Reverenda Rosa

Random Notes of Jubilation: The Ordination of A Bishop

A Red Letter Day Calls for Red Letter Shoes!  I did it.  I really did.  I finally got myself the shoes that say yes to all the newness of life that is represented by my hip surgery.  So here they are..

• In a Land Far, Far Away:  Crossing from Southeast Florida to Silicon Valley takes a long, long time.  And such a totally different landscape...My friend B has let me borrow a book called The Solace of Fierce Landscapes.  Saratoga, where I stayed in California, is picture-perfect, with gentle hills, vineyards and pastel colored flowers.  I realized how accustomed I've become to the harshness of much of the landscape here in South Florida where so much is gritty and exposed.  Strange to find myself more comfortable here than there...

• Where We Are: I have never blogged about the deep, horribly painful conflicts that are tearing at the Episcopal Church.  Words fail me when it comes to all that.  I am better able to focus instead on the work at hand, with the Centro, All Saints, and the Diocese I am a part of.  On Friday evening, all the participants in Mary's ordination were invited to a reception at a church in Cupertino.  There was the usual milling around when our Presiding Bishop, Katharine Jefferts Schori walked in.  A tall, lanky presence of quiet, her face looked tired.  As part of a presentation honoring Mary, Bishop Schori presented her with a plaque of the stunning quotation by Dom Helder Camara:  The bishop belongs to all.  Let no one be scandalized if I frequent those who are considered unworthy or sinful. Who is not a sinner? Let no one be alarmed if I am seen with compromised and dangerous people, on the left or the right.  Let no one bind me to a group.  My door, my heart, must be open to everyone, absolutely everyone. One sees the cost of that call in her eyes. 
  
  My friend C, another Hispanic clergy woman from our diocese was with me.  She was determined to get a picture with Bishop Schori and dragged me along with her (I was quite mortified!).  At first, Bishop Schori was a bit guarded, though gracious.  But when C and I spoke to her in Spanish and explained that we do Latino ministry, her eyes sparkled and she thanked us.  It is I who am deeply, deeply grateful for her leadership.
• Bearing Witness:  There were probably 15 bishops present for the ordination.  But almost the entire service revolved around Bishop Schori and Bishop Mary.  The service was completely bilingual and both women speak impeccable Spanish.  For a woman clergy like me, watching these two strong and gentle women, listening to them speak of God and to God in the tongue of my land, it felt like a dream.  Our church is changing and opening its doors wider.  I also kept thinking about all the young girls sitting in the congregation, how they will never have known a time when there weren't women doing brave, important work of all sorts.  Amazing...
  
  It is traditional in the Episcopal church for the one to be ordained to enter the service wearing a simple white alb.  So when Mary knelt to take her vows and be ordained, even she, who is tall and assured, looked small and vulnerable up there in the presence of Bishop Schori in her miter and cope.  At the consecration, all the rest of the bishops, all of them men, except one, quietly gathered around her in an almost circle to lay hands on her.  They were dressed in sweet garb--fru-fru sleeved vestments that many in our church laughingly say are a straight man's excuse for dressing in drag. Watching them come to be with her, I was somehow reminded of the way so many species in the animal world gather around a new-born or injured, or otherwise vulnerable member of their kind.  I was glad that in that moment, when the weight of her new ministry pressed down on Mary, there was that protective circle around her.  I have a feeling that it is a moment of deep solidarity, when those who have already been ordained remember that this is the moment when some more weight of the cross comes to rest on only too human shoulders.
• Letting Go:  I was one of the people who presented Mary on behalf of the Diocese of Southeast Florida.  It felt strangely like being a parent of the bride.  Mary is doing what she was called to do, and there was great pride in presenting her.  And also a deep sense of sorrow.  Yet another couple in our parish, people Spouseman and I love dearly, have let us know they are moving away.  I hate all this leave-taking and loss.  It's not just the holes people leave as they move.  It is about how much I enjoy getting to see people's stories unfold with the kind of detail and complexity that only proximity allows.  So on Saturday, as we presented Mary, I was unspeakably sad at the same time that I rejoiced with and for the Diocese of El Camino Real.
     
• There is a place to come home to: I have more work than hours in the day to get it done in.  I am glad to be back. 

Discernment, Part I

We prayed and sang, first thing in the Vineyard, today.  The Vineyard was once a dining room in the old rectory, now transformed into the parish office at All Saints.  B., my fellow sojourner in the work of parish family life, envisioned this dining room as a gathering place for our intergenerational Religious Formation program for the Fall.  With the help of yards and yards of lovely tulle, and grape vines, banners and a breath-taking poster, we created a space where our the small core group of families who will help lead the way to a new kind of Eucharistic experience at All Saints gather each Sunday.

After we'd finished singing, I quietly took out a bag of flour that had bran mixed in with it.  Another bowl had colored sand.  There was also a small damp cloth, another pair of empty bowls and a sifter.  We all felt the flour and then I sifted it into a bowl.  We all watched the flour gently fall in the bowl, separating out from the bran.  Some more touching, some more conversation about how light and airy the flour felt now, how the bran could be used for something else, but that the flour could be used to make really fluffy, delicious cake.  Then I sifted the sand.  This time, the sand just flew through sifter--much finer and less time-consuming than the flour.  What nobody knew was that I had placed small treasures in the sand.  So after the sand had all collected in the bowl, I handed the sifter around for everyone to see.  There were gasps--three year old twins, two little boys with the most mischievous sets of dancing eyes you can imagine--were particularly entranced.

Discernment comes from the Latin word that means "to sift."  We spent the rest of our time together doing age-appropriate activities that allowed us all to talk about discernment, listening for God's voice, and how we sort out and make meaning of the different parts and voices that constitute our lives. 

Today, doing this work was particularly poignant and challenging for me.  Light of My Life went to the bad place, just as I was beginning to lead our program.  I sat doing the presentation while she pummeled me, and hard, in a way that others couldn't quite see.  I hoped that ignoring her and doing something that I knew would be interesting to her would pull her back into a better place.  I also was aware that someone who knows even more than I do about working with an out of control child was with us.  LoML has a streak of cunning so she was being careful not to get "caught".  I was repressing every single bit of me that quite honestly wanted to beat the sweet b'jesus out of her.  I've learned to accept that part of myself.  I recognize it as a very primitive survival instinct that does not need to be acted upon.  I also know, having learned by the hardest, that there is nothing gained with anything but a very detached, calm response to her acting out like this.

Fortunately for me, J finally caught on to what was going on and removed LoML from the work area.  The following 45 minutes were hell for J--my child pulled all the stops out to test this new person.  Spitting, kicking, throwing stuff, pulling away to try to either get at me or one of the other children.  J knew what she was doing though, and she prevailed.  An hour later, things were calm enough for Spouseman, LoML and I to ride home safely in our car. 

The clergy conference I've just returned from had a lot to do with discernment.  I have been mindful that as LoML heads into adolescence all bets are off with her behavior.  We have a good set of resources in place to help her and I believe we have done a good job responding to her needs, loving her with all our being, and being faithful, both my husband and I, to our vocations as well.  Can that continue?  How do I sort out my responsibilities as a mother, a priest, a wife, a person struggling hard to continue on the journey to health and strength, physical, emotional, spiritual?  That is sifting work for me to do, work of hard discernment. 

One of the those weeks

It's one of those weeks.  Wednesday night found me out at 10 PM, looking for one of the men who come to the Centro and is a temporary worker in this country.  He'd passed out at work and had been taken away in an ambulance.  At 9:30 PM I had gotten a frantic call from another member of the Centro who told me about this and that now, no one knew where he was.  We found him, thank the good Lord.  He'd been admitted to the hospital where he was taken but registered with his second last name (in Latin America we use both our paternal and maternal last names). He was pale, wan and lonely lying in that hospital bed.

He went through a series of neurological tests for the next two days, nobody ever talked to him about what they were doing, despite my efforts, and on Friday he was released with a sheaf of papers in English that had been shoved in his hand.  When I picked him up, he asked me to read them to him.  One page had a two paragraph description of something called "Fahr's Disease"--a rare, hereditary neurological disorder that causes progressive calcification of the basal ganglia (part of of the brain).  It leads to dementia, paralysis and ultimately, death.  There is no treatment except whatever you can do as symptoms emerge.  He'd also been handed a two page list of do's and don'ts related to seizures.  I loved one in particular:  "Stress can trigger seizures.  If your job is stressful, change jobs."  We're talking about archangel here, the young 23 year old man who had the dental problems a while back, who supports a mom and several siblings back in Mexico.  One of the guys who sends home $170 of his $200 paycheck each week.

I didn't have the heart to tell him all these things on Friday.  I went back early yesterday morning and had a long monologue with him.  I'm not sure he heard much.  I underlined that since the doctor had not told him anything I wasn't even sure if this was his diagnosis.  I'll try to help him see a neurologist later this week.

Along the way, I kept doing my pilates classes.  That is till Friday when I forgot that I had changed my scheduled class for earlier than usual and  missed by appointment.

I was also preparing for a Beach Eucharist to culminate our 5 Sundays of "I Wish it Were Still Vacation Bible School."  I had so much fun making the preparations, including sending out clever e-vites. 

A friend of mine has a description for what happens when you realize you've messed up:  she calls them "A rush of sh&% to the heart" moments.  Well I just had one of those.  Late last night, I'd sent out a final reminder telling everyone the weather was good to go for this morning.  Today I got an email from one our parishioners who pointed out that the e-vites are for the 23rd.  Today is the 16th.  All our other announcements were for the 16th.  The best I can do as of now is plan to do this twice.  Damn, Damn, Damn, Damn.  I could just shoot myself.

One foot down in front of the other.  Keep going.  It will be OK...

Lord, Help Me Be a Non-Anxious Presence

Today was as rough as it gets when spouses work together in a church.  It wasn't anything major, it wasn't anything that can't be resolved.  The roles just get confusing and sometimes, sorting them out to respond appropriately does not come easy. I did something I don't usually do.  I simply left the scene for a while.  I got in my car and drove to the beach, took off my crocks and waded into the water, holding my skirt up as high as a 40-something priest lady should.  The morning sun was strong and true, the water clear, the small wavelets washing over my legs repeated the same promise over and over again, until I could finally hear that all things can and shall be made new.  After crying, and listening, and saying the serenity prayer ten times, I went back to work and did the work I had to do, did it as well as I possibly could until it was time to call it a day.

This afternoon, I went to my Pilates class.  As soon as I walked in,  Tonka said, in her lilting Bulgarian accent: "Rosa, your body is completely out of kilter--what is happening today?"  Getting things back in symmetry, allowing my muscles to let go, moving back into my body enough to release it from the distorting ways of our broken humanity was awesome difficult.  It felt like I was staggering under the weight of full body armor.  But I hung in with myself.   And I will be back to do the work again this Friday, tending to the part of "me" which is most buffeted by stress, because that is the faithful thing to do--for myself, for my husband who also happens to be my boss, for my vocation, for God.  I am learning. 

What the beach was like today (picture of LoML taken recently)

One Week Melting into the Next

Today:

• I got lots and lots of hugs from Light of My Life.  All these years later,  she is finally affectionate, spontaneously affectionate.  She amazes me.  And asked me to make a CD of the sound track of "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants".  D#*^% i-tunes .  Oh Lord, she is growing up on me...
• 6 years ago, LoML was baptized.  Our friends M & M, godparents from out of town, left the party that Sunday to drive up to West Palm Beach International Airport.  They were flying back home --and were probably at the airport at the same time as Atta and the others who 2 days later would fly planes into buildings.  That is still a profoundly disturbing intersection to think about.
• Today we had our fourth "I wish it were still Vacation Bible School."  It was incredibly fun.  And so many hands have been ready to help out and make it happen, most of them unsolicited.  I love Church when we do it right!  Next Sunday, we'll celebrate the Eucharist on the beach and then have beach time together.  If anyone has any do's or don'ts for beach services, speak now.  please...
• I started roughing out a research project proposal.  I'm looking at making a grant request, a modest one--enough to fund my taking two cruises in the next year or so.  When my family went on a cruise last year, I ended up talking to lots of people and was struck by the narratives of both crew members and cruisers.  Intriguingly biblical.  And all this aboard a prime example of what Foucault calls "heterotopias" -- spaces that create "other" or dislocating realities for financial profit.  (Disney World is another example of a heterotopia.)  I am intrigued by the way the two come together.  I want to probe that some more and have visions of myself spending time with the crews and "table hopping" at dinner time in the main dining room.  And then writing. 
• My life feels as complete--pain, disappointment, stress, confusion not withstanding--as I could possibly ask it to be.  Truly, my cup runneth over.

Quick Quick

• Small sources of joy:  a new linoleum floor in the Centro.  A parishioner offered to have the floor installed for us.  We'd been planning to do it, though none of us really knew how to do it.  The installer was this amazing, sweet guy who actually does most of his work on yachts and mansions, laying down marble.  He did it so beautifully.  The space is now light, and airy and joyful.  All we have left to do is put back the baseboards and the transformation will be complete. 
• How we are all connected:  When you've lived long enough in hurricane country, you become more aware of what happens to the weather when a big one is churning out there.  All these many miles away from Dean, clouds racing past us, gusty breezes, the soupy humidity--they all make me uneasy, even knowing I'm safe because they are part of the hurricane system. 
• Once a year, cute is great.  We started VBS this Sunday.  We're using Great Bible Reef so we've made this cool mural of a reef that's pasted up on a bay window.  The window seat is covered with cellophane and crepe streamers to look like water and populated with small stuffed and plastic sea critters.  We decorated cookies in the shape of fish, octopi(??) and crabs, and offered them at coffee hour.  As a I said, one a year, I love cute.
• School morning heaven:  Sitting with a good cup of coffee, Light of My Life on my lap, letting me love on her and comb and fix her hair.  Taking her to school, past the canals and the New River, where the sunlight is dancing and the breeze is just barely rippling over the water.  Singing together at the top of our lungs, "Before the beginning, before there was time, God loved you and me."  Feeling her butterfly touch on my arm as she gets out of the car and hearing her say, "thanks for the ride mom" sounding so mature that it makes my heart scrunch up and puff out all at once.  She's growing up...

Man, I love my life...

Quick Tuesday Checkin

Things on my heart today:

• It's VBS time in my world.  Except that at All Saints we do things a little eccentric so this year it is called "I wish it were still Vacation Bible School."  We'll start the Sunday before public school starts and run it for 5 Sundays.  A ramp up to a whole new approach to intergeneration ministries at our parish.  Anybody out there have good insights/suggestions for services that are really inclusive of children????
• Three of the coolest young women imaginable are working with me for 3 days to get all the planning/preparations for IWVBS wrapped up.  I love how much teen aged girls giggle. 
• The mayor of our city has decided to use a beach improvement project as a platform to scapegoat the gay community in Fort Lauderdale.  I am glad for the giggles that were like leaven in our offices today.  All Saints opens its doors wide to everyone in the community--including our GLBT brothers and sisters.  I have such good friends who are being reduced to a parody of their God given humanity.  I hate the futile anger that wells up.  Why????
• There's a big rally to protest our mayor's acting out this afternoon.  I want to go.  But I need to pick up my daughter at camp at the same time.  Limits.  Maybe also a time to pray and hold the brokenness of the world up to God for healing.  God knows we are incapable of healing our own selves.  Lord have mercy...

Translations that Delight Me

Every now and then, I am particularly amused or intrigued or touched as I move between my two primary languages.  Those of you who remember the obsession with "TQI" or "Total Quality Improvement"--a corporate fad that obsessed with making incremental quality improvements to "gain competitive advantage"--might remember a technique called "brainstorming".  It's still used quite frequently in problem solving and finding creative solutions to a challenge.  The translation in Spanish:  "lluvia de ideas" which translated back into English means "rain shower of ideas".  A really different sense to the process ah?

I preach every Saturday evening at the Eucharist we celebrate at the Centro.  This past Saturday, only two members of the "seed group" that has begun this ministry with me were able to attend.  There were 2 women including me, and 10 men.  Most of the men had been out doing landscaping most of the day.  Just a step above indentured laborers, they can't afford to do much laundry, though they always look neat and you can tell that they've bathed before coming to church.  For a while, one of them had been coming to church drunk, disheveled, and quite honestly, not too clean or sweet smelling.  On Saturday,  he was as sober as I've ever seen him, shiny clean, well groomed, quiet. 

Earlier in the week, I had done the usual exegetical work as I prepared my sermon so I knew quite a lot (or at least so I thought I did) about the Gospel passage--like how the whole thing with "Legion" and the swines was a dig at the Romans, etc.  But what had really "shimmered", to borrow a beautiful expression from one of my RevGalBlogPals, was the passage from Kings in Spanish, and more specifically, the translation for "sheer silence".  In the Biblia Latinoamérica,  that particular phrase is translated as "the murmur of a soft breeze".  It may not be as precise as other translations but it is so evocative.  My sermon was about all the voices in our own heads, voices of worry and anxiety, voices of angry and abusive bosses, sad lonely voices of families far away, that leave us feeling so isolated that we might as well be living in tombs.  Working in the hot, humid soup that is South Florida's weather in the summer, sometimes, a soft breeze stirs through.  It gently caresses our face.  It quietly interrupts the voices inside our head.  We are reminded that God is love, moving wherever, touching whomever.  It both comforts and transforms.  Mainly, it calls.

If you are a preacher, you know about those particularly gracefilled occasions when you are connected deeply with your congregation, and your efforts to break open the Scripture for nurture have actually worked.  There was sheer silence in our midst on Saturday night.  Like the murmuring of a soft breeze.

What Does the Lord Require?

I am so proud of my parish.  Broward County is an incredible paradox.  Ft. Lauderdale bills itself as the yachting capital of the world.  All Saints is located right on the New River and all up and down this waterway, there are numerous marinas where yachts and mega-yachts get repaired or refurbished.  It is not unusual during church to look out the window and see an opulently sleek 125 ft vessel coming up the river.  There is too much invisible poverty as well.  One very specific example: Hurricane Wilma caused significant damage in our county and housing became even more of an issue than before.  Trailer parks were particularly hard hit.  I know of one that suffered infrastructure damage that would have cost $600K to repair.  A big developer offered the owner $5 million to buy the property.  I'm sure you know what he did.  Trailer parks are one of the last affordable  housing options in the county so these types of transactions have been devastating.

In Broward, the faith community has been fragmented and turned inward.  Now, about 20 congregations including All Saints, congregatins that cross all kinds of differences, are forming a social justice network.  The model is simple and you may already be familiar with it.  Each year, the network goes through a listening process that allows the folks of the member congregations to identify the issues that they consider are most impacting the quality of life of our county.  This step culminates with an assembly to select one or two issues that the network will engage.  Once the issues have been identified, a small research team begins to look at constructive ways to bring about improvement.  This is also the time when we identify the folks who are in a position to bring about change related to the issue--for example, the school superintendent on education issues, the county mayor for certain types of housing issues, etc.  The really critical step in our annual effort to do justice is called a "Nehemiah Assembly".  On that occasion, the network gathers as many people as possible in one of the local churches and invites the person or persons in power who can implement the changes we're recommending to meet with us.  In that context, we ask him or her to commit to support our proposal.  At its most basic, this is a way of holding power accountable. 

So a parish that has been great about engaging in acts of faith and mercy is now about to step into doing the work of justice as well.  Last night we had a training event because we are starting the listening process and I was humbled seeing so many members of All Saints there, together with a rainbow of brothers and sisters.  I can just imagine the difference we can make, if we are able to do this work with courage and faith.  It's a good day for Broward County.

Summer Sermon

My dear friend Songbird preached a marvelous sermon about summertime yesterday. To read her sermon, here.  Enjoy!