For the dawn draws near, and the world is about to turn.

It has been a tough Advent.

The Newtown shootings, the Pope speaking out vociferously against homosexuals, and, just yesterday, a fire and shooting in Webster, NY where it seems the fire was a trap so that the gunman could attack the firemen, killing two and injuring two more before killing himself.

While these events are tragic no matter when they happen, there is an extra sting to them when they happen in this season.  In a time where the focus is supposed to be caring for our neighbors, tragedies like this are an extra affront.  And when we are subject to such horrors, singing about "peace on earth" and angels in the skies seems almost insensitive.  How do you talk about joy when there are so many who have had that ripped away from them?  How do you talk about love in a world that seems to wholeheartedly give itself to hate?  How do we look for God in a world that it seems He abandoned?

One of my favorite songs that particularly resonated with me at Montreat this summer is the "Canticle of the Turning". It is a version of the Magnificat--the song Mary sings after the Angel Gabriel tells her she is to bear the Son of God.  The Canticle of the Turning focuses on the social justice aspect of her song, of what this coming means for the oppressed of the world.

Here is a video of it being sung at Bon Air UMC on the 16th as part of their Advent offering of music.  (And yes, that is my mother directing.)  Lyrics below.

My soul cries out with a joyful shout
that the God of my heart is great,
And my spirit sings of the wondrous things
that you bring to the ones who wait.
You fixed your sight on your servant's plight,
and my weakness you did not spurn,
So from east to west shall my name be blest.
Could the world be about to turn?
My heart shall sing of the day you bring.
Let the fires of your justice burn.
Wipe away all tears, for the dawn draws near,
and the world is about to turn! 

Though I am small, my God, my all,
you work great things in me,
And your mercy will last from the depths of the past
to the end of the age to be.
Your very name puts the proud to shame,
and to those who would for you yearn,
You will show your might, put the strong to flight,
for the world is about to turn.
My heart shall sing of the day you bring.
Let the fires of your justice burn.
Wipe away all tears, for the dawn draws near,
and the world is about to turn! 

From the halls of power to the fortress tower,
not a stone will be left on stone.
Let the king beware for your justice tears
ev'ry tyrant from his throne.
The hungry poor shall weep no more,
for the food they can never earn;
There are tables spread, ev'ry mouth be fed,
for the world is about to turn.
My heart shall sing of the day you bring.
Let the fires of your justice burn.
Wipe away all tears, for the dawn draws near,
and the world is about to turn! 

Though the nations rage from age to age,
we remember who holds us fast:
God's mercy must deliver us
from the conqueror's crushing grasp.
This saving word that our forebears heard
is the promise which holds us bound,
'Til the spear and rod can be crushed by God,
who is turning the world around.
My heart shall sing of the day you bring.
Let the fires of your justice burn.
Wipe away all tears, for the dawn draws near,
and the world is about to turn!

I love this because the focus is not on "salvation", it's not on how Right Religion Is--it is about breaking those forms, it is about justice that is not born of vengeance, it is singing for the day when we won't find ourselves mired in news that breaks our hearts.

Listen closely, friends: the coming of Christ was NOT because people were Godless heathens.  It was NOT because they weren't praying enough, or had lost sight of God's Grand Path, or had fallen into ways of sin.  It was not with the attitude of those who have been shouting that the gun violence in America is because we no "do not allow" prayer in schools and have abandoned God.  If it was, wouldn't God have come like the visions of the rapture, separating the sheep from the goats and championing the elite "saved"?

But instead, God chose to take human flesh, to become weak and small, to limit God-self to the confines of humanity.  And why?  To become God-WITH-us.  God saw the broken world, the injustices, and instead of ending it as we know it, or sweeping in as the ultimate Deus ex machine, fixing all our problems and eliminating our free will, He did perhaps the most loving thing imaginable--He joined us.  He became truly human.  He said, "You are hurting--I will hurt, too.  I will feel as you feel.  I will not stay removed, I will not just watch, I will walk with you and experience all you are experiencing--the joy and the hurt and the confusion and the awe."  And in doing so, He modeled for us how we might continue his work in the world through living with that same love that caused Him to be born to a poor young girl in the midst of turmoil.

Though, as I write that, it makes me think that maybe it WAS because people had become Godless heathens--because the religious leaders cared more about keeping up appearances than than being stewards of creation and each other.  Maybe it WAS because people weren't praying enough, because they were more focused on saying the right words than the thoughtful, centering prayer that focuses energy upwards and outwards towards God and each other.  Maybe it was because the path towards compassion had been lost and God saw people committing the ultimate sin - stripping others of their worth because of differences in class, race, sexuality, or religion.  And that God came to be with all those who were shut out by the ruling powers--including the Church.

Here's what I tell you on this Christmas Day: the only ones who are Godless are those who live without compassion for their neighbors.  The only ones who have abandoned God are those who have limited the love that they give.  The only ones who have fallen off of God's path are the ones who do not care for those that are abandoned and marginalized.  There are atheists who know God better than many Christians.

Because, friends, the only counter to the violence and tragedy that we've encountered over the past few weeks is love.  Love for each other, love for those we don't know, love for people we don't understand, trying to bridge the gap so that they don't have to lash out.  That's it.  And from the Christian perspective, the model for that is Jesus Christ, Emmanuel, God with us, who came to be with us in our brokenness, who came to share in the pain we feel, and show us how to love each other so that we might bring for the day of which Mary sings.

God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them. This is how love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment: In this world we are like Jesus. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.
We love because he first loved us. Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. For whoever does not love their brother and sister, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen. And he has given us this command: Anyone who loves God must also love their brother and sister. (1 John 4:16-21) 

The road goes ever on and on...

Yes, yes, yes, it is the second week of Advent, but there is also another major event happening this week.

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey is being released.

TONIGHT.

I AM IN FACT SITTING IN THE THEATER WAITING FOR IT TO START AND POSTING THIS BLOG.

DEDICATION.

One of the early loves of my life was science fiction/fantasy literature.  I often lean more towards fantasy than hardcore sci-fi, and I grew up devouring the Chronicles of Narnia, the Dragonriders of Pern, Harry Potter, and, of course, Lord of the Rings.  When I was in 7th grade, we were studying the Hobbit, and my group was assigned present chapter 14, Fire and Water, which we did as a skit.  I played Bard, got to practice archery in class, and can still recite Bard's "arrow, black arrow, I have saved you to the last" speech.

I will, of course, be seeing The Hobbit at midnight.  I did not schedule myself to go to any rehearsals on Friday for that specific reason.  In my pre-Hobbit preparation, I've been rereading The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings, and my roommates and I have watched all of the LOTR movies.

I have had trouble relating to the Advent theme this week.  On the 2nd Sunday of Advent we light the candle of peace, which always seems a little hokey to me.  I am a New Yorker--my life is governed by the lack of peace in it, and furthermore, I am in theater, a business built on conflict.  Good plays have good conflict.  Good theater is built on anything BUT peace, because peace is ultimately boring.  One of my favorite lines from Jane Eyre is, "It is in vain to say that humans ought to be satisfied with tranquility: they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it."    We thrive in conflict--we love it, we hate it, but conflict is what makes us feel alive.  That's why peace is such an impossible idea… we simply cannot make it last, and secretly, we don't want it to.

I recently gave into the "Keep Calm and…" trend that has spiked recently.  From the original "Keep Calm and Carry On", a saying from Britain in WWII, has come a plethora of journals, posters, t-shirts, keychains, mugs, etc, proclaiming that phrase or variants on it.  Different fan communities have coined phrases having to do with their fandom, such as "Keep Calm and Call Batman" and "Keep Calm and Carry a Sonic Screwdriver" (Doctor Who).  My resistance to this finally caved when I found a shirt that said "Keep Calm and Leave the Shire". This is of course the shirt I am wearing to the midnight release of The Hobbit, but beyond that, there's something that's very geekily emotional that that phrase opens up.  (noting that this is largely because I'm making major changes in how I live my life, like… how I pay my rent, etc, and there's a part of me that would love to stay in the familiar Shire instead of making the changes I know I need to make.)

Leaving the Shire is no reason to keep calm.  The Shire is the peaceful part of Middle-Earth, where hobbits live with only minor conflicts (like uppity young hobbits stealing Farmer Maggot's mushrooms).  Once you leave the Shire, though, you are subjected to the dangers of the world, where there are dragons, goblins, orcs, and wraiths. 

But perhaps the scariest part of leaving the shirt is the fact that you never know exactly what's going to happen when you leave.  Things never go exactly as planned.  There are always twists and turns and trolls threatening to sit on you and squash you into jelly.  No one has ever had an adventure that went smoothly, no roadblocks, everything achieved in record time and home in time for dinner--otherwise they wouldn't be adventures. As Bilbo says to Frodo, "It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."

This image returns in the Hobbit and LOTR again, particularly by way of a traveling song sung by Gandalf, Bilbo, and Frodo.  You don't know where the road will lead, but by stepping onto it into an adventure, you agree to follow it.  There is a comfort in the road.  This isn't perfect.  Eventually decisions are made about which way to go at forks, sometimes the road leads strange places, and other times the road is lost altogether.

The thing is, if we step into the road, if we make the choice to join an adventure, we are accepting all of the toils that the road can bring.  We know that things won't be perfect, but we also know that that imperfection, those conflicts, and those dangers enliven us in a way the comfort of our hobbitholes do.  And in that acceptance, there is a certain kind of beautiful, active peace.  It is not a peace that promises ease… and incidentally, neither is Christ's peace.  One of my theological pet peeves is when people try to convert people to Christianity by offering an easy pass through life, when they say that Christ will solve all their problems.  Christ never promises ease.  Christ calls us to take up our crosses and follow, and the early Christians were subject to persecution and death.  Following Christ's call means leaving behind all that is familiar, not stopping to say goodbye to loved ones or bury your dead.  There is nothing easy about that road.  But there is a peace in accepting what the road has in store, and deciding to follow it forward.  In this peace, you can breathe in all the humanity our conflicts have to offer, step forward, and live.

The road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began
Now far away the road has gone
And I must follow, if I can
Pursuing it with eager feet
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.

Sleepers, awake!

A note before we begin: I made a slightly belated New Year's Resolution (because the first Sunday of Advent is the Christian New Year), which has caused this blog to appear a bit late.  I am posting it late on Saturday night, so it'll seem like Sunday morning for most folks.  Just to clear up any confusion; LAST Sunday (12/2) was the first Sunday of Advent. THIS Sunday (12/9) is the second Sunday of Advent.



I have recently started reading scripture at my church.

This is a weird sentence, as many people who read this blog might say, "But I've heard you read scripture so many times/I've seen you teach workshops on the thing, and you haven't been reading scripture?"  But truth be told, it took me a long time to start to get involved at the church I attend in New York.  Partially because I started attending this church while I was still in school and therefore had no time outside of Sunday mornings, partially because I'm shy, and maybe partially because I wanted to experience simply attending service instead of being involved.  But one fellow parishioner finally got through to me--after probably a year of sitting in front of me in worship and trying to get me in the Parish choir, she told me that they only rehearsed Sunday mornings before church, and I agreed, and crossed the threshold to the parish house.  It was only recently that I informed the rector that I had experience as a scripture reader and crucifer--knowing, of course, that once I volunteered that information, I would never find myself in service without a job again.  (Such is life in the church.)

And so, with eagerness a couple weeks ago I opened the email with my first assignment for reading scripture at the 9am service, and what I found was…

…this.

As I watched, thrones were set in place, and an Ancient One took his throne, his clothing was white as snow, and the hair of his head like pure wool; his throne was fiery flames, and its wheels were burning fire. A stream of fire issued  and flowed out from his presence. A thousand thousands served him, and ten thousand times ten thousand stood attending him. The court sat in judgment, and the books were opened. As I watched in the night visions, I saw one like a human being coming with the clouds of heaven. And he came to the Ancient One and was presented before him. To him was given dominion and glory and kingship, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him.  His dominion is an everlasting dominion that shall not pass away, and his kingship is one that shall never be destroyed. (Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14)

…WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!  OF ALL SCRIPTURES I GET THAT?!  THERE'S ONLY SO MANY TIMES I CAN MAKE A VARIANT ON "FIRE" AN OPERATIVE WORD!

But I calmed down.  A challenging scripture, to be sure, but I reached out to my religious friends on Facebook for help (special shoutouts here to Jenny McDevitt and David Bone!), read the verses cut out of this reading (which were even more confusing and involved several beasts and a talking horn), and was able to come into worship with a strong understanding and a clear reading.  The reading was referenced in the sermon and I grinned as I understood the context that the rector was giving us, and I assured myself that the next reading wouldn't be so difficult.

But then when I received the reading for the next week's Evensong, I found:

Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion; shout, O daughter of Jerusalem: behold, thy King cometh unto thee: he is just, and having salvation; lowly, and riding upon a donkey, and upon a colt, the foal of a donkey. And I will cut off the chariot from Ephraim, and the war horse from Jerusalem, and the battle bow shall be cut off: and he shall speak peace unto the nations: and his dominion shall be from sea even to sea, and from the river even to the ends of the earth. (Zechariah 9:9-10)

…WHAT'S GOING ON?! AM I BEING TYPECAST AS A PROPHET READER?!

The prophets are the books of the Bible I know the least about (yup, I know more about the wisdom books than the prophets!).  I always feel like the prophets require a good amount of context to make sense of them.  (And on the flip-side, they provide context for the significance of the Christ story to the Jewish people of the time.)  When I studied Daniel, for instance, I learned about the corrupt political sphere at the time (represented by the beasts and horn cut out of the lectionary reading), and how the promise in the prophet's words is that God will come to reign and release the world from these corrupt systems.

The language of the prophets is always intense, and sometimes can sound a bit absurd to the modern ear.  In preparing for this blog post I realized that prophetic scriptures are the only ones I've turned into image macros.

THIS IS ACTUALLY A LINE IN ISAIAH.

AMOS CAT WAITS FOR JUSTICE

But in the past few weeks I've started to grow towards the prophets, and that was brought together last Sunday - the first Sunday of Advent.

I was raised in a tradition that associates each candle on the Advent wreath with something like "joy" or "love".  The first Sunday of Advent, in this tradition, is the Sunday of Hope... also known as the "Prophecy Candle". (Sensing a theme yet?)

In our liturgical year, Advent is the season of waiting, of preparation, before the birth of Christ.  It is also the beginning of a new year--and new years are always associated with times of change and renewal.  A new year is a reason for us to think, "things can be different."  And as we come to the Christian New Year, we start with hope for that renewal, that Christ's coming will be the change we wish it to be.

But this Advent, I would like to hope like a prophet hopes.

As I've studied the words of these prophets, I've been astounded at the insistence of their hope.  Their words are strong and bold.  Their hope is not a wish.  It is not a dream.  It is not like our passive Christmastime thoughts of "what if goodwill and cheer lasted all year?" that get dismissed along with the remains of Christmas trees and tinsel.  It is a vibrant hope, an active hope, a living hope that the kingdom will come upon the earth.  One of Webster's definitions for hoping is "expecting with confidence".  That is a prophet's hope. 

Of course, it is easy to think of such a confident hope as a delusion.  It is easy to dismiss that as foolishness, accuse those who hope of refusing to see the world as it is.  It's so easy.  And that's the problem.  It is easy.  It takes no effort to resign yourself to the way that things are.  It is hard to insist, "But this is not the end of the story."  It is hard to look around and see the state that the world is in and see not only what it is, but what it can be.  In a world that as tumultuous as ours, where gulfs between social, political and economic groups grow wider and wider, it is hard to even dream of what these prophets envision, let alone expect it confidently.

But that is what we are challenged to do--because if we do not insist that this is possible, who will?  If we do not say, "Change is coming!" it will not.  A living hope is subversive.  A living hope is one of the most dangerous weapons against the status quo--because no one can force that hope away from you if you hold onto it with the verve of the prophets--and that hope can wake us up, open us up, put us on alert for that change moving through the world, so we start to listen, start to look, start to become attuned for it.  The hope begins the process of making us a vessel.

And hope is dangerous because it's contagious.  We all want to believe that things can get better, but sometimes we just can't.  Despite being a pretty hopeful person, I recently went through a period where I ran out of hope regarding a major part of my life.  It felt like it hit a dead end and I flatlined.  Completely.  Even my rugged "I'm-obsessed-with-Job-and-Ecclesiastes-and-wrote-multiple-papers-on-St.-John-of-the-Cross-and-the-Dark-Night-of-the-Soul-and-read-Bonhoeffer-for-comfort" hope failed me, and I rarely left the house and I panicked on the subway one day and texted one of my friends, "What if I never shake this?"  It took people sitting down with me and saying, "You know, you don't have to keep living the way you have been.  There are so many other options for you," for that hope to rekindle.  It didn't take alcohol, it didn't take anti-depression medications, it took a spark of hope.  It took an idea of what life could be.

So that's where we begin the new year, and the season of Advent--with an insistent idea that things can change.  We begin with opening ourselves to that hope--to sharing it when we feel it, and receiving it when we need it.  We wake up to that hope and therefore what the world can be, seen through the prophets' eyes--a world ruled not by whoever has the most money, or friends, or bombs, but instead by the ultimate law of love and understanding and care for all people.

Yes, we're the church, together.

This is a blog post to a very specific group of people.  Which is not something I do, normally, but in this case, I feel that it is called for.

This is a blog post for those of us who are young people involved with the church.  Be that Presbyterian, Methodist, Baptist, whatever.  Young folks who are involved in the official organizations of the church. (I have tried to do my research to be able to explain these proceedings well.  However, I've never been to General Conference or General Assembly.  If anyone reading this notices any inaccuracies, please let me know and I will update the blog. Thanks.)

I have always been more aware about the logistical workings of the church than the average young-person-in-the-church.  Growing up super involved in my Methodist congregation, with parents working in the church, I was almost always aware of things like Annual Conference and General Conference.  I knew what the Book of Discipline was, the Social Principles, how they are revised at General Conference.

Now, working for Presbyterians, I am also aware of General Assembly (which is their version of the General Conference).  I know about Moderators and Vice-Moderators, I know about how Presbyteries interact with individual churches, I know the EXTREME importance of committees.  (I still have to look up "synod" every so often.)

And I, being a nerd and being involved with religious people, have kept up with these various events, because I am NOT someone who is "spiritual but not religious", I am a religious person involved with religions organizations and what's going on in those organizations matters to me.  Furthermore, it is
wonderfully conveinient that these things that most of the world (and frankly, many parishoners) doesn't keep up with or even know is happening, is also of interest to my friends and co-workers here.  There is something quite charming about sitting on a porch with friends, drinking extremely cheap alcohol, and discussing the gossip from General Assembly.

There have been a couple of tricky events recently in the Methodist and Presbyterian gatherings.  (My guess is that similar things are happening in other denominations, but these are the ones I am most familiar with.  I know a lot of these debates are mirrored in the debate that has been raging for a while
about the Anglican covenant in the Episcopalian church, but I don't have my head wrapped around the details of that yet... but the Episcopalian General Convention just authorized a liturgy for blessing same-sex unions, so yay!)

For years at the Methodist General Conference, the subject of homosexuality has been addressed.  They held small group discussions about identity and sexuality that many felt was not given adequate leadership or preparation, and hateful comments were allowed to permeate the conversations.  The General Conference decided to uphold the language in the Book of Discipline that homosexual acts are "incompatible with Christian teaching" (though it is worth mentioning that the Social Principles state, "Certain basic human rights and civil liberties are due all persons. We are committed to supporting those rights and liberties for homosexual persons."  Read the full text here)

The Presbyterian General Assembly had two major events happen.  The first surrounded the election of the new Moderator and Vice Moderator. The Moderator and Vice Moderator of the PC(USA) do just that... they moderate the assembly.  They are the highest elected officials in the PC(USA).  It's a big deal.  And it was an even bigger deal when Tara Spuhler McCabe, newly elected Vice-Moderator, resigned a couple days after her election.

Tara had recently officiated a wedding between two women.  She did this in Washington, DC, where it is legal.  However, it is not "legal" within the church for PC(USA) pastors to officiate same-sex marriages.  There are many who do, and often "get away" with it... but it's trickier to "get away" with it when you have been elected Vice Moderator.  Hateful comments were aimed at her, and it was getting in the way of the procedures of the Assembly, and since her job was to make sure the Assembly ran smoothly, she resigned, saying, "I am a pastor. That is who God has called me to be. As I reflect on what’s happening now, I think I am embodying the reality of a growing number of pastors who find ourselves caught. We are caught between being pastors – being with couples in those sacred moments when they make their vows to one another . . . and having a polity that restricts us from living out our pastoral calling – especially in states where it is legal for everyone to be married."

The other event at the GA was that a motion passed committee to change the definition of marriage in the Book of Order to being a union between "two people" instead of a union between "a man and a woman".  The motion did not pass assembly.

I was, nerdily, reading the tweets labeled #ga220 when this happened.  And the sentiment I saw over and over again in those tweets was the worry that young people were going to leave the PC(USA) because of this vote.  Because many people who were in support of the motion felt that the PC(USA) had shown itself to be on the wrong side of history, or that the church was failing to show support, love, and care for non-heterosexual children of God.  There is a worry that the church will lose us because, as a generation, we are more socially liberal, more open and accepting about issues like these, and it would be easy for those of us who believe strongly in equal rights and acceptance of all people, to become fed up with the church, say, "Screw it," and walk out.

And the reason I am writing this blog post for us is to say that we cannot do that.

There are many things wrong with the institution that is the church.  Of course there is.  It is a human institution and therefore imperfect.  It has caused a lot of hurt, and that hurt has been advertised across the world so we get a bad reputation, but I have also seen it do a lot of good.  I have seen the church band together in response to tragedy, both locally and globally.  I have seen the church genuinely connect with communities that are so far from the average attendee, and I have even seen the church be the accepting community when others have not been.  There is hope in the church, no matter how misguided it can be at times.

And frankly, the church is not going away.  Even though at times we can be frustrated with it and wonder if the world would be better without it... that's not going to happen. The church is, in fact, here to stay, even if denominations keep lamenting at the declining membership.  The church will still exist,
maybe in a new form, but somehow, for years to come.

And here's the truth about that vote in the General Assembly: the motion failed by 52%.  That's 30 votes.  The last time this motion was brought up, it didn't even make it out of committee.  That is a HUGE leap in a SHORT amount of time.

And here's what REALLY gets me.  There are some delegates to the conference who are there as "advisory delegates".  The PC(USA) says that they "are selected to attend the meeting of the General Assembly in an advisory role so that the assembly may be assured of hearing and taking cognizance of their special viewpoints."  Basically, it's a "we want to make sure your voice is heard" thing.  They do not vote, but they are given particular opportunities to speak and polled so that the conference knows their general viewpoints on issues.  Two of these groups are the YAADs (Young Adult Advisory Delegates) and the TSADs (Theological Student Advisory Delegates).  Basically, young people (23 and under) and seminary students.  When the YAADs were polled, they voted 75% for changing the language, and the TSADs (aka: the folks who will soon be ordained) voted 82% in favor.

WE are the ones who can change this.  We ARE the future of the church.  That's not me being inspirational, that's me speaking a proven fact that we will get older, we will have positions within this church, and we will eventually be the ones running it.  We have the power to provoke and eventually solidify change within the church.

But we lose that power if we leave.

It would be so much easier for us to throw in the towel.  I spend a lot of time defending the church, defending religion especially amongst people my age.  And the exhuasting thing is, most of their attacks against the church and religion are completely valid.  Most of my friends have been, in some way, scarred by the church.  I find myself surrounded by people who have been told by the church that they are irrepearably broken, fallen and sinful and past grace unless they do this specific list of things that will get them "saved".  Who have been told they are going to hell because they have a hard time believing in the idea that God came to Earth as a human about 2000 years ago and died and rose again.  People who have watched the church reject proven fact because it goes against an ancient text, instead of incorporating these discoveries of God's world into their theology.  People who have heard people do hateful things in the name of love.  And it takes a lot to say, "Yes, but there is also good."  With so much publicized about the awful things the church has done, it's difficult for people to believe that my friend said, "when I came out, and my family wasn't there for me, the church was."  It's hard to explain, with all of this about how Chik-Fil-A believes in the "Biblical" definition of marriage, that not everyone who reads, follows, and believes the Bible believes that this is the true "Biblical" definition or marriage.

But while it's tempting to step away, to go to "I'm spiritual but not religious" or even "I have problems with organized religion*", the fact is, if we stick around, if we use our voices, if we rally for what we believe is truly following Christ, if we speak the truths we have seen in our lives, if we share stories, if we love the imperfect organization of the church as God loves the imperfect people we are, we can work within our organizations so that, one day, the reputation of our churches may NOT be awful.  We can work towards the day when the church is truly seen as the hands and feet of God in the world--moving towards people in need, not away, standing on the side of the oppressed (as God has ALWAYS done throughout the Bible), and striving to live in love with all people.

*so does everyone involved with organized religion.

And furthermore, as I was reminded this morning at keynote, it is not that we are simply the church's future.  We are the church's present.  When I was in middle school, I had a letter to the editor published in the Richmond Times-Dispatch.  It was about homosexuality.  And I received a note from my pastor shortly thereafter, expressing her appreciation for my letter and her hope that I would be open to sharing my views with her further, as General Conference was coming up.  And what that told me was that, even though I was young, I was, in fact, a full member of the church, with opinions and points of view that mattered.  That's what these advisory delegates the PC(USA) are: the church saying, "You matter.  We want to make sure we know what you have to say."

So, young religious folks.  Let's stick with this.  We are valued members of the church now, who can lead by example and conviction.  Tomorrow we will be the official leaders.  Let's seek justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with our God.  Let's work together to make the church what we know it can be, what drew us here in the first place, and what so many people in this world think it will never be.  Let's prove them wrong.

I'll stop at nothing!

I keep getting questions about, "What exactly is it that you do in this Montreat place?" which I shall now attempt to answer.  My official job title is "Production Director", which is colloquially known as "AV Co-Director" (there are two of us, so we don't have to work 6:45am-11pm.) Essentially, my job is to ensure that all of the technical elements (sound, lights, projections) happen.  This means that I work with planning teams and leadership to ensure that information gets to the crew, I train and give notes to the crew, I make sure mic checks happen, I troubleshoot when issues arise.  During events, I am not in the sound booth, but rather sitting at the back of the auditorium, giving adjustments on level and EQ because it's easier to hear from the back of the auditorium than from the booth.

My job also means that I will do whatever it takes to make sure people are heard.

Picture this, for example:

It's closing worship for the Worship and Music conference.  The theme is Christ the King day, where they attempt to go through the entire liturgical year in one service, which of course means using almost every microphone we have.  All our wireless mics are used up, and several are shuffled between people for so that more people can use them.  I have spent most of the hymns ferrying microphones back and forth.

We come to the affirmation of faith, which is being presented through the story of Pentecost by the drama group.  They are using four wireless body mics (the kind that clip onto your shirt or go above your ear), and two wireless handheld mics set up on stands in the aisles.  At first, there are two people on stage with their body mics, and everyone else uses the handhelds.  Then, there is the sound of a mighty wind and everyone gathers on stage, wondering what's going on, and then they are all filled with the Holy Spirit and various people speak on their body mics.  Oh, and one of the music leaders grabs one of the wireless handhelds so that he can lead a song that transitions out of the skit.

It was already a decently tricky dance to play with faders and muting and unmuting, so I had taken notes as to help with the calling of it, but then... one of the body mics of the people onstage at the beginning stopped working.

It had worked during sound check.
It had worked earlier during the service.
It had just... stopped.

Panic. Widespread panic on headset.  Luckily, the people onstage are actually theater professionals, so when they realize the mic isn't working, the woman with the mic starts projecting extremely well, and when she whispers asides to the other man, he leans over so that his microphone could pick up her voice.  But I know I hadveto do something, especially for the second half which had so much other sound going on underneath the amplified sound.  There would be no way for her to be heard over all that.

I come down to the front and knelt by the first pew, wondering what I could do.  All of the wireless mics are in use.  We have no backups.  If I hand her one of the handhelds that wasn't in use, it would be on the same channel as one of the other mics being used in this skit which would cause static.

But, if I somehow can get her the handheld that's not being used after the first half of the skit...

As the sound of the wind happens and the large group of performers start to move onstage like the confused Pentecost crowd, listening to the wind, wondering what it is, I move to the handheld and take it off its stand.  I look at the actor... she's too far upstage for me to be able to hand it to her from the floor.  I see no other choice... I walk with the crowd onto the stage, acting confused and curious about this wind sound along with them.  We all form a clump, leaning over like we're listening to the ground.  I scoot my way forward in the clump and touch the microphone to the back of the actor's hand.  She takes it.  I am now very prominently on stage, needing to get off it pretty soon so I can tell people when to turn up mic 18.

Meanwhile, in the booth, the crew member running sound sees me going onstage.  His jaw drops and he says to the projections operator, "Jake! Jake!  Look at the stage! Colleen's onstage! Pure awesomeness is happening!"

Bless the other people in this skit's hearts, they immediately accept me as another member of their group.  I follow their leads... as a group we all slowly look up and reach our hands up to the sky in quiet amazement, including me.  Then one of the main actors steps forward and starts preaching and the clump widens out into a semicircle.  As the clump widens, I move to the back of the clump, and then off stage via the back of the stage.  I then leave the auditorium and RUN AS FAST AS MY LEGS CAN CARRY ME to the back where I pop back on headset, panting, just in time to tell the crew to turn up mic 18.  I am greeted on headset with cries of, "THAT WAS AWESOME" and "I'm buying you lunch!"  The rest of the skit goes well.  I leave again to grab the other handheld from the music leader at the end so that I can get it to the cantor who sings at the back at the very end of the service (the plan was that I'd grab the handheld from the stand that was left, but that was the handheld that I had handed off to the actor).

Everyone was greatly amused by this rather intense passing of a mic, including the actors, who, being theater professionals, know that sometimes things just happen and were incredibly impressed by me joining into their skit to get the microphone to them.

This is by far the most ridiculous thing I have done as a co-director, but it gives you an accurate depiction of what my job is.  Sometimes, my job requires me to be a ninja.  A ninja with a BFA in drama.

For the truth will set you free...

When I was in high school, National Geographic released a documentary on the Gospel of Judas, and the staff of Bon Air UMC, being curious, had a bit of a party.  Staff members and family (meaning spouses and... me) gathered at the house of the only people who had the right TV channel to listen and see how this new information might affect our lives and faith.  Rhonda VanDyke Colby baked a "Judas Iscarrot Cake" for the occasion, complete with thirty silver candies surrounding the bottom of the cake and a tree with a noose hanging off of it as a decoration.  (Never ever say we religious folk cannot laugh at ourselves.)

At a pause in the film, I remember Rhonda asking me, "If they found the bones of Jesus, how would that affect your faith?"  I was confused by the question, because honestly, it made no difference to me.  I mean, sure, there are some tricky logistical things with the Ascension if we found the bones of Jesus, but ultimately, my faith is not about bones.

For the past few months I've had a lot of people ask me questions about the "reality" of what I believe.  Do I believe that a virgin birth really happened?  That Jesus really died and was resurrected three days later and then ascended into heaven?  That Abraham and Sarah had a baby when she was ridiculously old?  I have a hard time answering this question because people want a "yes", "no", even a "maybe" or an "I don't know".  But my answer is, "That's not the point," which is akin to Dumbledore's response to Harry in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows; "Of course it's happening in your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it's not real?" (Which is possibly my favorite line in that entire series, and in my opinion, the most biblical.)

I believe strongly in the power of story.  I work in theater and we in theater deal in stories.  There are many people in theater who still identify themselves as storytellers.  But nowadays "story" is often dismissed as "mere fiction" which, while entertaining and maybe sometimes eye-opening, is almost always second to "fact", which rules with an iron fist over our empirical society.  If you prefer "fiction" to "fact" you are delusional or at the very least, unwilling to accept the world you live in.  Maybe my analysis of the status of story in our society today is a bit harsh, but I ask; how many people will truly admit to having their lives changed by a story?  We will fully admit to having our lives changed by experiences, even by facts, but stories?  Life-changing?

And yet, stories are the backbone of our existence.  I don't know why but for some reason we tend to organize our lives in stories.  We give ourselves narrative structure, we describe our days as such, we tell stories at the dinner table.  We connect things together.  And more than our lives... if you give us really any kind of input, we will make stories about it.  I have done a lot of experimental theater, I have seen and done a lot of pieces that seem to have no story.  One of the shows I directed, Tongues, had NO story, it was a collage of voices and sound, and while I crafted an emotional journey, story was NOT my interest.  And yet, when I talked to audience members about the show (some theater people, some not), they had all made up stories about what had happened.  They made a narrative based on a girl sitting in a chair talking about being hungry and a boy dropping marbles into a bowl.  I have seen people make up stories from seeing a binder and a waterbottle arranged in various tableaus on a table.  (And if you doubt me on this, the next time we are together I will prove it to you.)  We connect things that may have never been connected before.  We create story, naturally.

And throughout all of human history, stories have been vital.  Stories are how we learn.  The fables you heard growing up taught you how to live in relationship with others.  Especially when we are young, stories are vital in our development.  As we grow up, stories are how we understand each other.  It is through the stories of people unlike us that we can begin to see things from their points of view.

Perhaps most importantly for us now, stories are how we move forward.  Stories are how we paint pictures of what the world, what our lives, could be.  Stories give us hope.  Stories give us vision.

This has come up so much in the religious part of my life for a while now, starting with Brian McLaren at the Montreat College Conference in 2011, who claimed that the world was having such a hard time because religions were no longer truly providing alternative stories to things like consumerism and materialism (Jesus provided an alternative story: "give up all your possessions, do not store up treasures on Earth," etc, but often the churches do not truly reflect those stories).  I spoke briefly about story to some people in relationship to the Voice conference a couple weeks ago, where the question, "Can stories cause transformation?  How?" came up.  And John Bell, in one of his sermons for Youth this week, spoke directly about stories giving hope, about Martin Luther King Jr. telling a story of a new kind of world, about how the vision of a new heaven where God shall wipe away all tears described in Revelation is a story held onto by oppressed communities.

For me, I have acknowledged before that one of the reasons Christianity specifically appeals to me is because I need a resurrection story in my life.  That is what gets me through when I am stressed and haven't slept in far too long and don't have money for food.  That is what gets me through when I feel lost and don't know where I'm going with my life.  It is the story of death and resurrection.  It is the story of Job that keeps me steady when I have no idea why certain things are happening.  And, conversely, it is the story of the Song of Songs that helps me figure out what's going on when I come back to these mountains and swoon from the beauty.  We need these stories not only to help us get through our days, but to provoke change, to help us move forward.  No one can possibly deny the effects that the "I have a dream" speech had on the Civil Rights movement.  That story is coming true.

Religion has always dealt in story.  I almost wrote earlier that theater has two origin points--storytelling and religious ritual, but from what I know of the Greeks, those didn't used to be different.  They were one in the same.  Plays were offerings in the festival of Dionysus, saying to the god, "Here, take our stories."  We study mythology now, which is essentially "old religious stories we know aren't true but are awesome and a good look at the culture" (how "primative" you think mythology is generally depends on how much Joseph Campbell you've read).  JESUS even dealt with story.  His primary tool was story!  He taught through parable, because he knew that story is the way we can begin to understand.  And Jesus told the stories of hope, the stories of a brighter tomorrow.  What else were the Beatitudes?

Story is, in fact, what religion does best.  Facts are not.  Leave the facts to science--science does facts so well.  Facts are not the realm of religion.  My religion even SAYS that.  The traditional reading of the "doubting Thomas" scripture, where Thomas insists on seeing and touching Jesus' wounds before he would believe that Jesus had risen, is that you shouldn't have to have the evidence in front of you to know that it's fact, but I think it's more that Thomas missed the point of the story by trying to tie it down to fact.  Thomas was trying to make faith be about bones.

There are many many reasons that you cannot take the Bible literally.  It contradicts itself, many people take the Bible literally and out of context which can cause some major misreadings because of how definitions have changed over the thousands of years that this has been around.  (I'm not saying the Word of God isn't eternal, I'm saying that OUR words are not so if we are using our words and our definitions to look at this text of COURSE some things are going to get mixed up.)  There are many reasons it's difficult to look at the Bible as "fact".

But I think it's limiting the Bible's power to look at it as fact.  I think it's limiting the potential of that story to truly shape and guide our lives if we continue to squabble over facts and bones when they are not the point.  The point is that there is truth to a story, and that truth--life conquering death--has the power to transform us if we can allow that story in.  And if we continue to spread and believe in the Gospel of Jesus Christ--which is a story of a community of love and grace, of openness and inclusiveness, of all people caring for each other--that story can be closer to becoming reality.

Listen to the Voice which began creation...

The first conference I worked here a little over a week ago was called "Voice".


If you know me you probably know that I'm obsessed with voice and other things involving sound, so first of all, this conference's theme provided me with voice/sound fodder that I will be using ALL THE TIME.  Of particular note was the music leader sharing a hymn written by the Mennonite preacher and hymnwriter Adam Tice, and prefacing it by saying how Tice once said that, if the Big Bang was the creation and we believe it to be a godly Big Bang, than all sound is echoes of that Bang--all sound in this world is the echoes of God's voice.


(aaaand this religious sound designer goes into a tizzy)


Much of this conference was aimed at "vocation", which, in religious circles, is essentially the activity, career path, etc, that you feel "called" to do.  Vocation is a major topic for young adult circles, but it was particularly interesting with this group of people, which was mostly older adults.  They had excellent speakers, including a scientist, a CEO, a musician, and a sports coach, all talking about how their callings had played out in their lives.  The thing that got me was the focus on journey and change in all of these stories.  No one had a path that was, "I found my calling, and I've been doing the same thing ever since."  They all were, "I found my calling, I followed it, I did this for a while, I did that for a while, I re-evaluated, I realized I was prepared by those things I did earlier for a new thing, now I'm in transition again."


This was particularly timely for me, as part of the reason I am here is to explore and listen for new paths, as I'm starting to consider the "s" word.


Yeah.


Seminary.


Before anyone says, "I told you so…" I will say that I have never rejected the idea of going to seminary.  Of COURSE I would love to go to seminary.  I read Bonhoeffer in my free time!  I am a total theological nerd!  I remember one night I couldn't sleep because I was up late thinking about the Fall of Man!  What I HAVE rejected is the idea of becoming a pastor in a church.  I have known for years that that is not my calling.  So there hasn't been much reason for me to go to seminary besides (as one pastor put it) my "theological curiosity".


But, recently I stumbled upon something that caught my eye and wormed its way inside my brain and heart, and I've been letting it wiggle there for a while and seeing how it grows.  And that is the word "chaplaincy".


Chaplains are religious folk who work at and with secular institutions, like hospitals, universities, prisons, the military, etc.  This caught my eye because something that I have found myself doing, loving, and being quite fulfilled by has been acting as a translator between the church and people who often have difficult relationships with religion, church, the word "God", etc.  I have one foot strongly planted in the church and the other outside of it, and that relationship seems to be central to whatever it is I am being called to.  So I am investigating prison chaplaincy--as that seems to hit most of what I am interested in--working with people who are dealing with the tough questions, creating relationship, tormented relationships with God, etc.


With this goal in mind, I have started the process of looking at seminaries.  I am taking my sweet time with this.  I visited Drew in April (and it was INCREDIBLE), I'm visiting Union (in NYC) in the fall, I'm looking at flying out to visit Austin in October (the possibility that I might move to Austin is one of the most ironic possibilities of my life). One of the advantages of being here is that I have access to resources and people who have been to seminary, are going to seminary, have thoughts about seminary, and have already helped me out in this discernment process.  Another advantage of being here is it gives me the space to work through things like this.


One of the great things about Montreat is that it's a place where our ideas of how to follow Christ, worship, be in community are all expanded.  Through the first two conferences, I became particularly excited about many things that were not at all prison chaplaincy.  The arts in ministry, the arts outside of ministry, ministry in the arts, many things I am sure I will blog about in the future.  And for a second I got worried about the whole prison chaplaincy thing, because it was like I'd finally found something that made sense when I stumbled across prison chaplaincy, and everything that was popping into my head during these conferences was pulling me away from that.


But, through those stories of people's callings morphing and shifting throughout their lives, I began to calm down a bit.  Of course things aren't as simple as "this is my calling, gonna follow it and be good to go!" God has never been that easy on me.  I think, ultimately, my calling doesn't exist yet.  As in--it's not a job that people have, it's not something that I can go to school for, it will be a path that We create together.  And in that, I think that prison chaplaincy is a great next step.  It's important and will give me experience and perspective that I need.


And beyond ANYTHING, this summer has already made it quite clear that seminary is definitely something I need.  I'm just itching to go, and a lot of the things I'm finding particularly awesome in these conferences are bits of information about context, etc, that I'd get most of in a classroom.  (John Bell was talking about how the seventh of the Ten Commandments, "Do not commit adultery," was really keeping women safe in a society where they had no rights.  Things like that.)


I have to keep reminding myself that none of us are expected to have it all figured out right now.  We will never have it figured out and that's the fun of it.


I've ended my morning prayer each morning for years now with the phrase, "I listen for the voice of God, this day and always."  This is a wonderful place to listen.

I'm weary with my former toil, here I will sit and rest a while

A few of you (not many, but a few), may remember the genesis of this blog.  I was fresh out of my second year of college, a year which used to be notoriously draining in my specific program of study.  I had done lots of shows on a heavy workload, felt spiritually disconnected, and so I started working at Montreat, a Presbyterian conference center in North Carolina as a way to both decompress from the year and go through a kind of spiritual boot camp, particularly in the "rebuilding after my high school period of agnosticism" realm, getting my prayer life, etc, back in order.  And I said some things, way back then, about what such a busy year had taught me, and one of those things was that "I'd never do that many shows at one time again".

Which is funny.

Because I never did less than that ever again.  What I did second year became my minimum.  Now I'm just crazy with the amount of shows and work I take on.  I graduated from college last May and since then have worked on over 25 shows in a major capacity (as a designer, assistant designer, stage manager, or dramaturge… 18 of those as a designer), which does not count shows that are in development and have not gone up yet or shows I came in and engineered, ran, or helped tech.  While I am by no means the busiest designer around, that's still a lot (and the busier ones tend to have assistants and interns).  I mean, the nice thing in all of this is that somehow, without meaning to, I ended up with a career.  (two shows I designed are going international this summer, and I have already turned down four shows for this summer.)  But at times I wonder about the cost of that career.

Beyond sheer workload, this past year has been one of my craziest.  It has been very disjointed, exhausting, and confusing.  I don't necessarily count these as bad things, but it has been trying.  It's all to be expected, of course.  I am a recently graduated theater major starting life as a freelancer in New York City.  While that transition was made much easier by many choices I made in college, particularly my last semester, it's still an unnerving place to be, and it takes a while to figure out how to structure a life for oneself particularly when there is no consistency to your schedule.  (For the record, I haven't figured it out.)   The freelance life, the continual challenge of developing my spiritual life in a very secular environment, and the sudden, intense reemergence of a love life (what?  I forgot I had one of those) unbalanced me for a time.  Which is why this blog has petered out, because nothing was clear to me, how could I possibly hope to make anything clear to others?

By the time the second week of May hit, I could feel myself slowing down.  I was unable to work as quickly as I know I can.  Any time I was not working I was sleeping.  Then I stopped being able to sleep well because of the stress.  All of this made one of my techs a much harder one than it would have been because I just couldn't function like I could a year ago.  I had the weird experience of waking up in the morning, mentally and emotionally awake, and my eyes refusing to stay open, my body refusing to move.  It was this weird, dualistic moment where my body would NOT do what I was asking it to do.

So I did what I did three years ago… I left, and I came to Montreat.

Yep, I am writing to you from my porch where I can hear the small river/large creek rushing towards Lake Susan.  I am here as the Production Director, more commonly known as the AV Co-Director, where I am one of two supervisors of the crew that I worked on in '09 and '10.  I am the primary liaison between conference leadership and the crew, I train crew on how to operate sound boards, I troubleshoot issues, and, for a fun malicious streak, I get to cut off acts at the youth talent shows that go too long or do something inappropriate.  Additionally, I am a member of Summer Singers, the staff choir which sings for Sunday morning worship and other events throughout the summer.  (Summer Singers started last year, so this is my first summer on it.)

And let me just say… it is so.  Good.  To be back.

The stress started to melt away as soon as I left the city, a physical relief once we drove past the city limits.  I had a delightful time at Bon Air on Sunday though I was still rather tired from the tech week before.  Thursday we drove down and arrived at Montreat and things have been tremendous.  I am thrilled to be back, and the full time staff I worked with before are thrilled to have me back.  At check-in I was told I had official business at 5:30 with my supervisor (who was actually AV Co-Director the years I was on crew and is now full-time staff, so we've all just been moved up a level) and her boss and the other conferenceland people who are here already, which I thought was going to be a dinner where we talk through the first conference, etc, and turned out to be celebrating and getting mexican food and ice cream and catching up, before I got back for choir rehearsal at 8pm.

After an evening of fun with old friends and new, and a delightful first choir rehearsal (the director is fabulous and the repertoire is AWESOME), I finally had time to walk around Montreat a bit… and I became filled with SUCH joy and excitement that I was like the happiest cat in the world chasing its own tail.  Under the influence of catnip.  No one was around, it was a quiet Montreat night, so I sang boisterously at Lake Susan, remembering the night when I was 14 and spent hours standing on the dam singing to the waters.  I was, and still am, overwhelmed with gratefulness at being given the amazing opportunity to spend the summer here, to regroup, rest, and heal.

The story that came to me is the story of the prodigal son.  I have always cast myself in the role of the elder son, the one who wasn't an idiot and stayed and did his duty and was then bitter that the prodigal son is celebrated after he wasted away his inheritance.  (Also asking for your inheritance early is a jerk move.) But coming back here felt like the prodigal son returning.  Now, while this year has not been the best year for me, spiritually, I don't think it was at all a departure from the path I am on.  I do not feel like working someplace that is not the church is something that brings me away from God, and I have known for a long time now that much of my calling is to have one foot in the church and one in the world, so to speak, to act as a translator and bridge, which this year has been full of.  In fact, there's a show I am developing with a group of collaborators right now, about space and science and religion, and whenever I leave a meeting about this show I feel deeply connected with God and a deep assurance that this is what I am supposed to be doing.  However, though I am good at finding God in the city, in theater, in the work that I do, I have let a lot of my personal discipline slip, and there's also something about coming here, the importance this place has had in my spiritual life especially in these young adult years, that makes this place burst with reminders of God in every breath.  It is good for all of us to be able to return home, to the place where we grew up, and Montreat has been the place where I have grown up spiritually.

I still have things going on outside of here.  The show I opened before leaving closes today and I've had to do some troubleshooting remotely for them.  I have another show going to Prague and am therefore adjusting, etc, remotely as they get ready to leave.  And, in fact, I have a week off during which I go back to NYC, do a show (check it out, my face is the publicity image which amuses me endlessly), then come back.  I will be continuing to work on the shows I have in development while I'm here, but now with time, space, and inspiration with which to do it.

And we all know I cannot listen to all these amazing speakers without blogging about it.  (JOHN BELL IS HERE FOR TWO WEEKS. JOHN BELL JOHN BELL JOHN BELL.)

There is much more to say, particularly about the conference which started last night and is called Voice where they talked about voice and sound waves and calling and EVERYTHING ELSE I CARE ABOUT, but I have time for that later.  Now it's lunch time, choir time, sound check time.  So I will leave you with this song that we sang for the beginning of the conference last night, which is both achingly beautiful and a very fitting description of why I am here this summer:

The tree of life my soul hath seen,
Laden with fruit and always green:
The trees of nature fruitless be
Compared with Christ the apple tree.

His beauty doth all things excel:
By faith I know, but ne’er can tell,
The glory which I now can see
In Jesus Christ the apple tree.

For happiness I long have sought,
And pleasure dearly I have bought:
I missed of all; but now I see
’Tis found in Christ the apple tree.

I’m weary with my former toil,
Here I will sit and rest a while:
Under the shadow I will be,
Of Jesus Christ the apple tree.

This fruit doth make my soul to thrive,
It keeps my dying faith alive:
Which makes my soul in haste to be
With Jesus Christ the apple tree.

EDIT: the prodigal son/elder son thing was mentioned in the keynote I worked as my first real conference shift today after I wrote this blog. UHM.

Tonight, the image of
That Beautiful One came swiftly,
Looked for my heart's place.
When He found it, He drew His knife
And plunged it into my heart.
Bless that most Beautiful One.

--Rumi

It's time for Lent.