Further Up and Further In

On Sunday morning I missed church again, in spite of my best intentions. That afternoon and evening I had to work. My work schedule is all in the evenings, so I knew that my favorite liturgy of the year, the Easter Vigil, was out. As I researched service schedules of both Catholic and Episcopal churches in town, it looked as if I would miss out on Good Friday and Maundy Thursday as well. 

This made me think wistfully of my old parish, which I still tend to think of as "my parish," in D.C. The last two year's I've sat in the front pews for the Easter Vigil, once as a candidate for confirmation, and once as a sponsor. Twice I've been to the front, stood before the bishop's seat, held a candle and walked (terrified that I'd drop it) up and down the aisle as the choir chanted a litany of the saints. That first year I saw a dear adult friend be baptized, and I knelt beside her at the altar rail as the priest put communion in her hand for the first time and said "The Body of Christ." I felt that the world could not contain our joy. 

As I compared the years, I felt empty and cold. I forgot to hope.

By God's grace, within twenty-four hours I found that there was a Maundy Thursday and Good Friday service for me to attend, as well as Easter Sunday. I also found a parish providing a Adoration. Yes, this year I will miss the Vigil. But think what riches I have!

Around the world, Christians are grateful if they even have the chance of meeting together in church once a year. They may go without priests for months. They may not have a full Bible among them. They would give anything to worship in safety. And even they are full of joy: they know how this story ends. 

I found an article about Lent that quotes a child about Lent and Easter. She says, "Mom, I wasn't sure that I LIKED Lent. But, when we're all here together, it's like we're on a mission all together. But, we know how it ends up... It's kind of exciting!" 

Yes! It's the excitement of a mission with all its dangers, except we laugh them to scorn. What can we fear, when God has already been dead and in hell and confounded them both.

"The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning."

7 Quick Takes: Favorite Reads on Narnia, Confession, Star Trek, and More

1

In light of a recent tragic event, the Episcopal church has been having a long-needed talk about alcohol addiction. Before converting, I knew the jokes about "whiskey-palians," such as "where there's a fourth there's a fifth." After converting, I was astounded by the amount of alcohol consumed at Episcopalian events. Granted, some of this was baggage from my evangelical days: I knew people who wouldn't even buy alcohol to cook with because it would "be a bad witness" (that's evangelical talk for "give scandal.") However, I do think that the culture in Episcopal churches makes it unnecessarily difficult for alcoholics in recovery. This article has excellent suggestions for how pastors and other leaders should handle this problem.

2

While thinking and reading about confession, I came across two excellent pieces. The first, from the National Catholic Register, has a great Q and A with a priest about common problems and barriers to confession. 

3

And the second references a booklet written by Pope Francis as a guide to confession! I really love the questions for examining one's conscience, especially "Do I want to be served?" 

4

Also from the Register, I was pleased to see someone explain the proper order to read the Narnia series. Since I own the maligned publication pictured on the post, I read them all out of order. As reparation for this act, I offer you the definitive guide to reading The Chronicles of Narnia. Hint: don't do it in the order that they're numbered.

Hint: don't read this one first

5

While it's doubtful that the Michael Brown shooting was just a racist act, the Ferguson justice department report makes it clear that racism is a widespread problem in their police force. This Rachel Held Evans post nailed it when she asks "Tell me how it's not about race again?" 

6

Speaking of Rachel Held Evans, I was pleased to see that she made the jump to the Episcopal church! Welcome, sister. I know firsthand how hard that decision is, especially when your friends and family think you're siding with the whore of Babylon or something. This is a great Q and A that she did about her conversion. Best quote:

"Millennials have finely-tuned B.S. meters that can detect when someone’s just trying to sell us something. We’re not looking for a hipper Christianity. We’re looking for a truer Christianity. Like every generation before and after, we’re looking for Jesus—the same Jesus who can be found in the places he’s always been: in bread, in wine, in baptism, in the Word, in suffering, in community, and among the least of these. No fog machines required."

7

On a light-hearted note, I'll round it out with a lovely post at Darwin Catholic on aging sci-fi. My husband was a fan of sci-fi before it was cool. While the rest of my generation watched All That and Rugrats, he was watching Zena Warrior Princess and Hercules. When he tried to introduce me to some of his favorites, I was derisive, even though I enjoy contemporary sci-fi like the Battlestar Galactica reboot and Firefly. I think Darwin is spot on about how quickly futuristic fiction looks retro. 

Happy reading!

Seven Quick Takes: Should Protestants Do Lent?

1

The first time I ever heard of someone "giving something up" for Lent was in college. Before that, I didn't know any Catholics, and I also didn't know any Protestants who "did Lent." (If I sound sheltered, I was, at least religiously. Most of the time I was surrounded by Presbyterians and Southern Baptists and Pentecostals, none of whom are known for their Catholic devotions). In fact, the only times I heard of Lent were in Bible studies or classes in which we were meant to feel sorry for those poor, benighted Catholics who thought they could work their way to heaven because they didn't know any better. Until just a few years ago, I honestly thought that Lent was what Catholics did because they thought they could win enough good points towards heaven that way. 

2

That's why it's so surprising to me to see so many Protestants - and not just Episcopalians - doing Lent. It's like an explosion happened in the last ten years, and all of a sudden evangelicals started having Advent calendars and Ash Wednesday services. All of which is pretty cool, but I bet some of the older evangelicals feel a little... lost. Like, how on earth did my solid evangelical church start looking so Catholic? And while even my Presbyterian church back home has an Advent wreath, hell would freeze over before they started recommending Lenten practices. Somehow Lent still has a Catholic edge to it, even if all the cool kids are doing it. 

3

So what's a Protestant to do? Is Lent Biblical? Is it earning salvation? Is there any point to Lent now that we're not under the law?

I'll try to answer these questions with my old evangelical hat on, knowing what I know now. This isn't coming from the current me, the heretical "prays to Mary and the saints and thinks the Eucharist is Jesus so why listen to her" version. This is coming from the mindset of one who is still very solidly evangelical, if I could go back in time and give that Caroline the factual knowledge I have now....

4

For starters, you don't have to "give up" anything for Lent, or even "add something on." Lent is a time for facing tough realities. Realities like: everyone dies. Everyone sins. Everyone needs forgiveness. Everyone needs the Cross. Fasting, giving up sweets, working in soup kitchens - these are all ways of reminding oneself of that reality. In my experience God gives us plenty of non-chosen sacrifices to fill up our Lents. This year, I had two friends die within weeks of each other, and one of them died the day before Ash Wednesday. It's not healthy to fixate on death, but you can't ignore it either.

5

But shouldn't we be doing this all the time? No, not necessarily. "To everything there is a season, and time to every purpose under heaven." We're human. It's not in our nature to do All The Things All The Time. We can't always, every day, be thinking of our mortality for one hour, then meditating on the Incarnation, then remembering about the resurrection, then trying to think what other Big Ideas are most important.... It's not healthy or reasonable. It makes sense to set aside a certain time of the year to contemplate sin and death.

6

But why a specific date chosen by an institutional church? Doesn't Paul warn us against having special days and seasons? Isn't that following the law when we're now under the New Covenant? Well, it depends on how literally you take that. Should we never celebrate birthdays? Never commemorate the dead? Again, we are humans. It's not that you have to do XYZ during Lent or you'll go to hell. After all, God doesn't need us to keep Lent. WE need us to keep Lent. It serves a spiritual purpose that works with the New Covenant of grace, not against it. You don't have to do it exactly as the church does, but before you dismiss it, consider that the church might have good reasons for choosing this time.

7

Why chose some arbitrary 40 days? The number forty is hardly arbitrary; it's packed with spiritual and Biblical significance. Consider the 40 days of Noah in the ark, the 40 years the Israelites wandered in the wilderness, the 40 days that Nineveh fasted and repented, the 40 days of Jesus in the wilderness being tempted.... Consider this a time that you can wander in the wilderness, exploring the tough realities that we like to put aside. And remember: Easter is coming.

Gifts from Protestants: Hymnody

One of my tropes on this blog has been to rag on my evangelical background, and there's a lot of good material there. However, I have neglected to mention the good things. One of the best things that Protestant churches have to offer is their music.

To be clear, I'm not talking about this:

I'm thinking more about this:

Or this:

Or this:

If Catholics are looking for music to add to their repoirtoire, they could do worse than composers such as Charles Wesley, Isaac Watts, and the many anonymous authors of Negro Spirituals. Of course some lyrics may have to be tweaked for doctrinal reasons, but there is a wealth of musical and lyrical talent buried in the typical Protestant hymnal.

On another day I'll tell you why Protestants have such a rich history of music.

What Not to Say to a Pastor/ Priest's Wife

"Honey, I don't mean to be forward, but.... are you pregnant?"

Quickly followed by:

"Oh my, I didn't mean to imply that you have a little pooch.... I think it's just the style of dress."

What I wanted to say in response

To Jesus Through Mary

Mary is always looking out for me. How else can I explain that I had no plans of going to Mass today, but found myself following my husband's advice to attend an evening service, where the feast of the assumption was being celebrated?

The church was so quiet, full of incense. It was everything my soul needed.

Hail Holy Queen, Mother of mercy,
our life, our sweetness and our hope.
To Thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve,
To Thee do we send forth our sighs,
Mourning and weeping in this vale of tears.

Turn, then, most gracious Advocate,
Thine eyes of mercy towards us.
And after this our exile,
Show unto us the blessed fruit of Thy womb, Jesus.
O clement, O loving,
O sweet Virgin Mary.

Pray for us, O holy Mother of God,
That we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.


As I walked up the aisle, I noticed a sign over the crucifix. It said "For God so loved the world."

I managed not to break down crying until I reached the pew again. It struck me in a way it never did as a child. I felt almost resentful, then, because Jesus' sufferings were thrust up in our faces whenever we doubted. How can you do that after all that Jesus did for you? It was the ultimate guilt trip. It meant that Jesus was tortured to satisfy the Father's wrath so that I could go to heaven. It felt so remote and cold to me then.

Now I see it so differently. Now I see a God who saw His creatures in pain, saw their hurt and agony and fears, knew that without the greatest sacrifice He would never be trusted. He suffered for our peace, to hold out his hands with the nails and say look, feel the prints, you can trust me. Rest in me, abide in me, you are safe my child.

Those images of suffering are not a guilt trip anymore. They are assurance of His love, assurance of His tender care for us. My mother knew what I needed to see before I could believe it.

Random Collection of Cool Things

Links, articles, and a video.... Here we go!


Inspiring Blog Posts: 

Jesus Might Have Sung Out-of-Tune at It's OK to Fail. Sarah is quickly becoming one of my favorite bloggers, and it's because of posts like this. (Also because her picture is so delightfully happy and quirky). This post is a big kick in the ass to those of us (Episcopalians especially) who measure the worth of a church service by its level of musical professionalism. Sarah is talking mostly about contemporary worship services, but the same can be said for traditional services as well. Those of us who love music are very susceptible to judging others who can't "perform" to our standards. Remember the letter in which Screwtape explains how to ruin the patient's experience of church?

When he gets to his pew he sees just that selection of his neighbors whom he has hitherto avoided.... You may know one of them to be a great warrior on the Enemy's side. No matter. Your patient, thanks to Our Father below, is a fool. Provided that any of those neighbors sing of tune, or have boots that squeak, or double chins, or odd clothes, the patient will quite easily believe that their religion must therefore be somehow ridiculous. 

(By the way, if you haven't read The Screwtape Letters, what are you waiting for?)


All Because We Said Yes at These Walls. In addition to the gorgeous photos, Julie wrote a beautiful celebration of her marriage and children. Part of the beauty of being married is seeing the fruits of that initial "yes," whether that's children or hospitality or friendships or charity. Love begets more love.


Easter: In Search of Grace at A New Song to Sing. Easter has always been my favorite holiday, even as a child. And yet, I instantly related to Rebekah's pain as she looks at Easters past and wonders where the message of grace was hid.

But I dare say I've never heard a message in which the pastor dove head-first into the muddy waters of grace.... The kind of grace that doesn't simply argue "God's not dead," but looks me straight in the eye and says "Because He's alive, you can be too!" The kind of grace that simultaneously screams and whispers, "you are worthy."... I want to know that Jesus lives for and loves the worst of us. 


Five Things You Can Do Right Now as ISIS Threatens Christians and Shiites at The Anchoress. What I love about this piece is that Elizabeth doesn't just speak to Christians - she speaks to anyone with faith in something larger than ourselves, even if that "something" is the fact that we're all in this together. In the face of unbelievable persecution and violence, what can one individual do? This is the pain in our hearts as we read about the bombings in Gaza and the violent persecution in Iraq and the stream of traumatized children at the US border of Mexico. It can crush you, easily, and there's something to be said for shedding some tears on behalf of the innocent. It means we're human. What Lizzie offers is an action after we dry our tears.

NOTE: please do not read the comment section. Lizzie had to close it because trolls were bombarding her comments with vulgar, hateful, and dishonest bullshit. The actual piece is well worth the read, however.


And now, as a light-hearted palate cleanser, a message from Neil deGrasse Tyson concerning our failure to locate alien life:

Dreaming of church without sermons

What is the purpose of church?

Worship? Fellowship? Prayer?

Let's call it a communal experience of the Divine.

The Church has found that experience in the Eucharist, by eating and drinking the Son of God, by uniting our souls and bodies to every generation of Christians past, present, and future, and uniting us to the death and resurrection of Christ. It is the miracle supreme, the pinnacle of existence until we get to heaven.

Over time, the Eucharist was built up by augmentations: by certain prayers and songs and readings. Lectionaries were developed. We found ways to pray for those whom we forget about in our individual prayers. Brilliant means of worship through song were written, from chant to instrumental music to hymnody to Psalters. An exuberant, overflowing, overwhelming ecstasy of experience that transcends time and space.

OK, so most of the time it doesn't feel that way - the choir is off-key, you were up all night with the baby, you and your spouse fought on the way over and struggle to make it to the Peace. But when you take the bread and wine, no matter how you feel, the reality remains.

Can anyone tell me what the sermon adds to this?

I know that sermons were not a Reformation invention, but during the Reformation they were elevated to preeminence. As a Presbyterian, I was taught that the pulpit is the most important furniture in the church, because of the centrality of proclaiming the Word. And by proclaiming the Word, they didn't mean reading the Gospel; they meant having a 20-30 minute sermon on a text selected by the pastor, not by a lectionary. When you take out the altar and the sacrifice of Mass, a man's words (and it was always a man) become the focus. (Similarly, when you remove the offering of the bread and wine, the offertory is just a money-making opportunity, but that's another story).

Granted, the Anglican and Catholic and Eastern Orthodox and (some) Lutheran churches retained their altars and Eucharists. However, there are still sermons or homilies. The Episcopal Book of Common Prayer doesn't even allow for its removal at the priest's discretion: the rubrics call for a sermon, full stop. That said, most daily Eucharistic services ignore this, or they simply read a brief piece on a saint's day, but Sundays always have sermons.

(Do Catholics have the option of omitting the sermon/ homily?)

Now, most people probably like sermons. They see it as a time to learn something, to be reminded of God's love, to be convicted or enlightened. They may fidget if the time goes over, or the priest has a verbal tic, but even poor homilies are taken in stride, a given, as expected as the Amen after a prayer.

However, for some of us, sermons are minefields. When visiting new parishes or listening to a guest preacher, we tense and clench our fingers, waiting for trigger words. We try to disassociate, or we fixate on the words so intensely, hoping to remove the shock of surprise.

God is not tame. We have a wild God. 

We are at war, and every one of us is a soldier. 

You have no choice. 

Who are you to talk back to God? Who are you to say He is unfair to exercise His holy will? 

When you die, what will you say when God asks "Why should I let you into my heaven?" 

Do you know where you'll go when you die? 

If you were to stop breathing this second, would you know beyond the shadow of a doubt that you wouldn't be in hell? 

Love the sinner, hate the sin. 

Every non-Christian knows the verse "Judge not." Well, won't they get a surprise at the Great White Throne of Judgement! 

You are either with us or against us. 

Those people who abort babies are the same ones who don't believe in spankings. Guess a belt is worse than death. 

When you don't share the Gospel with your neighbor, you sentence them to Hell.

God is a God of love, but He is also holy. He cannot look upon sin, and His wrath must be satisfied. 

God doesn't see any difference in sin. Sin is sin, and the lustful thought you had is the same in God's eyes as the sins of a child molester. 

Etc.

It's not always this bad. In the Episcopal church, it rarely is. But after a lifetime of damaging sermons, it doesn't take much to trigger a panic attack. And guess what you miss then? Yep, the Eucharist, the whole reason you came.

Some of these damaging notions are heretical by most standards, but sometimes even technically correct notions are delivered in damaging ways. Humans aren't perfect, especially when they have to come up with "original" sermon ideas 52 weeks a year plus major feasts.

So, what's the trade-off? Those with religiously-influenced PTSD and traumatic experiences can stay for the Eucharist, but we may have to attend Sunday school or a formation group for Christian ed. In which case, isn't small group education better anyway? What, really, is the purpose of a sermon, since it's about a man talking to the congregation rather than the congregation and priest having conversation with God?