Third Sunday of Advent, Proper 10, Year C, RCL

Third Sunday of Advent, Proper 10, Year C, RCL

Zephaniah 3.14-20 or Canticle 9

Philippians 4.4-7

Luke 3.7-18  

             

The Lord, your God, is in your midst!  Zephaniah asserts this twice in the section from the Hebrew Scriptures that we read today.  Do we believe this?  [Shrug]  And Zephaniah asserts this wild claim after two chapters condemning first Judah and then other nations for complacency, idolatry, corrupt leaders and injustice.  After two chapters of convicting Judah and other nations of deep sin, Zephaniah links judgment with hope.  How does divine judgment and joy come together?

I have scoffed at the notion of divine judgment, the wrath of God, as somehow embarrassing or unworthy of God.  I don’t want a harsh-old-man-on-the-throne God, sort of George C. Scott as General Patton.  And I yearn for the healing and reconciliation for the whole of creation.  In my powerlessness to heal the world, I yearn for someone to stop the meanness, to conquer evil, and to eradicate apathy.  In my powerlessness, I want judgment and not impunity for the oppressors and despoilers of the world.  Along with hope for vindication for the dispossessed that experience the unimaginable horrors of Rwanda and Darfur, I want justice for the little ones, the Anwain, everywhere, even in my hometown.

Major Thomas L. Egan was a retired Oregon National Guard officer.  A passer-by found the 60-year old veteran in mid-December last year frozen to death on a Eugene sidewalk.  His body was partially covered in snow, a bottle of liquor by his side.  At the time, Major Egan had been homeless for several months.  It was a tragic ending.  Egan joined the Army in 1971 and was stationed at the demilitarized zone in Korea for two years.  Assigned to the Oregon National Guard in 1977, he attained the rank of major during his 20-year military career. 

Before he entered the service, Egan earned a bachelor’s degree in history in Connecticut.  In 1983, he gained a master’s degree in journalism from the University of Oregon.

In recent years, several friends who saw Egan’s life spiraling downward tried to get him back on track.  They did not succeed. 

Zephaniah’s prophesies stretch across 25 centuries.  First spoken to and for ancient Israelites in exile, and now speaking to and for Christians, to and for Darfur’s dispossessed Muslims, to and for the homeless in Eugene and all the exploited of the earth who have endured displacement, torture, starvation, rape and death.  Zephaniah prophesies are a message of radical redemption, a day is coming when never again will you fear any harm.  God says at that time I will bring you home.  At that time when I gather you, I will rejoice and exult over you.  I will sing to you and because of you. 

How does divine judgment and joy come together?

We rightly dismiss caricatures of divine judgment that picture God as capricious, arbitrary, vindictive, or sadistic.  God is not the Red Queen shouting “Off with their heads!”  God's judgment is a purifying response to everything that dehumanizes us—violence, oppression, exploitation, exile, disease, famine, addiction, and war.  Does our moral imagination really believe that bad people slaughter with impunity, that evil has no opponent?  Do I really want a God to leave me to my own worst impulses of envy, greed, anger, and addiction or do I want God to judge, rescue and purify me from them. 

How does divine judgment and joy come together?  I want to be purified.  Zephaniah believes that what makes people holy, will make them happy.  The call to repentance in Zephaniah is similar to the call of that first Advent preacher, John, in our gospel lesson.

Zephaniah’s writings emphasize that our covenantal relationship with God is one of deep, committed love.  It is possible for humans to betray God’s love and break God’s heart, and we have done so.  But Zephaniah announces that at God’s coming, Advent, all that will be put behind us. 

We are God’s beloved.  God bursts into song when we, the beloved, have returned.  This is JOY in capital letters; not a small smile, not dignified, but a great jubilation, and mutual joy.  Zephaniah describes God as pardoning judge and king, savior & warrior, rescuer; God as shepherd, gathering the lame and the outcast.

God is for you.  The Lord, your God, is in your midst!  The presence of God, it is transformative, covenantal, radical, destabilizing, scary, and exhilarating!

Zephaniah is the season of Advent calling us to prepare Him a room and let heaven and nature shout for joy.  Zephaniah spends two chapters identifying what needs to change, where we need to turn both as individuals and most importantly as a society, culture, and nation.  Then as the hills are made low and the road is straighten, the Lord is with us, Emmanuel, Christ’s incarnation.  And more joy we can handle now that we are together with God.  We have a home. 

God says at that time I will bring you home.  At that time when I gather you, I will rejoice and exult over you.  I will sing to you and because of you.  And so we sing in response, “I’ll be home for Christmas.”

In Eugene and Springfield, a coalition of nonprofits, faith communities, local governments, and social activists came together and opened the Egan Warming Center with a simple mission:  to ensure that homeless people in Lane County have a place to sleep indoors when temperatures drop to 28 degrees or below.  As you figured out, the Egan Warming Center is named in honor of Major Thomas Egan.  Our community saw our sin and turned in a new direction.  The Lord, our God, was in our midst.

This covenantal relationship with God is one of deep committed love.  According to Luke, during the reign of Caesar Augustus all went to their hometowns to register.  The pilgrims included Joseph and Mary, who were expecting a child.  In the city of David called Bethlehem, the baby was born, and as Zephaniah had promised, the exile was over.  The Lord our God was here to stay.                                Thanks be to God. 

Pictures of my Ordination

Dear Friends, I think that if you click on the link below you will see a Picasa album of pictures from the ordination. When there you can view as a slide show.  Just click the menu button on the upper left.  If for some reason the link does not work, highlight, copy and paste into your web browser.

https://picasaweb.google.com/105689094196296650386/OrdinationToTheDiaconateNancyGallagher101511?authkey=Gv1sRgCNGkgP_ajKOs3QE

Commission on Ministry (COM) and the Standing Committee

Dear Ones! I met with the COM and the Standing Committee on Thursday, Sept. 8th and I am delighted to report that I have been approved for ordination as a transitional deacon.  The tentative date for ordination is Saturday, Oct. 15th.  In our tradition, one usually serves as a transitional deacon for six months and then requests ordination for the priesthood.  The COM was gracious and will assist me by finding a mentor priest for me during my diaconate. 

I do have a lot of questions: where will I serve my diaconate; when is that determined [the Bishop, Michael Hanley, makes the assignment]; how does the tentative date become definitive?  Well, Neysa Ellgren, the Canon at the Diocese of Oregon will hopefully have answers or know who does.  I'll be scheduling time with Neysa+ in the near future at her office in Portland, OR. 

I've created a new page that explains what a verbatim is and I'll have two examples of my verbatims from my recent CPE.  Of course, names and some details have been changed to protect the privacy of the people involved. 

I will also add some sermons.  These additions will allow communities that are looking at me as a possible priest will have a chance to learn about me from this blog.  I will also create a page for your thoughts on my qualifications as a priest--what you think my strengths and weaknesses are.  More about all of this in the near future. 

I am missing my family in Denver.  My brother and sister-in-law were so gracious.  The large extended family made my summer so special.  Both my partner, Kathleen, and my dog, Ladybug, are glad to have me home.  I still have much to unpack. 

I want to thank again both the communities at Resurrection in Eugene and St. John the Divine in Springfield for their support--both spiritual and practical. This long road has been made more smooth by their friendship and kindness.  Thank you so much.

CPE Ending August 19

CPE has been momentous for me. I’ve been able to be of service to the patients and staff at St. Anthony North and they have taught me how to be courageous, how to be present to one of God’s beloved, and how to find new ways of being in face of life’s difficulties. It is a marvelous experience to take the time to step back and reflect on the meaning in everyday interactions. And it has been fun, hard, and sweet.

After reading this earlier paragraph, it sounds stiff. But CPE is anything but stiff or pompous. I don’t want you to think that.

I think CPE is mostly being kind, offering the beginning gifts of friendship. Occasionally people say they think the work of a chaplain is hard. While it is hard to see people in pain, the work isn’t any harder than being a friend. It is this extension of friendliness, this walking alongside someone, particularly during an intense time in his or her life that feels like a special privilege. I can be an intimate stranger, listening, giving Kleenex, sharing laughter and tears. Each of these contacts holds a gem of learning; each new person becomes a teacher for me, even as I stumble around.

Starting out I worried a lot about what I would say. This summer has taught me not to worry about what to say as much as to focus on what the other person is saying and somehow create a sacred place for the saying of it. In my desire to help, sometimes I miss that point. Most people are kind and let my failures just rest between us.

I’ve finished most of my required clinical hours—the time spent with patients. I still have writing to do which is harder for me. You’d think anyone who talked as much as I do wouldn’t have trouble writing but I do. Somehow, without you sitting with me I can’t think of what I want to say. Also without your comments and responses, I can’t really tell a good story. So with this post, I thought I would imagine what I would want to tell you about CPE.

I love spending time with the patients and the medical teams. I continue to be deeply impressed by people’s capacity for humor, perseverance, and self-reflection. Patients share their experiences with me and I’m delighted to listen. Often we explore what meaning those experiences have for them. This may be the foundation of theology—God talk—for me. I do assume God’s presence in our lives, God’s action in history and in our world today. Theology may be how to understand our humanness in light of the meaning those experiences hold within our everyday lives.

I don’t think God sends us trials to teach us lessons—what lesson could you learn from kidney stones—please! But we are foolish if we fail to look for the gifts buried in the mire of trauma or illness. Just as we are foolish to fail to look for the gifts concealed in joy and delight.

One of the delights for me this summer in Denver has been to spend time with family. My brother Pat and his wife Deb have been wonderful hosts giving me time alone and time with family and friends. They have three sons here with wives and grandchildren plus Deb’s mother and her sister, Linda, and her family. We have gathered to play games, eat, and see the Rockies play baseball, celebrate birthdays, and play with small children. It has been wonderful to watch these nephews as adults and parents since I remember them so much younger. Yesterday I took my grandniece, Brianna, age five, to the Children’s Museum and played with bubbles, rockets, and dress up. Today, after doing four hours on call, I joined the family at Eck’s Saloon to attend Josh’s, a grandnephew, School of Rock concert. You can find more about the School of Rock at http://denver.schoolofrock.com/. While I’m too old to be familiar with all but one of the songs played, I really enjoyed being deafened en famille. I did recognize Higher Ground by Stevie Wonder. The lyrics are: People keep on learning, Soldiers keep on warring, World keep on turning... It was fun to recognize at least one song. My brother did find out the bar actually sold earplugs and he bought a pair! What was great was to be with the family coming out to support Josh and his music. Of course, I was feeling my age. One song was introduced as ‘everyone will know this one’ and my brother said, “Oh, they’re going to play The House of the Rising Sun.” Well, you know they didn’t and I did not recognize what they did play. 

So as I prepare for returning to Eugene, I’m hearing “I want to go home’ and ‘I don’t want to leave’ in my mind. I have so enjoyed the chaplaincy and having lots of family around. That competes with my homesickness for Kathleen, my dog, and my church communities. I wish I could fold over the map and make Denver and Eugene an easy drive from each other. Kathleen is coming August 24 and will drive back to Eugene with me. I’m pleased that we’ll have this time just to be with each other. Maybe we stop at all the roadside attractions that catch our eye.

Mid CPE Evaluation

     I’m about halfway through Clinical Pastoral Education in Westminster, CO just northwest of Denver. Here’s an overview of what the experience has been so far.

     I have primarily served in the Family Care Center dealing with patients who have acute illness and need medical tests, time for diagnosis, and skilled nursing care. There are also patients who are postoperative from knee, hip, and other surgeries. While some patients have a terminal diagnosis, they are usually currently in the FCC for a corollary illness. Many patients also have family and friends with whom I meet and interact.

     I have also served by either filling in or while on call in the ICU, Cardiac Care, Progressive Care, and the surgical units. On call, I have attended several deaths and STEMIs, assisting families in the trauma of illness and death. STEMI stands for ST segment elevation myocardial infarction or heart attack.

     I have been able to attend rounds about a third of the time on my unit. I have begun to build relationships with the nursing staff by listening to their reports, asking for their advice and direction, and relaying positive comments by the patients. I have decided to carry the ‘compliment cards’ so patients can write their positive comments in addition to my charting them. The support staff has been very responsive to my requests for information so I could assist patients—such as where to plug in phones, where more Kleenex stored is or are there warm bath wipes; how can we turn off that demanding beeping machine, etc. I have some concern that nurses and staff may find me annoying as I relay patient requests and needs, yet I also know that we share the same value of patient care and comfort. I don’t want to be seen as demanding but I also want to have patients be as comfortable as possible and to have these little needs met since there are so many other needs we can’t meet.

     The end of life and death process affects me deeply. Even when I am called for death attendance without having known the patient or patient's family, it is a privileged intimacy. I like being helpful, understanding, and supportive. I am beginning to understand how to hold sacred space for others. The ingredients seem to be listening to both stories and feelings, reflecting back, joining in those feelings from the sidelines-without being consumed by them—in some way honoring all the feelings that are present whether expressed or not. Also included is speaking with and for the gathering in prayer if appropriate. I have used the Book of Common Prayer several times, which I sense speaks to the families by giving form and voice to inner feelings and yearnings.

     I spend most of my clinical time visiting patients. There is a wide range of interactions from a short introduction of the services provided by the chaplains to delightful conversations that feeling like budding friendships, to difficult witnessing of suffering and pain—physical, emotional, and spiritually. This work really tires me out and that continues to surprise me. Even the ‘easy’ days are tiring. I need quite a bite of time alone and time to sleep to feel refueled.

     I treasure my time with patients who are altered mental status, suffering from dementia, or semi-comatose as I read the psalms from the Book of Common Prayer, which feels like it feeds us both. I’ve developed a list of psalms that seem to articulate my feelings and my intuitions about their feelings. I usually spend about 15 minutes in reading and being quiet together. It feels precious. I usually conclude with prayer from the Book of Common Prayer.

     Last week [or so] I’m experiencing a bout of clinical depression. The slide to the ‘black dog’ is slow and I am unaware of the downward movement until I hit something—not really bottom, just when the pain is acute enough to be present in my consciousness. The most pressing and informing symptom was how I could hardly connect while visiting with patients last Thursday. I wanted to be a nursing assistant so I could empty bedpans or something actually helpful rather than go from room to room talking inanely. The idea that my presence could in some way be a gift evaporated. On Friday, I wore the house pager and that helped as ED paged me to assist a family member. With the sharper need, I could respond and it helped put my own needs into a better perspective. Clearly, my own mental and physical health affects my ability to do this work.
     Here are my learning goals, which I established early in CPE.

• To help people connect their stories to the Divine story

I am improving at mutual or joint reflection on stories. I still wonder if I am fluent enough in biblical stories. I hope to increase my metaphorical vocabulary and biblical themes to make it possible to share the connections. This may be more applicable in parish work and preaching but I’m dedicated to pursuing this more fully.

• To increase my evaluation & assessment skills

I think I am learning to be more patient with myself here. As I’ve watched myself, I think I move too quickly to trying to understand what’s going on. My next strategy is to hold quiet longer and respond from some inner sense or intuition. I also have been acquiring skill in asking open questions so I gather more information and create more intimacy.

• To release tension/stress absorbed from pastoral care encountersI have a nightly ritual of watering a plant by the entrance of my brother’s house using water, cares, patients, and prayer. The group helped me design this ritual. I think it is effective. Also, my family has been working long hours and I’ve had time to myself, which is helpful. I can take a bit of time to think and pray about work and release my tensions to God.
  
  
  
  • To expand my theology of suffering
  I’m doing a good job of gathering data about suffering but I need to step back and reflect on what I’ve learned. This might be a good topic for journaling. It certainly would be a great topic for group discussion.
  
  
       How do I think I’m doing? I genuinely like people and I think this is apparent to the folks I visit. I am curious about how they understand their lives and I love hearing their stories. I carry few negative judgments about people’s choices, yet think I can speak about the consequences with truth and love. I believe most of us are doing the best we can at the time. I have a good sense of humor and can laugh at myself. I have done therapy and reflection and I think this increases my empathy for others. I feel like I am a mature person. I have a good understanding of my own shortcomings. I come to pastoral care as a full person and offer a big heart. 
        I think my weaknesses are perhaps the same as my strengths. As I come to pastoral care as a full person that means I bring my occasionally bouts with clinical depression, which limits my functioning; my energy and enthusiasm, which leads me to judgments too quickly; my positive attitude about people, which leads me to naivety; a big heart, which leads me to over functioning on other’s behalf. Because I connect to the world through my emotions I can be empathic and intuitive, but when people are annoying to me it is almost impossible to move to the empathetic position. I am continuing to learn to set aside my annoyances and irritabilities.
       The disruption of hospitalization, illness, or surgery, a snafu, brings difficulties but also gifts. The messiness of illness makes a time or space to see ourselves differently, to evaluate, and to stop in the busyness of life to discover what we value. It also provides opportunities to find out who values us and how they express their care. Being present to these possibilities can be a path to greater growth. This crisis can also help us see what our needs are and new ways to get them met.
       A significant part of the CPE experiences are is the interaction with my cohort or peer group. I am delighted and impressed with the group dynamics. While still at school, I asked others about their CPE experience. I did hear stories of competitive, mean-spirited, and harsh groups. And stories of disconnected and unhelpful groups. I’m impressed with the kindness, open heartedness, and high level of expertise our group has. I have the sense that each of us is pulling for the other’s successes. After crying in my verbatim, I found myself embarrassed the next day. When I shared this with the group, Michael told a story on himself to let me know that tears are part of the process for most of us. I felt accepted.
       The group, and I include Janet, our supervisor, in these comments, demonstrates a range of approaches to the same goals. I think adults learn most frequently in conversation, in the give and take of mutual reflection. I see this in my circle of friends when we discuss relationships. The group conversations, both formal and informal, are focused, kind, and instructive. All of these people are good and great teachers.
       All of my colleagues appear to hold thoughtful theologies based on an authentic relationship with a loving Creator, in which I can find common ground and learn new ways of knowing God. The other most impressive characteristic of our group is the delightful sense of humor, a sincere joy in the paradox of creation. Their playfulness expresses what a good and joyful thing it is to worship God in our lives and our work. Another outstanding quality is the kindness and giving of grace that occurs in our interactions. Perhaps this is because so many of us are artists—writers, musicians, builders and trade workers along with the visuals artists.
       Katie has a wide repertoire of open-ended questions. I find her solid, caring, and kind. She’s taught me about gentle strength combined with perseverance. Katie is generous in sharing her teaching experience.
       Carol is also generous in sharing her experience and unique perspective. I experience her as thoughtful, imaginative, with deep pastoral skills that are part of her very fabric of being.
        Michael brings a confidence in God’s providence that’s impressive as is his ability to express it. His accepting energy must be a salve to concerned patients. He takes what people say seriously and respond with care.
       Elizabeth is out going and intrigued with people and their stories while willing to self disclose. She is precise and a hard worker. I would like to experience her as she makes music. Elizabeth approaches the world with her hands and heart wide open.
        Each week I have an hour of supervision with our supervisor, Janet. I wondered if supervision would be the time when the supervisor would tell me things he or she thought would be too painful for me to hear in our group work. I’m delighted to report that’s not the case. It has been for me a time to focus on my own journey as in spiritual direction with the added benefit of a shared context of work. It’s been an opportunity to delve more deeply into the process of learning and growth that comes with pastoral care. I would like to map out my theology of suffering in the group and perhaps that is more appropriate for supervision time.
       What changes would I make to the program? The biggest improvement to the program would be the addition of therapy dogs to the chaplaincy. I’d be delighted to be the first chaplain with a pooch. Also, we could work with local churches to provide clothing to those who come to the hospital through the ER. If there has been a trauma of any sort, the medical team cut off their clothes, leaving them without clothes when they leave care. The folks at St. John’s help with a similar project in Springfield.
       The other project that might be helpful is to buy several universal cell phone charging kits. Many patients come to the hospital with their phones and without their charges—an easy piece to forget. The cost would be about $10 a charger. We have six units at the hospital so for $180 we could provide three charging sets on each unit.
       The most helpful parts of the program for me have been group reflections on our work, our reading, and our discussions of patient interactions. I am an external processor so this learning style is a great fit for me. I love the wide variety of printed materials and feel like I’m able to create the beginnings of professional pastoral care resources. I’m also an aural learner so listening to the discussions is also a great fit. We have become good mutual teachers, a learning community.
  
  
  
  
  

Home On the Range

    Well, I did see deer and antelope on my trip to Denver. Denver is located at the foothills of the Rockies and part of the Front Range. The animals here are, of course, different from in the Willamette Valley. Most notably and numerous is probably the prairie dog. I live in the suburbs and most of the undeveloped land here is only undeveloped by people, the prairie dogs have developed cities. I didn’t see any of these ‘dogs’ up close until Kathleen came to visit. My brother and sister-in-law bought Kathleen a ticket to Denver as a present for my birthday. So we spent three days together at the end of June. It was wonderful.
    While we were together, we visited the Butterfly Pavilion, located in Westminster, Colorado. The pavilion opened in 1995, and was the first standalone non-profit insect zoo in the United States. The 30,000-square-foot facility is on 11 acres of land. The main exhibit is an indoor rain forest filled with 1200 free-flying tropical butterflies. After visiting the rain forest, we took the .5-mile nature trail just outside the Pavilion along Big Dry Creek. Here we saw prairie dogs up close. They are squirrel-esque without the fluffy tail, clearly rodents and I find them charming. We also saw double crested cormorants in the creek, hunting fish.

Snowy egret

    On my daily commute, I see herons and egrets near the South Platte River. Often as I arrive at the hospital, there are little cottontail bunnies on the grounds. The hospital has nicely kept grounds. Across the busy street in front of the hospital is open land. The prairie dogs have built their homes. On the evenings when I’ve been on call, I’ve watched coyotes trot along the open ground. Twice I think I’ve seen a red tail hawk on the telephone lines.

    And at my brother’s house, there is a red fox that comes by on her night route. Several times a week I get to see this beauty past by the house highlighted in the streetlights. The fox passes through several streetlights like Jimmy Durante did at his show’s closing. If you remember this, it will really date you.



    These creatures remind me that I’m in a new place doing new things. They also remind me to pause and connect with all of God’s creatures. Each time I see these beautiful creatures, I think to slow down and to appreciate my own creatureliness. The little bunnies crouch and become so still as I approach. The color of their fur matches the rocks, the colors of the underbrush. The prairie dogs whistle to each other describing my approach. We are all God’s creatures, connected through our Creator. Noticing the fauna around me enriches my experience. 

Coyote!!

Double crested cormorant

Night Heron in flight

Thurnderstorms and chaplaincy

The afternoons and early evenings bring thunderstorms to the Denver skies. The days are hot—in the low nineties, and clear blue skies. From the chaplain’s office or the deck of my brother’s home, I can see the storm off in the distance. The dark clouds form with streaks of rain connecting them to the earth. Flashes of lightning illuminate the dark underside of the roiling storm clouds.

      I watch the storm travel, often from the west towards the east. Before the actual storm arrives, the winds pick up. The nearer the storm, the stronger the wind is. The temperature has dropped quickly. The first drops come down, and then the storm is upon me. The rain is hard, fast, and heavy, filling the gutters to overflowing in minutes. The lightning is more frequent. I can hear the thunder now and I count the distance, wondering if counting really measures the distance. It has been a long time since I’ve been in warm rain, summer rain. I feel energized by the wind. This rain soaks me in a minute. Not like an Oregon soft rain that you can run through and not get soaked.

      In only a few minutes, the storm moves on. I can watch it move off into the distance. A few days ago, the storm came later, and as it was night, the lightning now illuminated the clouds in the northeast. I could see the lightning strike from cloud to cloud, back lighting the big black cloud between the storm and me. As I watched over time, I could discern the shape of the cloud as the storm continued. It was now too far to hear any thunder. The sky above me was clear, stars shining.

       I thought how being in the hospital might be like experiencing a storm like this. Maybe we can sense the storm or illness coming at a distance, as our bodies don’t respond the ways we are used to it responding. And the turmoil of the storm, maybe it could be a metaphor for the crisis of being out of normal time, of being in the hospital. The storm is so powerful. And it is not in our control in anyway. Illness can hit us, come over us in a similar way. As the crisis peaks and passes, the illness or lightning flashes and illuminates the shape of the cloud, of the new pattern in the sky, of a new pattern in our lives.

     I’m not sure that there is a purpose or meaning in the illnesses of our lives. But I know from the work in the hospital that illness storms into our lives and changes them whether we are the ones who are ill or if we are the ones whose loved one is ill. Hospitalization changes us. It puts us into a space where we are not in control of much if anything. Pain, like lightning, backlights the new patterns in our lives. And illness passes, sometimes bringing us back to our changed lives and sometimes taking us to the life to come.