shepherd has a new website. Its so cool. Like our now gorgeous music, our professional and slick website brings us more and more into the realm of real grown up church.

-Four-

Our psychotic and wayward cat who for so long sinned against us by using the entire house as his loo, moved from there to chewing large chunks of his own hair off. We took him to the vet a while ago and were told he ought to have monthly cortisone shots. Appalled at that idea I began a campaign of prayer over him, imploring God for a cheaper miracle, essentially. God has answered my prayer. I have no idea why, but his hair is growing back and he sleeps on my back instead of up in the ceiling of the basement. I have no idea why I might be loosing so much sleep.

-Five-

I had the pleasure of listening to Beethoven's Wig for the first time yesterday. What an excellent piece of music, the lyrics! everything. I commend it to you all.
For orchestra this term I've had my fours and fives stand up and shout 'Hallelujah' when I say Handel. And when I say Bach, they stand up and shout 'So Many Children!' and when I say Mozart they stand up and shout 'Too Many Notes!'

-Six-

We're in the throws of organizing Iron Shepherd 2010. You doubtless remember that at the last Iron Shepherd I creamed Matt by a grand one point. This time we're considering competing together as a team against someone else. The important question is, at whom shall we fling the gauntlet? And what weekend would be best?

-Seven-

Everybody is screaming so apparently these quick takes are over. Have a great weekend!

go check out Jen!

An Ancient Gem

Matt was sorting through boxes of old paper and photos yesterday and ran across a little something I can't pass up. Its from 1953, Cowles Magazines or LOOK and its called What is an Episcopalian? It appears to be written by Norman Pittenger, of whom I have never heard, who was Professor of Christian Apologetics at General Theological Seminary. I don't have a lot to time this morning, so I thought I'd offer first just this little horrifying bit about the Trinity.

The Trinity is the Christian teaching about God. In light of man's experience of God's working in the world, Christians have been driven to assert that God is as he reveals himself. He is Creative Reality (God the Father); he is Expressive Act (God the Son); he is Responsive Power (God the Holy Spirit). Yet he is one God. This is "theology." What matters most, in the Book of Common Prayer, about the Trinity is that we worship God and experience him in a "trinitarian" fashion.

In seminary we used to have great fun, sitting long hours after meals in the refectory making fun of this kind of idiocy. 'I believe in "God the Father"' someone would say making the big scare quotes in the air, 'and in "God the Son" bla bla bla'. Why are the scare quotes? Because you can hear in people's voices the level of their unbelief, the dripping sarcasm that envelopes a word like 'resurrection'.

More on this later, and don't worry, I have more on shoes in the works.

The shoe saga continues

I have my tiny special shoe shelf in place. I intend to take a picture once I locate my camera. Just about everybody needs their picture taken in the next few days because they've all gone puffy and round and I can tell they're about to grow.

I've instructed Elphine and Alouiscious about the shelf--ordinary always worn shoes on the shelf, boots in the back room, everything else in your rooms. For the last 24 hours its worked beautifully. I'm astonished at how satisfying this shelf is. On the whole, despite the objections of my husband, I really like the hall/entrance way, and the fact that you can see the copper pots hanging over the sink directly as you walk in the door.

I know I'm supposed to be writing a sermon and thinking about Jesus, but I'm completely distracted by the fatness of this baby, the pleasantness of the shelf, and the skyping of my husband.

Shoes: an update

Matt now tells me that he 'can't believe I wrote a whole post about shoes', 'how utterly foolish' he says. To which I retort, if for one moment I stopped struggling with the shoe situation he would notice there was a grave problem and would no longer utter the words 'utterly foolish'.

So delighted am I with the suggestions of a shoe shelf that I am going to spend a portion of today appropriating a misused shelf for that purpose. We already have children's coats hung very low in the hallway and a shelf will fit nicely and neatly next to them. Now, if I could just get Matt to wildly start moving beds around....

I so enjoy these little reorganization projects.

Shoes

Instead of weeping and moaning about the health care vote last night (but believe me, I am weeping and moaning) I thought I would ask for some advice.

We've managed to get our laundry under control (I can't find the link--we moved all the kids dressers into the laundry room thereby simplifying everything) and our chore system means that the house is basically always reasonably picked up. However, I have no good, rational and decent way to deal with shoes.

I've tried keeping them lined up neatly in rows in various parts of the house, I've tried keeping them all in a huge basket, and now I'm making the kids constantly carry them up to their rooms every time I see a pair lying around. There always seems to be one critical shoe missing, and often I can't find my own shoes because Gladys has worn them to some remote part of the house.

So, surely some of you have something to suggest.
My only stipulation is that I can't spend any money. I can't go out and buy a fancy shoe rack or shoe bin or shoe storage unit or new room of my house for shoes (like the unbelievably blessed woman who has a whole barn for all her children's shoes). Whatever solution, it is will have to be completely free, although I'm willing to put in work to make it happen.

Please, I beg you, someone offer me some hope.

forgot to mention...

We're off to another interest meeting in an hour for the school if you are in town and have a burning desire to know more

Arrowhead Parable Bookstore
1 Harry L. Drive
10:30am

Obviously it would have been a lot nicer of me to give a few days warning. The next one is
Tuesday March 23, 6:30pm, same location.

I've been setting here for an hour trying to decide whether to blog or whether to link the long list of blogs I've been meaning to link for some time but keep forgetting, but have come to the ultimate conclusion that I don't have time to do either. See you later!

an undercurrent of hostility UPDATE

The beautiful unintended consequence of laying bare my insecurity for all to see was all the excellent and brilliant comments left on the post under this one. Thank you all so much.

I'm moving my mother's comment up here, for you all to see because she really explained it better than I did, and is inspiring me to write the painful autobiographical examples of hostility from my youth. Here's what she said.

It's obviously time I straightened out the writer of this blog. The first time I ever heard anyone talk about an "undercurrent of hostility" was when this blog writer's very own father (not yet married to ME but about to be) showed up in Portland Oregon the week before the wedding and met my large (8 kids 2 parents) family and felt that while we were all very polite there was a certain measure of quiet insanity in the household and an undercurrent of hostility. Which of course became our new family joke. Always an undercurrent of hostility and it HAS to be an undercurrent when you are for the moment living in an Tzeltal village in Mexico for instance, and being constantly watched, or are having to share a kitchen in France with someone you barely know and can barely stand, or when you have to learn strange tongues in small villages in West Africa where the gossip mill runs deep and clear. It's been a family joke for all these many years.

But today, the hostility isn't in evidence at all. It is luxuriously warm and hazy (60 degrees), and we're going to sit down for some school in a few minutes, and I've hung my copper pots over the sink in an excessively pleasing way, and there are no board meetings or vestry meetings or anything, and I can't think of anything to complain about so I won't go on writing. See you tomorrow.

103 Reasons Why I hate Daylight Savings or Why this blog is called 'an undercurrent of hostility'

I was reminded again this weekend that I've never given an explanation for the title of this blog. When one sets out to name a blog, unlike the process of naming a child, or a school, one casts about in one's mind, thinks of several cutesy things, finally says, 'whatever, I'm naming it this', logs onto blogger, finds the name surprisingly not claimed and signs up. Then one posts pretty little posts of how to make bread and all the cute things one's children are saying.

Astute readers will see where said blogger went wrong.
She didn't think about an audience. She has too many subjects she's covering. Like...
children,
Anglican Mess,
food,
education,
general sarcastic irritation with life,
sermons,
spiritual things...So she will never be linked by bloggers with a good focus (all three of you who have linked me are to be commended for your brilliance in seeing past the veneer of incompetence to the brilliance of the writing found on this blog). She will never be linked by sarcastic mean bloggers because she's too spiritual. She will never be linked by lovely Christian bloggers because the title of her blog has the word 'hostile' in it. She will never be linked by intellectual bloggers because she talks too much about her children. She will never be linked by mommy bloggers because she hates to be called 'mommy' except and only by her actual children.

Such a blogger spends time quietly comforting herself that it doesn't matter if anyone links her; she writes because she likes to and because its a better hobby than trying to sew because she doesn't know how to sew. And she quietly criticizes other bloggers for not blogging often enough. But basically she knows that had she thought more about the name of a blog, she would have had no residual anxiety about her blog.

So why does a blogger even consider the name 'an undercurrent of hostility'? Well, to begin with, if its part of the vocabulary life of one's early life. As in 'did you feel the undercurrent of hostility in that room?' or 'boy, there's a strong undercurrent of hostility, I hope it doesn't come to the surface and cause us all to be embarrassed.' Those kinds of things.

When I started this blog I was seriously hostile towards an array subjects. But when I say 'seriously hostile' I really mean 'vaguely annoyed' or sometimes 'seriously annoyed' or maybe once in a good long while 'frankly ticked off'. The Anglican Mess, for example, enjoined itself too all three levels. The disobedience of my children makes it every day to Level Two. On the other hand, the cultural shift of people in the church deciding not to have babies 'frankly ticks me off'. And obviously, Daylight Savings Time makes it to Level Three every time.

How could it not be so. I was finally waking up early in the morning in time to pray, read the Bible AND work out. The baby was on a regular eating and sleeping schedule. We had settled into a restful post Christmas pre Easter rhythm, only to have it shattered by the insanity of the idea that we can 'save daylight'.

So of course I've been considering changing the name of this blog. But not very seriously. I think, ultimately, I'd rather just keep writing here whether anyone reads it or not, or links me or not, because writing is a great pleasure and that's why I do it.

Repost: A grief

I posted this clip a long while ago but I think its due again, not only because it is lent but, just because. You probably all know what I'm talking about.

A Classical School for the Southern Tier

I'm so behind on blog reading and people are saying so many interesting things out there that I can barely be spared to write anything here.

HOWEVER, I need to come out of my not totally unusual silence and invite all of you in the Binghamton area who are trying to figure out how to educate your children to come to the first of many Informational Meetings for a school (March 13, 10:30am).

All my joking over the years about starting a school, like all good joking, had a big fat kernel of truth to it. I'm so excited about this new venture. You can read what the paper said here.

So, blogging has been light, and may continue so until we catch our breath. As part of the excitement, we've been meeting two days a week with some other interested home schoolers to just show ourselves that it will be possible to get up, get dressed and get out the door every morning, lunch and books in hand.

If you don't live in Binghamton and aren't old enough to enroll (because surely otherwise you would want to) I hope you'll pray. I've never been big on the whole 'seasons of life thing'. Its too much of a cliche, like 'bloom where you are planted'. I mean, of course, of course one should bloom where one is planted. Where else is one going to bloom? But this definitely sends us into a new 'season' where old routines have to fade away or take on a new character, and new things replace them. And if I'm not blogging much, its because I'm trying to do lots of other things. And on that note, if I don't move along, we will be late or forget something.