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by The Rev. Daniel P Strandlund | March 7, 2019
Into the Fire, by Gail White
Every love counts, the puppy you were given
At six, the tadpoles that you tried to raise;
Even your silly parents and the siblings
You couldn’t stand were loved on certain days.
The first love of your adolescence, later
Spoken of slightingly as immature,
The love of marriage, even if it ended
In bitterness, the friends that still endure.
Into the mix, put in your charity
To those who had no one but you to love them.
All the loves given, even reluctantly,
Are still our loves. Let’s not make little of them.
They form the only fire that burns on
When sun and moon and stars have packed and gone.
* * *
I like this poem for a lot of reasons, but mostly I like the idea that the love we share and offer the world—however imperfect and awkward it may be—has a sort of cumulative effect on us over time, and that this accumulation is somehow permanent. All those loves, little ones and big ones, even the love of a marriage ended in bitterness, all these loves “form the only fire that still burns on” when everything else has passed away.
This is on my mind in these first days of Lent, while the ashes are still smudged on my thumb and sleeve. In Romans, Paul writes, “For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (8:38-39). Death, life, angels, rulers, nor anything else in all creation—this is an exhaustive list of creaturely powers. All of them, it seems, are fleeting, temporary, of secondary importance when compared to the love of God in Jesus Christ our Lord. Not even death itself has power over this love.
It would seem, then, that Love alone is eternal.
Like a lot of clergy, the offertory sentence I generally use before communion is from Ephesians 5:2 and goes, “Walk in love, as Christ loved us, and gave himself for us, an offering and sacrifice to God.” I like this verse because it reminds us that, for Christians, when we talk about love, we are talking about Jesus Christ. We walk in love as Christ loved us. The love of God in Christ always comes first, so to speak. It’s the condition which makes our own love-walking possible.
Whatever it is we mean when we say that we love, we are referring to the same movement of God’s own life towards the world, the movement whose name is Jesus. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life” (John 3:16). Why did God send Jesus? Love. What is love? God’s sending of Jesus.
In the Gospels, we see this love play out in specific episodes. The force behind Gabriel’s message to the Virgin Mary, the force behind that long genealogy leading up to the birth of Jesus in Luke 3, the force behind all the healings and teaching and loaves and fishes and parables—all of that is the manifestation of the infinite love of God moving towards creation through particular words and actions in particular places and times.
Jesus, then, is the name of the infinite, eternal love of God moving into a particular human history. This is good news for a lot of reasons, one of which is that it means that we particular human beings can participate in the eternal, infinite love of God. Like Jesus, each of us always finds ourselves in a particular situation—the grocery store, tee ball practice—never in some abstract arena called “the world.” We have kids, coworkers, folks beside us at church whose names we’ve never bothered to learn. Because of the movement of the infinite love of God into the particular human life of Jesus, our own particularity can now become the site where God’s infinite, eternal love can continue to move. Jesus has paved the way.
To walk in love, then, is to move towards the world around us in the same way as God moves towards the world: as Jesus Christ, whether at tee ball practice or in the grocery store. “To walk in love as Christ loved us” is to participate in the inner life of the Holy Trinity.
We do this imperfectly, fitfully, and usually with a great deal of awkwardness. And sometimes our best efforts at love end in bitterness or drama or strained silence. What I think our poet is getting at, however, is the extent to which we participate in love is the extent to which we become eternal. It makes sense, if you think about it. If walking in love (as Christ loved us) is participating in the inner life of the Holy Trinity—well, what could be better than that? When we love, we become part of God’s Holy Flame, the “only fire that burns on / When sun and moon and stars have packed and gone.”
Whatever awkward or embarrassing or failed loves are in our past, and which ever loves we’re making an effort at in the present, “Let’s not make little of them,” as our poet says. The loves we offer, tarnished and imperfectly motivated as they may be, constitute the shining core of us, the fire that will long outlast the ashes of which we’re made.
by The Rev. Daniel P Strandlund | February 28, 2019
Sunday, March 3rd
8:15am, our new ‘Campsite’ Worship Service. This is our ‘first draft’ towards establishing a
second worship service and will run through April 14th.
9am, Godly Play for Kids
+ An Adult Formation Class in the Mission Hall, w/Seminarian Thom Rock. Our
theme will be forgiveness.
10:30am, Our Regular Worship Service
6:30pm-8pm, Spring Newcomers’ Class in the Mission Hall
-Julie Warfield or Lisa Sartorio with questions, email@example.com or
Tuesday, March 5th
6:30pm, our Pancake Supper in the Mission Hall! Donations accepted for our Youth budget.
-Bekah and Charlie Welvaert for questions. Volunteers arrive by 6pm.
Bekah.firstname.lastname@example.org or email@example.com
Wednesday, March 6th
Ash Wednesday Service to mark the beginning of Lent at 7pm. Ash Wednesday is one of the major fasting days of the Church.
Sunday, March 10th, Daylight Savings Time Starts!
Bishop’s Committee Meeting after 10:30am service
by The Rev. Daniel P Strandlund | February 21, 2019
Why add a service? The simple answer is that we’re growing! Some numbers: right now, if we pack every single seat in our worship space, we can fit 163 people. And I mean every single seat: we can only get 163 in there if we count the piano bench, full choir and horns, a full altar party, both rocking chairs at the back, all three chairs by the sound cabinet, and the bishop is visiting. This 163 number is largely theoretical, however, because in the primary congregational seating area there are only 139 seats. This means that we begin to feel full well before we get to our ‘bishop’s visit max.’
Along with our consultant, Dr. Whitesel, a host of seasoned pastors will tell you that a church tends to stop growing when its worship services get to about 80% capacity. The reason is simple: it quite literally feels like there’s no room for anyone else. For example, if you’re a family of five who is new to St. Liz, and you walk into church at 10:32, you’re just not going to find five empty seats all in a row. The seats are there, but they’re spread out in ones and twos. Your best case scenario is that some friendly folks skooch over and make room. (Skooch is the technical theological term.)
Even if the skooching experience is pleasant and friendly, it nevertheless begins to flip a subconscious switch in our minds. We’re social creatures. At an instinctive level we only want to join a group (i.e. a church) in which we’re sure there’s room for us. If we’re already part of that group, we only want to invite new members if the group doesn’t already feel full. Somewhere around 80% capacity a room begins to feel full; we test the limits of skooching; and growth plateaus into stasis.
In a community like Buda whose population is growing so quickly, stasis is not a faithful option, and it’s just not the reality in which St. Liz finds ourselves, anyway. Over the past six Sundays, for example, our lowest attendance was 115 and our highest was 135. We’re mighty close to being 80% full every week. It’s time we create more space by adding a worship service.
This is a happy development, and it’s been on the horizon for a while. St. Liz began conversations about it in 2016, but back-burnered the project during our clergy transition in 2017. Suddenly, it’s back on the table! I will admit that I had not anticipated we’d be addressing this exciting possibility quite so soon, but the Holy Spirit doesn’t work on our time table. So here we go!
In the short-term, I’m proposing a temporary solution the primary goal of which is to free up some space in our 10:30am service. Here’s what we’re going to do:
Starting on March 3rd, we’re going to begin holding a second worship service on Sunday mornings at 8:15am, and we will try this for seven weeks (through April 14th). It will be significantly pared down—45 minutes—compared to our current worship service. Less music, fewer readings, less pageantry in general. For example, I intend to wear a stole, my black clergy shirt, and cowboy boots, but not a traditional worship alb. While the new service will have Holy Communion, we won’t have a procession.
We’re entering into uncharted territory, exploring off the map a bit. Because of that, what I need, and what we need as a community, is for this trial service to begin with a pioneer spirit. Instead of trying to simply double our ministry schedule—asking our ushers and acolytes and LEMs to pull double duty each week—we’re going to treat this new service as though we were setting up a campsite in new territory. Just like setting up a campsite, each of us 8:15’ers will undertake ‘camp chores’ on behalf of the community, only instead of setting up a tent or going for firewood, we’ll be greeting folks, or leading Prayers of the People, or serving a chalice, or brewing coffee after worship. And we will do this without our necessarily having been scheduled to do it in advance.
So here’s my specific ask: if this is going to work, I need 20-25 folks to commit to our 8:15am Campsite for 7 weeks. I want to be clear: I’m not asking for folks to attend 8:15am and also our current 10:30am service each week, though I imagine we’ll have a couple folks for whom this might be necessary for one reason or another. Remember: our primary goal is to free up space in our current 10:30am service as it continues to grow. If 20-25 folks simply come to church twice on Sundays, we’re not allowing that to happen.
Our Bishop’s Warden, Julie Warfield, and her husband Ed have already volunteered to set up camp for 7 weeks, and I’m grateful to them for their leadership and faithfulness in this. If you’re feeling called to explore this new territory, I hope you’ll let me know—and soon. Otherwise, I have a feeling the Holy Spirit is going to have me call some of you and say, “You know, I wonder if God is calling you to come to church earlier on Sunday….” J
Our Campsite Service has additional benefits other than being easily implemented in the short run. First, it allow us to try new things as we discern what exactly God is shaping this new service to be in the longer term. I’ve already had one guitarist offer his musical services, for example. I’ve also got some ideas on how to involve our many kids in tactile ways in the service. The beauty of this seven-week trial is that we’re not committed to any of the things we try. If it’s going well at the end of seven weeks, we’ll keep doing it. If it’s not, we’ll scrap it and go back to the drawing board.
Second, adding a second service from 8:15am-9am will allow us an opportunity to continue growing without disrupting our existing Sunday morning momentum in the middle of a semester. For example, the Campsite will not disrupt Godly Play, choir practice, our 10:30am Eucharist, or our new 9am adult formation class. Anyone who attends our 8:15am service will still be able to participate fully in Godly Play and Sunday morning adult formation—and you can still hang out and drink coffee with all your friends after!
That’s the beauty of the Campsite. In the long run, before we settle on a more permanent second service structure, we’ll need a lot more feedback from the congregation. Again, while Campsite could become permanent, I am not committing us to it beyond these seven Sundays. Its primary goal is to address in the short-term the exciting demands our continued growth is making of us as a community, demands which are upon us sooner than I had anticipated. Thank you in advance for your willingness to give it a try.
Who knows where we could be a year from now? It could be that on Sundays, we have an 8:30am and an 11am service, or 9am and 11:15am, with formation offerings in between. Or some totally new idea on a totally new timetable we haven’t dreamed of yet. Or it could be that Campsite works pretty well and becomes a permanent settlement.
We just don’t know. We don’t have a map yet because we’re only now exploring this terrain. In Hebrews we read that Christ is the “pioneer of our faith” (Heb. 12:2). To be a pioneer is to tread new territory. What a gift God is giving us, that we might follow His Son beyond the reach of what is familiar. By offering ourselves today as His explorers, we help draw the maps by which future generations can navigate. If that’s at all an exciting prospect to you, I hope you’ll let me know.
Welcome to the frontier.
by The Rev. Daniel P Strandlund | February 7, 2019
Hi friends, more exciting news for St. Liz: we’ve got two big home improvements going on this month.
First, on Tuesday of this week, two gentlemen from Rainbow Play Systems showed up to begin installing our new playground! (If you’re at the church on a weekday this week, please be sure to say hi to Alex and Charles and thank them for their work.) The old playscape served us well and has moved on to its new home. Our new playground will take several days to install—big holes to dig, concrete to pour and set, etc.—but if weather permits, it’s possible it’ll be ready to go by Sunday! Thanks to Tina Otto for coordinating our playground search and to Bobby Wilder’s family for making it possible.
Second, later on this month, St. Liz will be getting a new roof! While this is not quite as obviously exciting as a new playground, this is nonetheless an important step in our ongoing stewardship of our facilities. At the Bishop’s Committee retreat last year, we began brainstorming some ‘beautification’ desires for St. Liz’s properties. We began talking about smaller projects, but as our conversations continued throughout the year, we realized that we have some bigger ticket items that need addressing. This fall, we had outside experts take a look at our building foundation, one of the roof trusses on the interior of the church, and the roof itself. Of all these, the foundation posed no structural problems; the roof truss is not pressing; and replacing the roof emerged as our best next step.
So, our 2018 Jr. Warden, DJ Sartorio, did some great work tracking down quotes from three different contractors, did a little Chicago-style haggling on St. Liz’s behalf, and now we’re set for the new roof to go up later this month—again, weather permitting! We expect the new roof to go up during weekdays and not disrupt any Sunday foot traffic. If this changes, I’ll be sure to let you know. I’m grateful to our new Jr. Warden, Dave McCoy, for meeting with our contractors and staying on top of our various projects.
Finally, because of your continued faithfulness and generosity, and because you continue to exhibit hospitality as we welcome new folks to St. Liz, we are in a healthy financial position and can absorb the cost of a new roof without undertaking a capital campaign. Not a bad start to 2019. Who knows what God could have in store for us just around the bend?
by The Rev. Daniel P Strandlund | January 24, 2019
Hi friends, as you may have heard, our Life Groups are reading a book about the Enneagram right now, and on Saturday, March 16th, St. Liz is hosting an Enneagram ‘Know Your Number’ event taught by Lucy Strandlund. I hope you’ll plan to come. Today, however, I want to say a little of how the Enneagram has aided me in my own spiritual life.
I am a Seven on the Enneagram. One of the key drives for Sevens is the desire to avoid pain, in the broadest sense. Anger, sadness, physical pain, boredom—really anything that isn’t fun, interesting, and as intensely enjoyable as possible. Sevens crave satisfaction but fear that we won’t ever have it. So, we come up with a hundred different plans and little pleasures. (For example, at one point a couple summers ago, I was trying to learn French, Spanish, and Russian at the same time. Needless to say, it didn’t work!) Sevens put all our energies into what’s next, hoping that the next thing will satisfy us. What’s really going on is that we’re trying to stay ahead of unpleasant feelings. We have all these plans, yet because we flit so quickly from this to that, we don’t pursue any of them to completion or with any great depth. Why would we? If we stuck with something, it might get too difficult or boring, and that would be painful!
Thus, the ‘original sin’ of Seven personality is gluttony: pursuing an excess of experiences while savoring very little. Suzanne Stabile, Lucy’s teacher and one of the authors of the book we’re reading, sums up Seven personality like this: “Sevens settle for more.” More food, more drink, more exercise, more work, more play, more books, more items in a series separated by more commas.
As a student of the Enneagram, I’m aware of all this, but awareness is where my work begins. If the original sin of Sevens is gluttony, then my temptation might be to develop a series of rigorous disciplines to curb my appetites and channel my energies more productively. “I will not start another book until I finish this one,” or “I will give up eating at restaurants for two weeks,” or “I will say Morning Prayer, Evening Prayer, and Compline every day for a month,” or whatever. But look at what’s happening: by flying off into more disciplines, I’m fighting my Seven-ness with more Seven-ness! I’ve ended up in the ridiculous position of being a glutton for asceticism—which, needless to say, is not satisfying. St. Paul’s words in Romans 7:15 come to mind: “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” I’ve simply traded one intensity for another.
When it comes to the Enneagram, your number is your number is your number. I’ll never not be a Seven; trying to “fix it” through will power won’t work. What I can become is a Seven who is more and more transformed by the grace of God. For Sevens, that means opening to God in the present moment, regardless of whether the present moment is unpleasant or less interesting than I want it to be. It’s not easy. As a Seven, I’m practiced at thinking quickly and darting off to the next thing, both physically and mentally, before I’ve actually felt all the little frustrations and griefs life brings my way. If I’m going to allow the grace of God to transform me into the satisfied, joyful person I want to be, I have to let all those negative feelings catch up and pass through my soul. That’s the baptism to which I’m called as a Seven: going more slowly, feeling all of the bad along with the good, paying attention to the desires of others rather than only my own plans. When I allow God to reach me in this very particular way, I find that not only am I a better husband and priest, but I’m happier, more satisfied, more at home in my life as it is.
There are nine Enneagram numbers, so it will likely be different for you. A Five or a Nine, for example, might have to practice identifying priorities and acting on them more often, not less. But whatever your number is, you can rest assured that your path of transformation will involve something you don’t want. That’s the power of the Enneagram as a spiritual tool: it takes seriously that original sin isn’t just an abstract doctrine without concrete, discernible content. Nor does it pretend that God’s transforming grace is simply something that happens in the next life. We are an incarnate people; therefore, both our sins and our experiences of grace have real-life particularities.
Lucy Strandlund is teaching the Enneagram at St. Liz on Saturday, March 16th. You’ll leave the event knowing your Enneagram number, or at least have made progress in identifying it. Furthermore, no one will simply tell you what your number is, nor will you be given a test to determine it. The process of discovery and transformation is yours to undertake.
I hope you’ll come.
by The Rev. Daniel P Strandlund | January 10, 2019
Julie Warfield, joined March 2015 (Bishop’s Warden since fall 2016)
Dave McCoy, joined Jan. 2017 (Jr. Warden, starting Jan. 2019)
Sarah Williams, joined Jan. 2017
Tina Otto, joined Nov. 2017
Philip Johnson, joined Dec. 2017
Charlie Welvaert, joined Jan. 2018
David Jensen, joined Jan. 2019
Betsy Terrel, joined Jan. 2019
Krista Piferrer, joined Jan. 2019
Sarah Johnson, (joined Jan. 2019. Treasurer, non-voting member.)
Please commend these folks to your daily prayers! Our BC members who are rolling off are DJ Sartorio, (joined as Junior Warden Jan. 2016), Terri Thompson (joined fall 2013), and Lisa White (joined July 2015, Treasurer since July 2015). I’m grateful for their hard work and support, and for their continued work as they help train our newest members.
A change to note about our BC. You’ll notice that we now have ten members rather than nine. Sarah Johnson will serve as our new Treasurer. She is in on the Bishop’s Committee by virtue of that office. However, she will not be a voting member; she will not be expected to do weekly “BC of the Day” duties; and she is not expected to be present for the full duration of every BC meeting. She’s is expected to fulfill Treasurer-specific duties (weekly deposits, monthly financial reports, ensuring the annual audit is completed, etc.)
This is a change from previous years when the Treasurer both fulfilled her duties as our primary financial officer and voted as a BC member. (Lisa White served faithfully in this capacity for a number of years!) We are making this change as part of our ongoing work of improving our administrative practices. The Treasurer, like the Vicar, is one of our primary check-signers. Therefore, neither the Vicar nor the Treasurer gets to vote on the budget, which is the document that guides how much and for what purpose those checks are written.
As a post script below, I’ve included a (lengthy) refresher about Episcopal Church terminology and some Frequently Asked Questions about the BC.
Second update: Leadership Team! Our Leadership Team is composed of, but not limited to, our Bishop’s Committee, hosts/leaders of Life Groups, and ministry leads (Acolyte Master, Lead Usher, Children’s Chapel Coordinator, etc.) As many of you will remember, for the past couple years St. Liz has been meeting with a consultant named Bob Whitesel to help us set and achieve goals as a community of faith. Our last meeting with Dr. Whitesel was in October of 2018.
One of the benefits of Dr. Whitesel’s work was that it forced us to set dates every few months when various ministry leads gathered together to check in, set goals, and divvy up work. They were good ‘rally the troops’ opportunities. Now that our work with Dr. Whitesel is concluded, it’s important that we continue the rhythm of periodically checking in to chart our progress and to plan our way forward.
Our first Leadership Team meeting for 2019 will be this Sunday, January 13th. While I’ve sent specific invites and an agenda to the folks listed above, this meeting is open to the congregation. You’re welcome to come. We’ll finish by 2pm. My hope is for Leadership Team to meet three times a year.
P.S. A refresher on Episcopal Church terminology and some FAQs:
St. Elizabeth is not a parish, but a mission of the Diocese of West Texas. A mission is under the direct supervision of the diocesan bishop. Because of that, unlike the members of a parish vestry, the members of a bishop’s committee are not elected but appointed directly by the bishop, who consults with the vicar regarding appointments. Like the bishop’s committee itself, the vicar is also appointed directly by the diocesan bishop. Thus, while both a parish and a mission are under the authority of the diocesan bishop, the bishop’s authority is more immediate when it comes to a mission. Clear as mud?
I remind us of all that because I imagine not all of us are clear on how, exactly, someone is selected to serve on the BC. We do not vote on BC members. Ultimately, the authority to appoint members resides with the bishop. In practice, the bishop appoints only after receiving recommendations from me. The names I offer to the bishop come from conversations with other members of the BC and our observations about who might be able and willing to serve given family commitments, responsibilities at the church, experience, etc. Maturity, spiritual depth, open-mindedness, an ability to listen to and work with a diverse group of people, and a commitment to the mission of God at St. Liz are all essential. BC members are expected to contribute financially to St. Liz with the understanding that, like the rest of us, they should be taking healthy steps towards tithing if they are not able currently to do so. Other factors I consider are maintaining a mix of personalities, stages of life, and balance of women and men on the BC. As vicar, I work particularly closely with the wardens and treasurer.
Three practical questions: first, why do we have nine voting members? I set this number so as to have a critical mass for conversation at meetings. We also have an odd number of members so as to avoid a split vote on anything. While I chair the meetings and do most of our agenda setting, I do not vote. The BC usually makes decisions by consensus; however, we vote on all financial matters and reflect the outcome of the vote in our minutes.
Second, how long does a BC member serve? We ask for a three year commitment, though a term may be longer or shorter depending on the needs of St. Liz or an individual BC member. We are working our way towards three-year BC terms as normative. There’s a number of reasons for this, but three main ones are to involve new folks in governance, to prevent burnout, and to prepare us as a community for becoming a parish when we’ll have set, elected terms for vestry members. You may remember that this time last year our plan was to have all three of our officers (Bp’s Warden, Jr. Warden, and Treasurer) change for 2019. However, that’s just too much leadership turnover all at once. As DJ and Lisa are cycling off as Jr. Warden and Treasurer respectively, I’ve asked Julie to continue serving as our Bishop’s Warden. I was very glad she agreed J
Finally: what does the BC do? A lot! We have a full job description. Here’s a summary: there are weekly tasks like helping count the plate offerings, opening up and locking up on a Sunday, and participating in our monthly meetings. More ongoing responsibilities include being an ambassador for St. Liz in our communities and on Sunday mornings, serving as a sounding board for me and offering me support, continuing the work we began with Dr. Whitesel, staying involved with St. Liz’s various programs and ministries, and helping to identify and execute opportunities for mission, leadership, and spiritual growth. BC Meetings are open to the congregation and are noted on all our calendars. We usually meet on the 2nd Sunday of the month. February is an exception, when the BC has a Saturday day retreat.
by The Rev. Daniel P Strandlund | January 3, 2019
Several months ago we got some new neighbors: the residents and staff of Sodalis Assisted Living and Memory Care. When I say neighbors, I mean it! The turn for Sodalis is literally just a couple hundred yards down FM 967 from us towards town. I’d like for you to come and meet them. There are two easy opportunities coming up soon:
First, Sodalis has their grand opening for the public on Thursday, January 10th from 2:30pm-5:30pm. This is a come and go as you please event. I plan to be there right at 2:30 for a while.
Second, starting in 2019, the Buda Ministerial Alliance has volunteered to do services at Sodalis twice a month. I volunteered Wanda and me to go first, on behalf of St. Elizabeth. We had our first service there this week, with six residents! Wanda and I are leading another service on Wednesday, January 16th at 9:30am. I’d love for you to join us. (It’s cool with the staff; I asked!)
All through Advent we talked about waves, using the wave as a metaphor for the coming of Jesus. We’re standing on the shore, waiting on the wave to break at Christmas. Jesus has come to us in Buda just as surely as he came to Bethlehem all those years ago.
As Christian people, once we have received God’s Word into our own midst, we are called to be a medium through which God’s Word travels to the shores of other communities. In other words, at baptism, we are signing up to become part of God’s wave to the shores of a broken world. This is what it means to be Church: we receive God’s bread and are fed, but only so that we can, in turn, become bread for the world, as Christ was.
Oftentimes, this begins with something as simple as making new friends. I’m inviting you to make new friends out of our new neighbors at Sodalis.
Finally, if you’re saying to yourself, “But I don’t know anybody at Sodalis,” that’s not true!
One of St. Liz’s very own, Barbara Goodson, actually moved in just a couple months ago. She was at our service this morning and would love to show everyone around the new place. Come visit!
Sodalis Assisten Living and Memory Care
645 FM 967
Buda, TX 78610
by The Rev. Daniel P. Strandlund | December 13, 2018
Hi friends, this spring St. Elizabeth is going to begin work with a spiritual tool called the Enneagram. (Pronounced "EN-nee-uh-gram," which is just Greek for "nine points.") Two ways I hope you'll be involved with this work.
First, I want to get Saturday, March 16th on your calendar. We'll be hosting an all-day Enneagram 'Know Your Number' Workshop led by none other than Lucy Strandlund. From my completely objective and unbiased perspective, she's one of the best out there. Details are still in the works, but I wanted to get the date out there. Plan on 9 am - 3 pm, and we're working on having free childcare on offer all day. There's a good chance folks from outside our St. Liz community will come, too.
Second, I hope you'll get a copy of a book called The Road Back to You: An Enneagram Journey of Self-Discovery by Ian Morgan Cron and Suzanne Stabile. Suzanne is the master Lucy apprenticed under, and this book is a primer for folks who are new to the Enneagram, as I imagine most of us are. Our Life Groups will be reading it for the first couple months of 2019. My hope is that those of us not in Life Groups will read it as well ... and then bring all of our questions to our March 16th workshop!
Some of you have heard me talk about the Enneagram. There's a lot I could say, and a lot of questions to be answered. (Why are there nine types? Why are they arranged on that weird nine-pointed diagram? Where did this stuff come from?) I promise, Lucy will address all of that during her workshop; the book answers many of those questions; and I'll be writing and video'ing a bit about it between now and then.
Today, I just want to say why I think that, among all the spiritual tools out there, this is one worth exploring. To do that, I want to return to a metaphor we're using a lot during Advent: the wave.
We've been using the metaphor of a wave to help us understand what our relationship to God is like in this liturgical season. In Advent, we are like beach-goers standing on the shore, watching a wave swell in the distance. We're waiting with anticipation for it to reach us, to break across our feet. The breaking wave is the birth of Jesus at Christmas. Just as the unimaginable, bazillion-square-mile vastness of the sea touches this particular shore with this particular wave, so too does the unimaginable, bazillion-square-mile vastness of God touch the shores of human history in this particular man from Nazareth. When we become Christians -- when the Holy Spirit ripples through this or that particular baptism -- we're becoming one of God's waves, too.
Here's the important part for the Enneagram: a wave is visible because it's a disturbance on the ocean's surface, but it's a disturbance caused by something under the surface. A current of seawater hits the continental shelf, for example, or a barrier reef, or has to slide over a sandbar -- any of these underwater phenomena can force the ocean's natural movement to swell upward into the visible surface disturbances we call waves.
Lots of personality-type systems focus on the surface disturbances, or the specific visible behaviors people exhibit. What I find so powerful about the Enneagram is that it focuses on the motivation for behavior, which is to say that it calls our attention to our well-rehearsed shipwrecks and sandbars under the surface. This is helpful for a lot of reasons (not least of which is that folks may exhibit similar behaviors from various motivations). Why do I get so angry inside when things aren't perfect, the way I think they should be? Why do I try compulsively to help others even when they haven't asked for it? Why do I always find that I'm the life of the party, even when I'm tired? Why is it I sometimes like to be as invisible as possible in a room full of people?
All of these are behaviors, surface disturbances, but each of them has a motivation beneath the surface. The Enneagram helps us explore those depths.
Just as a wave becomes a wave because of something like the continental shelf working against the ocean's current, so too do our own souls resist, to varying degrees, the natural current of the Holy Spirit. Thus, the action of God within a human community so frequently causes a disturbance3 in the surface of things: whenever God acts, the current only reaches the shore by becoming a wave and disturbing the surface. Why? Because there's something unresolved underneath.
In Advent, Jesus Christ is the wave breaking towards us. This wave is God's disturbing the surface of things: "distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves" (Luke 21:25). What could be more confusing and disturbing than our crucifying the Son of Man? But we must remember that the approach of Christ, and the accompanying preaching of the prophets like John the Baptizer, is only a disturbance because we resist God's currents. If there were no barriers to God under the surface of humanity, Christ would not be born into a world that crucifies him. But as it is, in a broken world, we resist the ocean currents of divinity, forcing God's action to be lifted up above the surface and break -- on the cross.
I hope you'll join us on Saturday, March 16th.
God's Peace,Fr. Daniel+
by The Rev. Daniel P. Strandlund | November 29, 2018
Hi friends, on Sunday we begin our Advent observance. (Don’t forget: we’re making Advent wreaths after worship this Sunday!) We’ll put our Advent wreath up in the church, our altar hangings will change to blue, and we’ll begin a new year in our Sunday morning lectionary. This Advent, we begin reading Luke’s Gospel. I want to draw our attention to something I noticed recently about how Luke tells the story.
A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to go on a preaching retreat with Bishop Jennifer and some clergy colleagues at Mustang Island on the coast. Forty-eight hours of stillness and the sea, reading Luke’s Gospel and feeling for the deep currents of the Word in preparation for Advent and our new lectionary year. One morning I sat down and read the first few chapters of Luke, and I was struck by just how much activity there is before Jesus is even born (let alone before he starts ministering to people). Angels dropping to earth, rumors spreading, women getting pregnant, men losing the ability to speak, folks travelling. The whole Advent experience in Luke’s Gospel has the feel of a wave swelling towards shore.
If you’ve never done it, try sitting down with your bible and reading the Gospel of Luke up until Jesus’ birth. We’re told that Jesus is born in Luke 2:6-7, so it’s not much more than one chapter until we come to it. But there’s an incredibly busy eighty-five verses before Jesus is born. Here’s a breakdown:
An angel visits Zechariah in the Temple of Jerusalem, foretelling the birth of John the Baptist despite Zechariah’s and Elizabeth’s barrenness (1:8-20); the folks outside the Temple realize Zechariah has seen a vision (1:22); and Zechariah’s wife Elizabeth conceives but remained in seclusion for months because of all the hubbub (1:24)—and all that’s just in Jerusalem! Word is beginning to spread about something strange and perhaps miraculous, and it’s spreading from the Temple and into Zechariah’s family.
Meanwhile, seventy miles to the north, Gabriel has gone to Nazareth and told a young woman named Mary that she will bear a son named Jesus who will be called “Son of the Most High” (1:31). This same angel tells her that her elderly cousin Elizabeth has also miraculously conceived a child (1:36), so Mary travels the seventy miles, likely on foot, from Nazareth to the Judean hill country to visit her cousin (1:39).
As soon as Mary and Elizabeth greet each other, Elizabeth’s unborn child leaps in her womb (1:41), Mary bursts into song (1:46-55), and they hang out together for three months (1:56). If there’s never been a movie about these two pregnant cousins’ three months together, that’s a missed opportunity. Sisterhood of the Traveling Miraculous Maternity Pants.
John the Baptist is born, everybody is pumped because they thought Elizabeth and Zechariah couldn’t have kids, and everyone is confused why they don’t name him after his dad (1:57-59). John is circumcised, his dad regains the ability to speak, and then he bursts into song like Mary did (1:59-79) because apparently, Luke’s Gospel is a musical.
That’s in Jerusalem and Galilee, but there’s activity in the bigger historical backdrop of the Roman Empire, too. Emperor Augustus decrees that a census be taken, so Joseph has to leave Nazareth with his suspiciously pregnant fiancée and travel south again, this time to his hometown of Bethlehem (2:1-5).
Can you feel all the activity brewing beneath the surface of the narrative? The tension? The rising of this long-expected tide? Angelic visitations in both the Temple and in small-town Galilee two or three days’ walk north of there. Children of miraculous origin swelling from nonexistence into their mothers’ wombs. An older woman and a younger woman, both scandalously pregnant, brought together by a shared mystery. Zechariah falling mute, then singing. Even the vast political bulk of the Roman Empire seems to tip and tilt a little with unseen impact.
When we read the opening of Luke’s Gospel, those first eighty-five or so verses, we can feel something beneath the surface begin to stir. There’s a swelling in the plot, and like the unborn John the Baptist in his mother’s womb, our souls rise to meet it. It’s as though we’re standing on the shore, feet buried in the sand, looking expectantly out to sea. We watch as a wave grows in the distance, the slow tide of history rising in response to heaven’s unseen gravity. It’s still far off, just a ripple on the horizon now, but it’s there, a turning in the deep unsettling the surface.
Our Gospel passage for this Sunday includes this: “There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves” (Luke 21:25).
The roaring of the sea and the waves. Will we be there when the wave breaks? Perhaps God will speak to us out of the roar of the gale. Perhaps the sea will reach forth her foam-white hands and wash our feet. Who knows?
Welcome, friends, to Advent, this wide expectant shore.
by The Rev. Daniel P. Strandlund | November 15, 2018
Hi friends, we’ve witnessed more mass shootings in our country this past month. The two deadliest and most widely known were the Tree of Life Synagogue shooting in Pittsburg on October 27th and the Thousand Oaks shooting at the Borderline Bar in California on November 7th. These alone are enough to make one weep. I was further distressed to learn, however, that the Thousand Oaks shooting was not the second mass shooting since Tree of Life, but the twelfth.
The Gun Violence Archive defines a ‘mass shooting’ as a shooting in which at least four people were shot. (It’s one of the sources used here.) This means that ninety people were shot in mass shootings in the United States from October 27th to November 7th. Thirty-four of them died.
Let’s be clear: that’s not ninety people shot in the United States; that’s ninety people shot in mass shootings. In twelve days.
The damage this does to the communities in which the events occurred is, I think, obvious. Today I want to reflect on the less obvious impact it has on those of us who watch from afar. We live in an environment in which the sheer frequency of mass shootings does emotional and spiritual harm, even to those of us who are not directly impacted by the violence.
First, emotional harm. I want to be clear: when I use the word ‘harm,’ I’m not talking about how we feel sadness or anger or other negative emotions in the wake of a mass shooting. It is a sign of emotional health to feel sadness in the midst of suffering, or anger when we hear of a murder. What I mean by emotional harm is rather the damage done to our emotional faculties to empathize, to mourn, to lament. Simply put, when mass shootings happen so often, we become numb. We stop feeling them.
I’ve heard this phenomenon referred to as compassion fatigue. I think that’s a helpful way of thinking about it. We are, by definition, limited creatures. We must sleep, we must eat, we must breathe, we cannot work 24-hours a day. Likewise, we simply cannot feel compassion for every instance of human suffering we encounter on the news. It is increasingly the case that mass shootings tick by on the news in a series of statistics like the ones with which I began. Ninety shot. Twelve shootings. Eleven dead here, twelve dead there. This environment can exhaust the compassionate heart until it’s simply too tired to feel anything. One has compassion for a person; one cannot have compassion for a statistics.
I am not suggesting that each episode of suffering we encounter on the news should cause us to move with tectonic compassion. We would be paralyzed if it did. But if you do find yourself feeling detached from it all and feel moved to connect more deeply, here are the faces of the eleven people killed at Tree of Life. Here are the faces of the twelve people killed at the Borderline Bar. They have faces and stories, like you we do. Like Jesus does.
Or, perhaps you need to take a break from the news for a bit. That’s okay, too. Compassion fatigue is real. Just be sure it’s compassion fatigue you’re addressing and not simply a desire to avoid something painful.
Now, the spiritual harm is a bit less obvious. The regular occurrence of mass shootings convinces us that they are inevitable and that we are powerless to stop them. We see them alongside wildfires and hurricanes, which also seem to happen frequently, and so we begin to think of mass shootings as tragic inevitabilities.
This subtle shift of belief is spiritually damaging because it is not true. To speak of human actions as inevitable is to abdicate our role within God’s creation: we are beings who choose, who make objects of terrible power, who elect leaders, who pass laws and who break them. We are beings for whom mental illness is a possibility, for whom social media is a constant, and for whom free will is a great responsibility.
We are beings who tell stories. If we are not careful, the regularity of mass shootings may convince us that the only true story we can tell is one in which mass shootings are simply a tragic fact of being American in the way that flooding is a tragic fact of living in Texas or a tornado may be a tragic fact of living in Alabama.
But a mass shooting and a tornado are not the same thing. An active shooter drill and a tornado drill do not have the same moral weight. God made a world in which tornados are possible; we made a world in which mass shootings are common.
I believe in the power of thoughts and prayers. They matter, as I’ve written about elsewhere, and I believe that we are perpetuating a false story when we disparage their power. However, when it comes to mass shootings, it is simply true that thoughts and prayers do not represent our full power to respond. I am not claiming to have a solution. An American solution to this uniquely American evil will likely take more than one generation to emerge and establish a new normal.
For those of us who are adults right now in the midst of all this, repentance is a good place to start: we are Americans, and this is our societal evil. We don’t get to pass the buck. It may be that our kids or our grandkids are the ones who actually cross the Jordan into a land where mass shootings don’t happen. Or a land where they are at least so rare that we can remember all of them. In case you’ve forgotten, there were twelve between October 27th and Wednesday of last week.
Again, what is spiritually damaging in a country where mass shootings are so common is the slow, creeping belief that they are inevitable or that they are the price we pray for freedom. These are both lies. It is not clear what kind of freedom one enjoys if he survives a mass shooting in Las Vegas only to die in another a year later.
To see the choices, laws or culture of a human society as forces beyond human power to change is, for Christian people, a subtle form of idolatry. It’s subtle because it’s not as though we just decide one day to categorize mass shootings alongside natural disasters. We learn it, from each other and from the media and from public figures, slowly, over time. It’s a practice, a habit of speaking we develop and eventually come to believe. But remember: God’s decisions for human history and culture are irrevocable; ours are not. Idolatry is the word we use when we’ve lost that distinction.
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