Israel!

Tomorrow, thirty of us associated with the seminary will be heading off to Israel.


Our first stop will be in Bethlehem. We will see Masada, the Dead Sea, Jericho, and the Mount of Temptation.


Then we travel to Jerusalem. We will worship with a group of Christians, then see Gethsemane, the Mount of Olives, The Upper Room, and the Pool of Siloam. Then we will volunteer at a hospital for a day.

Then it's off to the shores of the Sea of Galilee, where we will take a boat out on the sea, visit the Mount of the Beatitudes, and see the Jordan river baptismal site.

Our final stop will be in Nazareth. We will walk in the village where Jesus grew up. We will see Mount Carmel and Mount Tabor, and visit Cana.

We fly home May 1st.
I hope to send reports from Israel. But if not, I'll blog about it when I'm home. I hope to take pictures and hope that they won't be confiscated. Pray for our safe travels!

The Right Reverend Alison. . . .

A friend forwarded this goofy website to me, where one can get an "official" Aristocratic title. So I entered my name and spun the wheels....

What title did it hand me?

Milady the Right Reverend Alison the Sage of Burton-le-Coggles Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

How deeply ironic.

"Law" or "Gospel"?

LAW? . . . . GOSPEL?

In the seminary here, they talk about the division between "law" and "gospel." They say both are necessary in faith and are part of faith. They define "law" as the rules, the judgment---the perfection we pursue, and yet of which we always fall short. The "gospel" is the news that we are loved anyway, despite our flaws---that's it's okay. We just have to do our best and trust the outcome to God.

The way I understand the pragmatic definition of them is:

LAW (Truth)
Law = it's up to us to do the work to get to heaven. We have to study enough and pray enough and do enough of the good stuff so God can clear out our garbage and make us worthy. If we go to hell it is our own fault.

GOSPEL (Love)
God is so loving and wise that everything is carefully guided and provided, so that we have everything we need along the way, and will eventually be brought into heaven. His love is essentially irresistible. We don't have to worry so much.

In the Swedenborgian tradition, these would be called "Truth" and "Good," or "Wisdom" and "Love." I was taught that all the other Christian churches have these out of balance and only our church kept them in perfect balance.

Well, what Swedenborg actually said is that "True Christians" will have these in a healthy balance.

(So, calling oneself a "true Christian" or a "New Church person" doesn't at all mean a person has good and truth in a healthy balance. Humans generally don't have them in balance. Only God knows who has them in balance. Only God knows who is a "true Christian," be they Catholic or Lutheran or Methodist or Mormon, or Agnostic....)

Given the previous definitions, we might begin to identify different congregations and denominations as essentially "Law" or "Gospel." "Law" sermons tend to emphasize our need to stay vigilant and try harder and struggle. They harness fear---fear of hell, or of doing things wrong, or of thinking bad things, to motivate followers to stop being bad. Gospel sermons remind us of what God is doing in our lives and in the world. They harness hope, and encourage us, no matter how broken or defective our efforts may be. God works with us and uses our efforts for His good will.

It seems the human tendency is to be out of balance with truth and good. We tend either to overdo truth (or "Law"), neglecting love (or "Gospel); or to overdo "Gospel" neglecting "Law."

My experience is, that to the degree that they are out of balance, they aren't even what they are created to be, but twisted, unhealthy impostors. Law becomes a harsh, death-dealing taskmaster, and Gospel becomes vapid and rudderless. Those who tend to rely on (unbalanced) Law, live in fear of tripping and falling into hell. They stereotype "gospel" Christians as vapid and rudderless, or "bleeding hearts".

Those who love gospel may know that unbalanced law deals death, but may not know how to harness mature wisdom for a vibrant, strong, and healthy faith, out of fear of becoming law-driven.

My old denomination certainly falls into the "Law" category. I had to stop going because I couldn't hear one more, "Be afraid; feel bad; try harder" sermon. (This is also known as "worm" theology. Translation: "We are nothing but filthy, evil worms in the sight of God.") Some people prefer this theology, even cling to it, as the sole path to their salvation. It is as if they are afraid to think anything else about their worth and nature.

Remarkably, Law churches tend to grow more rapidly, perhaps because they provide lots of rules and clear boundaries of "in" and "out." It feels very good to be "in." It feels safe. One is doing religion "the right way."

Unfortunately, the "rules" churches also tend to chew up and spit out their members on the other end, then blame the lost members for "not getting it" or "not loving God enough." There is no recognition that the constant striving and effort and guilt and looking over one's shoulder tends to wear down the tender spirits. So these churches tend to leave a long line of drop-outs in their wake with no acknowledgment of the loss, and to have a membership with serious self-esteem issues.

I am learning that the ELCIC (Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada), as well as my new denomination, the Swedenborgian Church of North America, are definitely "Gospel" churches. They emphasize hope in the Lord's providence. There is the understanding that of course human nature falls short of perfection, but so what? It's not like it's our fault. We can't help it! It's our nature. God still works with us where we are, loves us just the way we are, and loves us enough not to leave us just the way we are. We just need to show up, do our best, and trust Him. We have slightly different ways of saying it, but the message is the same.

So I know where I fit and where I don't fit. I know what theology is healing and redemptive for me, and what theology is toxic to my spirit.

I'm not saying that "Gospel" is good and "Law" is bad. I don't think one is right and one wrong. I think there's a healthy way and a sick way to come from a "law" emphasis , and vice versa with "gospel." I believe the closer we approach a balance---a healthy "marriage" of the two---the closer we come to a healthy theology, whichever way we lean.

But personally, I've spent so many years starved of "gospel," I'm loading up on gospel like a person stumbling out of the desert might fall upon a spring. It's easy, very easy for me right now to see how hurtful a (sick) law emphasis can be, and pretty hard to see how one could have too much gospel.

Ignorant good will can be just as hurtful a fear-based religion. I guess that "Law" seen right does not become fear-based, because it is tempered by trust in God's loving providence, and "Gospel" done right does not result in a vapid and rudderless faith because it will also be insightful, passionate, and wise.

February

"For such a beastly month as February, twenty eight days as a rule, are PLENTY."

It is grey and it is cold and everyone is sick and tired.

Some classes have been reduced by a third, by all the students who are ill or can't make the drive because of the weather.

I am TIRED.

My inner squirrel is kicking in. I want to HIBERNATE. I want to spend all my days curled up under my blankets sleeping, until it gets warm and sunny again.

I have decided to withdraw from my CPE this spring. I simply can't manage Israel and Convention and moving and CPE, much as I'd like to. I'd feel very relieved if I wasn't so tired.

Everything is dry and grey and filmy and mucky. All projects feel overwhelming.

February is just February! I can't choose not to let it get to me. It simply does.

Ah well. This too, shall pass.

This is what it looks like.

Rage

Today I'm feeling the rage. I REALLY don't want to, but it is time. It started as a big cry in response to some small invalidations---as usual, I hid in my room, and sobbed and rocked and used up large quantities of Kleenex---then I curled up under the blankets and shook and shuddered and whimpered, until I fell asleep.
When I woke up, I showered, all the while feeling intense rage at all the invalidations and dismissals and the marginalization that has been the story of the first half of my life. I was arguing out-loud in the shower with various people, saying what I need to say to them and wishing they could hear me.

By "wishing they could hear me" I mean something much bigger than "what I was saying at that moment in the shower." Even if the words crossed their ears, my experience to date is that they could not hear me. In fact, historically, when I have attempted to express the feelings of invalidation, dismissal, victimization, and hurt, what I get in response is further invalidation and dismissal. I hear how my experience is wrong, my feelings are wrong, and certainly that expressing anger is wrong---correction---simply experiencing anger is wrong. I hear about the feelings I should feel, and perhaps an edifying story about somebody feeling the right sort of feeling in a similar situation.

When that doesn't work, I then am subjected to an analysis of my internal state, judgment upon it, and dismissal on those grounds, something like: "You just want power, (You are selfish and controlling)" or, "You just want attention, (you are selfish and childish)" or, "You're just angry, (simply experiencing anger is cause for dismissal)." "Go to your room and come out when you can be nice."

Folks who know about good counseling practice are probably wincing. Anyone with basic psychology knows not to invalidate feelings. Feelings are not for invalidating. There is no point in invalidating another's feelings unless one wishes to invalidate the other person, control their inner reality (impossible), or make the expression of their uncomfortable feeling stop (possible, and hurtful to the relationship.) If the controller is in a position of power over the other, such as parent/child, the invalidation of the feelings and the blocking of the expression damages the child's ability to trust his or her own perceptions, and tells the child that the parent's reality is more valid than the child's. It also teaches that blocking expression of the emotion is an appropriate and healthy way to deal with an emotion---which is false. All of these messages and this power dynamic is hurtful to both parties and hurtful to either in developing healthy relationships.


I can't even communicate that invalidating my feelings is part of the problem, because I simply get my feelings and my reality invalidated in response.

It a vicious circle. Then I am criticized for withdrawing and ceasing to engage.

It is insanity. And the thing about feelings are: invalidating and refusing to hear or acknowledge them intensifies their need to be heard. They will not settle down until they are genuinely heard, not just heard, but validated. This is my experience again and again, both in my own emotional life and in counseling and being present with other hurting souls.

It is also believed and taught in counseling schools and in relationship therapy.

And last but not least, anger is appropriate when someone is abused. Period.

At least one therapist I know believes that it is always appropriate. Anger simply is. It is a normal, healthy response to violation. If anger is present, violation or the perception of violation has occurred, period. We're just so stinking afraid of anger. Even yelling frightens us, let alone inappropriate and hurtful expressions of anger. But we confuse the emotion with the damaging expressions of it. There is a huge distinction.

I am feeling deep, deep, ancient rage. I am handling it by shaking, crying, hitting things (like couch cushions) and writing about my feelings.

There is absolutely appropriate and non-harmful ways to process rage. Rage is not the problem! This rage is valid and current as well as tapping into decades of suppressed hurt and invalidation. Perhaps it is the decades of suppression that is the problem, not the rage.

I am so stinking angry that the ones who ought to have loved me as is, couldn't. I am so ANGRY that I was shoved into a tiny box because I was a girl, and have been shamed for climbing out.

I was so profoundly angry that I was spiritually abandoned, AND THEN told it was my fault. God!

I AM ANGRY! OF COURSE I AM ANGRY! DUH!

Whimpering and Dancing

I was under terrific stress last week. Sometimes, when my life is really creaking under the strain, I find myself making impromptu whimpering noises. Emotional, physical, and mental overload started to leak out in little moans and puppy noises. It was very unnerving. If I had had a pacifier and blankie, last week would have been the week for them.

Oh well. It was a heads-up that I'm in dire need of nurturing and self-care.

"She canna take it much longer, Captain. She's goin' ta blow!"

But yesterday, somewhere around the end of my homiletics course, I started to feel light and happy. The reality of what I had done (led a real worship service and survived!) started to kick in. I started to feel again. And I felt really, really good. I went for a walk in the snow around campus, smiling and singing quietly. Everyone---the students, the service workers, the construction workers---everyone looked beautiful.

I felt like dancing.

I still feel like dancing.

Want to come dance with me?

Life is very, very good.

My first worship service

I've done it now. There's no going back. Now I'm on my way to turning into a man or going crazy, or whatever it is that's supposed to happen to me now that I've "preached."

I have yet to get official feedback from my superiors, but all the kind things that congregation members said as they exited, says that it went pretty well! And it felt good. It felt great. I feel it more in retrospect, as I was pretty numb and disembodied during the actual service. I hope in time the nervousness will die down and let me be more present. My mouth was dry and all ability to improvise went out the window. Fortunately I had a bulletin in my hands and almost everything written out.

We did a contemporary service in the best "Michael Cowley" tradition. Martin and Dori and Jordan were on guitar, as well as a terrific fellow named Tom Bishop. Phil played piano, and the music filled the whole space. My fear was that it would be wonderful and heart-warming only for former Carmel Church members, but based on the response: the music, the sphere, the warmth, and the message worked its magic.

"Point to God" is one of the stated goals for leading worship in seminary. "Preach the 'good news' of God's love." For me it is, bring people to God, open the way for God to flow in and get out of the way! I also want to facilitate healing around any issues that hold us back from the Lord's life and love.

I'll report later on how the supervisory meeting goes. Meanwhile, here is a copy of what I "preached."

"Blessed and Broken"

Alison Longstaff, January 28th, 2007

Church of the Good Shepherd

Jeremiah 18:1-6; Luke 9:12-17

Take. Bless. Break. Share.
Did you notice this progression in our reading from Luke today?
Take. Bless. Break. Share.
We learned in seminary this week that whenever we find this progression in the New Testament, a holy supper is taking place. In our gospel reading, Christ takes the meagre offering, which is certainly never going to be enough to feed the large crowd; yet he blesses it and breaks it and gives it to the disciples to share. And it becomes more than enough. There is a message in that.
Take. Bless. Break. Share.
It struck me, as we discussed this, that this is what we can do in response to the gift of life from God: Accept it, give thanks for it, break into it, and share it. Also, this is what the gift of life does to us. It comes on us and blesses us . . . and breaks us.
Life both blesses us and breaks us. Loving others blesses us and breaks our hearts. Living in community, as church and as family, brings untold blessings, and can break our spirits. But isn’t it true that there is something about the breaking that builds the way to a new bountiful sharing, in a way not otherwise possible?
Many of you here know that I came to Good Shepherd broken. Though I did my best to look fine and happy all the time, I didn’t always managed to pull it off. More than one of you has ended up holding me while I broke apart and cried. Thank you for that.
And as I have snuggled my way deeper into the warm coverings offered by this community, I discovered that this congregation too, has been struggling to heal its own broken heart. This circle of souls was faltering from hurts and misfortunes before I turned up. And though you were struggling, you took me in, bandaged my wounds, and gave me a safe place to rest and heal.
Thank you, again.
In our Old Testament reading we heard about a Potter throwing a pot on a potter’s wheel. As we listen, the pot becomes deformed under the Potter’s hands. Anyone who has attempted throwing pots knows how the clay seems to have a mind of its own. Either the clay is too wet or it is too dry, or there is an impurity in it that ends up causing a crack. One minute the pot is shaping up nicely, and the next minute the clay thins too quickly, or it splits, or flops over from excess moisture. . . . And the envisioned vessel becomes a broken blob.
In my life I have often felt not so much like the useful vessel I intend to be but more like a broken blob—a gooey mess. I have heard that Good Shepherd has recently felt more like a disorganized glob than the vibrant loving community it wishes to be.
But notice this: the pot is in the Potter’s hands while the deformity happens. It isn’t that the Potter was careless, yet the pot is spoiled. It isn’t the Potter’s fault, and it isn’t the clay’s fault either, even though the flaw is inherent in the clay. This text is not telling us: "Be careful because you too might mess up like the pot!" No. This story is in God’s Word exactly this way because this is how life goes. We will be broken. We can’t help it. We come flawed. That’s not the point. The point is that we are held, known, and loved right through the brokenness and back to wholeness. The text is reassuring us that we are always in the Potter’s hands. He’s never faltered for a minute. We are already being made new.
We never leave God’s hands. The brokenness is always a gateway to a new and more magical plan.
A famous Leonard Cohen song says, "There is a crack, a crack in everything; but that’s how the light gets in."
That’s how the light gets in.
The light. The crack is how we learn things we could learn no other way. Babies learn how to walk by falling down. Skiers and skaters learn to stay up by wiping out more times than they care to. We often learn how to love well, by loving clumsily and hurting people first. And seminarians learn how to write good sermons only after inflicting some real clunkers on some long suffering congregations. It’s just what the process looks like.
Besides, we’re the ones that want perfection straight out of the gate, not God.
God designed a system in which being broken is part of the process.
So is it okay if today I feel like a bit of a crack-pot?
Well, on this day of all days, when we celebrate Swedenborg’s birthday, we can remember that, frankly, he was something of a crack-pot. He saw visions; he talked to dead people; he said there are people living on the moon. But despite his oddness and his unorthodox teachings—many of which still leave us scratching our heads—his writings have also brought healing, enlightenment, and Christian renewal to tens of thousands. He has opened the Bible in a whole new way. He has taught us about heaven and hell, the internal meaning to the Bible, about Love and Wisdom, and about salvation for peoples of all faith and all walks of life.
So let’s hear it for crack-pots! Let’s hear it for letting the light in! Let’s hear it for anyone who is brave enough to speak their truth into a world that isn’t ready to hear it.
By this definition, Jesus was a crack-pot too. He certainly was broken for His efforts to speak the truth into an unready world. And He certainly blessed us by His willingness to be broken. Perhaps that is part of what he was trying to tell us—that we need not fear brokenness. That brokenness is always the path to being made new.
I think it is in our nature to fear our brokenness. We want to hide it, cover it over, and paint a smiley face on it. We feel sure that it means we are weak, that we are not good enough, that we should be ashamed, that we have failed.
But it is not so. It means we are human. It means we are alive.
Take. Bless. Break. Share.
Isn’t it so often true that our vulnerabilities end up being our strengths?
Accept your life! Give thanks for it, for it is perfect, no matter how inadequate it may seem. Break into it, live it, eat it up, let it change you. And share the gifts you are given, no matter how meagre they look in your hands. In God’s hands it becomes an overflowing abundance.
Yes, this life can sometimes break us. But embrace it—all of it—for it is only through the breaking and the eating that we find and share our deepest blessings.
Amen.