A Week to Breathe

A while ago, I was reminded yet again that I am no longer in parish ministry.  It was the beginning of November and I had not been, since September, planning for the Advent and Christmas season.  For the past 25 years, my year operated on the liturgical rhythm—a rhythm that was as much a part of me as breathing. As my eyes danced across the calendar, another awareness hit me—this was a year I relished in the local church, a year when the Sunday after Thanksgiving was NOT the first Sunday of Advent. This was a week to breathe.

While you can take the woman out of the parish, you can’t take the parish out of the woman.  For good or ill, I come to this Presbytery work with the heart and soul of a parish minister. I look at mid council work with the eyes of a pastor.  And as I realized that Christ the King Sunday came after Thanksgiving and not before, I will confess a bit of jealously welled up in me.  The faithful and dedicated pastors in the Presbytery of the Western Reserve have a week to breathe; how wonderful for them and how melancholy for me.

I’ve not yet found the rhythm that is akin to breathing in this mid council work.  Truth be told there are days that stretch into weeks and I wonder “how do I mark this time?”.  In the midst of a conversation with our stated clerk, I said “I haven’t written a blog post in quite some time.”. “That’s because,” she said “it’s not an emergency.” And there is some truth there. A lot of this work can be defined as immediate—if we’re faithful to this work, we are quick responders. And not just in an emergency sense (although that it is part of it), but in the awareness sense—of being tuned in to congregations and clergy as they seek to be the people God wants them to be in the places God has planted them.  That “tuned-in”ness requires movement and a nimbleness.  And I don’t yet have a vocabulary for that rhythm.

Part of what I do in this work is support and pray for the pastors and congregations in the Presbytery.  As I realized the presence of this week to breathe, I sent the pastors an e-mail which included this prayer from Cloth for the Cradle from the Iona Community.  This Advent, this will be a part of my breathing as I continue to look for the rhythm of this work.

Open our eyes

Open our eyes, Lord, Especially if they are half shut because we are tired of looking, Or half open because we fear to see too much, Or bleared with tears because yesterday and today and tomorrow are filled with the same pain, Or contracted because we only look at what we want to see.

Open our eyes, Lord, To gently scan the life we lead, the home we have, the world we inhabit, And so to find, among the gremlins and the greyness, Signs of hope we can fasten on and encourage.

Give us, whose eyes are dimmed by familiarity, A bigger vision of what You can do even with hopeless cases and lost causes and people of limited ability.

Show us the world as in Your sight, riddled by debt, deceit and disbelief, Yet also shot through with possibility for recovery, renewal, redemption.

And lest we fail to distinguish vision from fantasy, today, tomorrow, this week, Open our eyes to one person or one place,Where we—being even for a moment prophetic—Might identify and wean a potential in the waiting.

And with all this, Open our eyes, in yearning, for Jesus.

On the mountains, In the cities, Through the corridors of power and streets of despair, To help, to heal, To confront, to convert, O come, O come, Immanuel.


Flirting with Rescue


On a recent trip to Alexandria, Nick and I ushered at Signature Theatre for A Little Night Music.  I will confess I did not know the show nor did I know that a particular song was from the show—I just thought it was all Judy Collins.

It is a delightful play and the cast is fabulous. There is humor and wisdom on stage.  Longing and pent-up frustration also appear.  Fredrik and Anne have been married for eleven months and she is still a virgin—the reality of which accounts for some of the humor and pent-up frustration.  Fredrik takes Anne to the theatre to see a play staring Desiree Armfeldt.   Fredrik and Desiree, once lovers, find their paths crossing again. A backstage tryst leads to an invitation to spend the weekend in the country.  After a somewhat disastrous dinner party, Desiree ascends to her bedroom to mend the hem of her torn gown.  Fredrik finds her and in one of the more poignant scenes deep love and longing is expressed.  It is in this setting that Desiree sings—“Isn’t it rich? Are we a pair?…” She pours her heart into the words and Fredrik watches with intensity.  And before she sings the last verse, Fredrik says “Desiree, I’m sorry. I never should have come.  To flirt with rescue when one has no intention of being saved…Do try to forgive me.”

As Fredrik left the stage, I leaned over to Nick and repeated the line “To flirt with rescue when one has no intention of being saved…that’ll preach.”

And the next day, it was—preached that is.

While Nick and Sassy are still living in Alexandria, that is also home.  And so, when I’m home with them, I usually worship with Nick.  He is a member of the most awesome Our Lady Queen of Peace Catholic Church.  The Sunday after seeing “Night Music”, Fr. Tim preached.  Drawing on Jeremiah 20:7 – 9 and Matthew 16:21 – 27, he challenged those in the sanctuary to fully embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ.  “We have domesticated the gospel,” he said “wanting it to be something that makes us feel good and gives us comfort.”  And yet, if we are serious about being disciples of Jesus, he went on to say, we have to recognize that the gospel demands much from us—a way of life that is counter cultural. And then he addressed DACA and Charlottesville and the necessity for white people to have serious and intentional conversations about race, conversations that lead to systemic change. We cannot, he said, think talking about these things is enough. We have to act. And the line came back to me—to flirt with rescue when one has no intention of being saved.

The events of Charlottesville and the aftermath continue to hold my attention—and rightly so.  As I read the newspaper and listen to the radio, scroll through my Facebook feed and talk with friends, it seems to me there is some flirtation going on.  Yes, we can remove statues of Confederate soldiers and rename streets.  But if we do not have serious conversation about how we got here and why this happened and what to do next, we are flirting with rescue.

Flirtation is surface; salvation requires a deep dive. Pulling down statues is surface. Coming to terms with white privilege requires a deep dive. Renaming streets is surface. Dismantling systemic racism requires a deep dive.

As a part of my new work as General Presbyter for the Presbytery of the Western Reserve, I am getting to know my new city and surrounding areas.  I learned of, applied for, and was accepted into the Neighborhood Leadership Development Program.  This program seeks to develop diverse leadership abilities of Clevelanders who are committed to creating a city and region that works for everyone.  Their vision is to foster leadership that is committed to creating progressive change.

This is not flirting; this is deep dive. And it got real deep real quick this past Saturday when we ventured into the arena of character based leadership.  One example we considered was the Reverend Robert Wright Lee IV.  If you haven’t read his story, you can read it here. As we discussed his actions and what it said about his character, one person in the room said, “Anybody white willing to speak out against racism is going to lose something.”

Changing this part of our life together is more than mere flirtation.  This requires time, energy, courage, vulnerability.  This requires a confession of fear and moving forward anyway.  To dismantle the racism that exists is going to be a long haul and at times I wonder if we’re more comfortable with flittering—I know I am.  Am I willing to lose something?  Am I willing to be changed? Am I willing to be uncomfortable and challenged so that all people who call this country home are given respect and dignity?  Am I willing to risk my privilege so that all people who call this country home can sleep safely at night and during the day live full and unencumbered lives? God, I hope so. And even as I write this, I am aware there may be much in the preceding questions that are cause for naiveté—and so I ask for correction and insight.

In the end, all is well for Fredrik and Desiree. The flirtation gives way; salvation seems possible.  I’m hoping the truth on the stage will impose itself into my daily living.

Image:  A favorite picture hanging the office which is only flirtation without action

Sleepless in Cleveland


I had a hard time getting to sleep last night.  At an evening meeting, I heard there are at least 12 alt-right rallies planned for the weekend.  Earlier in the day, a friend posted the transcript from #45’s press conference.  Reading through it, I was most disturbed by this exchange:

“Was this terrorism and can you tell us how you’re feeling about your chief strategist, Steve Bannon.

Trump: Well, I think the driver of the car is a disgrace to himself, his family and this country, and that is … you can call it terrorism. You can call it murder. You can call it whatever you want. I would just call it as the fastest one to come up with a good verdict. That’s what I’d call it. Because there is a question. Is it murder? Is it terrorism? And then you get into legal semantics. The driver of the car is a murderer and what he did was a horrible, horrible inexcusable thing.”

In this year alone there have been a number of incidents where cars have rammed into groups of people and the immediate description has been “terrorism”.  (And as I write this news is coming out of Barcelona and the van driven into a crowd.  Police are calling it an act of terror.)  Why?  because most of the drivers were Muslim or somehow identified as sympathetic to the Islamic State.  So, a white guy purposefully driving a car into a crowd of people doesn’t qualify as a “terrorist”?  Why is that?  I haven’t heard either terrorist or terrorism used to describe James A. Fields Jr. ramming his Dodge Challenger through a crowd of counter-protesters killing Heather Heyer.

Then there is news like this—bills that will offer legal protection for motorists who “hit” (“ ” mine) protestors blocking traffic.  And after Charlottesville, there has been incredible backlash against these proposals and lawmakers who have introduced them are scrambling to explain their intent.

Monday morning, August 14,  Denise Anderson (Sister in Christ and co-Moderator of the PCUSA) posted on Facebook:

Friends, please know that to say racist/white nationalist sentiment is somehow getting “worse” is to admit to failing to believe people of color, as we have been saying for a long time that it never went anywhere. It’s okay to admit that, but what you do going forward with this realization is important. Can you hear us now?

After the painful reading and continuing digestion of Waking up White, I know what Denise is saying is true and I am convicted by it.

If I were still in parish ministry, I would have been one of those rewriting my sermon for Sunday.  There is no place in this world for white supremacy, hate groups, or alt-right groups.  What they stand for is in direct conflict with the love, mercy and justice of Jesus Christ.  And in my humble but not to be disregarded opinion, you cannot profess belief in Jesus and stand with white supremacists.  With no sermon to write, I wrote to the pastors in the Presbytery offering them words of support, courage and prayer as they stepped into pulpits throughout NE Ohio.  At a time such as this, the voice of the prophet is needed as the people of God gather to worship.

Yesterday I also read an account from Charlottesville; and I don’t have all the details right—the gist is: a white woman is walking through a neighborhood and a young black girl playing in her yard in the middle of the day sees her, stops in her tracks, fear in her eyes—are you the KKK? No, the woman replied, we’re here because we don’t want you to be afraid of the KKK.  In. the. middle. of. the. day. in. her. own. front. yard.  How did that little girl sleep that night?

I just have to wonder….how long?  what’s next?  What am I called to do?  It’s that last question that keeps me up at night.

Image:  Wisdom and challenge for daily living

On Location


“What’s your agenda being here?” she asked as we sat at the table.

It was close to 3:30 and we had been there since 10 a.m.

“We” being the Presbytery staff and “there” being the coffee shop in Ashtabula, OH.  And why where “we” “there”?  Seven of our 37 churches are in Ashtabula county which is the eastern most boundary for the Presbytery of the Western Reserve.  And from there, it’s about an hour’s drive to the Presbytery office.  Suffice it to say, we don’t have many people from Ashtabula just “dropping by” the office.

Josh, our very capable and oh so valuable office administrator has us on a digital phone system and network that allows us to access our company files even when we’re not in the office.  So, why not take the office on the road?

I had been to Ashtabula earlier and had discovered this great coffee shop right on the river.  So, we set up shop there for the day—Harbor Perk, thank you!  We got in touch with the churches in the area, letting them know we’d be there for the day.  Our current Presbytery Moderator and staff, minus our Stated Clerk who was on study leave, packed up computers, phones, books, writing tablets and set out for Ashtabula.  Not sure if anyone would come by, we wanted to have “work” to do.

Laura arrived first and already people were waiting.  Josh and I arrived soon after 10. Henry got there about 10:30 and we had NOT A LULL the entire time we were there. Toward the end of the day Laura and I looked at each other and said “you know, we actually brought work to do.” And I realized what we were doing—talking with people, hearing stories about their churches, learning where they went on vacation, finding out how long they had lived in the area was our “work” for the day.

“What’s your agenda being here?” she asked as we sat at the table.  “Talking to you,” I said.  And a smile crept across her face. “Well, that is wonderful,” she said. “Because I’ll tell you when folks from Presbytery have been here before, it’s been to tell us what they want us to do rather than listen to us.”

Walking to the car at the end of the day, Josh said “That was wildly successful.”  Agreed. We got to know people—with no agenda other than to sit and listen and learn. Never would have happened sitting in the office.

We’ve already identified the coffee shop for the mobile office on the western end of the Presbytery.

Image:  Harbor Perk Coffe; Ashtabula, OH

Independence Day


For the past 18 years, my Fourth of July celebrations have been DC centric—concerts on the south lawn of the capitol and fireworks framing the Washington monument.  There was also the one year when Nick and I biked downtown and as we were riding down Constitution Avenue we thought we might end up in the parade (a reflection for another post).

This year, in my new home, I experienced the Fourth in NE Ohio style.  I began the day in Euclid attending a neighborhood parade and flag raising.  I ended the day at Blossom (quite possibly a better music venue than Wolftrap) picnicking on the lawn, listening to the Blossom Festival Band and watching fireworks.  I also, along with all the others who attended the concert, was invited to think of the day as Independence Day instead of July 4th—the thinking being on May 11, people don’t say to me “Happy May 11, Sharon”, they say “Happy Birthday”.

As I moved through the day, I was reminded of the A Prayer of Examen for our National Holiday written by  Steve Garnaas-Holmes in his daily reflection Unfolding Light.  This piece arrived in my inbox the day before and moved by its content I used it as an opening time of prayer for a Presbytery committee meeting.

I am familiar with the examen most notably from the book Sleeping with Bread: Holding What Gives You LifeAt the end of most days, I ask myself

Where did I experience God’s presence?

For what from today am I most thankful?

For what do I ask God’s blessing, comfort, direction, guidance?

On a personal level, I find the examen to be a helpful and enlightening spiritual discipline.  I had not thought of it on a national level until I read Garnaas-Holmes piece. And yet, praying for this nation which is my geographical home is another discipline worthy of practice.

For the committee meeting, I adapted the prayer to include times of silence broken by the tone of the singing bowl.  He offered three areas for examination.  The prayers I made in response to them are:

We call to mind all that is good in our nation, all that is in harmony with Your grace.

  • public servants who commit themselves to service
  • the care for national parks and beauty
  • the professed declaration that liberty and justice is for all people
  • freedom to say what we think, to disagree and to work together to ensure domestic tranquility

We call to mind all that is hurtful in our nation, that is out of harmony with Your grace.

  • the heightened expressions of hatred and violence, especially in regards to race, gender identity and sexual orientation
  • the lack of civility
  • the scapegoating of the poor
  • the use of power for personal gain

We thank You for all who share in prayer for our nation, and who share in Your spirit of justice and mercy.

  • congregations who voice both the celebration and sadness of our national life
  • the prophets who voice the uncomfortable truths
  • Authors who make me think and challenge my assumptions: Diana Butler Bass, Jon Meacham, Richard Rohr, Michael Gerson
  • faithful preachers who challenge their congregations to embrace, claim and live hesed (loving-kindness)

The examen then ended with this prayer, which I invited those gathered at the committee meeting to pray together: Your kingdom come, Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. May the Empire of Your Love overthrow our human powers and dominions. May we be faithful citizens of Your Realm of Grace. Amen. 

It’s been almost a week since we marked Independence Day and I now know that my daily examen will be expanded.

Image:  Freedom Forever china–who knew?!

The Opioid Crisis, the Theatre and the Church

Recently, I ushered for “How to Be a Respectable Junkie” at Dobama Theatre.  It is one of the most gut-wrenching plays I have seen.  “Respectable Junkie” is written by Greg Vovos and tells the story of Brian, a heroin addict. Christopher M. Bohan as Brian takes command of the stage and the story from the moment we first see him.

When I realized God was calling me to the Presbytery of the Western Reserve as their General Presbyter, I thought it might be helpful to learn something about the area to which I would be moving. I’d never spent much time in Ohio so Google got quite a workout.  Whether I typed “issues” or “challenges” or “problems” facing northeast Ohio, the first entry was always the same—opioid crises, heroin addiction.

Whoa—what is going on here?  I will confess I wasn’t aware of the extent of the crisis coming from metro-DC.  If there were stories posted and written about this epidemic, they didn’t make it to my newsfeed or I didn’t “see” them as I read the morning paper.

Soon after arriving in Cleveland, this article appeared in The Plain Dealer.  It begins “Heroin and other opioid-related drugs have become the scourge of Ohio, racking up dozens of deaths by overdose each month and leaving a trail of heartbreak that shows no signs of letting up.” The article then goes on to examine how we got to this point—major factors include legal prescriptions of pain medications, a growing aversion to pain, the liberal use of opioids for chronic, nonterminal pain, and the aggressive marketing of OxyContin by Perdue Pharma. Lawsuits have been filed and settled; the CDC has issued new guidelines for the treatment of chronic pain; the Ohio General Assembly passed a law shutting down pill mills in the state.  While the number of opioid prescriptions in Ohio is decreasing, at least 4,149 Ohioans died from unintentional drug overdoses in 2016 and many coroners say that 2017’s overdose fatalities are outpacing 2016’s. Ohio also has the unfortunate reputation of leading the nation in opioid overdose deaths.  One in 9 heroin deaths across the US happened in Ohio.

The statistics and news articles are, unfortunately, easy to find.  As are other writings.  The latest book I’ve downloaded is Dreamland by Sam Quinones.  The subtitle is “The True Tale of America’s Opiate Epidemic.”  This is not necessarily the education I was hoping for and yet realize that this is reality for my new home and if I want to be community minded and engaged, I need to learn as much as possible.

So, back to the production.  In the playbill, Nathan Motta (artistic director for Dobama) wrote in part: “as Greg (playwright) was doing rewrites, article after article and statistic after statistic kept popping up about the rapid growth of the opioid epidemic in the United States—and Ohio was the epicenter.  This crisis was touching everyone.  With every passing day we were more convinced that our work on this production was becoming increasingly vital.  HOW TO BE A RESPECTABLE JUNKIE gives a brief look into living with this disease, puts a face on heroin addiction, and shows the heroism, heartbreak, and hope that comes with fighting opioid dependency.”  Leaving the theatre, two competing thoughts were running through my brain—thanksgiving for the theatre and wondering how the church is engaged.

The Theatre:  Thank God for the theatre—for actors and playwrights, directors and stagehands, costume and set designers, make-up artists and choreographers.  All those who take words and ideas and bring them to life on the stage—so we can be challenged, disturbed, comforted, and propelled to act.

My own life is enriched by friends who are actors; the gifts they bring to the stage are surpassed only by the gifts they share in their daily living. One quality they exhibit and that I greatly value is their willingness to push the boundaries, to face issues head on; they don’t shy away from challenging issues or pussyfoot around, on or off stage. They tell the truth; they are direct; they hold up a mirror so we can see more clearly.  They take seriously real life issues and offer them in such a way as to say “Here, look at this; think about this; reflect on this; act on this; make this better; work to bring about wholeness; help this change.”

In order to act, we first have to be aware.  And for me, the theatre is the one place where my awareness is heightened.  Oh yes, I always look forward to stage productions—what could be nicer than a night at the theatre—and more often than not, I walk away “Dang…they did it again; they’re making me think; they’re challenging my assumptions; they’re bringing to light something I didn’t even know needed attention.”  And once again, my worldview shifts and I have to figure out what I’m going to do with this newfound awareness.

As hard and as difficult it was to sit through “Respectable Junkie”, I can no longer ignore the destruction and pain of opioid addiction.  The personal question for me is “what now?  how am I called to respond?  will I respond?”

Which leads me to The Church.  I’ve got two thoughts here (well, more than two and for the purposes of this note, I’ll stick with two!)—a broader question:  how does the church decide how and whether it addresses the tough issues of the day and a more narrow question:  how are churches in the Presbytery of the Western Reserve (and their sister churches in the state of OH) responding to the opioid crisis?  I’m going to start narrow and then go broad.  As for the more narrow question—I don’t have an answer.  In making my way around the Presbytery thus far, I haven’t seen or heard of specific involvement by churches.  To be fair, I haven’t yet been to all churches or spoken with all pastors or sessions.  And I am hoping someone will read this and offer some correction and insight—which I look forward to receiving.  And also, to be fair, if I have this question, what would involvement by churches look like?  And here is where my education needs to continue.  What resources are needed by those committed to addressing this crisis—money? volunteer hours? space? How many churches in the geographical boundaries of the presbytery have been touched by this crisis?  Does that experience lead to a discernment of action?  Yes, I have more questions than answers, which is how I usually roll initially.  PWR people, what say you?

And now the broader question—how does the church decide how and whether it addresses the tough issues of the day?  My own experience is that faith communities first have to be aware of the neighborhoods in which they live and move.  What are the pressing issues here?  What is it that is breaking God’s heart where we live?  What is breaking our heart?  And how do we respond to that brokenness?  The tough issues of the day vary from community to community.  As many have heard me say “all ministry is contextual”.  And so, what is the context here?  Again, questions that invite thought and reflection—which will hopefully lead to “answers” and action.

A hard reality for faith communities is that at times, we weigh community engagement over against acceptance—or put another way—we don’t want to offend people.  This outlook has unfortunately become something of a prevailing reality in churches today.  We don’t want to rock the boat; we don’t want to ruffle feathers.  On some of my more “combative” days, my response is “really, have you read the gospel lately?”  Meaning, in an unoffensive way, that Jesus was in the midst of the pressing issues of His day; He did not shy away from community engagement.  Jesus rocked many a boat and ruffled many feathers.

In this respect, I think faith communities have much to learn from the theatre.  I don’t mean to suggest that theatres seek to be offensive.  I do think that companies worth their salt aren’t afraid to name, tackle and address the pressing issues of the day.  And their willingness to engage those issues means they are brought out into the light; they are presented in such a way that they can be examined and thought about.

After the performance of “Respectable Junkie”, there was a talk back—those interested stayed and with Mr. Motta’s direction, talked about what had just happened and what their reactions were.  That was pretty powerful as well.  With the play still fresh in their minds, people were free to share their own stories, ask questions, express sadness, sorrow, anger.  It was a bit like what I wish worship was like on a regular basis.  Interacting with the gospel and the community in which we are located calls for response.  We’re not meant to be left alone with no avenue for conversation, reflection or action. This is life changing stuff we’re dealing with!

In this instance, I think the theatre was better at being church.  We who love and value the possibilities of faith communities can learn much from our brothers and sisters who take to the stage.

Images:  Signature Theatre (Arlington, VA) and Dobama Theatre (Cleveland Heights, OH); two voices telling important and needed stories