The Time has come...

This will be my last post to "Pastor Beth at Covenant" since my last Sunday serving this "little church with a big mission" Church of the Covenant in Arlington VA was May 31, Pentecost 2020. I am also retiring from pastoral ministry on that date.
My oft-stated goal for the end of my pastoral service here was "to retire normally."  I am only the fourth installed pastor of this congregation, started in 1958 during the post WWII boom in the federal government's expansion. Arlington was and is such a 'company town' where the company is the federal government of the United States. The fortunes of Northern Virginia in general rise and fall with the government's. Now during the current pandemic, the area is poised to decline, if not fall. Fortunes of congregations all over this area in flux. The pain of the last few days upon the death of George Floyd have plunged us into deeper peril as a nation.
I had chosen this date for retirement long before the current situations. I still am grateful for the opportunity to have served this small congregation, and hold onto hope for its future, only because I know who holds the future.

Almost time to say goodbye

As the time winds down for me to say goodbye to the 'little church with a big mission' I find myself alternately excited to push ahead to a new kind of life, and at the same time, extremely sad. The grief comes up with waves of actual crying, the sobbing kind that overwhelms me at times. I can't really tell if its related to our extremely strange life inside a pandemic or just the grief I find in leaving a congregation I have known and loved for nearly twelve years. Probably a bit of both.
I have to clean out my office at the church. Each paper and file bring back memories of the people who have guided me on this journey and the people I have helped guide...all of which give me opportunities for thankfulness and joy, as well as times for crying. 
I have to admit, I'm a bit of a packrat when it comes to keeping meaningful (to me) bits of paper. I started my file and book collection in the era before the internet gave us unlimited access to information. If I were doing it now, I probably wouldn't have saved so much paper. Now I'm re-examining the collection for what will be appropriate to save. What will I be passing along? How do I decide what to keep and what to discard? How do I organize all the ephemera I keep to tell my own story? Who will care if I do or don't? In any case, I find that I have to answer all those questions in about a week, before I vacate the premises of the church on May 31.
When I picked May 31 as a retirement date, I did so with the happy realization of the coincidence of Pentecost with the last Sunday of the month. (How often does THAT happen?) Little did I know that this year in 2020, Pentecost would fall in the middle of a pandemic. Our little church hasn't met in person since the middle of March. It doesn't look like it will meet in person any time soon.  So much to grieve in so short a time, at at such difficulty!
As I bid farewell to the congregation with my own legacy, I look back on their journey and mine, with bouts of grief and thanksgiving, for our joint moving with the Spirit.
Back to cleaning out the files and bookshelves.
To God be the Glory.

PPE for the Soul

While commenting on the practices that we're all trying to incorporate now to stay healthy in our quarantined environments, it occurred to me that our spiritual practices are our own versions of Personal Protective Equipment (PPE) for our souls. We need the disciplines of prayer, worship, meditation, bible reading, on our own and with others in virtual space to provide the framework to interpret our actions and feelings and to connect them with the purposed that are beyond ourselves. This is how we'll survive, and even thrive. Our fore-bearers in the Christian faith knew this, as do all prior generations of people who survive crises like ours.  This is the wisdom that has been passed down to us: Spiritual health is a matter of regular devotional hygiene, faithful discipline in the practices that put boundaries around our human tendencies to wander. Faith matters. This is not the time to jettison the spiritual practices we know and understand. It is definitely the time to engage them in much deeper ways.
I do feel some sorrow for those who have no faith traditions to appeal to for such wisdom.  Those unmoored from any faith community--the 'nones' and the 'dones'--may be struggling now to reinvent spiritual exercises for themselves, maybe searching the internet for sites devoted to coping mechanisms with whatever is available to fill a felt need. Some may do well, others not. It's hit and miss. It's difficult to discern what works, and what has stood the test of time when one doesn't have the benefit of the long history with a tradition in which to make such a judgement.
Now I am grateful for the many years of experience in my own Christian practices...not that I'm an expert in any of the them. But I do have the examples of generations of saints who have gone before me--the Desert Mothers and Fathers, the mystics of the European middle ages, the Pilgrims who have progressed--all of whom survived with their own PPE for the Soul and handed on to me.
Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius Loyola.

Earth Day 2020--Taking time out for something important

I took this morning off to travel less than a mile with my wagon and garbage bags around my neighborhood. In years past, I have always wanted to take part in the annual Earth Day cleanup of trash in parks, streambeds, and public lands. Unless April 22 fell on a weekend, it wasn't easy to take the time.  This year, with my home schedule much more under my control, I was able to spend three hours outside in a nearby park, criss-crossing a streambed in underbrush where locals go to hang out and drink. A major thoroughfare borders the woods, too, and a busy corner with a stoplight provides an opportunity for folks to throw all kinds of trash out their car and truck windows.
Litter has always distressed me. Besides despoiling the landscape (Have you seen how many shopping bags the wind deposits in trees?) the toxicity of chemicals and plastics that deteriorate and drain into the watershed makes me angry.
So today was prayer and pickup day. There is so much that needs the attention of prayer: all our front line medical workers, all those suffering near death and their families, all those essential workers and those deemed so unessential that they have been let go of their jobs. Each bottle or can or piece of trash I spotted was an occasion to pray. And I'm including prayers for all those cleaning up after someone else's thoughtlessness. There will be many of us in the coming months.

Coping With Advice Overload Now

Every hour that I've opened up my email, there are some new ideas and resources for pastors for coping with our current pandemic situation. There are those from folks wanting to sell me something--"get this online platform for doing online ministry"--and from others who seem to actually care about my situation. I am a small congregation pastor, learning a ton of new protocols and technology, but still trying to lead for the benefit of congregants, most of whom are woefully naive as to digital media and communications techniques.
Some of the advice is helpful, if a bit pedantic--"keep exercising," "keep up your at-home discipline," "eat healthy stuff." Some of it has genuinely helpful insights. Colleagues I know and trust are sending me something just about every day. I try to read at least a sampling of it every day.
But the volume is getting unmanageable. My inbox has grown from under 100 messages to over 200 an I can't seem to whittle down the messages to a manageable amount. How to turn off the fire hose of information? 
I could just unplug. I did that last week--Good Friday and Holy Saturday.
I could just wholesale delete, letting go of every message over 2 weeks old. If I haven't gotten to dealing with it by then, it's probably unimportant. The idea that I will get to all messages is impossibly naive on my part. Turn it off!
That's the only piece of advice I need to hear now. God's way of reforming us is certainly upsetting, but necessary.

Being Set Apart

Holy Week is "holy" for Christians because it is set apart. That is the literal meaning of "holy"--"set apart."  Yesterday I mused with the congregation I serve that we are all "holy" because we have all been set apart, in these days since being isolated because of Covid-19. We are set apart from each other, set apart from daily routines, set apart from the structure of time we once knew, set apart from what had considered "normal."
We are indeed set apart from some things, but are we are also set apart for something? I have seen numerous writings and essays about being set apart for this time, urging us to be aware of what we have been set apart for:

• more intense awareness of our interconnectedness
• a sabbath for renewing our relationship with God
• time to breath and pay attention to what's important in life
• time to pay attention to the needs of others
• etc.
  

This week is indeed Holy Week for Christians, and perhaps Holy Week for the whole world.
Blessings on your use of this time as Holy.

Can reading save our souls?

I have been listening and reading to the torrent of Christian writers and thinkers that are out there in this current moment of "what do we cling to now?" during this pandemic. It is a fire hose to drink from. I must admit that I'm a bit weary of the advice, even as I'm fascinated how the best and the worst instincts of Christians (as well as others) are on display. There are a few reliable sources in the Christian blogosphere (here I disclose my own proclivities):
NT Wright, Miraslav Volf, Richard Rohr at the Center for Action and Contemplation, most of the writers for Christian Century, and the community of good writers in my own Presbyterian tradition.  If I could only just read for 12 hours a day, I could work my way through the endless monotony of my own routine.
But I can't.
I'm an embodied human, not just a brain. I need sunshine and exercise and good food, and laughter and companions who can converse. I need my husband, the only other human I've been within 6 feet of in the last 3 weeks.
So going into this Holy Week, I will contemplate the holy body of Jesus, how he also needed everything any human would need. "Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us, embodied humans."

Dealing with grief in a pandemic by thinking of others

I didn't envision that my last months as a pastor for the "little church with a big mission" would be like this. Since our governor has issued a "Stay and Home" order to be in effect through June 10, the church will not be holding in-person worship in the building through at least that date. This means I can't be with the congregation in-person during Holy Week. I'm sad that I can't conduct a Maundy Thursday communion in person. I won't be conducting a sunrise service in the Memorial Garden on Easter morning, nor preparing an Easter brunch in the church lobby. (I had already begun thinking of recipes!) I'm grieving the loss of all these things. I know that the congregation is grieving, too, about the occasions that they are missing because of the corona virus--anniversaries, weddings, birthdays, graduations, end-of-school performances, and yes, baseball.

What I'm holding to, amid this grief, is a vision of the continuation of Church, as the body of Jesus Christ, caring for all its parts and relationships. 

The little Church has been known by its members and friends as the congregation who cares. The church has a big mission--to care for the world. So in keeping with that mission, the church has had to switch strategies.

My grandmother used to give us this very practical advice: the best way to set aside feeling sorry for yourself (i.e. grieving your loss) is to care about someone else. This is something we can do, and leave aside those things we can't do right now. Here's what everyone can do to show that you care:

1) Get out your church directories and make some calls. Even though we've started up with worship via "ZOOM" there are still folks we haven't seen. If you have been on the "Zoom" worship, think about who isn't there and make a phone call to see how they are doing. Just listen. Ask "what's it like for you in your place?"  "Who else have you heard from beside me?" "What prayer requests do you have that I can pray for, and what prayer requests can I pass along to the wider church?"

2) Take a hiatus from watching, listening, or reading the news, at least for some period of time. Just like after 9-11 when the video of the falling towers was being played and replayed over the media, unrelenting consumption of news media can feed into trauma.

3) Make daily quiet time a habit. You already may have a devotional time, prayer time, mindful meditation time as part of your daily schedule. This is a time to keep it up, or start it.

4) Make daily exercise, indoors or out, a habit too.

We will be a stronger church when this is past. God may be doing a new thing, and the Church is now and will be a partner in it.

Being reminded of our fragility--What do we do with too much?

Zoom worship for our little church, Sunday March 22

Just weeks ago on Ash Wednesday we were signed with ashes and bidden to remember these words: Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

When we look back on this time from future, I’m sure one of the things we’ll remember is that this global pandemic happened during Lent/Easter, and embraced Passover and Ramadan, too. Every day brings reminders of how much we are dust. The wild swings of not only markets and pronouncements from government leaders, but also our emotions--moments of deep grief and moments of elation back to back, all while still trying to navigate the regular ebbs and flows of daily life. For many people regular life was difficult enough.

It all feels like too much.

And it is too much.

There’s little we can do against the forces of nature or political and cultural change. We can’t control the weather or the stock market. Our health is fragile and can be taken from us suddenly.

Regardless of what we might tell ourselves, we are always living in uncertain times. Some moments in history allow us to see that more clearly than others, but we are and always have been dust returning to dust.

The good news, of course, is that that we are still God’s people and so have a basis for hope that is beyond the wild swings that remind us of our fragility. Christians practice hope, not the fleeting kind of hope that comes from the news media or a soaring stock market or a scientific breakthrough, but the lasting hope that is only found in the cross of Jesus Christ. For, in the end, it is only here that we can find solidarity and solace in the midst of uncertainty.

During this season of Lent, as we are still on our journey toward the cross, let’s pray together that we are reminded both that we are dust and that our hope relies in and with Jesus and the cross.

Wash your hands and open your hearts.

Breath, Just for Today

Breath prayer for today:  Inhale with "Jesus Christ, Holy Spirit..."
Exhale with "Have mercy on us who need to breath."

Many of you know that I am one of the 100 or so volunteers with the National Response Team for Presbyterian Disaster Assistance. I have been deployed to many, many disaster situations over the past 15 years, both natural and man-made disasters—from fires and tornadoes, hurricanes to mass shootings and industrial accidents. In all of those situations, I always had the opportunity to know that I would eventually leave. Right now I feel like I am deployed to an emergency scenario that has no end. What I do know now is that there are protocols for spiritual care that we follow in such places, the most basic of which is “put your own oxygen mask on first.” We can’t be spiritual leaders without practicing for ourselves those very spiritually life-giving practices that connect us to God and to each other—regular prayer and meditation, worship, bible study, yoga, etc. So…
In order to feed my own spirit, I am reading the offerings of my colleagues around the country. I’m also following the advice of my colleague MAMD--looking to what I, uniquely, can offer in this time. I’ve been overwhelmed by the amount of spiritual and theological words that this crisis has unleashed. It’s a tidal wave. I can’t digest it all. The time I spend reading it, limits the time I can think and write on my own. What I can do is recognize the good stuff from the bad. In other words, I’m a better curator than a creator of devotional writing—separating the healthy stuff from the unhealthy stuff for spiritual hygiene. So...

In these blogposts you will see a lot of borrowing and curating. 

In the meantime...breathe and pray. 

Virus Diaries March 23, 2020--"It is what it is."

Very good to see some of you yesterday on our first try at church via Zoom. It's a different experience.
It brought back to mind both grief and relief: grief at what we've lost, and relief that our friends and families in the church are well. Keep gathering when you can, and use those newly developing tools of electronic communication.
We'll do it again next Sunday. Watch this blog, and the church website for links to our Sunday meeting.



In the meantime, I've decided to concentrate on a couple of things:
1) keeping up and encouraging our congregation to think hyper local, that is to help us stay connected in real ways with our neighborhood and friends in North Arlington, both church and community. This means phone trees and email, snail mail and Zoom, with all those folks you already know.
For example: Shout out to our church member who held her virtual recital on line via Zoom, giving all her music students a chance to see and hear each other.


2) I've decided to use this space to curate a list from colleagues and friends in ministry that represent the best spiritual work I'm seeing. There are a lot of unhelpful words being said and published. So I'm concentrating on finding the best for the day. For today--

Colleague known to some of you Mary Ann McKibben Dana is working in her "BLUE ROOM" blog for how to maintain spiritual equilibrium when circumstances are throwing you off balance. She is particularly good at speaking to parents with children at home, since this is her own situation.

Some of you follow Richard Rohr, who's writing has gotten better with age. At his Center for Action and Contemplation, he offers encouragement for some of the best ancient and modern Christian practices.

Our former colleague in National Capital Presbytery Jan Edmiston is keeping up her blog at "A Church for Starving Artists"  She wrote yesterday about the grief in not being able to be present with a congregation.

You all are welcome to share your own tips for keeping your own spiritual self healthy. Comments below welcome.

Our Lent Table Practice

Friends and parishioners at Church of the Covenant:

I know I haven't posted anything since last Lent. 

Times being what they are, I'm driven to the written word again.

When we were last together as a congregation on Sunday March 1, I came to you without two good legs to stand on. A torn meniscus had taken away a pain-free way to stand, and so I preached from a stool while the talented elders led the rest of the liturgy. We had communion and began our observation of Lent for 2020. Our theme for Lent is “An open table.” We planned to have communion every week.  The second week of Lent, you were again invited to the Table and reminded of how truly big that table is. You heard about the ministry in South Sudan from Leisa Wagstaff and celebrated communion with the basket that she had sent us from South Sudan several years ago.

How different it all is now.

My inbox is flooded with advice and communications from everyone I’ve ever bought something from and a few I haven’t. There is too much COVID-19 advice. Right now the whole situation gives me an eerie feeling, like being deployed to a disaster area without the usual knowledge that I can go home sometime soon. My “spiritual care in disasters” habits are kicking in, but this time it’s to focus on my own backyard—Church of the Covenant.

And so we will, along with many other churches, we will attempt to gather with the aid of electronic communications. [See below for links to several other churches that are meeting online]

On Sunday morning we will attempt to gather around a table, but this time it will be a virtual table. We’re still trying to iron out the technological challenges of gathering in cyberspace. Some of us are more technologically challenged than other.

But we are still the Body of Christ, and so we will try to gather. Use this link https://zoom.us/j/743194520 [corrected from a prior email.] if you want to join online at 11am on Sunday, March 22. The link will change on subsequent Sundays.

Telephone works, too. +1 301 715 8592 US
The meeting ID is 743-194-520. You don't need a participant ID.

I’m going to prepare for Sunday by taking a Sabbath break from electronic communications on Saturday.

SERVICES FOR MARCH 22, 2020
National Presbyterian Church
Type: live stream on the NPC web site
Link to service: http://nationalpres.org/live
Date and time of service: Sundays at 11:00 a.m.
All recorded Live Stream Worship Services from NPC can be found at http://nationalpres.org/sermons

Georgetown Presbyterian Church, Washington, DC
Type: Facebook
Link to service: facebook.com/gtownpres
Date and time of service: March 22, 2020, 11:00 a.m.

Old Presbyterian Meeting House, Alexandria, VA
Type: YouTube recorded worship on website
Link: www.opmh.org
Date available: Sundays starting at 7am

Heritage Presbyterian Church, Alexandria, VA
Link: www.heritagechurchva.org/
(click on YouTube button at the top of the page)

Neighbors in Arlington with Virtual Gatherings

St Andrews Episcopal
  ZOOM meeting through website: https://standrewsarlington.org/