Playing Truth

Somehow, as I scrambled to find one text after another as the minister called out the citations and expounded on them in a particularly broad-based message today at church, I managed to have a meta-experience as well as listen to the commentary, remember chapter and verse numbers, turn pages, and take notes.

I have mentioned before, I think, that one thing I especially appreciate about the Old German Baptist church is that they have a plural ministry--there are always 4, 5, or even more ministers in front on a Sunday morning, taking turns at opening remarks, choosing and lining hymns, leading prayers, and giving the message of the day. There is a lively exchange of ideas and insights, and no boredom from hearing the same voice or the same point of view every week.

After more than a year and a half of attending almost every Sunday, raptly listening to 2 hours of detailed reflection on the Bible, it amazes me all that is in those ancient writings. And then outside of church, I am exposed to a somewhat random assortment of other points of view on scripture--Anabaptist and Quaker listserves, Facebook friends, several individuals I share a meal with now and then, news articles online, etc.

Today it just all came together: people have been reading, writing, discussing and arguing about

these same words for nearly 2,000 years! And everyone thinks they are right! And there is always some new idea, context, or perspective!

How can this be? It's just one volume!

Then an image came to mind. A piano (most of them, anyhow) has 88 keys--88 different notes. That's it. That's all. If they are in tune (and since I have a piano-tuning friend, I tend to assume "in tune" as the normal, default condition), then each key is a fact...a truth. There is no arguing about it. It just is. That's the note. You press the key, that's what it is. (Not some instruments, where the manner of sounding the note can influence its pitch, like a violin or a trombone).

But how many different ways there are to put those notes together! An infinity--because even when two people play the same notes in the same order, it comes out different. Even when one person plays the same notes in the same order on different days, it comes out different. Each individual, then, may bring an entirely different mood or effect to those 88 simple truths. Something complex, subtle, unique is woven out of those truths each time someone sits at the piano...whether it is a child playing Chopsticks, or a sibling gleefully playing Fur Elise for the 14th time in an evening because she knows it's annoying after about the 3rd time, or an advanced student practicing a fragment of a difficult piece over and over, or a fabulous musician playing a highly publicized concert, or an untrained prodigy improvising something that sounds like Bach, but will never be written down or played again in all of time.

Some of these piano players may feel as if they've made a mistake in playing...in some contexts, there is no such thing as a mistake. Sometimes the player might feel there's a mistake, but no one else could possibly know. What does "wrong note" mean when each note is a Truth? It is not that the note itself is wrong, but that it is in the wrong context, making it inharmonious--ah, NOT necessarily inharmonious with the other notes, but inharmonious with the effect which the player is trying to achieve. A note in a jazz piece may be deliberately, effectively, deliciously inharmonious...if a harmonious note were struck instead, THAT would be a mistake.

When I think of the Bible as a compilation of Truth, I can look at the ministers and others as players of that Truth. Each plays a different composition, but each composition is still full of Truth.

Attending the German Baptist Church is like going to a recital where many talented pianists play pieces from different composers. Lots of variety. They may be apparently unrelated, or focused on a theme. I may prefer some offerings more than others. No matter what, I get to hear lots of Truth.

Being exposed to a wide variety of religious perspectives and views is like listening to lots of different kinds of music. Some styles naturally resonate with my personality and experience more than others, just like some people like jazz and some like classical. But other people appreciate the ones I don't, so there's something for everyone.

It's fascinating to think that such rich diversity can come from just those same 88 keys...or from one book.

Understanding this makes it really easy to step back from doctrinal or interpretational arguments. Should women cover their hair? Is it ok for them to wear pants? Is same-sex marriage an abomination? When is divorce ok? Who can re-marry? Can we shop on Sunday? How and when should baptism be performed? Should ministers be paid? Is it ok to kill if you're in the Army, or getting an abortion? On and on....

People think they can and should settle these questions once and for all. But that's like saying from now on, the only piece of music that is really the Truth is a chromatic arpeggio encompassing all 88 notes. Or the "tuning song" that the piano tuner uses to test the notes in her effort to restore them to perfect order.

If we ever did arrive at such a complete, perfect one-right-way understanding of the Bible, I think it would be the end of the Bible. Who would stick around listening to that chromatic arpeggio over and over?

It is the very diversity, even dissonance, of all the possible pianists and compositions that keep us engaged. Let's remember to enjoy the concert and appreciate the pianists, not constantly criticize every piece.

Random Reasons, Part 4

"Doesn't that make you hotter in this weather?" the bus passenger asked.

This conversation occurred hours after the first round, which I drove in a vehicle without AC with internal temps reading around 113. That's the highest I've ever seen in a bus. It might actually be the top of the scale, so that it could have been even more. Later in the day, the replacement bus was a more civilized 83 degrees.

The surprising basic answer is: Actually, there are only a few days every summer when I am ready to tear it from my head because it feels like it is adding to the burden of the heat. Other than those rare times, it offers a little protection from direct sun. And I've never had a sunburned "part" in my hair since I began wearing it. Small but nice benefit. My hair stubbornly parts itself, even when firmly brushed and tied straight back. For this reason alone I will never be mistaken for a birthright Old German Baptist, since their hair always obediently flows straight back from hairline to covering edge to bun.

The more complicated answer is that the covering offers a unique line of defense against the heat. Being cotton, it absorbs and evaporates water quite effectively. So when the heat bothers me, I just whisk it off for a moment, soak it down with water from my water bottle, the hose, etc., wring it out, and put it back on. Probably no one has ever noticed that it was wet. But unless the weather is terribly humid, it makes a huge difference in helping my body keep at a functional temperature.

The passenger's follow-up comment was, "That string under the chin would drive me crazy!"

It took a little getting used to. Going through that transition in the mountains of British Columbia, where (no matter what they say) it is never too hot or too humid was a good start. I found in my first few coverings that the exact fit has a lot to do with the comfort of the strings. The little bit of elastic at the nape of the neck is a nice modern touch on my Old Order River Brethren style covering...the Old German Baptists have just a rigid binding at the back, so there's less flex in the chin strings.

Sometimes, like my OORB friends, I'll untie the strings for awhile when I'm in a semi-private setting. Some denominations never tie the strings, but leave them hanging down loose. Some have a long continuous ribbon that loops across the back of the shoulders without holding anything, or ribbons that are tied loosely at the collarbone--purely vestigial. Some cover just the back of the head, and not the ears like mine does. Most women, but especially these, rely on a straight pin at the top of the front to hold the covering firmly to the hair. It doesn't seem like it would be effective, but it is. I like the OORB style for its plain, practical work-a-day functionality. It stays on because it is tied on. And I can make them myself.

The firmly tied strings do serve a spiritual purpose, I find. Though they are not distracting, I do notice them as I move my jaw. Which means whenever I speak, there is a subtle reminder to consider my words, and be sure they are becoming to a godly woman. The slight tug of the strings reminds me that I am a light to the world that is not hidden under a bushel--when people see me, they know at a glance, from a distance, that I am a Christian. It behooves me to make sure I am comporting myself in a way that honors Christ. In this way, my every moment in the world at large is a witness to my faith in God and His son.

Steps or Stops?

A couple weeks ago, one of the ministers at the Old German Baptist meeting began with Psalm 37:23: The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord: and he delighteth in his way. He went on to note that "stops" as well as "steps" may order our lives, by turning us in another direction.

I made a suggestion to a new friend the other day, and received a gentle, graceful "no" as an answer. It hit me far harder than reasonable considering the situation. A "stop" for sure.

Hearing "no" used to be much harder for me, before I had done a lot of work on myself in Alanon, a 12-step program for friends and relatives of alcoholics...which I'm eligible for through ancestors, friends, friends' ancestors; mine and others' former significant others, employers, customers, coworkers, etc.; etc.). And also before my Canadian adventure a few years back (the point in my life where I REALLY learned to depend on God in daily affairs, like "where am I going to sleep tonight?").

Now I know to...duh...STOP when I run into a "stop", and really look inside, when I receive "no". Sometimes I do just shrug it off...and then I know either it really DIDN'T matter or I really AM trusting God. Yay! Sign of a healthy, balanced life in the program and in my Christian journey.

Sometimes I feel relief...and then I know I really didn't want "yes" anyhow, so why did I even bring it up? Better take the time to figure that out. Note to self, don't do that next time.

Sometimes, I find a lot of feelings roiling around in me: maybe hurt, anger, resent, disappointment, loss.... Then I know to stay stopped, take a deep breath, pray, and wait for God to clue me in on what HIS plan is (since obviously it's different than mine).

Slowly I'm unravelling this current "stop." In my daily life, it's totally inconsequential. But it is an important "stop" to honor in my spiritual life.

New friendships are difficult, esp. because I'm out of practice. In fact, I've pretty well given up on finding new friends in daily life. The ambient culture has changed a lot in the last five years, with the explosion of electronic networking in all its many forms. And my journey has led me further and further from the mainstream of the ambient culture, in many ways, through immersion in the non-human Community of Life at the farm, through dabbling in the Plain culture of the River Brethren and Old German Baptists, through mingling with the world of homelessness as I go about my bus driving.

But it was always hard. I've never felt comfortable in ANY subset of the ambient culture. "In the world but not of the world" is not a remote, abstract ideal for me; it's the reality I've pretty much always lived in. The dilemma is to make sure, if I'm not OF the world, that I'm OF something REAL and HOLY. As a consequence, I don't really belong ANYWHERE. I'm ALWAYS stumbling around blindly, bumping into walls I don't see and making faux pas that no one has the heart to tell me about.

Gradually, as I continue about my routine daily tasks, the muddied water from the "no" begins to clear.

Just as expectations are premeditated resentments, I think anticipation is premeditated disappointment. So I know now to look at what I was anticipating, that I am disappointed about not having. It shows me an unfulfilled deep desire in my life, a need perhaps.

In this case, I realize that one of the biggest gaps in the cast of characters in my life is any sort of ongoing fellow traveler on this Christian journey. No matter how intimate my relationships with God and Christ and the Holy Spirit are, they just aren't human relationships, and that's something I think most people need. Healthy ones. And for a Christian journey, Christian ones.

It is partly a wish for simple, mild companionship on this spiritual journey: the kind of friendship to help smooth over the moments of discouragement so that they don't bog me down and throw me off track. Sometimes I just need another human to say "mmhmmmm" and nod or shake their head appropriately while I give myself the luxury of a rare few minutes on the "pity pot". And who will then gently remind me to get OFF the pity pot. The dog listens attentively, but just doesn't "get" my petty trials and triumphs. Not even when she could hear.

It is also, strangely, a wish for someone to hold me accountable on behalf of God. It is very easy to justify to myself my various strayings from what I think is the path God has set me on. Maybe I am entirely deluded as to what the path is and where it is going? There is no one to tell me, "Hey, you're hallucinating! Get it together!" There is no one to have to explain it to. For me, explaining things to another human being is a key way of working them out in my mind. I fall into the gaping holes that I can't even see when I'm just pondering on my own. It's esp. nice to have someone around to help me out of those holes after they help me see them and I fall in! Then they can brainstorm with me how to patch those holes. Furthermore, it keeps me humble.

The novelty here is that I actually encountered someone whom I instinctively trust enough to want to be accountable to them...to be willing and able to say, "Here is what happened, what do YOU think about it, what would YOU do, what are some options for things I could do?" with regard to ethical/spiritual issues, and to not just out-of-hand reject that person's response.

Part of that trust is founded, I think, on feeling that they would not: want power over me for any reason; want to control me or give me advice; want me to depend on them in any way. That there is nothing particular in it for them. I can take or leave their suggestions. Someone who doesn't seem to have a vested interest in me becoming MORE saved or baptized than I already am. Detachment. This is appealing. One of my key life lessons has been to NOT put my faith in any one person, or in any human institution: "All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God" to paraphrase the Mennonite Confession of Faith. It seems prudent to remain a bit detached from any one person or church.

In this person, I glimpse a level of integrity that resonates with mine, an intentional choice to do the right thing as much as humanly possible. I want to tag along a little while, to measure that integrity, to learn from it, to relax in its safety! Aside from Plain folks, I've met very few Christian folks who demonstrate a certain sort of integrity throughout their daily life. I find this sort of approach to life more among Buddhists...which I resonate with a lot, but those folks are not really interested in my Christian journey. We're all hypocrits to some extent, but at least there are a few rare people who a) realize they are and b) try to be less so. My respect for those few is immeasurable. My hunger to have them for companions on this journey is ravenous, the hunger that comes from starvation.

Such trust is also grounded in the humility (an extremely rare commodity) to admit their own errors and shortcomings in a way that is simple and straightforward, not overwhelmingly self-deprecating. It's the kind of humility that I admire so much in the Old Order ministers I've listened to. It makes it easy to hear things that would otherwise be very hard for me to hear, indeed...and to hear them in a way that I can consider them prayerfully and thoughtfully, in my own time.

It would seem so natural to turn to Plain friends for such fellowship! But the companionship I crave is limited to the members of the church; a more bland friendship is offered to outsiders like me. Plain culture doesn't apparently have a mechanism for such companionship with outsiders, esp. not across gender lines. Virtually all adults "of a certain age" are married...and a married person would not engage in ongoing deep one-on-one discussions with a single person apparently of the "opposite" gender. Yet my perspective and experience more closely resonates with a traditional male perspective, though my body disqualifies me from those circles. To make things more complicated, it would also be questionable to become too close with any particular person apparently of the "same" gender.

When I ate Easter dinner at the home of some OGB friends last year, I ended up literally standing with one foot in the living room engaging in a conversation about bus driving while having the other foot in the kitchen with my attention on making sure I was available should something need chopped or set on the table: an amusing but poignant symbol of my place in their community.

Sigh. New friend "stops" me with a friendly "no." Here I am. A forest of thoughts springs up around this "stop." It's bound to be slow going here as I struggle to unravel the difference between the godly feeling of spiritual loneliness, and the simple human "fleshly lust" of wishing to not live and work so much alone, with no end in sight and so many disappointments behind me. But, God willing, this struggle in the dark forest will eventually be fruitful...

Unless they are nut trees. Then I guess I'm simply nuts....

Independence Day

We are casual acquaintances, tending towards short conversations touching on some aspect of Christian--a commonality along the lines of England and the US, "two nations divided by a common tongue".

Today as she talked about her reasons for leaving her former church to join her present one, she emphasized, "They weren't following the Bible." She related a story where she felt the pastor had fallen short. She had prevailed on him to intervene in someone ELSE's situation--one not directly involving her--where she felt the other party was sinning. She was "following proper biblical discipline procedures" of going to the party that offended her (not directly, but by offending someone else) with her pastor and another church member. Needless to say, the person thus confronted (I'm not clear whether this was even a member of the pastor's church or not) did not mend her ways immediately. The last straw for my friend was that the pastor said, "Well, what can we do? We don't want to offend anyone!"

I have to agree I would not have a lot of respect for a pastor who didn't want to make waves. Jesus was ALL about "punching holes in the status quo to make room for more love in the world." He DEFINITELY offended people. He got crucified for it, in fact.

But, was this woman wearing a head covering? No, neither her former church nor her new church required women to cover their heads in obedience to Corinthians. So, who's calling who "unbiblical" here? I just have to shake my head and say a little prayer sometimes when "bible-thumpers" harangue someone about failing to follow one scripture, when they are failing to follow one of the clearest, most straight-forward, and easy-to-fulfill scriptures!

And--in addressing the problem of her being offended by someone's behavior which did not directly involve her, it seems to me that the scripture about minding the log in one'e own eye before worrying about the mote in another's needs to be balanced against the procedure for dealing with someone else's improper behavior. Maybe it wasn't that the pastor didn't want to offend the "immoral" third party, but rather he didn't want to offend this woman I was talking to by telling her to MYOB?

Her uneven attention to scripture was neatly exemplified as our conversation drew to a close.

This year July 4th falls on a Sunday--tomorrow. As she departed, I said my customary all-purpose farewell: "Have a good one!"

She replied, "Have a good Fourth of July!"

Hm, wouldn't a Christian have said, "Have a blessed sabbath?" rather that focusing on the secular holiday?

My Christian faith and practice of living "in the world but not of the world" has led me to examine my priorities in the light of scripture. The sabbath--God's holiday--comes first above secular occasions. I quietly refrain from the practice of many secular occasions for several scriptural reasons...mainly from the point of view of not wasting precious resources on frivolous material things that will not last.

My thoughts on Independence Day run towards sadness for those who died in the struggle to free us from the tyranny of British rule. For what were their lives lost? To replace the monarchy with the tyranny of TV, Walmart, and minimum-wage jobs? Serious stuff.

Therefore, I declare my independence from Independence Day! I'll celebrate the first Sabbath of the month as usual by going to church with the Old German Baptists, who practice the separation of church and state fairly rigorously. Likely there will be comments about "the world" celebrating some strange holiday with disruption and excesses. After church, I'll go the the Shape Note Sing, and practice a "lost art" dating back to this country's colonial times.

Progress not perfection

Sometimes I really struggle with THE Christian religion, though rarely do I struggle so with MY Christian faith.

I got to church rather late today, which no one seems to mind...one thing that makes the Old German Baptist church a good fit for me, even if it is an unlikely fellowship and full membership is unreasonable.

When that happens (frequently) it tends to highlight whatever the minister-of-the-moment is saying in the first few minutes I'm there. I like to think that God gets me there just in time to hear what I need to hear.

This morning, there was a series of questions: "Are YOU part of the light of the world? Are YOU part of the faithful? Are YOU the salt of the earth?" I try to honestly answer these in my head as he goes along: "I TRY to be; I'm as faithful as I CAN be; I HOPE I am." I relax into reflection on my way of life, my daily actions, my thousands of little choices and efforts that are the fruit of my attention to Jesus' commandments and examples. I think about these questions a lot...in Alanon, it's part of the program to keep "taking my inventory" on a daily basis to make sure I don't fall back into crazy, self-destructive ways of thinking. I don't always act the way I want to, but I do know that I am committed to being a light for others, to living out my faith in every aspect of my daily life, to being "salt of the earth". I think I generally do a pretty good job. I feel generally pretty good about my Christian practice these days. I know I have a long way to go, and will have a lot of opportunities to practice what I believe...that's kind of the whole point of living, to my way of thinking!

And then an iron-hard statement blasts out from the minister's tongue: "If someone is living a life of sin, they aren't really a Christian."

My feeling of resting in God's merciful love, safe in the fellowship of gentle Christian souls who, like me, strive to live out their faith "in the world but not of the world," shatters. I know I sin. I lead a life of sin--though many Christians might disagree with me on the exact nature and severity of my sins.

I start picking up the pieces.

• How much I've grown in my program and in my faith! Instead of reacting in hurt, anger, or resistance, I felt calm. Here is a statement that challenges me. But I know I AM a faithful Christian. This man is not my judge...no man is my judge. God, and God alone, will judge whether I am enough of a Christian to satisfy Him. And God isn't done with teaching me yet.
• In times past, I might have felt personally attacked by this. Maybe I SHOULD feel personally attacked by this, because I think this is the same minister that seemed to repeatedly weave apparently irrelevant "anti-gay" texts into his closing comments the first few times I visited.
• Being personally attacked doesn't mean I have to accept that attack. I don't agree with this statement, and I don't have to agree with it. According to my understanding of Mennonite doctrine, as set forth in our Confession of Faith, baptism marks the beginning of a Christian's journey. We will spend our whole lifetime on that journey. God isn't done with me yet...but He DID call me to follow Christ, and I've been doing that as faithfully as I know how for more than 10 years.
• Man is imperfect. We all sin...in thought, word, and deed...daily. It's the human condition. So we ALL "lead lives of sin". Therefore no one is a Christian?
• Jesus is very clear about many sins...especially judging others; love of money/possessions/fame (or anything else) more than God; adultery.... Some of these are very easy to measure: a person is having sex with someone else's significant other, or they aren't. Period. But some of them are difficult to nail down. How can someone else know whether you love your car "too much"? Where's the line between giving someone friendly feedback and passing judgement on them?
• If "living a life of sin" refers to homosexuality, Jesus was pretty quiet on the matter. He also demonstrated enough particular affection for one particular disciple that several of the gospels mention "the disciple that Jesus loved". I'm not convinced anyone really knows what Jesus felt about the kind of love I have felt for other women...and I don't think we ever will.

My thought settle on a Quaker friend's strong, soothing words when a mutual friend was rejected by someone who accused him of living a sinful life: "Any house where people live is a house of sin. AND a house of grace. Too bad he couldn't see that. Come to think of it, failing to see grace is a pretty major sin."

I want to live life as gracefully as I can. Sin will always be there, too, but I can't let it be my entire focus. Staring at sin begets fear; fear eats away at faith. I want to keep my life focused on God's grace, to feed my faith. Then faith will triumph over fear. I want to keep running towards God. If I just try to run away from sin, I am lost.

It would be easy to let a comment like this sway my decision every Sunday whether or not to drive an hour or more (round trip) to attend the Old German Baptist service. After all, I'm not a member and don't expect to be one. But I keep going. Because I want to. Because I crave the fellowship and the insights of other Christians...whether they are "really" Christian or not.

Jesus made it pretty clear: We need one another. We need to gather in His name to follow in His Way.

Somewhere the scriptures speak of one strand being weak, while a cord of several strands is not easily broken (maybe someone can hunt that chapter and verse down and add a comment? I don't have a real concordance since my Canadian adventure (one of the few things I regret letting go of), and I've never figured out anything on-line.)

And long before that, right at the very beginning, God said "It is not good for Man to be alone." We need companionship on our faith journeys, for better AND for worse. Would Adam have eaten the forbidden fruit if Eve hadn't suggested it? Perhaps not. And likely Eve would not have eaten it on her own, either. Sometimes two heads are NOT better than one, when we put our weaknesses together instead of our strengths. Ask any two 7 year olds after a misadventure, when they are busily blaming each other.

Of course, that gives us lots of learning opportunities. "Good judgement comes from experience, and a lot of experience comes from bad judgement."

Where are we going? When will we get there?

I did a double-take as I passed a familiar church on the way home, and saw the signboard out front. "Galactic Odyssy VBS". Or something like that.

Another church is doing Vacation Bible School with a shipwreck theme. Last year two of them were using a program called "Crocodile Dock." These curricula come pre-packaged, with flashy graphics, advertising banners, games, etc.

I am not even sure I can adequately express my puzzlement. Total disconnect here, in my mind. I don't recall crocodiles playing a significant part in the bible, unless it was bit parts in the Old Testament...something related to Moses and the bulrushes, maybe...and of course Noah's floating menagerie. But Christ and crocodiles just...do...not...compute, in my mind.

Celestial city, yes. I just started reading the late 17th century classic, The Pilgrim's Progress. (This is the "little book" that Mrs. March gives each of the girls in Louisa May Alcott's Little Women.) Galactic travels...not so much. What translation includes the world "galactic"?

By contrast, one of the ministers at Willow Springs expounded on Sunday School during his sermon. Or, more precisely, expounded on why the Old German Baptists do not have "bible study" or "Sunday School"...and I presume no "Vacation Bible School" either. Quite simply, it is considered the responsibility of the father to teach his family God's Word. Therefore the church does not undertake to do it for him.

In Alanon, we have a saying about "Don't do for others what they should do for themselves." It makes sense to train our own children in the faith we want them to claim and profess later in life, rather than delegate that important task to others. That goes for values, beliefs, scriptures, practices, etc.

Even in the context of an unchurched childhood, I think my parents got this right. I grew up with their values firmly in mind and heart, a solid foundation for the rest of my life. I had the raw materials, the concepts and vocabulary, to put together an adult faith when it came time to do so, even if I could not have explained any of it for a game-show quiz in VBS if that had been part of my childhood. Obviously, it is a quirky and unorthodox adult faith, fitting quite imperfectly into any of the conventional denominational boxes. But square peg though it may be, it is a strong square peg, one with deeply held and deeply lived convictions.

I don't think an isolated week of "Galactic Odyssey" would have given me the spiritual strength to persevere on the difficult spiritual journey that's gotten me where I am today.

One thing that has always impressed me about the Plain churches is that the children sit with the parents throughout the entire service...no matter how long the service, no matter how young the child. (Teens cluster in the back, wisely segregated by sex.) Some services are several hours long, and the mothers of young children may come and go occasionally to tend to the real needs of hungry infants or take toddlers to the bathroom. I liked this about the Mennonite church I first attended, too--that at least sometimes the little children remained for the whole service. After all, Jesus said "Suffer the little ones to come to me, for such is the kingdom of heaven." Sometimes their cries seemed to underscore a particular point..."out of the mouth of babes."

It is not only the mothers that see to their children during the service. Often the mother has an infant, and the father has the next older sibling in his lap on the men's side of the meetinghouse, tender and loving. How precious it is to see fathers attending to their young children so kindly in public! Not what one observes in more worldly venues, like the bus or the grocery store.

Sunday one of the ministers had his daughter--perhaps 7 years old--sitting with him at the front of the room. I was struck by the irony that she was one of the few women who will ever experience a service from that vantage point, since women are not ministers in the OGB church. An odd concept to me, certainly, but I can see that it serves these people well in the context of their practice and community. But how wonderful that her father is, truly, teaching her the Word in every way he can. She will grow into a woman with a special sympathy for her husband should the lot fall on him to be a minister.

But--how could a complex adult sermon, more than an hour long and full of tracing the referenced scripture from one chapter and verse to another, ever compete with Gameboy? And there, perhaps, is the key to understanding the "Galactic Odyssey" phenomenon. The OGB children don't have Gameboy, tv, movies, etc. to draw their attention towards the realms of fantasy. They are surrounded, instead, by people who are talking and living the scriptures. Like Mary, they sit and listen when Jesus visits their home through their father's words. Their challenge is to find the scriptures, rather than achieve some computer-game goal. What different skills and values they will learn, compared to their worldly peers!

The world's children, by contrast, are distracted by many things. Like Martha. It takes something with flashy graphics and a catchy title to get their attention, much less hold it.

I think the OGB have chosen the better part.

Blow-out

Being a covering is hard work.

Evidently, I scratch the top of my head in perplexity a lot...or at any rate, that's where coverings wear out first. Both my currently active coverings have grown so threadbare at the top that they've developed small holes. Don't know when I'll have time to sew new ones.

I don't mind wearing them with holes in them. There's actually something satisfying about it. First the humility of knowing that I'm not too vain about them. If I were wearing them for show, I'd worry more about how they look. I think it also says something that I scratch my head in perplexity that much...I know I DON'T have all the answers, and the holes prove that I take the time to think things over! Then, too, their tattered, faded condition proves that I've been wearing them long enough to wear them out. It's not a passing fad for me, it's a commitment for the long haul.

After church at Willow Springs the other day, A brother I'd not talked with before shook my hand and introduced himself. He observed in a friendly and straightforward manner, "I've heard of the coat of many colors, but this is the first I've seen a covering of many colors!" I smiled broadly. I hadn't thought of my covering as a reflection of Joseph's famous garment. It "covered" (protected) him, too.

[Is it a sin of omission that I failed to point out the "queer" significance of the rainbow colors? Can I plead my case based on "Women should not speak in church?" Perhaps not...we had stepped outside onto the broad steps of the building, so technically we were no longer IN church. I think not. To discuss such matters would seem as inappropriate as expounding on my favorite website or rock star to him...it's a part of a world that is not their world. When in Rome, do as the Romans....]

The brother continued. "I presume you wear it for the same reason we do." I said that I'd started wearing it nearly 5 years ago. He nodded in approval, clearly satisfied with my answer. "Then it is a real conviction." "Yes, and that was after several years of discernment. My River Brethren friend gave me the pattern she uses...."

I do not know where this adventure is leading me, or the good brothers and sisters of Willow Springs. But it is clearly God who leads me wherever we are going.

I need only be present in each moment, listening to that still, small voice that seems so much louder when I step away from the turmoil of the "English" world.

Mini-ministries

One Sunday morning recently I set forth on the long drive to one of the churches where I often attend Sunday morning meeting with the Old German Baptists--actually almost on time, for a change! It had been a couple weeks since I'd been able to get away from the farm on a Sunday morning, and I was really looking forward to the spiritual gifts that invariably come from the nealry two hours of clear, practical bible study that is what passes for a church service with the OGB.

The 45 minute drive to the "8 Mile" meetinghouse is, in itself, a good meditation. The path lies clear across Lawrence and out the other side, then through miles of hilly farmland. It's good to get out of the river valley now and then, for a change of perspective. Seeing other farms always teaches me something about farming...and sometimes there's a special gift, like seeing a calf born just as I'm driving by. Besides, just driving on the open road has been a "therapy" thing for me for decades.

But imagine my surprise when the parking lot was empty at 8 Mile! Perhaps I'd read the calendar wrong? Since the denomination had a "division" last summer, the small remnants of two churches had joined for worship each week--odd Sundays at one meetinghouse, even Sundays at another.

I drove back to the Willow Springs meetinghouse. Again, an empty lot. Perplexing.

Some dim memory tickled at the back of my brain. Had my OGB friend M. said something a few weeks earlier about a special event some Sunday in April? I couldn't remember. Life has been very, very busy this past month.

But now what? Not exactly "all dressed up and no place to go," because I don't "dress up" for church. But certainly out and about with no clear destination.

I decided to try the Lone Star Church of the Brethren. It's another small, white, wood frame meetinghouse, not quite so plain on the inside (there's a piano, and printed bulletins). The Church of the Brethren, like the OGB and Mennonite churches, is descended from the Anabaptist movement at the time of the Reformation in Europe. Each denomination has preserved some practices at the expense of others, but they share many core values: simplicity (whatever that means...), pacifism, adult baptism. The COB order of the service is very like the Mennonite church I'm exiled from, and uses the same favorite "blue hymnal" as many Mennonite churches, including "mine". They had just finished the Children's Time when I arrived, and were singing the children off to Sunday School so the parents could focus their attention on the sermon. I felt sad for the division of ages. More fun for the children, perhaps, but with families so busy during the week, it seems more important than ever that the children and adults should share the whole church experience, as in the Old German Baptist church.

God, you are showing me who I am in you, and where my path lies. It's not at all clear, but times like this at least show me where it isn't. Please give me the strength and patience to "let the little ones come to me" as you did, "for such is the kingdom of heaven."

I have attended here before, and had not found the service to lift me to heavenly heights of praise and awe, nor lead me to profound depths of reflection. But sometimes it is most important to focus on "Whenever two or more are gathered in my name."

When my mind wandered during the "Meditation Time", I perused the rather commercial-looking pre-printed bulletin cover. There was an interesting meditation printed on the back. I was surprised to recognize the author's name at the bottom...someone who frequently contributes to the lively exchange on a COB listserve I participate on.

The minister directed me to the stairs after the service, making a polite escape tactless. Making small talk as we went down to whatever awaited, I mentioned my pleasure at seeing Brother Eberly's name on the back of the bulletin. "Oh," said the minister. "I guess I'll have to read it...."

Hm, I guess God needed me to help get Brother Eberly's message to the minister....

The fellowship time after the service was far different from either Mennonite or OGB, however. Here this little community showed its full glory. "Something to eat downstairs" turned out to be more than enought finger foods for a full, balanced, healthy meal: fruit, cheese, crackers, raw vegetables, summer sausage, chips, salsa, and cookies. The older lady next to me in line invited me to sit with her and her husband. Another lady about my age sat next to me as I settled in across from the older couple.

"Where do you live?" The older lady asked. I generally begin the answer to this question with "North Lawrence", and go from there as seems appropriate. "Oh, I grew up in North Lawrence," she replied. We compared addresses and found she'd lived just a few blocks from my place in the early 50's, at the time of the '51 flood. She related how her mother and sisters had spent two years living on the back porch of their home while the flood-ravaged house was rebuilt. A useful bit of history...the following day was the public hearing for my Conditional Use Permit to allow camping at the farm, including for myself to have somewhere to live while renovating one of the little houses.

Thanks for the encouragement, God! I'm not so nuts after all...just learning from the past. Camping out for a summer is nothing compared to living with two kids on a porch for two years!

Someone commented on my covering. "You must be German Baptist". I tried not to choke on my astonished laughter, nor embarrass the questioner. "Well, I do attend there usually, but they were having a special function today. Actually the German Baptists wear white gauze coverings; this one is cut from the River Brethren pattern." I went on to explain that each Plain church had its own covering style and color, and I wasn't any of them.

God, I guess you wanted me to remind these people of their Anabaptist cousins in other faith communities. The last names here are all the same ones from the Old German Baptist church, but I guess generations of "disfellowshipping" have spintered the once-close families. Maybe my presence here will begin a path towards rejoicing in their similarities rather than shunning their differences. So many families have been torn apart through our churches' history. As faithful Christian presence in our nation dwindles, it seems like we should band together to strengthen our numbers across divisions, not perpetuate our disagreements about the logs in each others' eyes.

The woman next to me heard me mention I was a Mennonite. "I tried to find Peace [Mennonite] Church when I first moved to town," she said. "I went to the address in the directory, but it was Ecumenical Christian Ministry building, and no one there had ever heard of Mennonites. It was really strange."

I sadly shook my head, commiserating with her confusion. "When was that?" I asked. It was just after the congregation had bought a building of its own and left ECM behind, apparently leaving no forwarding address. My heart aches for my church, hiding from new members and casting out old ones that don't fit the mold.

Forgive them, Lord, for they know not what they do.

She does not, perhaps, realize that we are ministering to one another. Seeing her disappointment in the implied rejection of not leaving a trail she could follow, I'm reminded that their behavior towards me is not so much about who I am as about who they are, and how they are wounded. My heart softens a little, and I can pray for them more gracefully than usual.

We exchange email addresses. We haven't used them yet, but we each know there is another lost sheep, looking for their rightful fold.

Meanwhile, any flock will suffice for company. The rainbow covering helps me remember that every human interaction I have, every day, truly is ministry work if I remember that it's so. Not just my ministry to others, but others' ministry to me.

Divine Affirmation, or Coincidence?

"One generation's spiritual convictions become the next generation's traditions, which can become the next generation's inconveniences."

Because I was late (as usual...but I'm rarely alone in this, and no one seems to mind) to church today (not so much because of Daylight Savings Time, as because of the amount of time and chocolate involved in the creation of this blog in the wee hours last night), I missed the beginning of the message. My friend M. shared it with me afterward, including the above quote from one of the ministers.

It seems a young woman of the church in another state was asked by a stranger why she wore the prayer covering, and she couldn't give an answer!

So today's sermon (by a highly respected visiting minister) made sure that THIS flock had good, short, scriptural summaries of some of the basic tenets of the church's doctrine. It was as if God were dictating to me an outline for this blog in the coming months, and reminding me of the real reason I'm doing it:

Because I know exactly why I wear the rainbow covering...a far broader and more complex host of reasons than "it's a conviction". Over time I will share many of those reasons.

The aspects of Old German Baptist doctrine which he highlighted included: Baptism--a kind of "burial" and resurrection. The prayer covering--to be worn all the time, based on Corinthians 11, as a sign of submission to the divine order (God--Christ--men--women--children), and because we never know when we might need to pray. No women speaking in church or at Annual Meeting (though they have a say in local church affairs, I was glad to hear). Love Feast/Communion--including preparation visits by pairs of brothers, footwashing, unleavened bread, a full reenactment of the Last Supper including a meal AND the (unleavened) bread and wine (not grape juice). Not "closeD" communion, but "close" communion, i.e. communion only with those who are truly in full fellowship.

I should explain that I've been attending the Old German Baptist church south of town for a full year now. The Old German Baptist church, proper (not the Old German Baptist New Conference, which divided from the Old last summer...but that's another story), is one of many branches on the complicated family tree of the Anabaptist denominations. The early Anabaptists split off from the Catholic, Lutheran and Reformed churches in the mid-1600s, a diffuse radical movement of courageous individuals who read the Gospels for themselves and tried to follow Christ's word faithfully, even to torture and death at the hands of the "official" Christian churches. Anabaptism evolved through the centuries by way of many schisms, resulting in what we know today as Amish, Mennonite, Church of the Brethren, Brethren in Christ, Old Order River Brethren, Hutterite, and many splinters, sects and divisions of these.

The Old German Baptists are a Plain denomination...not nearly as Plain as the Amish (George Foreman electric grills, minivans, elaborate buttons, and fancy print synthetic dress fabrics are clearly acceptable), but still distinctive. The women wear stiff gauze prayer coverings tied firmly under the chin, and caped dresses with long straight sleeves and hems well below the knees. Black bonnets and capes serve as cold weather wraps. Men wear characteristic full beards, no mustache, and hair cut straight across the back of the neck. Black vests and broadfall pants, collarless coats, and white shirts make the men's attire as somber as the women's dresses are colorful. Despite the name of the denomination, church is in English.

I made regular attendance there my personal Lenten discipline last year...sort of ironic, because Lent does not seem to be observed in the Plain churches. Even before I became a Christian, I liked Lent. Just my kind of religious holiday--an excuse to step out of the relentless march of mainstream consumerism in some manner for a few weeks.

Over the years I've found Lent to be a great way of "trying on" new habits that I think will make me a better person. It's easier to say I'm going to change for 6 weeks (and then just keep on going if I like the spiritual fruit of that change...or not) than to proclaim an open-ended change and then change back when it doesn't work out quite so well. Sometimes it takes me awhile to figure out what my discipline will be, like this year--I just figured out it's writing this blog. Last year, the trial period was a resounding success, and I try to attend as often as I can gird myself for the 30-45 minute drive.

Why this church suits me will hopefully become more clear as I blog on. It does seem like an anomaly, because of my relational and sexual history and identity...my deep roots in Women's Lib...my headstrong approach to life in general.

One reason--the first reason, perhaps, and maybe the only reason I need, is that every time I go there, I feel like God has given the message to the ministers just for me. I hear exactly what I need to hear, in each moment, to reaffirm my faith in a God that perplexes me.

As in the quote at the beginning of this essay.