Tag Archives: Joy

Christ Has Risen: Happy Easter

I don’t know about you, but for me Easter Sunday always brings with it a great and overwhelming sense of joy. Lent and the 40 days of wilderness and darkness are over. Jesus the Christ has conquered death and offered the promise of new and eternal life! Is there any better promise, anything more hopeful?

We attended two very different, but equally meaningful Easter services today.

This morning as we walked to the outdoor sunrise service given by Lutheran Church of the Cross, I thought about my colleagues who look down upon Christianity because it isn’t rational or based in science. Several times I have been made, by my academic peers, to feel as if my beliefs stem from some sort of ignorance or naïveté, or that my willingness to believe in the Christian miracles somehow negates any intelligence I might have, minimizing the worth of my intellectual pursuits, as if my religion or my spirituality disenables me to participate in rational, academic thought. But, I don’t want my faith to be anything but faith. I don’t want the mystery to be sucked out of the Easter miracles by rationality or intellectualism. I want my Jesus to stay firmly in the realm of things I can’t prove, but that I know to be true. I don’t think my willingness to believe in miracles negates my ability to think. Nor does my ability to think negate the childlike whimsy with which I place my faith in Jesus who died, who resurrected, and who will come again. I consciously choose to place my faith in something I cannot prove. I have not been brainwashed, led astray by a band of scallywags, nor forced into believing some mumbo jumbo against my will. My faith stands with the resurrected Christ, and I eagerly anticipate his return.

As we walked to the Nature Area at Minnetrista, I also thought about how beautiful this creation is and is becoming. I looked around at my surroundings and spent time thanking God for the grass, the trees, the birds, the flowers, the insects, and all of those things which were surrounding me. We were laughing, holding hands, and anticipating the service at which we’d celebrate Jesus, his body broken and repaired, when we realized that the gate between the field we were in and the Nature Area where we needed to be was closed. Could we walk around? Maybe. But there was enough space for us to go under the gate, so on our way to Easter sunrise service we rolled under the big, black iron (steel?) gate. We thought the sight must have been hilarious, and we sort of wished we could have filmed it. The experience definitely put us in the right, good, and joyful mood that Easter calls for.

What We Saw When We Sat Down:
Communion and Fire Pit

My own Easter blessing.
I love it when the sun rises while the moon is still up.

The Message

The message at the sunrise service focused on Mark 16 and the role of the women. Later I mentioned to Becky that the three times we’ve been to Easter services where women were officiants, they’ve preached from this passage. There is something so empowering about this bit of Mark’s gospel: the women were the first to know the good news. And there is something status quo about the same passage: they didn’t say anything because they were terrified. Whenever I have read or considered this section of scripture, I have always entertained all the possible reasons the women might be terrified. Were they worried that no one would believe them? Did they think people would think they had done something with the body? Were they afraid because the news they carried would turn an entire religious and cultural system on its head? Were they like so many other throughout history who have been afraid to speak? Were they afraid they’d be accused of blasphemy? Were they afraid at the greatness and glory of the news they’d just heard? Why were they so afraid they didn’t tell anyone? Of course, my really cynical side wonders if they did tell everyone, but then their story was stolen by men who wanted the glory of proclaiming the good news. I would suppose it’s a combination of all of these things, but it’s a beautiful thing that at least Mark’s gospel gives women the first knowledge of this new paradigm, even though they were too terrified to share it. This passage is one of several reasons that Mark and Luke are my favorite gospels, giving the role that women played in Jesus’ ministry fair exposure. I enjoyed being invited to think through these ideas again this morning.

Sculpture at Minnetrista On the Way Home From Sunrise

The Courtyard at Minnetrista on the Way Home From Sunrise

When the sunrise service was over, we went home and had a delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs with spinach and bleu cheese and bacon. At 10:30, we attended the church we’ve been attending for about a year and a half or so, Commonway Church. The service was in the usual style, but there were several baptisms and we had communion for the first time that I can think of since last Easter. Matt’s sermon focused on the history of resurrection theology as found in the Jewish scriptures, and he encouraged us to remember that we have a resurrection coming. He reminded us that Jesus shocked the disciples by proclaiming to be the embodiment of the resurrection, essentially the embodiment of their future. Jesus was saying, “Your hope of the coming age is in me,” reminding us that Jesus Kingdom is the already, but not yet Kingdom of God. As a bonus, we sang one of my favorite songs: “Lay ‘Em Down” by Need to Breathe.

It is won. It is done.

Our Easter Gift from Commonway's Band, A Lobby Concert

Each of these sermons spoke to me on a different level. Obviously, the first sermon spoke to me as a woman, reminding me of the critical role of women in the Kingdom of God. The second reminded me of the strong Jewish theology that Paul used to explain the work that Jesus was and is doing here on this earth.

Lent Day 20: School’s Back in Session

I know what it feels like to be a balloon and to have the helium sucked out of you, because that’s what going back to work did to me today, only with joy instead of helium. As of Sunday, I felt nearly completely joyful. I felt as if I could conquer the world. I could literally feel myself beginning to be positive about many things. And then I went back to school today, and everything was the same as it always is, and there was too much to bear.

My day began with the computer cart I had reserved not being plugged in for break, so all the computers were dead. I resorted to my backup plan, because I always have one of those when I am supposed to use technology in a lesson. Everything turned out fine, but I was, for some reason, still annoyed.

My day continued with one of my students pretty much straight-up lying to another teacher about whether or not I make them do citations for my class. Luckily it was my lunch, so she had me come over to her room to put the citation information up on the board for the students. He tried to weasel his way out of it by playing it off in his clowning sort of way. It didn’t work.

My day continued to continue with one of the counselors telling me that some of the students think I am mean this year, not at all how I was last year. My response was to ask her if the students realized that their behavior was part of the reason their teachers can be grumpy. Basically, I played it off on them, like a jack ass.

Finally, I finished my day on a positive note playing racquetball with Celeste, which is always a great time. When we play, it doesn’t matter so much who wins or loses, but we talk, we do the dozens, and we let our frustration. And somehow, though she likely doesn’t know it, I always learn from Celeste. I always leave a little more calm, with a bit better perspective.

While I was making fish stir fry for dinner, I stopped…

and thought about how I have been with my students this year, and how I have let my anger creep into everything I do.I have been shorter with them, and I could make excuses, but there really is no excuse. I thought about how I have short-changed not only my students, but also my friends, my colleagues, and my family because of my bitterness with God, and my general anger, though I still cannot pinpoint the source of the anger that overtook me.

I thought about how my first response was to blame my students, my 12 to 16 year old (well, a couple of repeat offenders who are 17) students for my shitty behavior. They are children, young adults, and my behavior, as a grown woman, should not be dictated by their level of participation, their willingness to think that English is the best subject ever. (It is, though.) My behavior should come out of, or, to use a really bad creative writing phrase, it should flow from my own moral and ethical belief system, which is not to take my anger out on those around me.

I’m not above being all “Hallelujah, Jesus Freakish” when I say that since I’ve reevaluated my Christianity (and added in some Buddhist thought, too) I am ashamed of some of the ways I’ve behaved while I was out there in the wilderness (yet again, damn I wish I’d learn one time). The biggest shame I face is the fact that I have treated people in a way that nowhere near resembles Christ’s love, but it, instead, resembles the “GOTCHA” mentality that is so prevalent in our culture, where people just sit in wait for others to screw something up, so they can call each other out on it. There has been no cheek turning for me, unless it has been me turning my cheek and hiding my mouth behind my hand, so people can’t hear what I am saying about them. Seriously, it’s been bad. I needed that reality check today.

So, today, I am asking you all for a little bit of accountability. I want to be filled with God’s grace, sharing it with all those around me, especially my students. And I want to follow that old saying from Eleanor Roosevelt: “Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people.” I want the words of my mouth, and the actions of my body to glorify God. I no longer want to conform to the patterns of this world, but I want to be transformed by the renewing of my mind. I want to be the teacher my students remember for being loving and gracious, and if I’m lucky, they’ll remember some of the language arts I teach them, too.

Peace.

 

Lent Day 6: Joy and Confession

I am sure you are thinking, What a strange juxtaposition for a title! Joy and confession? How do those two go together? I am not entirely sure theydogo together completely, but I can tell you that I am beginning to experience pure joy again. I find myself laughing with reckless abandon more, and I find myself getting incredibly grumpy and sad less. And it hasn’t simply been the past six days while praying three times a day, following the liturgical hours; this joy has been slowly growing—like the bright green moss on the hillside by the river—since the new year started. I posted the other day, maybe yesterday, how I feel like I am finally taking control over my moods, rather than them controlling me, but just today, I felt complete joy. I actually threw my head back and laughed my big belly laugh. And I wasn’t embarrassed by it. Which, in turn, gave me more joy. I am no longer the shadow person I have been.

Part of my joy comes from observing Lent and knowing that in a few short weeks, we’ll be celebrating the resurrection of Jesus. But another good portion of my joy comes from suggestions picked up from Pema Chodron’s The Wisdom of No Escape and the Path of Lovingkindness. InWisdom, Chodron advocates making friends with those parts of us that cause us anger, aggression, or aversion, because those attributes that irritate us about others are the same that irritate us about ourselves. Through the act of making friends with those attributes, and no longer trying to rid ourselves of those attributes, we learn to give kindness to others. Our desire to rid ourselves of those qualities results in an aggression toward those qualities when we see them in others. We become unkind to both others and ourselves. Because Chodron teaches how to be kind, I feel like I can begin to honestly look at myself and decipher what it is that I don’t like about myself, recognize that those features are simply part of who I am, make peace with that, and eventually stop trying to remove those attributes from myself and from others, thereby gaining a kindness and a sense of peace in regards to myself and others.

(Side note: My next spiritual read is Thich Nhat Hahn’s Living Buddha, Living Christ.)

How can Inotexperience joy when I have made friends with my whole self, with all of my attributes?

This is where confession comes in. First, I must closely self-examine to figure out what those attributes are that I don’t like about myself. Once I decipher that, I must confess those qualities to myself, to others, to God even. Through this confession, I name my weaknesses or those things which cause me pain. I claim them out loud. I call them what they are. Then I make friends with them, not “comfortable, hey let’s go have some pizza and beers friends,” but I acknowledge that those qualities are a part of who I am, and I sit with them. Get to know them. Make friends, like “sitting on opposite ends of the couch, but I am not trying to kick you out” friends. My weaknesses and I learn to coexist after I confess them. And through our coexistence they eventually cease to be a cause for anger or malice or injury. They just are.

I confess that there are a whole bucket of attributes of my personality of my life that irritate me, that I need to make friends with. And I hope that once I make friends with those facets, they will just sit at the other end of that couch and be quiet. That’s my biggest flaw: I don’t know when to be quiet. Maybe I need to take a silent retreat. Every day. One of the things I appreciate about this Buddhist idea of embracing our own flaws is that I don’t end up with a bucket of shame at what I’ve confessed about myself. I end up, instead, with a changed heart. Too many times, Christians miss this bit and would rather shame someone than encourage their wholeness. That, in and of itself, is a shame.

This whole discussion brings me around to what prompted these thoughts. Part of the evening prayer, which I have been praying for six days without recognizing this part, says, “You are worthy at all times to be praised by happy voices, O Son of God, O Giver of Life, your glory fills the whole world.” I think this part jumped out at me tonight, because for the first time in a long time, my heart feels light and joyful. I’m going to cling to that joy.

Peace.

Lent Day 3: Date Night

Today I kept up with the common prayers, and I find that it settles my otherwise erratic personality. Maybe between the niacin, vitamin C, paleo diet, and following the daily liturgy, I can make a way to keep myself on track emotionally. If you read this blog at all, you know that’s something I struggle with, and it’s finally something I feel like I am getting a strong hold on, or control over, rather than it controlling me. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to get past writing about it.

I also had the opportunity today to go on a date with my significant other. We went to Indianapolis to pick up a friend of ours, so we decided to make a special time of it. First we went to Rock Bottom Brewery and had a couple of beers, then we walked through Circle Center Mall for a bit, really just using it to walk to and from our car without being lambasted by the ridiculous Indiana spring-winter wind. Finally, we picked Elizabeth up at the train station, and then went to Peppy Grill in Fountain Square.

The workers at Peppy are amazing. Talk about your sassy, ornery, short order cooking and serving staff. I never leave disappointed, even when I realize that my corned beef hash comes directly from a Hormel can (not so paleo/primal) and gets heated up on the grill. I think I may leave that dish for Brunchies and just return to my ham and eggs at Peppy. But it was still good, of course, and greasy spoon!

Beautiful Sky on Binford in Indy

Looking South on Meridian and Vermont: Monument Circle

South Side of the Circle: Turning onto Meridian

After A Rock Bottom White Ale: A Little Out of Focus

1004 Virginia Avenue: Peppy Grill

Good Thing We Had Three People

Corned Beef Hash for My Love and Me

Today was a nothing’s profound, but everything’s lovely, kind of day. Peace.

Ash Wednesday 2012

For Lent this year, I am going to try to post something here each day. Maybe I will post a blessing that I have experienced for the day, maybe it will be a bit of Scripture I read that day, or maybe it will simply be an anecdote or story. No matter what, though, my goal is to post for 46 days straight, from now until Easter.

Today, I just want to acknowledge that it’s Ash Wednesday, and I missed going to a service. Last year, I was in Florida and went to Sebring’s nice Methodist Church. This year, I was going to go this morning to St. Mary’s, but I wasn’t sure if a sort of Protestant, kind of Buddhist woman could attend a Catholic Ash Wednesday service. I guess it’s only the Eucharist that they’re insular about, and other ceremonies are not so important as that. It’s okay, Catholic folks, I believe in transubstantiation too.

As I was walking from my free parking space by St. Mary’s into school this morning, I started thinking about Lent, because if there is one traditional thing I hold onto about Christianity, it’s the Church calendar. I love the way the seasons ebb and flow, and I love that it marks up the year into manageable pieces. The Christian calendar is like the seasonal calendar, reminding me about who I am and who God is. For example, Lent for me is a time of penance and so is winter. Advent is a time of anticipation and rebirth, so is spring. You see, the same, but different.

But I digress, as I was walking into school this morning, I thought about whether or not I’d do anything for Lent this year. By “do anything,” I mean give up something, or the new version of that, which is to add something, and I decided that I’d try to write here every day, and I’d start celebrating the liturgy through Common Prayer. My friend Sarah had heard Shane Claiborne speak and purchased the book, and I’d heard about it, but hadn’t purchased it, so I thought I’d give it a try. I ordered it, but it wasn’t supposed to be delivered until the 23-28 of February. So, as I walked this morning, I thought to myself, well, when that book gets here, I’ll get started with my spiritual practice for Lent. I figured it would be here when I got back from Chicago next weekend, so I’d be a bit behind. Sure enough, Common Prayer was delivered in today’s mail.

Tonight I’m reading the introduction. Peace.