Terrapin Station

A death in Holy Week

My Aunt Betty died yesterday. Her death had been imminent in the weeks prior. She was 91 and most ready to go; at her 90th birthday she told us she was wearing the outfit she planned to be cremated in, and that she'd had a photo made for her obituary in that outfit. (She was beautiful!)  This is her at her birthday party, saying that the thing she had learned in life was that you just have to laugh at yourself and other people, or otherwise you'll cry.  Words to the wise. 

She remained vigorous all her life, riding horses on dude ranches into her 80's. She traveled widely, hiked everywhere, and stayed in shape with Weight Watchers.

She was the first woman I ever saw to make a home on her own. After my uncle died, Aunt Betty sold her house in Houston, where she had been a teacher & principal for many many years, and moved to Colorado to be near her son and daughter-in-law. She and Rosetta opened a preschool in her basement and taught and loved and played with little children there for years. They also camped, fished, and enjoyed the beauty of Fort Collins.

My family went to visit one summer, and I was about 13. I remember looking at her beautiful, airy, clean little home with a view of the mountains, and thinking, "no one else told her where to put these things! she did this all herself!" It was revolutionary for me.

Later, she moved to Boise, Idaho, and then back to Lake Jackson, Texas. She lived near her sister, my Aunt Emily, in Lake Jackson for several years, enjoying contact with her and Uncle Oliver and their families. She had the best attitude of anyone I have ever known...despite a large share of the sorrow of life.

She was also one of the most talented crafters I have ever known. Needlepoint, cross-stitch, ceramics; there was nothing she couldn't do. At every family gathering she made handmade items for everyone, usually personalized. The year after Aunt Etta Jane died (EJ was famous for wearing a Christmas bow on the top of her head while we opened presents), Aunt Betty made tiny Christmas bow earrings for all the women.

Primarily, she was the most engaged person I have ever met. No one who encountered her didn't feel that Aunt Betty was genuinely interested in them and glad to see them. As my sister Barbara said, "Aunt Betty made everyone feel special."

Holy Week's Coming...thoughts on the lunch hour

Just ate a salad inside a bread bowl.  A salad sammitch.  Good stuff.   I'm trying to do better with packing my lunches on days I don't leave campus for lunch.  Some days I try to cram in a lot of errands at lunch time and then where's the time for eating? 

My computer says that to play any Youtube videos I need a Flash plugin, and of course I don't have admin priveleges to do that on this machine.  So I'm listening to a CD that I've heard several times in the last few days.  It's called "God's People Give Thanks," recorded in 1973 at the Church of the Redeemer in Houston.  The mass music is on it, so it's a particular joy to hear the Sursum Corda sung by the rector who was later my priest in College Station for several years.  Beautiful. 

In Sunday School class last week we were talking about Confession (we are going through Richard Foster's Celebration of Discipline).  We had lifelong Episcopalians in the group, as well as those who had grown up Baptist and Catholic.  Needless to say, there was a diversity of experience and opinion about the sacrament there. 

Not having been brought up with it, I have a hard time with Confession, and wrestling with the "why" of that is important.  For the same reason, I also have a hard time with Stations of the Cross, though I think if I could have started out with Elastigirl's Interactive Stations of the Cross for Children, I might feel differently. 

There's been an interesting discussion on the innerwebs about how and whether to conflate Palm Sunday with the Passion. 

Oddly, as I look at my work calendar next week, I have almost nothing scheduled (yet).  It's that time of year: we've finished International Week and the end of the semester approaches, rendering the students and faculty who might be coming to see me busy with many things. 

So, a quiet week.  And I'm taking the day off Friday.  I've learned that if I don't, it's not a good thing for me or anyone else. 

Holy Week actually starts for me on Saturday, with a Quiet Day sponsored by a local DOK chapter.  The title is "Our Fear: His Grace," and here's the description:

"even the hairs on your head have all been counted.  Do not be afraid, you are worth more than any number of sparrows."  Luke 12:7.

We live in a world of widespread change.  We see suffering in ways we haven't seen or experienced before.  On this day, in prayer and conversation we will explore the concept of fear and God's mercy.  Through guided reflections and faith shareing we will examine our own fears, the value we place on ourselves, and God's limitless love for us.

Sounds just about right, no?  How are you doing?  What's your path look like? 

 

 

 

Saturday in Holy Week

 

A good and quiet day at home.  Working on Easter dinner: the deviled eggs, the potato salad; I have ham and glaze.  Ken is striping the Dr. Pepper HQ in Plano today...hope he gets done as it is supposed to RAIN tomorrow. 

Listening to Godspell and Jesus Christ Superstar. 

Went to library.  Checked out many books, natch, plus a CD via the self-check machine.  Got home and realized CD case was locked...you must have it unlocked before leaving library, security measure.  Dogs and I went back to the drive-thru window where the library ladies were so glad to see them and the feeling was mutual. 

Polished silver.  Did laundry.  Kept my sermon-writing friends company and in my prayers.  Thinking of brokenness.  Wondering about resurrection.

Now I must go shower and dress and get to church for the Vigil. 

Friday Five: Adoramus te

  

Adoramus te, Christe,
et benedicimus tibi,
quia per sanctam crucem tuam
redemisti mundum.
Qui passus es pro nobis,
Domine, miserere nobis.

We adore you, O Christ,
and we bless you,
because by your holy cross
you have redeemed the world.
O Lord, who suffered for us,
have mercy on us.

1. How will you pray and worship today?  For the first time I can remember, we have not been given any part of the day off.  Therefore, I am praying along with those of you who have daytime services, and hope to make it to an evening one, if traffic is not too bad.  Later in the evening I will be dyeing and deviling eggs and making hot cross buns while listening to the Godspell soundtrack.   

2. Share a powerful memory or memories of Good Friday past.   I'm stumped on this.  Maybe I have amnesia!?

3. How have you grown and experienced God's love during this past Lent?  I'm still not sure what I am growing into; but it has been made possible by the love and care of friends who have supported me. 

4. In whom do you see the face of the suffering Christ most clearly?  People in Africa without food or water.  People in my own country who live in fear of losing their livelihoods.   People whose small Texas towns burned to the ground last night.  GLBT people whom the church - including my own church - disadvantages and disregards. 

5. Where do you find hope for resurrection?  Last night at Maundy Thursday service, we had a guest soloist for the Rutter "Pie Jesu."  Rebecca is the daughter of one of our amazing, retired priests; she is a music minister at the Lutheran church down the street and a glorious soprano.  Her face, looking so much like her mom's while she sang last night, and her glorious voice, roused a joy I had forgotten. 

And joy also came through her wonderful son (about 7), who sat with her in the loft during the service and who went down on his own for the foot-washing...watching him have his feet washed, washing someone else's, and his grandfather regarding all of it with quiet pride from the altar.  So, I guess the short answer is:  community and family.  People. 

Bonus: Share a song, poem, or prayer that makes the paschal mystery come alive for you.  We sang this last night (in English):

Now, my tongue, the mystery telling
of the glorious Body sing,
and the Blood, all price excelling,
which the gentiles' Lord and King,
in a Virgin's womb once dwelling,
shed for this world's ransoming.

Given for us, and condescending,
to be born for us below,
he, with men in converse blending,
dwelt the seed of truth to sow,
till he closed with wondrous ending
his most patient life of woe.

That last night, at supper lying,
'mid the twelve, his chosen band,
Jesus, with the law complying,
keeps the feast its rites demand;
then, more precious food supplying,
gives himself with his own hand.

Word-made-flesh true bread he maketh
by his word his Flesh to be;
wine his Blood; which whoso taketh
must from carnal thoughts be free;
faith alone, though sight forsaketh,
shows true hearts the mystery.

Therefore we, before him bending,
this great Sacrament revere;
types and shadows have their ending,
for the newer rite is here;
faith, our outward sense befriending,
makes our inward vision clear.

Glory let us give, and blessing
to the Father, and the Son,
honor, might and praise addressing,
while eternal ages run;
ever too his love confessing,
who from both with both is one.

Maundy Thursday Fires

Last night on the way to church, I opened my sunroof and quickly closed it...the air smelled smoggy and awful.  Yuck!  

On the way home from service it quickly became clear, even with all the car windows rolled up, that the smell was not smog, but SMOKE.  "Something is on fire," I said. 

I stopped at Taco Cabana for dinner.  When I opened my car window to order, I thought I'd choke...and big ashes were falling from the sky.  "Something BIG is on fire!" I said to the woman at the drive-thru.  "Really?" she said, peering out of her window onto the world."  "Really," I said.  "Either that, or it's a volcano."

And boy, was I right the first time:

 

See the lake in the county just above Fort Worth and Dallas?  That's Lake Lewisville, and I live about 5 miles west of its northwest tip.    We had 35 mile per hour winds all evening, due west.  Very scary.

Two people died in this fire.  Two towns were destroyed.  From the WFAA-TV blog: 

Behind me, you are looking at the charred remains of a community center. Yesterday, it was thriving. Today, nothing but charred remains, after wildfires swept through, reducing it to rubble. Even today, Montague County is still burning. Everywhere you look, another hotspot reigniting. In Montague, the fires turned deadly for former News 8 reporter Matt Quinn and his wife Cathy. They were unable to escape alive. Cathy's son Chris did get out, only in time to watch the family truck explode. Today, he remains hospitalized, suffering from burns. Back in Stoneburg, they are still measuring the toll these fires have taken. Despite all the losses, close knit communities are coming together, vowing to help one another out of this mess. On this Good Friday, they choose to see hope on the horizon.

- Cynthia Vega reporting from Stoneburg

Thursday in Holy Week: Here I Stand

 

Choir rehearsal last night.  THAT SONG (cref Wednesday's post) is long off our docket, but it runs through my head all the time.  Clearly, it has something specific to say to me!

What I know today is that I have to keep showing up as I figure this out.  Staying at home won't answer any dilemmas, and will only put them off a year.  I have to get my feet under the pew.  So to speak.

Maundy Thursday service tonight.  I can't participate in the Watch afterward, where we sit an hour apiece, all night long, in the chapel with the reserved sacrament.  Last year's vigil hour caused me a COLOSSAL allergy attack (~50 lilies in a small, small room?  Uh UH!) 

So I will come home and make hot cross buns and dye eggs and consider and pray as I do.  You'll be among those I pray for.

Wednesday in Holy Week: Everything Changed

 

Let's see.  How to start this? 

At choir rehearsal shortly after Christmas,  we began working on a piece from Handel's Messiah for Holy Week:  "He Trusted in God."  These are the lyrics:  He trusted in God that He would deliver Him; let Him deliver Him, if He delight in Him”  (Psalm 22:8).

And I just could not stand it.  Could not sing that.  It hurt me emotionally and physically.  It sounded hateful, sarcastic, cold.  The story behind it…one I have known for my whole life…hurt too much. 

I couldn’t understand such a God.  How could God not delight in and protect God's child?  It reminded me of the ‘Abraham and Isaac go to Mount Moriah’ story, which we had recently heard in church.  I hate that story.  I understand about the foreshadowing of the Crucifixion.  But it seemed to me that if we have a NEW covenant in Christ, that God isn’t doing a very good job of making it new in the Crucifixion!  That son got killed, after all.

Of course, I am emotionally raw from four years now of body and energy work, and painful things can strike me with greater force and immediacy than they used to.   I have to “put my shields up” to go into certain situations.  I know this.  But I was not prepared for it in choir, in my spiritual life, in preparation for Lent which I have observed my entire life. 

I told the choir director I needed some time off.  And I started wandering in what felt like a desert.  How could I reconcile my (almost lifelong) faith with what was quickly becoming clear to me as a horrible, brutal event perpetrated by the head deity?  Could I stay a Christian?  Could I be an Episcopalian anymore? 

I wrote a screaming e-mail to a friend (“what kind of a God would invent such a horrible religion?!”)  and, with great love, she shared with me, for the first time in my life, the notion that maybe God didn’t make up that idea…maybe that was a human construct that we made up ourselves to deal with our pain and shame.  I had never heard the phrase “atonement theology” before. 

Sometime during this process, I remembered watching Ben-Hur when I was very young, about 7, and after the movie was over I went to my room cried brokenheartedly.  Somehow I had not understood before that it was all my fault that Jesus had to go through that…that’s what the movie conveyed to me.  We had pictures on the wall of my bedroom of plates from the Godey’s Lady’s Books.  I remember looking at those simpering ladies and thinking they were feeling very superior to me somehow. 

So this Lent has been filled with questioning, reading, listening and counsel by various friends, both sympathetic and skeptical, and lots and lots of anger.  It’s as if a great deal of rage I was holding on to has come out through the vehicle of this pain.  I’ve been angry at bad drivers, cold weather, stupid newscasters; at the wrongs perpetrated by institutional religion, and particularly at the institution of religion to which I belong. 

I told my Teacher at one point that I felt my world had gotten very small.  I think that was because I have been so focused on the one thing and the implications of it. 

The bluebonnet camping weekend was restorative.  The world spread back out for me.  It meant missing Palm Sunday church, which I don’t think I’ve ever done before…but the time away was what I needed.  It allowed me, as a friend said, to “get out of my own head space.” 

Now I am ready – I think – to step into Holy Week and see what it has for me, and what I might have for it.  I am fortunate that I have few responsibilities this week other than singing during Maundy Thursday, Easter Vigil, and Easter Sunday services.  The Handel “He Trusted in God” was dropped from Maundy Thursday repertoire, not because of me but because of a general dearth of enough voices to pull it off.  We are still singing from the Rutter and Fauré Requiems, and two Easter pieces from the Messiah. 

It’s not finished, the questioning.  Probably the anger is not either.  But the grace and the love are still there too.  That’s my blessing for today.

Tuesday in Holy Week

    From Inward/Outward.org

The Crucified God Ched Myers   Reconciliation is not something accomplished by Christ for God, nor inflicted on Christ by God, but forged by God through Christ. This wreaks havoc on the medieval (but still widespread) doctrine that Christ's death functions to placate an angry or offended deity. Rather, the "crucified God" represents a fundamentally restorative initiative by the Divine victim towards the human offender. Source: Bartimaeus Cooperative Ministries, E-News Aug.-Sept. 2008

Monday in Holy Week

I'm here.  That's all for now. 

   

Holy Saturday Not Flu!!

After an utterly miserable night I went to our local "Doc in the Box" this morning.  He did a flu test (negative!) and then, piecing things together, we determined that going to the Vigil yesterday early am with a sore throat was likely the culprit:  the room was packed with Easter lilies awaiting Sunday display in the sanctuary.

I remember my sinuses hurting immediately when I went into the room, but then I didn't notice it after that.  I guess my sinuses kept noticing it! 

I've had a steroid shot and already feeling better.  I have allergy meds and an Rx for Augmentin, to be used if I'm not feeling much better in 48 hours. 

Maybe I'll be back later with some profound thoughts on the day.  Maybe.