Living word by word

Advent 1A --wake, awake

I’ve been thinking a lot about the role of the prophet lately. For one thing, it’s Advent, and we’re about to get our annual shout from John – the Baptist, the one to whom Lutherans don’t generally give a lot of airtime.

 

In the absence of credible Christian prophets these days, we have some thoroughly secular folk taking on the cause of waking us up. There’s the Reverend Billy and the Church of Stop Shopping  warning us of the Shopocalypse, and plenty of environmentalists telling us to wake up, and quick.

 

I am sympathetic to these messengers, and like to think that I am pretty awake myself, on my better days. But the pastoral side of me wonders about the long-term effects of fire and brimstone. I suspect that some people enjoy getting a good beating on a Sunday morning, feeling bad for awhile and thus being certain that they’ve done their emotional penance. Then they go back to sleep.

 

Or, there’s the effect Janisse Ray wrote about recently in Orion, in which the true believers gather, tsk tsk at all those who are deaf to the message, and then head home, ignoring any further changes they may personally need to make. What if “the choir” is not really doing that much better than middle America? If I know about global warming and believe in it, does that automatically make me more righteous than the doubters? Am I justified merely by my faith in the wrath to come?

 

Here’s the irony: many of these “prophets” have long since eschewed any semblance of religious faith. In fact, many of them assume that churchgoing Christians like me are the opposition rather than allies. If you asked them about matters of heaven and hell, personal righteousness or eternal judgment, they’d probably insist that they don’t believe in judgment. But they sure as heck use the language of guilt, sin, shame and, sometimes, fear – as well as and sometimes better than street corner prophets. Walter Brueggeman argued in Sojourners recently that Rev. Billy is most definitely using the methods of Old Testament prophecy (e.g. performance art) in his Starbucks tirades. These prophets believe firmly in the end of the world as we know it.  They just think God has no part in it.

 

I’m pretty sure that the end of the world as we know it will come about through human hands. We can create a shopocalypse, an end to oil, a global climate crisis without any intervention at all, thank you very much. But I’m also pretty sure that sustained, hopeful, joyous resistance to the status quo needs something more than my humanity – it needs my trust in a God more powerful than my own sleepy soul.

 

What wakes us up best – the screaming smoke alarm or the sounds of nature? I’m not sure either one works perfectly for everyone. For some the rude awakening just arouses anger at the source of the noise; others are just too darned exhausted to let anything wake them.

 

It’s been years since I needed an alarm in the morning. I have something much better now – my children. Their voices are insistent, piercing and still beautiful. And they need me, now more than ever, to wake up.

Catalog choice

Three cheers for the National Wildlife Fund and the Natural Resources Defense Council for sponsoring this new Catalog Choice website, where you can opt out of most major catalog mailings. This is one of those things I've been meaning to do for a long time, but never have wanted to endure the phone call hell such a request usually requires. With this, there's no sales person badgering you -- "Are you REALLY sure?". You just create an account and click away.  (Of course, I just found out about this, so we'll really see how well it works in another 6 weeks or so).

Yes,  I want to save some trees, but I also want the "buy, buy, buy" message to stop coming daily to my mailbox. If I need something, I'll still find it online, but I don't need these people creating new desires via glossy photos every day. It's those desires that have the worst impact on the environment in the long run.

OK, I get it

I can be cranky when it comes to apparently mundane comments on the weather. People who whine too much about winter get no sympathy from me. It is Minnesota, after all. If you hate it that much, why not move south? I spent my first 18 years in northern California, and while I have no complaints, I do actually prefer the four seasons we get here.

Yesterday gave me a little window, however, into the wistfulness some people feel at summer's end. Me, I'm usually bounding out the door with renewed energy and singing "O Canada!" when it's finally jacket weather again. And if it's 80 in October, you will NOT find me going on about how lovely it is. 80 in October in Minnesota is just wrong.

But yesterday it was officially fall, and it was in the 80's, and I was OK with it. Really. We went for a family bike ride on our train -- the tandem, followed by the trail-a-bike, followed by the Burley. The kids were perfectly cheerful, singing the whole 20 miles to Izzy's Ice Cream, the establishment in St. Paul that got me through my first pregnancy. On the way home we began to run out of steam and stopped on Lake Calhoun for fish and chips at The Tin Fish. Three guys were playing some sort of experimental minimalist jazz, the tables were full of kids, there were ducks and dogs everywhere, and the sun was going down at its appointed equinox hour. It was a perfect evening, and I felt that combination of wistfulness and contentment that watching small children brings when they are well-behaved. I didn't want it to end, and I knew it would. We wouldn't have done that in 50 degrees. . . OK, I get it.

a time to judge??

Sorry for the long silence. I've been busy managing the house while Will has been traveling and the church while my colleague is in Tanzania. I'll get my turn away next week at the Collegeville Institute's writing workshop "Writing is Believing."

I've also been enjoying our wonderful CSA produce and reading about the bounties of the earth in Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.  Kingsolver's depiction of how her family decided to eat wholly local for a year is seductive. I'm jealous not only of their gardens but of the cooperative nature of the family project that led to the book. I would love for our family to be able to experiment together in such a way. . .maybe once they're all potty-trained.

I also love her mini-rant about the culture of manners in our society: it's of course unacceptable to steal or to chew with your mouth open, but if you suggest out loud that someone's choices might be stealing from future generations, that say, your neighbor's Hummer might be  a vulgar use of energy that others will pay for later in carbon emissions, you're being horribly PC. Will and I struggle mightily with instilling our children with our values without having them catch the not-so-Christian disdain we have for those who live -- in our oh-so-perfect judgment -- wastefully.

climate change

The climate change plan for Minnesota I mentioned in a previous post got some press today in the Star Tribune editorial page here. I'm so proud my husband's work with this!

Wendell Berry

Thanks to my husband for the tip about this nice commentary on Wendell Berry. On the one hand, I'm envious of anyone who can be so timeless in their thinking. On the other hand, what a sad state of affairs that something written 30 years ago is still so true. Do we ever learn? I'm very excited that Wendell Berry, who doesn't travel much, is coming to Saint Paul in June to support the Land Stewardship Project.

Well, maybe we do. Will also reported back from a gathering of officials and "stakeholders" last Friday who came together to work on a Minnesota climate change plan. Governor Pawlenty gave some remarks, mentioning among other things that it was 30 years ago Friday that President Jimmy Carter gave his famous fireside talk urging Americans to conserve energy. Carter was, of course, villified at the time, but our very own Republican governor said on Friday, and I quote, "Carter was right." Pawlenty also said that any number of environmentalists who were labeled "fringe" in the past have turned out to be right as well, and he called on the audience to offer them a debt of thanks.

Pawlenty still won't support a gas tax, of course, but at least he's willing to publicly admit that environmentalism is no longer  fringe issue.

climate change

A few weeks ago I wrote in Journey with Jesus about "the Dial and the Switch," and there certainly has been a "switch" in the amount of media attention to climate change in recent months. This is either

a. Good, because it is finally a mainstream issue

b. Bad, because more evidence of climate change means it really is happening, and faster than we expected

c. both

I'm going for c, but I am VERY encouraged by the Supreme Court's ruling yesterday which affirms the EPA's authority to regulate greenhouse gases. YES!! It was a 5-4 split, so I'm praying for Ruth Bader Ginsberg's health a lot these days.

What continues to baffle me are those who say, "yes, there is climate change, but it's not human-caused." If you accept the science that we have a warming globe -- and only the fringe does not --, regardless of the cause, would you not want to ameliorate its affects anyway? Or are the naysayers so fatalist that they are content to let whoever suffers suffer, no questions asked?  Here is where the role of the U.S. Christian community becomes vital, I think, because as Americans we both contribute more carbon to the environment than most, AND we are in the best position to save ourselves. It will take a firm commitment from those who believe we should serve the "least of these" to turn this around so that the global impact of climate change is addressed.

reality checks

Ash Wednesday has arrived with its usual harbingers at our house: the Girl Scout cookies are in a filling our freezer (it's a bad week to give up chocolate), and last year's Visa summary statement has arrived. Who is this person who ordered all these cookies and spent so much money last year? Yikes!

I ran the "collar for Lent" experiment idea past some of our staff yesterday, and they rightly pointed out that such an experiment might prevent as much conversation as it invites. . . hard to say. I usually wear my collar on Ash Wednesday anyway, so tomorrow will be the real decision day. Our office manager said, "it would be like wearing ashes all through lent. . ." Maybe.

I'd also like to ride the bus more this season. My commute is short enough that it doesn't save me any money to do this, but it does give me a window on France Avenue that I don't normally otherwise encounter.

If you're not sufficiently aware of mortality this season, check out Bill McKibben's latest piece on global warming in the Christian Century. It's not online yet, but I assume it will be up soon.

board meeting

For two days I'm in Chicago at a board meeting. Actually it's a "unit program committee" meeting for our Lutheran churchwide offices. What does this mean, you ask?

It means twice a year I get up in the wee hours, disentangle my weeping children from my legs and head off to the airport, where I take off my shoes and coat and show them my tiny toothpaste tube in a plastic baggie and wedge myself in between businessmen on a flight to O'Hare. Once at O'Hare I get a hotel shuttle to take me to the churchwide offices which are five minutes away, in a sea of hotels, chain restaurants and glass-and-steel boxes. I go to the 11th floor of said box and sit for two days in corporate-looking board room, eat catered food on plastic plates and drink bottled water. I watch Power Point presentations and hear about strategic goals and try to give "feedback" which will be duly recorded and probably put in a file cabinet somewhere.

Why do I do this? I'm still trying to answer that question. The short answer is that I hope to be of some help to people who are in turn trying to be of help to people starting new congregations and renewing congregations in our denomination. I also really enjoy the company of the other people who have volunteered for this board, coming as they do from Montana and West Viriginia and Pennsylvania and Puerto Rico, leaving their own roles as pastors and parents and music directors and police officers. But the truth is is I don't know how much good we're doing, and it's hard to justfiy the expense.

I think a big part of my dis-ease is the sterility of it all. I never feel like I've been to Chicago. I feel like I got on a plane, off a plane, into a board room, and back again. The meetings are a testament, I think, to how space shapes people, and how it's hard to think "outside the box" when you are literally in one. These are people of good faith, but so often when I'm here I think we're all trapped by the inevitable corporate-ness of it all.