It’s that season of the year when lawn signs are sprouting as surely as flowers in the spring; elections are just around the corner. And so today we bring you a Civic Duty Friday Five.

1) How old were you when you voted for the first time?

I was 19 … and it was 1980.  I had to vote using an absentee ballot because I was away at college.  It felt very important.

2) What was the contest at the top of the ballot?
It was the presidential election between Jimmy Carter and Ronald Regan with John Anderson running as an independent.  I voted for Anderson because Carter wasn’t cut out for the presidency (or so I thought at the time) and I thought Regan was going to bring doom upon us.  I wish I’d voted for Carter.

3) Can you walk to your polling place?

Yes, I can and I do.  It’s fun.  The only thing I don’t like is the gauntlet of “volunteers” who try to influence my vote as I walk in.  That bothers me.

4) Have you ever run for public office?

Nope.  Probably never will.  My father did, tho.  He was chairman of the schoolboard for my highschool when I was in it.  That sure left a sour taste in my mouth.  Recently my mother ran for the town selectboard of my hometown.  We moved there when I was 6 (in 1967).  It’s a small town in Vermont.  She ran against a man who’s family has been there for several generations.  This is not an exaggeration … one of his slogans was that my mother was a newcomer to town … this after she’s lived there for 38 years!!!

5) Have you run for office in a club or school or on a board?

Yes.  I’ve run for vice president of my quilt guild and won.  That meant that I served as vice president for a year, then as president the following year.  I think I also ran for a position on the board of directors in a fife and drum corps that LightHusband and I used to belong to.  That was fun.

For those of you who don’t follow Brother Maynard, may I politely say, “You’re missing the boat.” He’s a Canadian with a fine sense of humour and grand sense of what it means to represent Jesus in the world today. He’s also got great taste in beer and coffee.

This week he’s been reimagining the sacred cows in church (his words). You know, authority, submission, leaders, all the biggies. How do we do church? Does it work? Are we measuring it properly? The series is meaty and I’d highly recommend it. It comes with many links that are also quite dense, but well worth the read, if those subjects interest you.

For me, I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about the idea of leadership within the church, or within individual churches. There’s a term that one hears around the church once you’ve been in it a while … servant leadership. The Apostle Paul writes about it in his epistles. Jesus refers to it tangentially by remarking that the first shall be last (among other things). But here’s the thing, everyone talks about this and no one ever thinks about what this might actually look like. I’ve been spending a lot of time turning this term around in my head for several weeks now. Here are some of the things I’ve come up with.

I began with the word “servant” and thought a lot about what that means. A servant is one who serves (of course). It’s someone who does a lot of dirty work. Someone who gets delegated to; they don’t delegate. Servants work behind the scenes, they rarely see the limelight. They also rarely even see the show. They are busy making sure the show goes on. They are busy serving the dinner, so they don’t get to eat. They are making the music, so they don’t get to dance. They are taking the pictures, but the memories are not theirs. They are all the people who grease the gears of our lives. I thought about how this happens. Servants grease the gears by looking ahead and around. They try to anticipate needs, wants and desires. To a certain extent, servants know those they serve. They know what’s coming up and what will make life easier and more desireable. In some cases (as in at a wedding or a dinner party) there are more guests than there are servants. In other cases (as with a king or emperor) there are many servants to one master.

One prominent characteristic I’ve noticed about servants is that they are team players. The team may be large or small, but it still operates as a unit. There are no stars. There are no duds. There is simply the team. Most of the team members can do most jobs; they may be better at some than others, but they can perform most of them.

I turned my mind to leadership. Leader characteristics seem to cross cultural and historic boundaries. Leaders are out in front, with the limelight shining on them. They do the delegating; making the tough decisions. Leaders are the show. Leaders are the reason for the dinner. They are the captains of the team, the stars. Leaders operate alone or in very small groups (two or three at most); they struggle with the group think necessary for good team operations. The inefficiency and messieness of team thinking frustrates them because they can see the clear path and want to just get there.

There are some cases where having a good leader operating in their comfortable milieu is important and necessary. During a war, having a good commander is crucial. Having a chain of command is even more critical in the armed forces. Lives depend on it. Some might say fighting a moral war (if such a thing is possible) depends on it. Governments depend on good leaders. So does business. I wonder, however, if the church might need another method of leadership.

The ideology supporting servants and leaders are almost diametrically opposed. Yet in the church, we blithely combine those two terms as if the mere speaking of them will force them to appear in thin air. No thought appears to have been given to how we might combine these two opposing visions in one person or position. Just speaking it, will bring it into being as if by magic.

How do we combine these two ideals in one position? How exactly does one become a servant and a leader in the same breath? How does one become simultaneously the delegator and the delegatee? The server and the recipient? How does one make decisions as a team and have the patience to sit through the messiness? Can that be done in the church? How do leaders stay in the background, avoiding the limelight and anticipating the needs of those they serve? What would that look like? How would having leaders from the bottom change the church in the world? How would that empower those who were being served to go out into their neighborhoods, tribes, and circles and really be light to those around them? Perhaps if we broke from the long history of tradition of men and sought after the mold set by God we might begin to see some of the changes we seek in the world.

1. Tell us about any group(s) you currently belong to. (e.g. book club, knitting circle, walking buddies, etc.)

I belong to a quilt guild, and within that to a quilting bee. We meet two evenings a month. I love both, for different reasons. The guild is large (about 75), the bee is small (about 6). I also belong to an ongoing block exchange group (about 12 ladies). I love that group too.

2. Do you feel energized or drained by being in a group situation? If the answer is “it depends,” on what does it depend?
After large guild meetings and the block exchange meetings I feel drained. After bee, sometimes energized sometimes drained. But that’s hard to evaluate, because it’s in the evening and I’m tired anyway. I’m a morning person and an introvert … so evening events and large groups are hard. Evening events and small groups are easier, but still …

3. Is there a role you naturally find yourself playing in group situations? That is, do you naturally fall into the leader role, or the one who always makes sure the new person feels welcome, or the quiet one who sits back and lets others shine, or the host?

I’m usually a leader because I’m a naturally bossy older sister type. It’s one of the more unsightly aspects of my personality.

4. Handshakes vs. hugs: discuss.

Handshakes because I’m from New England … but down here in the south everyone hugs all the time and it gives me the willys.

5. Ice breakers: a playful way to build community in a lighthearted manner, or a complete and utter hell of forced fun and awkwardness?

Utter hell of forced fun and awkwardness … unless I’m in charge and don’t have to play ;-).

Bonus: If you answered “playful and lighthearted,” share your favorite ice breaker.

We’re embarking on a new journey at my church. We’re diving into the Jewish holidays this year to see what the study of the roots of our faith can teach us about us. We began this past Sunday with Rosh HaShana and we’ll continue with Yom Kippur on this Sunday next. We’re having to play fast and loose with the dates because we’re limited to meeting on Sundays. This feels slightly disingenuous to me, but I’ll get over it.

Then, because we’re “generous liturgists,” we played fast and loose with the themes of Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur … and flipped them too. So this past Sunday we examined the themes of sin, judgement and repentance. Next Sunday we’ll examine grace, mercy and forgiveness. It seems to me that in the Jewish tradition things are not so tidy and separate. But they’ve had about 5,000 years to build these traditions and they take whole days to celebrate. We’re doing it in an hour and a half. I still feel like we’re cheating.

All of that is to say, I’ve been think a lot lately about the themes of repentance and grace. Sin and forgiveness. Judgement and mercy. Studying the Jewish traditions has thrown our Christian traditions into bas relief ; like a woodcut almost. I see them in their starkest forms. Being the sort of person I am, I’ve been busily drawing parallels and links from one tradition to the other; finding the roots of us in them. Much of what I’ve learned has turned my past knowledge of Jewish tradition on it’s ear. It’s helped me see Jesus in a new light. It’s also causing me to be a more than a little critical of some of our current traditions.

In particular I think we’ve become grace-abusers in the church today. I think (and I include myself in the word we) we are entirely too flippant about the gifts of grace, mercy and forgiveness. I don’t think we should spend time becoming ascetics or self-flaggellants, but I think we need to spend more time understanding the full weight of the judgement that has been lifted from us. In part, I’ve enjoyed the study of Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur because I’ve begun to to come to a greater comprehension of what it means. In the Jewish tradition, they take time each year to engage with that. To wrestle with their own humanity in the face of God’s divinity and then to be thankful for the gifts of grace, mercy and forgiveness that He extends to them.

It may be that Easter and Lent were originally meant to fill this role in our tradition. But I think we’re missing that proper sense of balance between judgement and mercy, sin and forgiveness, repentance and grace. We’re happy to hear the mercy, forgiveness and grace side of the story. But we don’t like to examine the judgement, sin and repentance side. It’s when we have both in balance that God’s work shines in the world. When we can examine ourselves clearly, and see ourselves objectively, we can begin to be the change that we wish to see in the world. I think that until we’re willing to do that (and it’s unsightly, painful work), we’ll just be another group of people talking a good talk and not doing anything.

Father, I ask you now to forgive my sins.
Forgive the sins that I can remember, and also the sins that I have forgotten.
Forgive the wrong actions that I have committed, and the right actions I have ommitted.
Forgive the times I have been weak in the face of temptation, and those when I have been stubborn in the face of correction.
Forgive the times I have been proud of my own achievements, and those when I have failed to boast of Your works.
Forgive the harsh judgements I have made of others, and the leniency I have shown myself.
Forgive the lies I have told to others, and the truths I have avoided.
Forgive me the pain I have caused others, and the indulgences I have shown to myself. I ask in the name of Jesus, your son, Amen. (from Celtic Primer)

My church is young. By this I mean we’ve only been around for about 5 years. Every Labor Day weekend we mark our anniversary. So as I write this we’ve been around for almost exactly 5 years, plus a few weeks. We’re young too, in the chronological age of our members. LightHusband and I are among the oldest people here. This flummoxes me regularly because I still pinch myself to remember that I’m a grownup now. The LightFamily has been part of the church since early 2004, so about half of it’s life.

Shortly after getting intimately involved (we don’t have members, we have a yahoogroup), I was asked to join the Design Team. This is the team that is responsible for opening up some kind of sacred space for people to meet God on Sunday mornings. That probably sounds very heathen. It’s not. We’re more conservative than that sounds, but still … we are doing a series this year celebrating the Jewish holidays. We’re responsible for creating the space for spiritual formation to occur at some level.

Last Labor Day weekend (2005) we had a labyrinth (as we often do on that Sunday), and a cookout. The next weekend we had a party welcoming our newest member into the world. The following Sunday we had a baptism. You can see photos of all these events on our website. Last September was analogous to Bilbo’s birthday party in the beginning of the Lord of the Rings. Or perhaps it was more like the opening of A Tale of Two Cities; It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…. In any case, we were “shiny, happy people,” with little thought of tomorrow.

This September things are all different. I won’t say that we’re not joyful anymore. That would be an untruth. But we’re no longer shiny and happy. We’ve all walked through some dark places this year. Some darker than others. For some the path is not yet finished. Perhaps that means that for all of us, the path is unfinished. Regardless, this year has marked us all. There are lines on all of our faces. Ghosts behind all of our eyes. A steadiness and seriousness that comes with knowing darkness. And still the joy that comes with knowing the light.

Perhaps that’s why this piece of Scripture seemed so appropriate for our Contemplation yesterday:

19 I remember my affliction and my wandering,
the bitterness and the gall.

20 I well remember them,
and my soul is downcast within me.

21 Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:

22 Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.

23 They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.

24 I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him.” (Lamentations 3:19-24)

Planning a funeral is like planning a wedding. It is the photographic negative of a wedding; done in 5 days without joy. A gift the giver hates to give and the receiver wishes to reject. Grief abounds. Etched in deep lines on the faces of those you love. Pain cannot be shared. Each must walk their own path, together yet somehow separate.

I felt pieces of me break away and die yesterday.

Remembering a beautiful baby and honoring his father and mother.

How long, O Lord, how long must we sing this song?

Some news is energizing. It gives life and joy. Some news makes your knees weak and causes you to sit suddenly as if the air had swiftly left your balloon. My faith community received some news of the later nature this morning.

The four month old son of one of ours died last night. His race was short but intense. He ran hard for his brief time here. He was born with but half a physical heart, yet he had a huge emotional heart. It shone out of his big blue eyes and twinkled as one locked eyes with him. He became from his tiny bed an inspiration to even grown men and women to run marathons, and look into places they had never peeked before. Even resting, Will breathed as if running hard. He ran agains the odds until he could run no further.

Father God, we thank You for sharing Will with us oh so briefly. Those bits of You that glimmered in his eyes were a treat to behold. We ask that you will hold his parents closer than ever as they miss their boy deeply. We seek you now in the dark places we must go as we journey through the valley of the shadow of death and ask that your rod and staff comfort us and Will’s parents. We ask that your peace descend upon them and your comfort heal their wounds. That they would be knit together closer than ever through this. It is in your Son’s name given to us that we might be found, that we pray.

Update – 11:40 p.m.: the following is meant to be very tongue-in-cheek. Especially please understand that I mean the last paragraph in terms of the title of the post … it is “My Lack” of generosity and love that I am mocking.

My friend, Golden Girl, has a nice post today reflecting on how Jesus talked to people. She makes you think about how we might want to talk to people. I’ve been thinking about that this afternoon as I cut out pieces for some quilt blocks I’m working on.

In many respects, I’m a fairly easy going person. If I were more outgoing I’d probably talk to more people. But I’m uncomfortable talking to strangers of any stripe, so I have a hard time talking to new people whether they are rich or homeless … both are just as scary to me. I’d like to think there isn’t anyone I’d have dinner with under the right circumstances.

I have, however, decided that there is a group of people who are untouchables in my world. People that I will not invite to dinner. I’m aware that Jesus does not like this behavior on my part. He and I will have to work on this together. But here goes … they are the people who own barking dogs and do nothing to shut them up. In fact, they go so far as to allow the barking dogs to bark uninhibited while the rest of us suffer. People with barking dogs should suffer an eternity with their barking dogs … but I should get to go to heaven without them. I have suffered enough right here.

I took Sabbath today in an odd way. I did not rest and yet I feel refreshed in many parts of my spirit that I have not felt in years.

I worshipped with my father. We discussed weather forecasting and the fact that my old wive’s tales are correct a greater percentage of the time than the media professionals. We got warm in the sun on the edge of the lake and wondered about the state of a rope which had soaked itself for the summer and how long it would take to dry out sufficiently to be tied off and melted.

LightHusband and I did laundry at our traditional laundrymat. Usually we do laundry during the week up here. This year we did it on a Sunday. What a treat. There was laundry comedy and laundry philosophy. A lady came in who announced to us that she had some new jokes for us this week. Here is one:

What do Winnie the Pooh and John the Baptist have in common? (answer at the end)

She had some other jokes, but they were a little off-color. She wore a very large brimmed floppy hat. She said she told jokes because she hated doing laundry so much that this made it fun. I thought that was a very good coping strategy.

Another man came in with about 8 small laundry baskets full of laundry. He clearly had a complicated system. I wondered about his system. He asked, of no one in particular, “Why is it that today all the dryers are full, but the washers are empty? How did that happen?” Laundry mat philosophy at it’s finest.

Oh, you want the answer: They both have the middle name “the” … we cracked up!

Sign seen on a local church: Spiritual Progressivism. It made me wish I’d gone to that service.

We went grocery shopping while the clothes dried in the full dryers at a small local grocery store where the checkout clerk was fast and helpful, and she smiled at us while she checked our groceries (even tho she was a “sullen” teenager). And I made a blueberry pie when I came home.

In all, a good Sabbath rest. The clothes are clean, the larder is full and the week is ready to begin.