CIRCLE OF THANKSGIVING

At some point today I’ll sit around a table with my family to give thanks. It’s Thanksgiving...that’s what we’re supposed to do. The idea of it freezes my brain, though. I seize up wracking through the past year to choose the one or two people or experiences that I can say I am grateful for when the ‘circle of thanksgiving’ lands at my plate. That is when we go around the table and say something that we’re thankful for. Everyone usually has something...problem is, I have too much. I can’t narrow it down to a moment in time because thanksgiving is where I live my life. Every moment. Really. I can’t remember when it began, but somewhere in the wiring process of my brain, being thankful got priority. 

“Oh c’mon, Todd. You can’t be thankful for sleepless nights or people who are mean or thoughtless or subversive.” True. I am not thankful for those things...but I am thankful that in the midst of dealing with those things, God directs me to creative ways to respond to those things. Sleeplessness? I write a blog or look at the stars until I can breathe easy again and find my way back to bed. Mean people? I’m grateful that I don’t carry their baggage that makes them such pills. Subversive? I remember times when I have acted like that and I rejoice that I have been observant enough to head it off at the pass so it can do less harm to me or whoever is being sabotaged.

I am thankful for my wife, my kids, my family of choice, my friends, my faith, my church, my community, the folks who aren’t particularly “mine” but who are working hard in similar directions, trying to make the world a wee bit better each and every day, the folks who care, the folks who need caring, God (who sustains me through it all). I am thankful for laughter and thoughtful conversations, and being able to feel more fully than I used to. I am thankful for walking. I am thankful for sitting. I am thankful for football parents who cook hot dogs at high school football games on Thanksgiving Day.  I am thankful in each moment, not necessarily for the particulars of the moment, but for the grace to see beyond the particulars. It makes the “circle of thanksgiving” a challenge, but then, what a delicious dilemma to be met with.


May your plate be so full to overflowing this holiday and every day...it is enough.

Happy Thanksgiving to my readers...this turkey needs to go back to sleep.

-todd

YOU ARE NOT ALONE

I heard this poem at our Veteran’s Day program this year. It was reprinted in our local paper.

It Is The Soldier

It is the Soldier, not the minister

Who has given us freedom of religion.

It is the Soldier, not the reporter

Who has given us freedom of the press.

It is the Soldier, not the poet

Who has given us freedom of speech.

It is the Soldier, not the campus organizer

Who has given us freedom to protest.

It is the Soldier, not the lawyer

Who has given us the right to a fair trial.

It is the Soldier, not the politician

Who has given us the right to vote.

It is the Soldier who salutes the flag,

Who serves beneath the flag,

And whose coffin is draped by the flag,

Who allows the protester to burn the flag.

--Charles Michael Province, U.S. Army

As a minister who prays regularly for our military and who is part of a group that reaches out to military families and their friends, I was saddened by this poem. The author seems so lonely...by which I mean, all alone. He sets himself and his fellow soldiers as islands without support or community. He creates a world of Us vs. Them, in a world that I believe needs a whole lot more WE. 

I wonder if  all our military feel so alone? I hope not. I hope that they realize that there are, scattered all around them, people who care a great deal about who they are, what they are doing, and what they have been through. Sometimes we don’t have the words or means to express that in just the right way...but we really do care. I don’t mean “just ministers” care...I mean that I hear throughout our community a great outpouring of concern for our military and their families. Folks just don’t always know what to do.

We recently held a workshop on that topic at our church. The workshop was called: The Spiritual Journey Home from War. It was sponsored by the Brookfield Institute. We had a nice cross section of people attend. 

One of the big things the veterans who were present told us we could do to be supportive was: to “be sincere in your gratitude.” They were not interested in tossed off cliches or political platitudes. The warriors who joined us said that what they really appreciated was knowing that their service was appreciated. Was acknowledged as being difficult. Was witnessed as something that meant something to those of us who were back here, on the home front. The people we met confessed that they did not fully understand all that they were called to do, but it was somehow reassuring to have it acknowledged as having happened. That it was not forgotten.

I have written a response to the poem that was read at this year’s Veteran’s Day program. I use the same title as the original author, because quite frankly, it IS the soldier who is our focal point. It IS the soldier who we gather around and seek to support and owe so much of our lives to...BUT...those soldiers are not alone. They do not operate in a vacuum. I hope that my poem will let them know, that they operate in a world that loves them; in a nation that does care about their well being; in all of the mixed up ways that we express that, including prayers for peace.

IT IS THE SOLDIER

It is the minister, who offers care to the families of the soldier who is at war; 

 who prays for the soldier’s well being while they are away and welcomes the soldier home and offers hope and healing for the wounds that have been accrued while serving the nation.

It is the reporter who records the perils faced in the field.

Who holds the cause being fought for to the light,

in black and white and gray,

so that we do not forget

the powder and sand smudged faces of those making sacrifices on our behalf.

It is the campus organizer who gathers voices in protest against squandering the lives and talents of our armed forces; who cries out for better services when they come home and who reminds us of the ideals our military are fighting for.

It is the politician who must weigh the cost of each soldier’s life lost...or injured...or otherwise forgotten at war by a public that is easily distracted by personal need.

It is the nation, putting our hands to our hearts as we see a flag and remembering with quiet awe

the sacrifices that have been made by our military to protect and preserve

the freedoms that flag represents.

It is the tears of those who mourn our fallen,

cradled in their coffins,

beneath carefully creased blankets of stars and stripes.

It is the great paradox of those whose passions are great,

living together,

soldier and civilian,

in community, 

supporting one another,

that allows us to be one nation, under God.

--Rev. Todd Farnsworth, minister

STONES

A group of people who I respect a great deal had an online conversation recently about water-boarding. Some of the folks were for it...some were against it. Some drew a political line in the sand proclaiming that one party had the bragging rights on the issue. I was impressed by the respectful way the conversation unfolded. Very few cheap shots were taken.  It was clear that there was a difference of opinion on the topic.

It got me thinking about torture in general...or “enhanced interrogation” as we are calling it these days.

I understand the need for information that will keep us safer. I get that sometimes people possess knowledge that could endanger or save the lives of 100’s maybe 1000’s of people. It is important to get that information. There have been occasions when “enhanced interrogation” has been effective in ascertaining important pieces to a particularly tricky puzzle of intelligence. There have also been occasions when the enemy has resisted the painful experience, and he or she has withheld the wisdom that is being sought.

I’ve heard a few folks argue that the interrogator needs to get “tougher” on their prisoner. I’ve also heard a few folks argue that this is why torture should not be bothered with in the first place. I confess, I don’t have the answer to which is right and which is wrong...and I don’t want to push my reader in any particular direction either.

What I am reminded of in this scenario is the time Jesus was sitting with a woman who was accused of adultery. It was a crime punishable by death. She was, in the eyes of those who had cornered her, an enemy of the faith. I’m guessing you remember Jesus’ response to this situation...he did not preach at the woman or her captors,...he made them an offer:

Whoever among you is without sin, feel free to cast the first stone.

My issue with enhanced interrogation comes out of my wrestling with that offer. I wonder if we are always in the right? I wonder if the enemy’s issue with us is always without virtue or merit? I wonder how we can feel outrage about the torture of our soldiers by the enemy, if we are engaging in torture? To take it a step more personal (and I do believe that war is personal, otherwise we would not have support groups for folks who are worried about their loved ones who are deployed or support groups for folks who have experienced so much trauma in war that they now have Post Traumatic Stress Response) I wonder how we can find it acceptable for the young men and women we pray for each Sunday in worship, to be subjected to “enhanced interrogation” if they were to be captured? Because when we agree as a country that it’s OK here...we imply that it’s OK over there. We’re all God’s creatures...right?

When I think about casting that first stone at one of the young people from Belchertown who are serving our country, I shudder.  It is not OK with me. I do not want to hurt them. I do not want anyone else to hurt them. I love them. I want them to come home to be with their families and friends. I want them to have as little to heal from as is possible in the midst of war. I am not naive. I know that there will be a lot to recover from; seeing people hurt, seeing people die, being on constant alert for the safety of your life. That is tragic enough for me. I also know that when they come home, if they come home, I will be there to help them (and their families) put the broken pieces back together again.

The thought of  adding  another stone to the heaviness of war is enough to sink my heart.

WE HAVE A PROBLEM

We have a problem

This is actually the first blog I ever wrote and I am glad to have had God sitting on my shoulder giving me guidance for it. My hope was and is to let this be a space for wondering about God, Jesus, the Spirit and the seasons of the sacred that we move through as we live our lives.

I'm thinking about our church's financial woes today. I actually think about them every day. Our church's struggle to survive has a bit an of impact on my life...and livelihood.

I recently used an online imaging program called Prezi (PREZI) that allowed me to put pictures of our church's ministries all on one page. I had pictures of: food shelf, relay for life, BUCC's Place, Taco Salad, Prison Ministry, Bring Mickey Home ministry, Sunday School, Worship (with people hugging at the passing of the peace), You Are Not Alone ministry to military families, Theater ministries, facebook ministries, web page ministries, tv ministries, CROP Walk ministry, denominational ministries (NIN and OGHS, plus the clergy group that I am a participant in). It was an exciting collage, especially since I knew in my mind that I was missing pictures for some of the things we do. Visiting the sick. Comforting those who are grieving. Baptisms. Weddings. A domestic abuse support group. A building that houses several agencies for change such as AA, Scouts, NarAnon, and Community Options.

Each one of these ministries fits our understanding of Jesus' open arms and extravagant welcome. Each one of these ministries fits our call to compassion and healing in His name. Each one of these ministries is a witness to who we believe God to be.

It is quite a picture...under which I wrote the words, "We have a problem." Because, we do. Unless something changes in our financial picture, we will soon be out of money.

We have a problem. As I look at the pictures I see people laughing, hugging, working together. I see people who are predominantly youngish (mid 30's) with a smattering of 50 year olds and a very few in their 80's and 90's. I see large groups of people coming together to put their faith into action. I see groups that are living their faith and inviting others to join in the fun.

And maybe that is where the problem lies....

When I look at the collage, I do not see any pictures of us passing the offering plate. I do not see any pictures of us coming together to make our "pledge" to the church. I do not see "fun" when I look for it around our sustained giving to BUCC...which is weird...because we have found a way to make virtually everything a party at this church. We have a culture of celebrating and inviting, and yet we have missed the confetti cannon opportunity on our cash flow!

I wonder what it would look like for us to celebrate the money we offer up in Jesus' name, for the continuation of this holy party we call The Belchertown United Church of Christ (BUCC)?  Would there be conga lines? Congo lines? Limbo sticks? Music? Snacks? Silly hats? A fun gesture that we give to one another to say, "yeah, I pledged today...how 'bout you?"

We have a problem. I have faith that with God's Spirit among us, we can turn this thing around. Congo lines? Maybe.

--todd

LOOK AT ME

I recently directed a pretty big show in and for our community. The cast was about 40 people, including a choir. And there was a tech crew of 4. And refreshments. And programs. And...well, it was a pretty big deal. The good news is, folks seemed to like it. A lot. The reviews I got ranged from: “I saw it 5 times and cried 5 times.” to “I really liked the way the contemporary music cued the audience to what was coming next.” to “Do you realize what a gift you’ve given to this community?” I even got a standing ovation during worship!


What was strange was that each time someone would throw an accolade my way, I would feel my soul shrinking into a small ball. I would bow my head. I would cover my eyes. I would try to hide.

Weird.

It was not a case of “not believing” what people were saying. I knew I had worked hard. I knew that the cast and crew had really risen to the challenge in a remarkable way. I knew that the kind words folks were sharing with me were sincere...and true. Nonetheless, I felt a need to hide.
I was talking to my therapist about this today and as we explored the feeling I realized that I have had to hide a lot in my life. Not so much as an adult, but as a kid...it was a survival thing. I had to hide from an out of control adult. I had to hide my feelings. I had to hide my shame. When someone was looking for me, or at me, the robot from “Lost in Space” would shout into my brain, “WARNING! WARNING! WARNING, WILL ROBINSON!” which was odd because that is not my name. I would bolt (either physically or emotionally) and hide...or at least, try to hide.

While that works pretty good for a kid who is living in terror, it is a strange way to order one’s adult life.

As I thought about my behavior I got to thinking about Jesus. He was a pretty out and about kind of guy for most of his ministry. He didn’t shy away from people who wanted to thank him. He didn’t duck when somebody called his name from a crowd. He would turn and look them in the eyes. He would listen to what they had to say. He would respond in the moment (maybe give them a ‘high five’ or a hug) and then he would move on to whatever he was doing next.

After being beaten, crucified, and resurrected, Jesus was a little bit cagier. He was a bit more selective about how long he stuck around and visited with people. One minute he was there...the next he was gone. I don’t think he was hiding, but maybe he was remembering the hurt he'd experienced from folks he had wanted to trust. Maybe he wondered about who he could count on.  Maybe it was hard for him to be seen. Maybe that robot was waving its arms in Jesus’ brain, too.

Eventually, Jesus got comfortable enough to be with everyone...all the time. His Spirit lives in our communities and in our lives. He smiles at us and plays with us and cries with us. I believe that he looks us in the eyes, again. Somehow, he figured out that not everyone is out to hurt him...neither is everyone out to thank him. He discovered a way to be present and still protect himself. 

I don’t think that I am going to become a spirit in the near future, but I do think that I can live spiritually in the present. I can use my senses to advise me of folks who are sincerely offering a constructive word. I can accept and maybe even come to embrace with pride their thoughtfulness when they take the time to look at something I have done. I do not need to hide from them. I am an adult. Neither do I need to hide from people who are offering me a “destructive” comment or observation. I can acknowledge where they are coming from, and look them in the eyes, and agree to disagree.

I think this is going to take some practice. I ask for your patience as I come out of hiding. This is a hard thing to ask, but I’m gonna go for it anyway: Please look at me...it’ll help me grow.

SWISS CHEESE

This week my brain is like swiss cheese. No, not especially holy...but very holey. It reminds me of the popular show from the 80’s, Quantum Leap. The main character “Sam” would jump from time to time, and body to body, each episode having to figure out who he was, when he was, and what he was doing there. I think my wife liked it because she had a crush on the actor Scott Bakula. I liked it because of the way each show resolved the weekly dilemma.



The conceit of the show was that the trauma of “leaping” from time to time and body to body made the main characters brain like “swiss cheese.” There were gaps in memory. There were gaps in how relationships worked. There were gaps in how his body worked! Those gaps gave “Sam” the wiggle room to discover interesting things about himself as he tried to help his “host” figure out his (or her! very risky for the 80’s...) life situation.



Last week’s snow storm, and the trauma that went with it, made my brain turn into swiss cheese.



Names of familiar faces are lost to me. I begin driving somewhere and have to turn around because I’ve gone in the wrong direction. I am having a difficult time verbalizing my thoughts. Typing is a little easier, but even here I have to stop every so often to re read what I’ve written, so that I can figure out what I am trying to say. It is frustrating, and funny, and crazy. I recognize it as the stuff of having lived through an extraordinary experience...so I am patient with myself. I am also patient with folks around me, because I can see that they are struggling, too. They are groping for objects that aren’t there. They are flinching at innocent sounds and wandering in their conversations like a cow drunk on whiskey. I’m pretty sure their brains have become holey like mine. Some of them report having trouble sleeping. Some of them say that is difficult to concentrate at work. It’s all swiss to me. 


The good news is, that with time, and stability, the holes begin to fill in. The warmth of familiarity melts the cheese like a sandwich on the grill. The sweet and salty aroma of the toast awakens our memory to the things we’ve temporarily forgotten, and the stickiness of the whole business begins to pull us back together. We heal.



I believe that God is somewhere in the midst of those holes in my head right now. I believe that God is the one who is turning up the heat so that the cheese will begin to warm and soften and fill in the blanks. I believe that somehow, God is gently molding me back to myself; helping me figure things out; giving me the wiggle room to put "things" back in order. I’m not sure exactly how God does it, but I do know that when it happens, it is a holy kind of thing. I feel awakened and alive and aware, again. My senses are more attuned to the stimulus around me. God's done it before when other storms have raged through my life. It's pretty neat how the holy happens when I let her do her thing. I feel more whole...which certainly sounds like the kind of work my God is about...at least, that's a leap I'm willing to take.