Nicodemus with a Twist

Questions gnaw at Nicodemus’s brain.
Like termites chewing away at the foundation of a house.
Termites chewing silently, slowly, secretly
Leaving the façade intact but digesting the base
The scene replays in Nicodemus’ head.
The sound of coins clattering on the stone floor of the temple.
The crack of the whip
The scent of the leather whip still in his noise.
The disgust on Jesus’ face.
The rabbis and Pharisees whisper with one another and stare.
Their faces contort with contempt
Jesus’ voice booms in Nichodemus’s head
“Stop making my father’s house a market place.”
Nicodemus thinks like a lawyer.
Jesus knew the Jews in Jerusalem needed a place to exchange their coins.
Jesus knew that many people were visiting Jerusalem for the Passover.
Jesus must know the visitors paid temple tax during Passover.
Temple tax was required by Jewish law.
Jewish law mandated the coins be free of graven images.
Graven images like those on Roman coins.
Roman coins declaring Caesar a god.
God’s house could not have idolatrous coins.
Nicodemus and the other Pharisees were following God’s law—
Nicodemus begins to wonder if these laws were God’s.
Nicodemus’s brain will not be silenced.
He has to find Jesus. He needs answers.
Nicodemus strides out the door.
The night wind rustles his garments.
His skin prickles as he turns toward Jesus’ residence.
Nicodemus’s breathing becomes shallow. His palms sweat.
Nicodemus sees Jesus’ door in the distance. His steps slow.
Nicodemus walks to the door. He raises his fist to knock.
His fist hangs in mid-air.
Nicodemus takes a deep breath.
He glances over his shoulders. Has anyone seen him?
The door opens before Nicodemus can knock.
Nicodemus blurts, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come
from God; no one can do these signs apart from the presence of God.”
The words hang in the air.
Jesus stares into Nicodemus’ eyes.
Nicodemus’ mouth feels like it’s packed with cotton.
His hand grabs his cloak to cover his heart.
Nicodemus waits for assurance. He waits for an answer.
The men stare into one another’s eyes.
Nicodemus feels Jesus’ stare examining every nook of his heart and mind.
Finally Jesus answers, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above and born again.
Nicodemus asks, ‘How can anyone be born after having grown old?

Rummage Sale

Sorting and shuffling through the scraps of the semester
I attempt to classify the papers of the past
and decide what to pitch and what to keep.
If only the papers were as painless as past pay check stubs
but my fingers stumble on pieces of the past.
Antje Duvekot sings the soundtrack to that life
She keeps her secrets frozen under glaciers way up north
Ask the mountain and the mountain doesn't care.
Is it possible that the girl in that prose is me?
Reading the vignettes of my life
I almost feel like it's someone else's confessions spilled on the page
It's a long way with clouds upon our backs and it's a long, long way
But a few details reveal that this folder of rummage sale writing is me--
I'd still stand on the front porch while holding a heavy copy box and attempt to ring the doorbell with an unfree hand and neglect to use the help of a porch table
I'd still say that freedom's price is never cheap
But I wouldn't keep the shards of plates and insist on creating something from their shards
Some broken bits are best released to make room for the new.

Musings after Maundy Thursday

Bread of Life

Maundy Thursday I stood behind the table
Proclaiming the words of Jesus
Inviting all to come and eat
Promising all would be filled

We offer a meal where none will leave hungry or wanting

I held the broken loaf--
Its fresh sweet aroma
Tickled my nose and traveled to my core
Oh how I yearned to bury my face in the soft, yellow grain
To stuff myself on the bread of life
To gnaw at the loaf
To devour every morsel.

As the congregation filed forward
I tore pieces from the loaf
Messy,jagged pieces
Large pieces
Uneven pieces
Holy pieces.

Not the small perfect squares
The white, stale cubes that were
served in the pew communion
of my childhood congregation
The crust always neatly removed
The cubes always perfectly even
Perfectly pristine Body of Christ.

What about those of us who are more crust than pristine cubes?
What about those of us who need more than a morselbut yearn for a mouthful?
Is the bread of life only the Body of Christ in perfect squares?
Is it any wonder I want to binge on an abundant grace that I thought only came in measure amounts?

Things I Learned or (Re)Learned in 2007

It's hard to believe that I had to get a year and half through seminary to figure some of this out, but here it is...

1. I am still a perfectionist, pleaser, fixer, enabler who wants everything ok and will sacrfice myself and sanity for this to happen.
2. Living on campus really is like living in a giant fish bowl--or like living on Melrose Place.
3. The combination of one and two are deadly. A fixer in a Melrose Place fish bowl--not so good.
4. I require time and space away to process and re-charge--and to sometimes avoid fixing.
5. PMS and SAD really exist...winter and PMS are deadly for me.
6. True frienship is messy. Really caring about and trusting others requires being fully yourself--this self is inherently flawed(as we are human). This inevitably leads to mis-said and mis-done things.
7. After doing the above, it is best to recognize it--rather than try to bury it like a cat burries its shit--and say sorry.
8. Christ is so much bigger than most churches and schools suggest.
9. Christianity is a faith born at a time of war, anguish, and oppression. It resists the oppressive powers of Empire. (The Roman One to be specific.)10. The Roman Empire and the American Empire are eerily similar.
11. Is it possible for an American to be Christian? Still haven't figured this one out yet--stay tuned to 2008.
12. Chrisitianity is messy--how could the union of human and Divine not be?
13. Art truly inspires me, and creative outlet is my favorite end goal for projects.
14. I would love to be paid to write--and write without having to do a million other things in my day that yank the ideas out of my brain.
15. I love working with youth.
16. I really do have a shingle outside my door that says come talk to me about your problems. BUT the only people who can see the shingle are those who need to talk.16b. I've been told I also have a sign on my head that reads "whiners, come complain here."
17. I need to figure out a way to get paid for this.
18. I'm super excited to get to be an aunt and am truly sorry for having years in childhood filled with evil thoughts about my youngest sister.
19. My youngest sister is one of my heroes. She is very opposite me(and yet very the same). Her ability to make a rational decision amazes me. I admire her "T."
20. I think that seminary is leading me in circuitous paths to the same place I started but at a deeper level-my dream is still to have an arts' (all kinds) center in downtown.
21. I want to explore this vision in 2008.

Two Days Away Feels Like the Whole Worlds Changed

So, I'm into my second day of a 10 beach vacation, and my mind is racing. I can't seem to slow down or decompress. I've been running all summer, and I've been looking forward to this Sabbath, this stop, this silence. Now that I have it, I'm ready to go, go, go. Seems to happen every time I get a little bit of holiday...my mind, body, and spirit are so used to racing that when I slow down, something inside starts to wonder what's wrong. It doesn't help that the day's been a complete washout. We've had pouring rain and bursts of sticky sun. Going to Lowe's this morning with my Mom felt like walking and driving through a sauna. I felt more like I should be walking around with a towel on rather than capri pants and a t-shirt. What was 87 sticky degrees is now 66 gailish degrees--the wind has shifted to the North. The bay has white caps and the chimney is howling.

Perhaps what really is haunting me is the doubts and worries that normally gnaw at the back of my brain. But when I'm busy, it's easy to quiet them or at least drown them out with other thoughts. The silence and space makes their gnawing sound like chomping...the thoughts sound like mice in the walls when you're trying to go to sleep...you can barely hear them when you're away, but when you turn the light of and try to be silent, their chewing seems to echo.

Random echo thoughts...what will the second year be? Can I balance life and school? What about Rikki's leave? Will my Mr. Big walk back into my life or will I find someone else? If I will, where will I find him? I guess I should be happy that I wonder about this considering there was a time where the thought of being in a relationship made me feel like I could vomit. That progressed to a relationship is ok, but I don't know about for the rest of my life. I guess I should be excited that I feel like I could say the I do's.

Making Plans to Change the World

So I don't know how anyone can go into seminary without some hope of chaning the world. Kind of a narcissitic thought, isn't it? But I'd be lying if I said I didn't have my piece of that desire. And this Sunday while attending a worship service led by youth who had just returned from Borderlinks, I heard voices echoing that same desire. Perhaps this is why I like youth. They'ew young and idealistic enough to see the injustice in the world and to dream of ways to end it. But something happens to most of us.

Where does that drive go as we grow-up? Does it evaporate like water into the clouds? And if it evaporates, does it rain on the next generation as a way of being passed down? It never returns to us but in some small way, the desire keeps living. Or does it die and get burried under the ground only to decompose and become part of our everyday being? Are our lives fertilized by our dreams? Do our dreams suffocate those who come after us?

Worshiping with the youth on Sunday, I can hear my own voice. The voice that I've often silenced to fit in, to get the right job, to end conflict, to grow-up. It reminds me that silence isn't always what we're called to do and be. What does it mean to stand in solidarity with all humans? Isn't that what the voice is calling me to do and be?

In the same breath, when a voice is just shouting at the deaf, progress and change won't and can't happen. How are we to know when to speak the truth in love and when to shake the dust from our shoes and move on?

God is Dancing in the Rain

I'm sitting at my kitchen table looking at the seminary courtyard as a thunderstorm rolls in. The hot and cold air colliding in huge masses seem to represent what's been going on inside my own heart. The summer's ended up nothing like I thought--not that this is surprising. I personally have come to believe that God has a large sense of humor and also seems to enjoy watching me be reminded of my humanness...but this is a topic for another day and time.

As obvious by some of the blogs posted from jounal writing, my only sanctuary and safe ground was disrupted about 2 months ago when my apartment was broken into. I thought I might have been just touching on the land of Canaan, but no! I am again reminded that my seminary experience is one of being in the wilderness. So, into my summer came a move and resettlement--and 5 weeks of living in a friend's apartment. Not ideal or restful.

Plus, I've been working non-stop. So much for summer being a time of Sabbath. But here's the thing. With the exception of the photo-copying for the clerical job, I've loved what I'm doing. And I have absolutely no idea what this means for my call.

They say that the second year is the beginning of leaving wandering. What if you feel like you want to dance with God in the rain? I keep looking back, traditions back, across the centuries, and I feel called to dance in this rain. Something in me yearns to actually be in this process and not worry about ecclesiastical councils and church and ministry commissions. Perhaps for the first time in my life, I'm actually open to seeing God working in and through me rather than working for some far off and far away Divine presence. It is the most humbling and awesome feeling all at the same time.

And here's the strangest thing--for all the upheaval of the last two months, I've never slept sounder and my soul has never been at more peace. There has to be something to that, doesn't there?