dis - connected

One of my colleagues has a limited amount of time for incoming messages on his voice messaging system. My communication, however, rarely is contained in the same amount of time. I am always surprised and newly insulted when the robo-voice tells me that I have 15 seconds to complete my message (which will take at least another minute!). What is worse is that this automated message just keeps going and I'm pretty sure she's cutting into my 15 seconds, and I don't know whether I am supposed to talk over her (will my voice be recorded?) or be polite and wait till she's through talking. In frustration I hang up because it is silly to just wait to be disconnected.

My 90-year-old mother resigned her position as Sunday school teacher this week, reporting to the committee that presented the names of leadership for the coming year at business meeting last night. Her voice was cheerful as she told me about the decision she had made. Mother had been teaching the class of women who were her peers for over 60 years. She doesn't think of herself as a leader - never has. "Not like Stanley," my father. The difference, according to Mother, is that he made decisions about how things should be done, and led others. She didn't want to be the one making decisions, but saw her part as supporting the decision-makers. Her 60-year service was because there wasn't anyone else willing to teach their class.

Mother remembers when my aging father was replaced by a younger man in a church leadership role. It did not set well. Ever. She named others through the years who had resigned leadership or been replaced, and what she noticed about them is that they began to behave differently. As soon as the weekly worship was over, these former leaders would disappear through the sanctuary door and be gone. Customarily folks in this church, especially leaders, stand around after worship visiting with one another, catching up on the latest news, planning the next big event, talking about the crops, lingering long enough to be fully steeped in community.

Mother thinks she knows why those former leaders began slipping out as soon as worship was over. They felt dis-connected. Years ago that was how my father explained no longer wanting to go to business meeting. Without a position of leadership he felt dis-connected. Mother has made a decision... she is not going to feel dis-connected. She still will study her Sunday school lesson weekly, and now she will not be responsible for keeping (or getting) a discussion going in the class. She will continue to do all the things she is able to do for the church, and she will remain connected.

That slipping-out thing happens sometimes. It can happen if you have something in the oven or another place to go. I notice it often with visitors who are not-yet-connected, and wonder if they want to be. Some people are just naturally more talkative than others. Now and then someone will slip out because it is a tender time in life, and a hard time to talk. Sometimes it is important to be able to slip out after worship. Always it is important to feel connected.

All kinds of questions flow from my morning conversation with Mother: What defines leadership; is it only people who make decisions, or can you be a leader if you teach faithfully for 60 years? How do we know if there is anyone else who will take our church job? Leaders may have a hard time letting go of a position of leadership because it has truly become part of their identity (as with my father). As pastors we can be so grateful for someone to fill that role that we don't want to mess with it. But the most significant pastoral questions that arise for me are - how do I know when someone feels connected? How will I recognize the one who is feeling dis-connected? How do we help the leader who has been replaced manage the abrupt, insulting feeling of being dis-connected and find a new place of empowerment and re-connection?

Phoenix Rising

This business of coming home to understanding, to new realities, is constant and complex. Story after story unfolds this year in the wake of tornados, floods and fires, all powerful forms of devastating change. And the two new photos that Gabby Giffords has posted on her web site are among the emerging signs of what new life can look like. Check out this article in the Arizona Daily Star online: share

What incredible courage it takes for one to emerge from the wreckages of life and begin to rebuild. I applaud the wisdom in this op ed piece about Giffords' progressive recovery. Even more I celebrate the author's challenge to all of us to "adjust our expectations" and be able to receive the new ways in which we will experience Giffords. Do we have it in us to welcome a variety of abilities and dis-abilities among the people we work with, or the people who serve us?

I wonder if we can resist the urge to analyze and critique how well others arise from tragedy and instead study our own ability to recognize and welcome their transformation.

long-time friendship

On Saturday I attended a book reading at the Valley Unitarian Universalist church. My friend, Jan Christian, read from her recently published book, "No Brother Left Behind: a sister's war memoir." The book is a rich tapestry that weaves Jan's childhood memories together with stories of her brother, Bobby's, military service in Vietnam and his death as recounted by the Marines who served with him. The book stands alone - it was reason enough to attend the reading. I recommend it. And that was not why I went.

As Jan began to read I let the sound of her voice settle into my ears and then my soul. The waves of remembering washed over me leaving treasures behind in the sand. Her voice took me back to my first seminary class, History of Christianity, with Lynn Euzenas, where Jan and Terry Sims had more fun than was allowed and kept us all laughing with their brilliant wit. She was reading, "It was my mother who answered the door around dusk on an April evening in 1969. She took one look at the two men there and said,'It's Bobby.'" The other track of my mind was hearing an antiphon echoing a line from Rumi that she quoted in one of her sermons in Joe Webb's preaching class, "Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,there is a field. I will meet you there." As she introduced us to the men of Kilo Company in her photos, my memory called the roll of our seminary friends and each name opened a vignet of shared fun, sorrow, listening and talking, hard work, passion and a deep sense of purpose. Again Jan's voice drew me back to the book, then again her voice drew me home to a time when nothing was certain except that we were called. To be bathed in the sounds of a friend's voice was a sacred baptism naming and claiming me, bringing me home.

I'm not finished with the book... nor the friendship.