Thealogical Lady: A Blog

Advent Journeying: Mindfulness

12/3/2014

As I waited for a pair of waffles to heat up in my toaster, I was reminded of the saying, "Watched pot never boils." I watched those waffles and waited, and those few moments stretched into an eternity. I got bored. I wanted to turn and do something else. But I'm stubborn, and I knew they'd eventually pop up from the toaster, so I continued to watch. And for a few moments, I let myself notice the waffles in the glowing red toaster.

Taking time to notice is called mindfulness. And mindfulness is the sort of thing that Advent calls for.

The market has been ready for us to be ready for Christmas since before Halloween. The market invites us to turn away from the present moment and focus on a million details for the Big Day.

Advent invites us to turn our eyes from the glamor of the market and focus on what hasn't happened yet. We are pregnant with light, but that light won't be born before it's ready. Our world is about to change, but we are still in our cocoon.

Rather than prematurely breaking free from the cocoon, perhaps Advent calls us to be mindful of it. If we stop turning our attention in a thousand other directions and focus patiently on the here and now, perhaps what we attend to will transform right before our eyes.

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Spirit Whispers: Signs and Wonders

6/12/2014

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Part of my spiritual practice includes lectio divina, or sacred reading. I read a few verses from scripture at a time and ponder them in order to hear God's voice speaking through them.

Today I read in the second chapter of the Gospel according to Luke, "This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger."

It's so familiar from Christmastime that its oddness almost escapes notice.

Why would God's sign to the world be a just-born infant wrapped up like the dead, laid in a feeding trough for large animals?

Why would a bunch of sheep-herders run at the chance to see this so-called sign?

If you don't know that this child is destined from his birth for death, the mummy look doesn't make sense. If you don't know that by losing his life, this child will become food for all who hunger, this doesn't make sense.

How can this bizarre telling of a child's birth make any sense without knowing the whole story that is to come?

What signs and wonders does God leave for me to see that I don't yet understand? How do I develop the imagination to see what they could mean and to strive for what God is setting in motion?

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Forging a path

12/26/2013

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Photo by M. Kate Allen

My baby crawled for the first time today. Her dad and sister and I cheered her on wildly as if she had just hit a grand slam. (The first object she went for was a crinkly package of baby wipes; the second was a major league baseball. Yes, a little music and a little baseball confirm that she is our child.)

I feel like her--inching forward, reaching for that which I behold, struggling little by little with every bit of my strength to get where I'm going.

With her, it's a down-on-the-ground, whole-bodied struggle. With me, it's a battle raging within me over a single, burning question: whether or not I qualify as a leader.

(Weird inner battles, I'm good at them.)

I'm not an alpha female. I know women--amazing women--who are alpha types. I admire them, but I'm not one of them, nor do I have any desire to be one. This obviously precludes me from assuming any role of religious (ordained) leadership.

I still hear this call to leadership, though, which makes my eyes cross. Come on, Goddess. Non-alpha types don't make leaders. The whole notion is absurd. How can I be a leader when I'm the one who's always been in the background, observing more often than herding? When I've been told to my face that I'm not a leader? Leadership roles in my case seem (as my medically trained hubby would say) contraindicated.

Conveniently, I've never had to grapple with this before, because I've always belonged to a tradition in which I would never have to take seriously (or be taken seriously regarding) my call to religious (i.e. ordained) leadership. Now I'm about to be received in a tradition that does, and I'm flailing like my infant daughter. How am I supposed to get where I'm going if I don't have the juice to do it?

For fun, I decided to humor my Lady Goddess and google "characteristics of a leader." I found this list.

I am/do all of those things when it comes to something I care about and am deeply invested in. So...

Moi? Leader?

I'm not an alpha leader.

I'm a servant leader.

I lead by example. I'm dazzling and inspiring in a different way. Folks don't generally want to be me--they want to be around me. When I live out my (rather awesome) ideals, I am at the service of others, rather than in charge of them. That's how my leadership manifests.

I've just never formally thought of leadership, especially religious leadership, like that. Now that I see it at work at St. Augustine's, however--a context which has become my context, rather than remaining someone else's--it makes a surprising amount of sense.

Tune in again soon for more from the M. Kate Meets Her Vocation show!

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Christmas

12/25/2013

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Photo by Monty and Julie Carson

My daughter danced my parish into Christ's birth last night. That memory will remain with me for the rest of my days.

~~~

As part of my Benedictine prayer practice, I read the lections of the day according to the Book of Common Prayer. A portion of the first letter of John was today's second reading.

This line pealed out like holy bells: "[A]s long as we love one another, God remains in us, and God's love comes to its perfection in us." Sounds a little bit like the preaching of the new bishop of Rome, no? Sounds even more like the nudgings of Jesus. Where two are three are gathered in love, there is God.

There was God last night. There was God around our Christmas tree this morning. There is God now as we prepare our Christmas feast. There will God be as we lovingly greet familiar friends and strangers throughout Christmastide.

May these twelve days to Epiphany be filled with blessings and your own ongoing, Spirit-ed expressions of sacred love.

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Vigil of the Nativity of the Christ

12/25/2013

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Photo by Thad Botham

And with that, Advent is over. God is with us--Emmanuel--alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!

I love Christmas. I love the radicality of the Christmas message that says God isn't so transcendent that God can't be flesh. I love the intimacy of this God who is both divine and human at once, and who teaches us--like the good rebbe he is--to be the same.

I am so grateful this night for hope fulfilled in the midst of so much doubt and despair. Light does pierce shadows, dispelling them. Goodness is stronger than evil, breaking it down with the power of gentleness. A godly child does make a worldly ruler tremble, displacing cunning selfishness with its own absolute reliance on the sacred other for survival.

The message of the incarnation is that we desperately, utterly need each other. Humanity and divinity meet in community and communion, not in isolation. God can't do this gig without us, and we can't sustain God's divine flame within ourselves without the companionship of others.

That's my daughter to the left. She is about take flight, one of God's own angeloi, standing before the holy altar at the feet of the infant Christ. She's just carried in a sheep, practicing for her future role as shepherdess. Later, she danced during the offering of the holy gifts, and I had the presence of mind not to stop her. I look at her and see an icon of the Christ, bearing glad tidings and preaching good news through her very body. She did tonight what you and I do for each other every day.

Merry Christmas to you, o holy bearers and birthers of God.

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O Rex Gentium: Advent, Week 4, Sunday

12/22/2013

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December 22

O Rex gentium, et desideratus earum, lapisque angularis, qui facis utraque unum: veni, et salva hominem, quem de limo formasti.

O King of the gentiles and their desired One, the cornerstone that makes both one: come, and deliver humankind, whom you formed out of the dust of the earth.

Advent has been longer this year for me than in any other year past. After all this anticipation, I find myself grateful that this year's Christmas will be quiet for my family. My desire for light is not the desire for commercial, clanging, self-absorbed brightness. My desire for light is one for something gentler--the sparkle in the eyes of my daughters and the joy in the eyes of my husband.

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Thanksgivukah Advent-ures: How to Celebrate the "Season" before You Celebrate Christmas

11/21/2013

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If you're like me, you're just not ready for the red and green and tinsel cropping up at Target, Starbucks, and the grocery store. I want to go, "Hey, don'tcha know there's all kinds of cool stuff that goes on for a couple of months before Christmas ever arrives?"

I invite you to try out the following this year, not to ditch your family traditions, but to expand them.

Thanksgiving/Chanukah: This year, for the first time (and the last time for 77,000 years, according to one source, Thanksgiving and the first day of Chanukah coincide. This year, as you finalize your Thanksgiving day menu, consider a few Jewish specialties, like latkes or matzo ball soup.

Pro-tip: matzo ball soup can be made in minutes using a handy-dandy pre-made dry mix in the Jewish section of your grocery store.) When you and your family and friends are gathered around the Thanksgiving dinner table, share the story of the miracle of Chanukah, in which an oil lamp with only enough oil for one night lasted eight nights, providing ongoing light in darkness. Chanukah is an eight-day Jewish feast of enduring, miraculous light--telling this story is is a great time to light the first candle of eight of your menorah, if you have one, or perhaps the first of other candles you have on your table. Allow this to be your segue into a giving of thanks by each person around the table.

Then, when you awake the day after Thanksgiving, consider just staying home. Really. Eating latkes with cranberry sauce for breakfast while sipping home-brewed coffee and wearing fuzzy slippers is a far gentler holiday practice than trampling your neighbor at 3 a.m. to get through store doors. Consider continuing your candle-lighting through the eight days of Chanukah, saying a silent prayer as you light them if you aren't familiar with the Hebrew prayers.

Next, Advent, as in, advent-ure!
That's right--before you pull out your tubs of Christmas glitz, try cutting a few boughs from an evergreen (places that sell Christmas trees may give these away for free, if you don't have any evergreens of your own) and fashion an Advent wreath with your kids.

Each Sunday, beginning December 1, light one of the candles. Sing a verse of "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel" or "People Look East" with your kids. Invite them into conversation about what the dawning of light means. Refer back to the Chanukah ritual, if you used it. You might ask:

Why do we want light when it's dark?

What are examples of darkness we experience?

What are ways that we can bring light to dark places?

Allow Advent to be the season of quiet, pregnant anticipation that it's intended to be--because if you do, the glimmer and dazzle of Christmas Eve's light and the bright clamor of Christmas morning will shine and ring out for you in a whole new way.

This post was originally featured at parentwin.com.

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Advent Journeying: Mindfulness

Spirit Whispers: Signs and Wonders

Forging a path

Christmas

Vigil of the Nativity of the Christ

O Rex Gentium: Advent, Week 4, Sunday

Thanksgivukah Advent-ures: How to Celebrate the "Season" before You Celebrate Christmas

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