Blessed are...

Yesterday's Gospel reading was Matthew 5:1-12 -- the passage commonly called "The Beatitudes". The "attitudes" Jesus names as "blessed" at the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount have been the launching pad for many-a-sermon through the last 20+ centuries of Christian preaching -- the poor in spirit, the mourners, those who starve (and thirst!) for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, the persecuted, the reviled and the falsely accused. The blessings Jesus pronounces upon these ways of being in the world have, for so long, been a part of the common parlance of "Christian speak", they mostly fail to inspire, challenge or even mildly offend us.

When confronted with the words from Matthew again, maybe our internal dialogue can sound something like this, "Thanks Jesus for the good words, but right now, my attention must be focused on the 'real world'. After all, I've got a life to live, a family to raise, work to do and bills to pay. Time is really in short supply. I don't really have lots of time to develop these characteristics you seem to be so interested in blessing. I already feel guilty about my station in life, and now you're telling me about all this other stuff I need to do! When will I fit it all in? Besides, becoming a poor, grief-stricken, starving, thirsting, merciful person (either literally or metaphorically) sounds VERY difficult...next to impossible actually! Purity and peacemaking have never really been my strong suits either. Sorry about that. Oh, and living a life that ends up being reviled, persecuted and falsely accused doesn't sound very promising, let alone blessed! To be honest, I'm exhausted (and fairly guilt ridden!) after reading your list!"

But what if?

What if Jesus isn't giving us another "to do" list? Or even a "to be" list?

What if this is a list about recognizing the "blessed" who are already among us (maybe even sometimes, ourselves!)?

As I have read these verses again and again over the past few days, I have became increasingly aware of the ways we church folk can take a descriptive passage and morph it into a prescriptive one. And the result? We get to feel guilty about all of the things we aren't. Or at the very least we get to reassure ourselves that the life of faith is so difficult, regular folks like us should simply quit while we're behind.

But what if?

What if we are enough?

Already. Without additions or subtractions?

Could we live with that?

What if the Beatitudes are already among us?

Within us?

If we only began to recognize them?

And live like who we already are?

That would be a blessing in and of itself, wouldn't it?

Of course, a community of blessed people is inherently suspect...

Particularly by religious sorts...

Undoubtedly revulsion, persecution and false accusations would ensue...

But none of those things could

Remove the blessing already bestowed...

Because Jesus doesn't take blessings back.

A Three Week Project

As some of you know, I've been "de-cluttering" (more like excavating) the basement of the house I live in (a.k.a.: "the Rectory"), on and off since last summer. This ongoing basement project has now been subsumed under my 2011 intention to "simplify". The purging, donating and recycling continue. Progress, though slow, is being made.

I am both amazed and almost ashamed at the sheer number of things I have discovered during this process, many of which I had even forgotten were in my possession. Going to the basement has become my own personal archeological dig, but instead of chipping through rocks and brushing away soil, I'm clearing shelves and pawing through storage boxes.

One artifact I discovered yesterday on such an adventure to the bottom of a storage box full of books was entitled, Two Weeks to a Breakthrough: How to Zoom toward your Goal in 14 Days or Less. It's the sort of book one usually finds in the business section of airport bookstores. As I leafed through it, I discovered plenty of underlines, highlights and written notes in the margins. The copyright date on the book is 2007. I'm guessing I read it on a trip that involved at least several hours of flying time.

The book is divided into two sections. The first section outlines the author's philosophy of creating a breakthrough. The second section provides a 14 Day Game Plan outlining, step by step, the actions the reader is to take so "zooming" will occur.

Alas, though, I find no record of experiencing "a breakthrough". In fact, I can see no evidence in the book's margins that I even took the time to identify a zoom-worthy goal. My guess is, I mistakenly substituted reading some advice for actually taking any sort of action. Yesterday I decided, quite on the spur of the moment, to attempt the schedule the author outlines in the text. And, since I have committed to another 21 consecutive days of blogging, I thought I'd post any progress I made toward my goal here.

Granted, this is a self-indulgent use of my time and this space. I promise this little experiment won't be the only subject of my blog posts, but I've been thinking a good bit lately about my fascination with "self-help" and "self-development" literature through the years. I've probably read hundreds of texts like Two Weeks to a Breakthrough. I can also count on one hand the number of times I've actually did any of the "exercises" such books helpfully provide at the end of each chapter. Lots of potential actions left undone and the unremarkable results I've "achieved" speak for themselves.

So, here's my plan. I'm going to spend the next few days re-reading Part One (or in ecclesial lingo, "listening to the sermon") and defining my goal. I'll begin the author's 14 Day Plan next Sunday, February 6, when I begin to try to "live the sermon" in the real world! We'll see how it goes.

In the meantime, if you'd like to check out the blog associated with the book I rediscovered in my basement yesterday, you can find it at:

http://managementcraft.typepad.com/2weeks2abreakthrough/

Zoom, zoom, zoom!

Saturday Night Wrestling

I've been at it all week...reading, re-reading and reading again. Thinking, re-thinking and thinking again. Praying, re-praying and praying again. The homiletical wrestling match is now in its seventh day. My partners in this exercise are the texts the Church (in the form of the Revised Common Lectionary) has given me. Lectionary preachers stand in front of the weekly texts and struggle mightily, sometimes hoping against hope to hear a sermon worthy of sharing with the folks who take time out of hectic lives to attend a Sunday liturgy.

I confess. This week's selections are not choosing to give up a sermon without a struggle.

The Old Testament lesson from Micah concludes with a well-known question, "What does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God?" Is this the week for a good social-Gospel-type sermon? I wonder.

In the Epistle lesson from 1 Corinthians, we hear Paul at his serpentine best, talking about God taking the foolish things of the world (in particular "the cross") to confuse the wise. What would it be like to preach about the cross within the cultural context of middle class suburbia? I wonder about that too.

The Gospel reading assigned for tomorrow affords us the opportunity to listening once again to Matthew's version of the Beatitudes. I wonder how might a sermon might assist us all in engaging such a familiar passage with fresh ears? Or am I already too convinced I know what Jesus is talking about for the Spirit to get a word in edgewise? I don't know. But, I'm pretty sure tomorrow isn't the time to attempt a "fresh interpretation" of this passage. I'm way too stale.

All of this wondering has given me a good case of preacher's block. I'm tongue tied at the moment. The intro is weak. The transitions are rickety. The trajectory is erratic. The conclusion is vapid.

But, as my homiletics professor used to say, "A sermon is never finished, it just comes time to preach." My hope at the moment is to get a sermon started. The night is young. Eight o'clock in the morning will be here before I know it. So now it's time to get back to the wrestling. And if a sermon (of any sort of coherence) fails to appear? Well, it won't be because of a lack of effort!

Finding My "Voice"

So today is the end of the 21 day exercise. I'm not sure if I've firmly reestablished the habit of posting something in this space with a greater degree of frequency or not. I have decided to extend my personal challenge and attempt another 21 consecutive posts.

As I scroll back through the past three weeks, I can see a certain unevenness in the work...some days, I'm too tedious. Most days, I'm too long-winded (occupational hazard, I suppose). Perhaps the entries have been "too personal". Or maybe "too introspective". Some days it's obvious that I've waited far to late in the day to attempt anything requiring coherence!

For those of you unfamiliar with my self-imposed content parameters, here they are:

1. I will, for the most part, steer away from partisan politics. Whenever I post about current events, I attempt to reflect upon them from a Gospel perspective (as I currently understand it). This is why there was no comment upon the SOTU (State of the Union) speech earlier this week. Given our current political climate, I wasn't sure there was anything I could write that wouldn't be misconstrued by persons from either side of our two-party aisle.

2. I don't usually comment upon issues within the Episcopal Church/Anglican Communion -- for much the same reasons as listed above, and because there are plenty of people already flooding the blogosphere with their understandings (and misunderstandings) about ecclesial goings-on. To be honest, I don't read much Episcopal Church news these days. I find this practice has made me a much happier clergy person! Besides, I've discovered that being informed about the latest controversy, or downward statistical trend, or political intrigue (yes we certainly have those in abundance in Episco-world!) doesn't necessarily lead to any clearcut action(s) I might be able to take to make some change in whatever the "issue" is. I'm not supporting willful disengagement, but I am spending time attempting to determine the difference between real engagement and the supposed engagement one might feel by virtue of simply being "informed".

3. I don't administer Trinity Church through this space. While I will certainly share anecdotes about the parish, they are not for the purpose of attempting to leverage influence upon what may/may not be happening within this parish community.

Unfortunately, these self-imposed parameters seem to have painted me into a corner so that the reader is left with the randomness of my thoughts on any particular day. I'm attempting to be patient with myself as I seek to find my writer's voice. For those of you who visit this page from time to time, I'd count it a great honor if you would be patient with me as well (and don't hesitate to let me know when/how this effort could be improved).

I've heard from a few people that they have difficulty posting comments. If this applies to you, please e-mail me directly at garybriton@gmail.com and I will post your comments (should you desire it) to the blog so that others can read them and the conversation can be expanded.

See you tomorrow.

Sent from my iPad

Dreaming

"If you follow every dream, you may get lost." -- Neil Young

I ran across this quote earlier today during my morning reading. And to be honest, I've been thinking about it all day. I shared it with several people with whom I'm working, and one of them said, "I love this quote! Because if you listen to the people who are always on Oprah, they constantly say, 'If you can dream it, you can do it!' Young's line makes plain the reality of our limitations."

Amen.

Young's line also questions the assumption that life must pay off by rewarding us with fulfilled dreams at every turn -- even when those dreams are contradictory or draw us away from our own integrity. At some point, we have to accept certain limitations -- only so many hours in the day, only so much energy, only so much talent. This isn't easy for most of us. We keep hoping that we can break free of the limitations of time and space. If we just "wish upon a star" correctly, or offer the appropriate "Shazzam!" at just the right time...THEN, our dreams will come true.

The fact is, some dreams, regardless of the intensity of our efforts, will fail to come to fruition. In other cases, we continue to say we have something as a "dream", but we never actually take any sort of concrete action toward it (I would suggest these sorts of dreams are really little more than fanciful fantasies).

But every now and then, we will be captured by a dream to such an extent we will give over our entire self -- body, mind and soul -- to pursuing it. And occasionally such single-minded focus yields either the fulfillment of the dream or significant progress toward that fulfillment.

A few days ago, as this country remembered the legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr., the grainy footage of what has come to be known as his "I Have a Dream" speech was played and replayed. As I listened to his inspiring words yet another time, I was reminded of the price he paid for his dream:

People tried to ignore him.

He refused to be ignored.

People tried to make him go away.

He refused to be silenced.

People tried to persuade him to move more slowly.

He refused to be impeded.

People threatened his life.

He refused to surrender to the threats.

He was singularly focused on his dream. A dream that was bigger than he could possibly bring about by himself. He would not take detours. He would not be deterred. He paid dearly for his fixation on the dream, and he died without being seeing it come to pass. Some would say we're still a long ways away from the Promised Land of equality for all God's people. I would agree. Yet, we are further down the road toward that destination because of King's tenacity and focus.

Young's lyric and King's life are instructive in a culture that operates within the fantasy of entitlement underwritten by the myth of the "multi-tasker". We only have so much time and energy (and we don't know when either of those commodities will expire for us). We cannot do it all, in spite or our attempts to do so.

As for me, now is the time to admit it. I've wandered around from curiosity to curiosity. Ostensibly interested in many things, but committed to little. Unwilling to voluntarily narrow my focus.

The results? Well, I think some parts of my life have (unintentionally) proven the truthfulness of Young's lyric! I've been lost a few times. I've been confused about my "next steps" many, many more times! But for now, in this moment, I've reconnected with recognition that to decide one thing is to decide to leave another thing undone.

What next?

I'm think it's time to decide which dreams I'll release into the ether -- letting go of them, so they will let go of me. Then, I'm going to give some thought to the dreams that have captured my heart and my imagination.

After all of that?

I'm going to pray for the tenacity to follow a dream or two, and then pursue those dreams like the requisite tenacity has already arrived. Wishing upon a star may work for some. For the rest of us, following our dream is more about inching forward, one day at a time, through the "stuff" -- good, bad and otherwise -- that is life.

Don't get lost, OK?

Paid Religious Professional

Some days, I wear the collar

Because I need the reminder --

"You're under orders!"

(As in "ordained").

Other days, I don acetate,

Because I will function in

A "sacramental role"...

Black shirt and white collar required!

And then there are other days...

When I show up with a

different role -- that of

the paid religious professional.

My job on these days?

Two-fold:

Act priestly enough to add a dash

Of gravitas to the proceedings, but

Not so religious as to make anyone

Uncomfortable...

The day unfolds.

Lots of conversations and dialogue,

Discussing and deciding.

No overt religious talk, though after the invocation.

Prayer, like strong medicine, need only

Occupy the tiniest and most unobtrusive of spaces.

Prayer like a hair care product of the 1950's

Must be dispensed in "dabs"...

That'll do ya!

So how important is this ministry?

My ministry as an inoffensive anachronism?

I wonder. And I'm aware at

How easily I provide what is expected,

A brief prayer for guidance...

And then the meeting unfolds,

Unimpeded and unfazed by any Gospel challenge

To the way things

Have been done;

Or are done;

Or will be done.

With so many plans,

Who needs prayer?

Midway through the day,

I become aware of my own complicity in

Perpetuating the role of

The paid religious professional,

Whose primary role in such meetings is

Ornamental.

Kyrie eleison.

Standardized Spiritual Maturity?

In a culture fixated with numbers of all sorts, it was only a matter of time...

Today, while enjoying my afternoon caffeine infusion at a local coffee shop I couldn't help but overhear a self-proclaimed "Christian Maturity Data Analyst"(honestly, I wasn't being nosey, the person was simply VERY loud!). He was busily regaling his potential client with stories of the importance of "tracking baby Christians" -- measuring the speed with which they are progressing toward maturity and their ability to "meaningfully contribute" (in dollars, hours and skill sets) to the life of the congregation within the shortest amount of time. And apparently, this evangelist for charts, graphs and metrics had developed the computer software that would crunch such numbers.

Six Sigma meets Salvation. Good Lord, deliver us.

Apparently the proprietary software assigns mathematical values to:

1. The number of times one attends worship.

2. The number of church-sponsored education/enrichment opportunities one attends (and number of worksheets correctly completed for "credit").

3. The number of tasks one performs for the benefit of the congregation (appropriately "weighted" to account for the investment of time required for each task).

4. The number of outreach activities in which one is engaged and last but not least...

5. The amount of money one gives each year, with an emphasis on the "growing one's financial commitment" to the life of the church.

I was sitting with my back to this conversation, attempting to remain focused on my reading when I heard the following from out of the salesperson's mouth:

"After all, church is too important to allow non-productivity. Let all those other so-called churches with their touchy-feely penchant for 'mercy' (he said sarcastically) have the dead weight! Those churches are dying anyway. The way a church grows to its fullest potential is when it minimizes the elapsed time between a new person's arrival in the church and the time when that same person maximizes his/her giving for the furtherance of the ministry."

The Protestant penchant for works righteousness meets the information age. Uh oh. I have to confess, I didn't stay around to hear if the salesperson made the sale, but the emphatic nature of his presentation made it clear that he was a BELIEVER -- if not in Jesus, then certainly in the product he was peddling.

I'm not sure how I feel about the salesperson's ease with the "assembly line approach to faith development." His fixation with metrics doesn't fit well with my understanding of the ongoing maturation process, which is such a crucial part of the spiritual journey.

We grow in fits and starts. Some days we're feasting on the "meat of the Gospel" and other days we're barely able to swallow a bit of "spiritual milk". We cannot be "processed through to productivity" (yes, I actually heard this phrase!) by the sheer application external pressure.

Maybe the "Christian Maturity Data Analyst" was right. Those of us who are into "mercy" will not likely produce mind-blowing statistics or accurately track new members' conversion ratios. Perhaps we'll simply have to settle for stories of lives changed by an encounter with the Risen Lord.

Come to think of it, those 1st century followers of Jesus didn't have any means of tracking their progress. They were simply too busy making tracks to the next town to tell their stories of Jesus. And along the way, they lost count of how many were joining up with them for the trip...but by the looks of things, enough people down through the centuries have showed up and stuck to it, and we are the beneficiaries of their faithfulness (standardized or otherwise!).

Thanks be to God.

Of Calendars and Moments

Someone said to me yesterday, "Check your calendar and let me know when you're available to meet." In response, I sent an e-mail today outlining possible dates for our meeting. I received a reply e-mail indicating that none of my suggestions would work in the other person's calendar. The person in turn, sent me some dates/times that would work for them. Of course, none of those dates/times worked for me. This e-mail exchange took place in the aftermath of me spending an hour or so this morning simply attempting to get all of my calendars "synched" and dates "plugged in" (I finally stopped when I put a date in the calendar for December, 2012). And the pace of my job is nothing compared to the pace kept by many of the parishioners of Trinity Church!

What does it say when a parish priest, whose job mainly entails "being present", is constantly thinking about the future? Yes, I know, our culture values good planning and preparation. I also understand the importance of keeping all my dates straight so that I minimize the chances of overcommitting or worse, missing commitments. But I couldn't help but think that there was something a bit "off" when, on the 24th day of January, I was already feeling as if the year was over and that I hadn't accomplished anything!

"Teach us to number our days," the Psalmist prayed.

I wonder if this obsession with a future orientation was worrisome to the Psalmists?

Maybe they understood the necessity of keeping things in perspective.

I've been noticing all day today how easy it is to always be thinking about what's next, while barely noticing "what's now".

"Failing to plan is planning to fail," is a mantra of our culture.

Fail at what?

Planning for what?

I understand that if I don't do some amount of planning (and following through on said plans!), I could find myself out of a job or out of money or out of the good health I presently enjoy.

I also think that if all I do fixate on getting the most stuff possible into my calendar,

I could very well miss getting the most joy possible out of my life.

This moment now is a gift.

It won't come around again.

Can I enjoy it for what it is?

Raving Fan

OK. I think I finally get it. Wisconsin is hopelessly fixated on the fortunes of a certain football team headquartered in Green Bay. And tonight, the fortunes of the Packers are VERY good -- they are headed to the Superbowl in a couple of weeks. Today I've seen people dressed in all manner of green and gold apparel, heard plenty of "trash-talking" and witnessed folks dancing on street corners, in sub-freezing temperatures, without the benefit of overcoats, scarves and mittens. And, I confess, I got caught up in the excitement of the game myself. But I was, at best, only a spectator. I'm not (as many-a-Packer-backer would say) a "true" fan. I'm a johnny come lately. I haven't paid my dues by suffering through an appropriate number of less successful seasons.

Before settling in to watch the game, I was present for the Trinity, Wauwatosa Annual Parish Meeting. This meeting provides parishioners an opportunity to see (and ask questions about) the previous year's balance sheet and also be apprised of the upcoming budget for the year ahead. By all accounts, Trinity Church is riding a wave of good energy. We finished the calendar year of 2010 with a "real dollar" surplus of over $22K.

Attendance at worship services is up just a bit. New people are getting involved in the various ministry opportunities present within this community. And while we have a significant budgetary deficit for 2011, we are hopeful of God's provision as we remain faithful to the work we have been called to do. To be at Trinity Church is to be among a people who are continually looking for ways to engage the mission of God in the world beyond our walls. To be at Trinity Church is to be among a community of people who go out of their way to be of service whenever the need arises. To be at Trinity Church is to be among a community of people committed to the listening for God's call -- to whatever God has planned for us next.

As I looked around the Parish Hall today and saw the faces of some of the people I've come to know and love through the past 6+ years, I realized something about me. I was no longer simply a spectator in this community, but I am a Raving Fan!

I can hardly wait to see what God is going to do next!

Sent from my iPad

Georgia (Episcopal Diocese of) on my Mind

For the past two days I've worked, along with two colleagues from the Diocese of Milwaukee, in the Episcopal Diocese of Georgia, as that diocese begins its own Church Development Institute ("CDI" for short). The group we've been working with are clergy and laypeople who primarily go about their ministries in smaller towns and in small congregations. They go about their work far from the limelight of the "traditional" haunts of the Episcopal Church -- large metro areas, university towns, or centers of national influence.

My newfound friends worry about things like establishing a denominational identity in a part of the country commonly called "The Bible Belt". In their world, friends and neighbors look upon the Episcopal Church as some sort of exotic species of religion. Indeed Episcopalians, with their formal liturgy, reserved manner and good-natured worldliness are often seen as foreigners in this land of altar calls, impassioned pleas for people to "accept Jesus" (or face the fiery consequences of perdition) and where sweet tea is the strongest beverage a "good Christian" would ever dare to drink (at least in public).

As one clergy person told me, "In all of these small towns, our congregations are dwarfed by some other church -- Baptist, Methodist or Presbyterian." Many of these Episcopal congregations struggle to balance the budget. Many of the clergy work long hours for remuneration their sister and brother clergy elsewhere would probably find "substandard".

But as I've gotten to know these thirty or so people in two weekends' worth of work, I'm encouraged by their joy, their obvious love for each other and their willingness to engage the work of the Gospel with a hopefulness and humility that is nothing less than awe-inspiring. I've watched them pray with each other. I've listened to them argue with each other. I've heard them share their deep concerns and their irascible commitment to the Lord with each other. I've seen them draw strength and encouragement from each other. I am inspired by their dedication, their willingness to try new things and the ease with which they break into smiles...and from time to time shed a tear or two.

In our work in congregational development, my colleagues and I often say that numbers (as in average Sunday attendance or number of pledging units or annual operating budget) can't possibly tell the whole story of the health of a congregation...or even a diocese. The Church, as the Body of Christ, has always been a day-to-day proposition, in spite of our fixation upon the notion that, "Once upon a time, in the Good Old Days, the Church was overflowing with people, flush with cash and everything was beyond wonderful."

As long as we continue to confuse bigger with better, we will find very little to be hopeful about in the current realities impacting churches of all denominational stripes. For my part, I'm going to give thanks for my new friends and fellow members of the Body of Christ who are plucky witnesses to the Risen Lord in places like Bainbridge and Waverly, in Darien and Valdosta, in Albany and Dublin. I don't know how much I've "taught" them in our brief acquaintance, but I know what I've been learning from them -- unabashed hopefulness.

"There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to one hope when you were called; one Lord, one faith, one baptism." (Ephesians 4:4-5)

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Process and Progress

In a world of texts and tweets, bottom lines and balance sheets, sound bites and summaries, the thirst for shortcuts, easy answers and "return on investment" is nearly unquenchable. We live our lives in a press of deadlines, a crush of e-mails and backlog of voicemails. Understandably, we want to find a solution to the problem in front of us, check it off the list and move on, because we can already see the next problem descending upon us. Sometimes we may begin to feel as if problems are stacked up like planes attempting to land at Chicago's O'Hare or Atlanta's Hartsfield-Jackson airports!

We bring this pressure-induced impatience with us to church and church meetings. We want to get in, get on with it, get it done, get out, and go on. After all, we're taking time out of "real life" to deal with church business, right? Isn't it to our advantage to be as efficient as possible with the precious little time we all have?

And then someone suggests we spend time "reflecting" or worse yet, "sharing"! Who has time for this warm and fuzzy stuff? Why are we wasting the little time we have on things that don't move us forward?

Lately, I've been wondering about the most important things we can do in church meetings...and the conclusion I've been reaching is convincing me that we have mistaken the "business of church management" for the "business of the church". Our work, as the Church, is about strengthening relationships -- relationships with God, relationships with one another, relationships with the community beyond the confines of our parishes. And there are no "relationship shortcuts". Relationships cannot be measured (no matter how much the business books might tell us otherwise!) as a matter of return on investment.

Those of us in mainline denominations can look at the data and the balance sheets. We know that we are an aging demographic in an overall population in which fewer and fewer people are interested in attending a weekly worship service and serving on several committees designed primarily to assist perpetuating a congregation's existence. In desperation, we grasp at finding answers to our decline:

We need better music.
We need different liturgy.
We need more families with young children.
We need clearer doctrinal statements.
We need more powerful preaching.
We need more youth.
We need better newcomer's programs.
We need more financial commitment from our existing membership.

With all this neediness, we forget to pay attention to the work of community -- of praying for one another, of learning about each other, of sharing each other's burdens, of deeply listening to one another, of thanking one another. This is the work of relationship!

Some may say that, given the stresses upon mainline churches, we would be wasting our time doing all the "process" work required to intentionally strengthen relationships within a local congregation. I'm wondering if we took our relationships within a congregation more seriously and invested our time in cultivating them, would our efforts at such "process" yield far more "progress" than we could ask or imagine? I don't know. Perhaps we might learn that while many people don't want to be a part of helping us "survive" through another year, they would want to be a part of a group of people who are open, honest, curious, compassionate, and determined to live into being a followers of Jesus. Who knows? A few people might be really intrigued about being our traveling companions on the spiritual journey.

That would be progress, wouldn't it?

Traveling Light

I'll admit it. Paying for my suitcase to fly in the hold of the plane is counter-intuitive, especially when it can fly for free in the main cabin! Yet, since most people share my logic, the limited overhead space on board aircraft is rapidly filled to overflowing, leaving little room for anything extra.

So, now when I travel, I've taken it as a personal challenge to see just how lightly I can pack for a 3-5 day trip. These days, I can usually manage with a small roller board and messenger bag. Not only does this make my transition through security easier, I find that all in all, I spend less time managing my stuff once I arrive at my destination and less time repacking for the return trip. Now, I'm no efficiency expert, nor am I some road warrior who has all the space/time saving gadgetry. I've learned by trial and error (and I was spurred on by the frugality activated by all those the extra fees of the airlines!).

But, in keeping with all the other load-lightening I've been doing these past few months, I can't help but wonder...

When Jesus pointed out to some of his followers that "foxes have dens, birds have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head..." was he inviting them (and us) to consider the ways in which the stuff we are attached to has its way of attaching to us?

How do we travel lightly through this life, maintaining the delicate balance between "enough" and "too much"?

How do we distinguish between what we "need" and what we "want"?

And for me, if I'm not willing to pay for my suitcase to fly, why am I willing to pay (in all sorts of ways) to have things around that occupy more space than I have available and are constantly requiring some degree of my attention?

I'm not ready for the life of the ascetic, but I wonder...

How is it in a culture of greater-than-plenty we are always in search for just a little bit more?

Sent from my iPad

Of Predictability

My boarding passes were printed. The line through security at the airport moved quickly. I made my way to the gate to await departure to Jacksonville, Florida (with a connection in Charlotte, North Carolina). The time for boarding the plane came and went. We received an announcement from the gate agent notifying us of a mechanical issue on the plane which was to ferry us to Charlotte -- a mechanic had been called and was on the way. No connections were in danger of being missed.

Then the time appointed for take off came and went. Twenty minutes more of waiting. The next announcement informed us the mechanical issue would take some time to repair. Flight cancelled. Rebooking on other flights would require us to trek to the ticket desk in the main terminal. And so, off the 50-60 passengers went -- hiking at various speeds and with varying degrees of humor. By the time it was all said and done, about half of us were shifted to other flights (and in my case another airline). Others were simply informed they would be resuming their trips the following morning.

The people who were the most distressed were the folks who had scheduled trips with such exactitude even a few hours' worth of delays would mean missing an important event (in one case, a grandson's graduation from college, in another case a major "deal"). From the vantage point as witness to their frustration, anger and disappointment, I could understand why they were reacting as they were.

The gift of air travel in this country is its reliability and predictability. Things work so smoothly the flying public often forgets the complexity of the operation. Schedules are honed to within minutes. Extra time is built into schedules to allow some cushion for the unexpected. And for the vast majority of travelers most every day, everything works perfectly enough to lull us into the false assumption that it all works perfectly ALL the time.

But airlines don't work perfectly all the time do they?
And neither does life.

We assume (to our own detriment) that we control the events around us. We operate as if we know, with certainty, what will take place three days or three months or three years in advance. Inherent in all of our to-do lists, goals, and planning (of the tactical or strategic sort) is the tacit denial of the unpredictable -- be it as minor as a change in our air travel schedule or as major as the loss of a job, our health, or a loved one.

We make our plans. We set our calendars. We do our best. But sometimes our only choice is to respond to whatever it is life brings us.

I noticed yesterday the people who seemed to take the glitches with the best attitude were the folks who were prepared for the unpredictable. They hadn't cut their calendars too closely. They had work to do while they waited. I even saw a few business travelers, put their feet up, take out cards from their brief cases and start writing (by hand!) notes to loved ones, business associates and prospects. I overheard one of them say, "Sometimes these cancelled flights are the greatest gift. It's like a mini-vacation from the pressure." In the middle of it all they were calm and of good humor.

The entire scene left me wondering about the way I greet my days. Do I assume I am in control and that my plans are immoveable? Do I overbook my calendar to the extent that there is no cushion for the unexpected? Do I forget to bring flexibility and humor to my work? Am I so busy with crossing things of various lists I become blind to the blessings that surround me on every side -- family, friends, good health, fresh air, clean water, shelter?

If I'm not careful, daily life can lull me into the mindless assumption that everything will go according to plan. Yesterday's airport adventures served as a timely reminder to the contrary. And those business travelers? They were my sages, teaching me to greet the moment as it comes, even when the moment which shows up brings with it the reminder "predictability" is, at best, unpredictable.

Sent from my iPad

A Lesson on Learning from the Skating Rink

I have recently rediscovered my enjoyment of roller skating after a hiatus of more than thirty years. The good news is that, for the most part, I have retained the balance required to accomplish this task with some degree of fluidity. While I don't have the "moves" of the advanced skaters at the rink -- no jamming, dancing, or speed for me yet -- I'm reasonably happy with my progress.

With one exception.

In the intervening years between high school and now, I've forgotten how to skate backwards. I've made a few attempts to remedy this situation, but the necessary "muscle memory" is nowhere to be found in this regard. Presently, my redevelopment as a skater is thwarted until I move past this hurdle.

I know this intellectually. I really WANT to skate backwards. So, I was chatting with one of the rink regulars the other night and asked him for a few pointers. OK, I know, I was substituting talking about doing the thing for actually doing the thing, but humor me!

Here's the advice I received, "The first thing you have to do is get comfortable with the fact you're going to fall. If you relax into that, everything else will be easier. The problem with adults is falling feels like failure and we'll do just about anything to avoid failing, including not even making the attempt. I can give you a few simple instructions about the 'how' of skating backwards, but you must find the 'why'. Why do you want to learn how to do this in the first place? If your 'why' isn't strong enough, it will never overcome the adult fear of failure."

A philosopher on speed skates! Who knew?

Well, he named my reticence directly and with clarity! I don't want to fall/fail! But there will be no re-learning this skill or further advancement in my rediscovered avocation until I'm ready to take the lumps and bumps that go along with it. To get better, I have to become a beginner again.

I have to take the risk of looking awkward. I have to be patient with myself and celebrate the little milestones instead of measuring my progress against those who have been skating for far longer than I have. I will probably need to invest some money in taking a lesson or two and receiving some one on one coaching.

The choice is mine. I can be content with the level of ability I have now. Or I can challenge myself to learn something new -- and not substitute learning about something for actually learning it. The little exchange with the skating guru the other night has challenged me. How many other places in my life are in arrested development because of a fear of falling or the unwillingness to take a bit of a risk?

Knowledge and Wisdom

Over the course of the past six months, as I have sorted, re-sorted, picked over and picked through the hundreds of volumes of texts which once comprised my library, I've been thinking a good deal about the difference between knowledge and wisdom.

In a consumer culture, it's little wonder that knowledge, which is often claimed by our society to be "power" in and of itself, has become another product to be bought and sold. We can even acquire the trappings of knowledge, without ever actually becoming knowledgeable. We chew up information, digest it, apply it or discard it with little thought as to the ways such information has formed us in the process. In a society constantly looking for the next big thing, learning for the sheer joy of learning has been overshadowed by the pragmatic concerns of "making a living" (income generation) so that we can purchase the stuff society tells us are the markers of people who are living "the good life".

Sitting in the basement of the house I live in, surrounded by the volumes -- read, partially read, unread and unlikely to be read -- I had to face the facts. More knowledge of how to better manage my time wouldn't make me a better time manager. More knowledge of how to pray wouldn't make me a more prayerful person. More knowledge of how to write wouldn't make me a better writer. More knowledge of the game of golf wouldn't make me a better golfer. At some point, I would actually have to "practice" the activities of time management or prayer or writing, or golfing (or any of the dozens of other self-improvement projects that have been a part of my life since adolescence).

In my insatiable thirst for new knowledge, I neglected to understand the necessity of allowing myself the space and time to practice doing the various things that comprise my interests. Throughout the course of my life, I've accumulated a fair number of facts, figures, quotations, sayings, theories and all the rest. There are certainly plenty of people smarter than me -- with more knowledge than I have or will ever be able to acquire. And I've begun to wonder a bit about my own knowledge chase through the years. Exactly what have I been attempting to prove to myself? To others?

One of the challenges of a consumer culture is the constant reminder that we each need "one more thing" to make us complete. For me that "one more thing" had become another book. For others it may be the next electronic gadget, the next drink, the next car, or the next relationship. My experience of turning loose of so many of the books I have collected through the years has made me all too aware of my own attempt to find completion, wholeness, maybe even "salvation" apart from God and through my own efforts at acquiring the right sort of information.

The writer of Proverbs (slightly paraphrased) said, "Living in the awe of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom"...and I can't learn how to live that sort of life out of a book.

A Few Late Night Questions

Where do we go to speak our mind?

Or to have the minds we feel compelled to speak actually heard?

And is speaking and/or" being heard" the real goal of such work?

What does it mean to have "holy conversations"?

I'm asking these questions because I sense that there are so few (relatively speaking) conversations in our lives. Oh sure, we exchange information with each other. In our culture we are always talking (or texting or skyping, or facebooking). But how do those exchanges impact us? Are we drawn deeper into the mystery that is human relationship? Or are those exchanges more transactional (I give you this in exchange for you giving me that) than relational?

The fifth century monk, Benedict, who bequeathed to the Christian Church his Rule for monks living in community, clearly saw the necessity for learning in the "school of the Lord". Benedict's idea of a school wasn't simply about the individual assimilation of information for the purpose of mastering the information and leveraging it for self-improvement and personal advancement. Benedict saw the necessity of engaging with other human beings as a primary way of engaging with God. Through our work with others, our worship with others and having our lives intertwined with others' lives, we learn what it means to be human beings...and we experience "conversion".

For Benedict, conversion of life wasn't some momentary, supernatural jolt that propelled us into the stratosphere of spirituality. Rather, this conversion of life grows within us as we attend to the most basic tasks of relationship. Every task or chore, undertaken with another in the community or alone on behalf of the members of the community, has the potential to open one's awareness to the movement of the Spirit within one's own life.

Earlier today I received the unexpected gift of what I will name as a "holy conversation". It unfolded and meandered over the course of two hours. Sometimes punctuated with great emotion and other times interrupted with spontaneous laughter, the conversation seemed to take on a life of its own. When the conversation concluded, none of the "presenting issues" which prompted the conversation in the first place had been solved, but somehow something was different. I was certainly different. So what made the conversation holy?

Did we speak directly about God or learn a new fact about the Bible? No.

Did we talk about the Church politics and/or debate the finer points of liturgy? No.

Did we even pray together? No.

Yet, upon reflection, I believe the Spirit was hovering (dare I say brooding?) over this conversation. And by the end of it, in some way, each of us was changed -- even though neither of us could readily explain how. But the experience has left me with plenty of questions about our societal (and my own incessant) drive toward efficiency and the "saving of time". Today taught me a lesson about spending time and the result was yet another opportunity to experience conversion.

Voices from the Past

For the first two weeks of 2011, I've been on a mission to purge. I've pitched files. I've given away books. I've schlepped boxes upon boxes of various "treasures" to the dumpster in the church parking lot. I've made several trips to the Goodwill Center here in Wauwatosa. I've mercilessly plowed through the sorts of memorabilia that seem to adhere to clergy-types with time-honored predictability: old worship service bulletins, newspaper clippings, cards, notes and the like. To be honest, I had forgotten I even had some of this stuff!

Upon "reconnecting" with these various artifacts, I would ask myself a simple question, "If you haven't even thought about this thing for years, do you really need to keep it?" And, with only one exception the answer has been a resounding "NO!" And that exception was a homemade "bon voyage" card given to me by the members of an adult Sunday School class I taught in the years before leaving Florida to go off to seminary in Virginia.

I spent some time late this afternoon reading the card and appreciating the artwork. I found myself vividly remembering the two dozen or so folks who had spent nearly every Sunday morning together with me for over five years studying, wrestling and arguing with each other, all the while allowing the voice of the Spirit to be heard through each other's voices.

I read my friends' handwritten greetings in that homemade card. I noted the words of encouragement they offered. I remembered the great affection we had shared with each other. I also became aware of how many folks who had signed this card had since moved on to the "larger life with Christ." These "voices from the past" didn't haunt me, but they did powerfully remind me of our inter-connectedness -- across time and space. Sitting in my basement, I could see their faces; hear their voices; remember their gentleness and their grumpiness.

This group of people helped me hone my love of teaching. Their questions pushed me to learn. Their curiosity about God kept me curious. They taught me far more about the joy of community than one can learn out of a book. They were the Body of Christ to me.

And so tomorrow, when I celebrate the Eucharist, when I get to the part of the prayer where the celebrant acknowledges the heavenly chorus -- "Angels, Archangels and all the company of heaven", I will remember a few names of the the great multitude which no one can number -- C.T., Dorothy, Jack, Betty, Boots, Bitsy, Etta Mae, Ham, Laura, Jini, Walter and Lorraine -- the voices from the past who spoke to me today through their words of encouragement inscribed on a piece of poster board that's eleven years old.

The Episcopal Church is a better church because of them (even way up here in Wisconsin!), and I would have most certainly been less of a priest without them.

A Day in the Life

Today is one of those typical days for a parish priest -- a day in which not much happened, but was full of activity anyway:

The day began with a celebration of the Holy Eucharist at 6:30 a.m. -- this early morning custom has been observed most every Friday at Trinity Church for nearly 50 years. What made this morning's celebration interesting was beginning it when no one was in the congregation -- just the priest and the acolyte in attendance (after all, Jesus said, "Where two are three are gathered in my name, I will be in the midst of them," right?). Fortunately, three folks arrived shortly after we began, so we had 5 in attendance for the day. We continued our time together with breakfast afterwards, shared a few stories and laughs as well.

After a quick break to take my son to school, I was back for a meeting with our parish Deacon a bit past 8 a.m. -- at my favorite meeting place, a coffee shop near Trinity. We enjoyed two hours' worth of conversation as we reflected on the ways in which God was working both in the Deacon's ministry beyond Trinity Church and the ongoing movement of the Spirit within our congregation. We outlined some next steps for two initiatives that we'll be sharing with the parish going forward.

I was back at the office by 10:15 a.m. and spent the next hour and a half answering e-mails, returning phone calls and initiating a few calls as well. By 11:45 a.m., it was time to dash across town for a meeting with a member of my support team who assists me in my own spiritual/psychological development. After a ninety minute meeting, it was back to the office to gather materials to take communion to one of our newer parishioners who is recovering from a recent surgery. By 4 p.m., that appointment was done and I realized I hadn't had lunch yet! So lunch was procured. A bit of reading done. Another few phone conversations.

And then, it dawned on me, "Oops! I never managed to post something to my blog!" So I sat for 30 minutes attempting to figure out something "meaningful" to write...and in the end, figured I'd offer a travelogue for my day. This is the thing about the work of the priest. Sometimes it doesn't look much like work. But, given the fact that I've been at it for twelve hours, it seems like I've done enough for today. I promise a better post tomorrow! Good night!

Are We a Danger to Anyone?

"...if Christians live faithfully, the world will seek protection from the church. The task of the church is not to retreat into its own enclave but to keep heading further out despite the dangers. Indeed, the very fact that we keep pursuing our mission means that we necessarily create dangers that otherwise would not be there if we had stayed home...We live in a world that is dangerous to the church because of our church's self-deception that Christianity has tamed the world..." (Stanley Hauerwas & Will Willimon, Where Resident Aliens Live, p. 30)


Ever since last Saturday's shooting in Tuscon, I've been thinking lots about what it might be like for the Church to receive those tragic events and, instead of simply offering a few religious platitudes, get off our pews and charge out into the world with the reconciling message of Jesus.

What would it be like if Christians got involved with debating politicians -- regardless of party, on the merits of specific policies in light of our understanding of the Gospel?

What would it be like, if, instead of praying for peace within the comfort of our worship spaces, we became "warriors for peace" (a favorite Hauerwas phrase) and agitated for peace in the public sphere?

What would it be like if "respecting the dignity of every human being" became, not just a poetic line in the Prayer Book, but the marching orders for activism as we worked to transform systems which, desensitize us to the "image of God" in our fellow human beings?

I'm not suggesting we attempt to bend society to our will, or to attempt to make it "more Christian". Redemption isn't our work -- that belongs to God. Proclamation is our work. Giving voice to the Good News is our work. Being agents for healing, wholeness and new life is our work. This is dangerous work -- because it will threaten the status quo. Yet the healing, wholeness and new life such work can facilitate will spring up in all sorts of unlikely places -- legislative committee chambers, courtrooms, soup kitchens, prison cells, Habitat for Humanity build sites and countless other unexepected locations. Salvation comes where the Gospel is proclaimed and lodges in the hearts of those who hear it...and I suspect it most dramatically shows up in places far removed from a church building.

The events of last Saturday (as many other events in recent years) starkly remind us that our culture isn't "Christianized". There are dangers afoot. And yet, the call to the Church is to follow Jesus, wherever he leads -- out into the places where we are exposed, vulnerable and at risk. We may just get ourselves killed. But, until we are willing to engage the Gospel mission with abandon, I suspect ecclesiastical anemia will kill us long before "the world" will.

Waking Up is Hard to Do

"And so in order to wake up, the one thing you need the most is not energy, or strength, or youthfulness, or even great intelligence. The one thing you need most of all is the readiness to learn something new. The chances that you will wake up are in direct proportion to the amount of truth you can take without running away. How much are you ready to take? How much of everything you've held dear are you ready to have shattered, without running away? How ready are you to think of something unfamiliar?" -- Anthony de Mello (Awareness: The Perils and Opportunities of Reality, p. 28)


The book purge continues. And an interesting thing happened in last evening's adventure into the basement. I rediscovered, buried in the bottom of a box, the book from which the above quote is drawn. Anthony de Mello, a Jesuit priest known for his writing and his leadership at spiritual conferences, was an early companinon in my explorations of the spiritual journey. Along with Joan Chittister, Thomas Merton, Thomas More, Henry Nouwen, Kathleen Norris, Parker Palmer and Eugene Peterson, de Mello introduced me to a way of reflecting upon life as it is lived -- not theorized out of a heavy tome of theology.

As I leafed through the pages of Awareness, I became painfully aware of how hard I've been working to avoid having anything "shattered". Keep it all together. Box it up. Organize it. Regardless of what "it" is. Books. Papers. Opinions. Work. Ministry. Keep everything under control. Live with the veneer of niceness. For God's sake, don't face into the harsh realities surrounding me -- injustice, oppression, violence, war, hatred and the rest. Can living neatly mitigate living in denial?

And then there's last Saturday in Tuscon. Once again I am reminded of the uncertainty of life, the consequences of violence and my own complicity in a system which benefits me while keeping so many others from enjoying the benefits of the life I so easily take for granted.

Nope. I don't want to stare into the mirror of THAT truth.
Too uncomfortable.
Easier to sort books.

Lord, have mercy.
Christ have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.

On Simplifying

It all started last summer. I was out of the most important space known to me...shelf space! Books were piled everywhere. Stuffed in corners. Crammed in cases. Packed in boxes. Riding around in the trunk of my car. I wore the identity of a bibliophile (and that of a book collector!) with a sense of pride. Sure, it was a guilty pleasure, but I loved to read and at least I was consuming ideas and not more useless electronic gadgetry, right?

There was only one problem. The slogan "Too many books, too little time" had become my life.

So, over the course of several weeks, I gave away and sold (for less than pennies on the dollar) boxes and boxes of books -- hundreds of volumes. I gained some shelf space and can now pack appropriate items in the trunk of my car. But, for all of that purging. I still have plenty of books. The effort at library reduction continues. In the meantime, I started other sorts of reductionist efforts.

I reduced some of me and lost twenty pounds.

I reduced the number of magazine subscriptions I have and disposed of (or gave away) the back issues of most of the dozens of unread issues.

I reduced the amount of paper that I allowed to remain in my filing cabinets and finally threw away the two file boxes full of class notes and research papers from both my seminary and my undergraduate careers -- even my prized "Contemporary Theology" notes from 1978, which I had hauled around through numerous household moves across multiple states, and which, I can honestly say I had never actually used for research purposes, but only as a form of academic memorabilia as I relived the memories of one of the best undergraduate experiences of my time in college.

Presently, I am reducing the archived e-mails in my multiple e-mail accounts and happily unsubscribing from the dozens of helpful "e-newsletters" I have accumulated to through the years.

Now, before anyone gets nervous, I doubt there will ever be a time when folks come into my office and it has the appearance of a zen meditation room. I'm not taking classes in Feng Shui. But the ultimate goal of simplification has to do with clearing space in my space so I won't be so cluttered in my head. Plenty of people have said it before me -- the more stuff we have the more the stuff has us.

Along the way, there are a couple of books (yes, I see the irony in this!) that have been very helpful in my journey:

Consuming Religion: Christian Faith and Practice in a Consumer Culture by Vincent J. Miller

Being True to Life: Poetic Paths to Personal Growth by David Richo

The Power of Less by Leo Babauta

Less: Accomplishing More by Doing Less by Marc Lesser

There are also several blogs that I read frequently:

zenhabits.net (written by Leo Babauta one of the authors listed above)

unclutterer.com (a personal organization blog)

lifehacker.com (I particularly like the personal productivity and "mind hacks" sections of this blog)

Finally, I've been reading a book by Dave Bruno entitled The 100 Thing Challenge, which chronicles his journey of living for one year with only 100 personal items and how he managed this while living as a husband and father in a typical suburban household in southern California. You can read a brief description of this project at

http://guynameddave.com/2010/11/a-first-contribution-my-100-thing-challenge-book/

As Bruno describes all that led up to his experiment, he offers two quotes that have provided a renewed sense of passion in my own journey toward simplification:

"The very act of acquiring so much stuff has turned us ever more into individuals and ever less into members of a community, isolating us in a way that runs contrary to our most basic instincts." (from Bill McKibben, Deep Economy: The Wealth of Communities and the Durable Future, 2007)

"We are impoverishing ourselves in pursuit of a consumption goal that is inherently unachievable." (from Juliet Schor, The Overspent American, 1998)

I'll keep you posted on my progress on this, the first of my four major intentions for 2011. In the meantime, if you're a person who likes to read and who attends Trinity, Wauwatosa, there's a shelf in our Parish Lounge (which is located just next to our Parish Hall that I have dubbed the "Rector's Book Give-Away" shelf)...stop by, browse and take a book or two home with you...to read or to give away to someone else. New volumes will probably be appearing weekly!

Intentions

I gave up New Year's Resolutions a long time ago. I have enough incompleteness in my life without annually adding to the list of things left undone. Instead, I set "annual intentions" -- open-ended, non-measurable directions toward which I would like to move, in whatever erratic and inconsistent fashion necessary throughout the year. And through the years of setting intentions, I've been pleasantly surprised at how I can usually see progress (of some sort) by the advent of the ensuing January. This year, I took the risk of sharing my intentions for 2011 with the parish I serve (in an article in the monthly newsletter). So while I'm at it, I'll share those intentions with the blogosphere:

Reduce and simplify. Reduce the number of “things” that I have and that “have" me. Simplify my ways of working so that I’m not so tethered to all things electronic – particularly e-mail.

Rest more. This past fall was very busy at Trinity and then I have responsibilities for other ministries beyond the parish. I wasn’t a good steward of my time or my energies, and this recognition was "brought home" as I've spent the past several weeks recovering from the first sustained sickness of any sort I've had in over seven years. I intend to be better about getting sufficient sleep and creating space in my calendar for simply “being”.

Listen with an open mind and an even more open heart. Preachers have a tendency to talk and talk

and talk. I’m reading several books currently to develop some new listening skills.

Forgive others and graciously receive others’ forgiveness of me. This intention is in direct response to a recent conversation I had with the Trinity program staff. Forgiveness will be the major theme of the Lenten season, but there’s no time like the present to begin doing the work of forgiveness in my own heart.

So, this year, I won't be working to end poverty or bring about world peace. I'll have to leave that work to those who are far wiser than me. In the meantime, I'll just start small, with these four new intentions. I'll keep you posted on my progress.

Today's Sermon

Today's sermon was directly related to the shootings in Tuscon yesterday. I didn't write a manuscript. The verbiage is raw. There isn't much polish. But to be honest, I expended so much emotion in the sermon, I don't have much energy left to attempt to write anything coherent here.

Here's the link to the audio file from the Trinity Church website if you care to listen.

http://www.trinitywauwatosa.org/audio_downloads.iml

More tomorrow.

At It Again....

Experts on the subject of creating "habits" suggest that it takes 21 days of continuous activity to firmly establish a habit as a part of one's life. Apparently, what I've managed to do for most of 2010 is create the habit of not writing on this blog! I'll spare you, dear reader, the litany of reasons why my posts have been so sparse. I excel in excuses and you have better things to do with your time.

Like diet, exercise and prayer, the discipline of writing bumps up against my perfectionistic tendencies, and leaves me pitifully tangled in the "paralysis of analysis". I never seem to want to simply write something -- I'm always going for "memorable" (or at least entertaining!). The internal critic has a field day, and in the end, writing nothing seems the most merciful thing to do for anyone who might happen upon this space.

When I first started this experiment, I was clear about all the things I wouldn't write about, but I wasn't so specific about the ways in which I would use this forum. I've experimented with various formats. Each experiment yielded some good content and some not-so-good content. I'm not much clearer now than when I started the project, but I'm not quite ready to give up on the project either So, I've given myself the opportunity to "begin again".

My plan is pretty simple at this point. Write something here every day for the next 21 days. I make no promise about the quality thereof. I'm simply re-establishing the habit. Who knows? It just might work this time.