Sitting down on a recent Sunday evening with Downton Abbey on in the background, I carefully sew the Anglican Communion’s Compass Rose and the Episcopal Shield onto my new tippet[i]. This seemingly simple task does not begin to capture the last decade of my life and the journey I have been on.

As a cradle member of the Church of England, passionate about working with youth and helping marginalized communities know the unconditional love of God, it should not have been a surprise when my priest asked me if I would consider becoming a priest – but it was.  My family includes prominent supporters of women’s ordination, but I had never imagined it as a path for myself, because I had almost no female role models to follow.

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My husband was running just a few minutes late, the church rummage sale having exhausted all the spaces in the parking lot. My office is just down the hall from our older daughter’s preschool classroom, so when I noted that it was time for pick-up, I quickly saved my document and stepped out to get the girls. On Thursdays, we baby-sit twin sisters before and after school. It was originally just Ben’s job. He is, after all, the stay-at-home dad. But then we discerned that it was finally time for him to enroll in a certification program to become an addictions counselor, and he started taking a class on Thursday nights. The babysitting has shifted to my docket of responsibilities so that he has time to study and drive to campus. We were doing the toddler/vehicle hand-off at church, which is how my narrow office, lined with theology books and biblical commentaries, came to be inhabited with three preschoolers, one toddler, one husband, and one seriously harried associate minister.

I had just looked at my to-do list. It would have been fine – full, but fine – if I hadn’t signed on for way too many extras. I am a sucker for extras, especially if they involve writing. Generally speaking, writing gigs are an easy complement for my pastoral work. For instance, I have a great head start on my sermon for the Sunday after Easter in 2014, thanks to a writing assignment for a devotional book. But I’ve learned that I can handle only so many writing deadlines in any given month, and I suddenly found myself staring at three in one week. Thankfully, one of those deadlines included a review of blogger Anne Bogel’s recent e-book, Work Shift: How to Create a Better Blend of Work, Life, and Family.

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“When you get to the heart of it, we were looking for a way to cheat time.”  My attention was grabbed with the opening words of MaryAnn McKibben Dana’s debut book, Sabbath In the Suburbs: A Family’s Experiment with Holy Time.  This book chronicles a year in the life of a suburban family as they struggle to find more time for what is important.  The Dana family committed to a year of practicing Sabbath one day a week, one week at a time.  What potentially could have been a book about how this family became the Joneses we need to keep up with was, in fact, the opposite.  The Dana household created a flexible Sabbath that was “imperfect and cobbled together” as they tried to reclaim some of their lives from a world with increasing pressure and demands on their family time.

Divided into a chapter for each month, this book is a refreshing look at how one family put the pieces together.  There are ideas for practices, acknowledgements that some of the rules are made up as they went along, and a sense of experimentation that ran throughout.  As each month progresses, the family moves deeper into this practice, and the reader gets a sense of how Sabbath can happen in a world of busy-ness.  Unlike other books about Sabbath, this one provides concrete ways to make Sabbath possible in the context  many of us live in today.

Sabbath in the Suburbs may be written from the perspective of a dual career family in the Suburbs trying to cheat time, but it is for a much broader audience.  The discussion of Sabbath is theologically grounded and explained without feeling like a re-read of a textbook.   Dana’s style is peppered with good humor, song lyrics, quotations, humility, and grace.  From a pastoral perspective, I wish the book had come out last spring when the Sunday School class I was teaching studied Sabbath.  We said over and over again that we needed something more practical and down to earth than the book we were reading.  Dana’s book solves that problem.  Written with beautiful storytelling  and a good dose of reality, Sabbath in the Suburbs is approachable enough for a Sunday School class discussion, a parent’s group, or a book club in general.  Each chapter had a gift inside that offered a way to slow down, appreciate where we are in our lives, and claim (or reclaim) the practice Sabbath in a busy, modern world.

A few weeks ago, I sat in a room with church members for our church’s Theology on Draft small group. Our setting in Washington, DC encouraged that this round of study be focused on religion and politics and what might be a responsible, Christian response within the teeming mess that is the presidential election as well as our individual responses as people who live and work in Washington, DC and cannot escape it. Sure, we spoke of the need to understand the religious right and what the word evangelical means within religious and political spectrums. And we even discussed how we’d be approaching the study of Amos in correlation with our discussions. We even asked the big picture questions about being Baptist and our baptist distinctive of religious liberty and separation of church and state.

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This month’s Moms in Ministry article is an excerpt from the third book in the Young Clergy Women Project’s imprint with Chalice Press.  More information about this partnership can be found here. MaryAnn brought so much joy to the project as our conference leader at our 2012 conference in Chicago.  

Sometimes, the so-called mommy wars are waged over breast- feeding versus bottle, or crib versus family bed. Sometimes, they begin over baked goods.

It all starts in a very silly way. I post an offhand comment on Facebook gushing about the glory that is Trader Joe’s pumpkin bread mix. It has provided spicy goodness, fresh from the oven, on many a sabbath day this winter (not to mention random Tuesdays and Fridays). You only need an egg and some oil, as opposed to canned pumpkin and a bevy of spices I don’t always have on hand.

A friend responds dismissively, asking why someone would need a mix in order to make pumpkin bread, which after all is so easy. I feel an angry flash of Who asked you? followed by the briefest tremor of shame—if I really loved my family, I’d make them something homemade. Then I decide not to take the bait. To each her own, right? I celebrate pumpkin bread in all its forms. Later though, I feel unsettled. Our kitchen feeds five people several times a day. What’s wrong with using a mix when the result is just as good?

“I don’t know,” I tell Robert later. “It’s so stupid, but it hit a nerve. I mean, I agree with her. I do value the handmade and home- made. We live in such a cut-corners society. But the thing is . . . it’s kinda fun to find a good shortcut.”

“Maximum impact, minimum effort,” he nods, sharing his father’s famous approach to cooking. Both Robert and my father-in- law are whizzes in the kitchen.

“Exactly! Do I have to be judged for my approach to breakfast food? Come on.”

“Hey, it’s pumpkin bread. Don’t overthink it.”

While I’m glad he doesn’t share my angst, I know that the issue of domestic chores runs down gender lines. There are entire industries devoted to helping people save time and offload household tasks. At the same time, there’s still a view of motherhood that values the loving hands at home. Working mothers in particular can feel caught between the necessity of delegating certain domestic chores and a feeling of guilt because they “should” do those things.

Sabbath is not making this conflict easier; it’s complicating it. On the one hand, it’s robbing me of an entire day of labor each week, which makes the time-savers feel necessary. On the other hand, the unhurried nature of Sabbath makes me want to slow down for the rest of the week and not cut corners. It’s a curious irony: Sabbath reminds me that I don’t have to be Supermom, but it heightens my desire to try.

I feel this tension as I consider what it means to be a “host,” to provide gracious space not only for guests who might enter our home but also our own family. The biblical practice is hospitality, a word that’s almost as old-fashioned and foreign to our ears as Sabbath. Yet hospitality is a deep and vital spiritual practice in the Jewish and Christian faiths and in other traditions. Scripture is rife with examples of people welcoming friends and travelers alike into their homes and lives. We are called to greet strangers as friends and to share abundantly with them, and Jesus offers harsh words for people who fail to show adequate hospitality.

In recent decades, the picture has been complicated by Martha Stewart’s magazine and other resources that equate hospitality with handmade place cards and expensive flatware. These magazines miss the point of hospitality. I’ve sat at immaculate dinner tables and felt like an unwelcome afterthought, and I’ve been served wine in a plastic cup and felt like a treasured guest. A spirit of hospitality cannot be faked.

Still, there’s no denying that, all things being equal, a spirit of hospitality comes through when someone has taken the time to prepare for the presence of another—and not in a slapdash way.

Much of my life feels slapdash. I love finding ways to save time—a new route to the church, a quicker way to put away the groceries. (If I were a superhero, efficiency would be my power. Sad but true.) Sabbath has forced me to face the shadow side. Why am I trying to save all this time? For what purpose do I hurry? So that I can do more and more stuff? To feel useful and efficient?

Sabbath-keeping makes the idea of saving time feel ridiculous . . . like we’re trying to cheat at a game, but the joke’s on us: this game’s rules are unbendable.

Maybe Sabbath is my kryptonite.

Can you see Moroni?
Can you see Moroni?

A Temple of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints

“Have you seen it?  It’s gigantic!  And who’s that golden guy on the steeple?”

“I think that’s the man they worship.  I’m not sure how I feel about them being in the area…”

With every brick, every coat of paint, every pane of glass placed into the new LDS temple, these conversations grew more insistent, more frantic.  Confronted with such a large and visible building project, my congregation members couldn’t help but wonder who these Mormons really were.  Would they be good neighbors?  Do they count as “real Christians”?  Could one of “them” be trusted as our President?  And again, what was up with that golden guy with the trumpet on top of the temple?

My church folk had big questions, and in order to quell their fears and be better neighbors, they needed good information.  I knew a fair amount about the LDS tradition, but only in an academic way. So, when the opportunity arose to tour the temple, I jumped at the chance.

Before ever setting foot on the temple campus, I was struck by the scope of the PR campaign run by the LDS church.  Months prior to the May 2012 temple dedication, faith leaders from around the Kansas City region were mailed formal invitations to meet with LDS leaders and tour the facility.  And it didn’t stop there: in the weeks leading up to the big dedication day (after which only Mormons in good standing can enter the building), thousands of volunteers were brought in to handle the public tours that took place several times a day.  It seems the LDS community here knows what is at stake; because their beliefs are so often misunderstood, in order to get along with their surrounding community and perhaps obtain a few new members, they must make a special effort.   Consequently, they have made hospitality an art form.

Thanks to a friend whose congregation did a Lenten study on Mormonism with the local LDS Bishop, I was able to get a spot on one of the VIP tours, led by the Bishop himself.  When we arrived together, it was clear that everyone including the Bishop thought that my friend was the pastor and I was his girlfriend or wife.  This awkward situation was made differently awkward whenever he introduced me as one of his clergy colleagues – but the Bishop recovered swiftly and throughout the rest of the tour made a point of addressing the role of women in the LDS church, always while making sure to catch my eye.  My sense of this is that he wanted to make sure I was comfortable, and he wanted to address my presumed concerns about LDS womanhood while also being clear about his beliefs.  Though awkward at first, it was also a relief to have some of this out on the table.

The tour started in the new LDS church building that sits next to the temple.  Weekly worship takes place in these local meetinghouses as the temple is reserved for very particular ceremonies and rituals, including weddings, sealings and baptisms.  On this day, the meetinghouse had been turned into a welcome center with rooms set up for basic introductory classes on Mormonism and reception areas readied for post-tour snacking and fellowship.  We settled into one classroom and watched a rather slick video on basic Mormon history and faith as well as the history of temple building.  The video stressed the Abrahamic roots of the LDS faith, as well as the strong family focus that is often a hallmark of Mormonism.  As one of the leaders in the video teared up while talking about his family (“It wouldn’t be heaven if I couldn’t be with my wife and children.”), I could see a bit more clearly why the idea of a “sealed marriage” that lasts beyond death into eternity is such a cherished belief in the LDS faith.

After the video, we walked across the parking lot and prepared to enter the temple by putting protective  booties over our shoes.  This is not normally the protocol when entering an LDS temple, but because they were anticipating as many as 70,000 visitors in the month leading up to the temple dedication (ultimately, more than 91,000 came), this step was added in order to protect the new hand-carved carpets that weave throughout the building.  Once our shoes were covered, we entered the space.

The temple was, in a word, overwhelming.  The detail and craftsmanship of the woodwork, the vastness of the space, the grandiosity of the baptismal font (which sits atop twelve life-sized sculpted bulls), the dazzling light reflected through thousands of crystal droplets in the chandeliers found inside the holiest of rooms – on their own each of these facets would be impressive, but together they made the building difficult to take in.  Though pictures do not do justice to the space, you can see some of the interior by clicking here:  https://kcur.org/post/inside-new-mormon-temple.

There were many moments when the aesthetics of the space simply did not suit me.  The most sacred of rooms, which Mormons believe is one of the closest reflections of what heaven will be like, struck me more like a luxurious funeral home with its brocaded couches, golden lamps and mirrored walls.  But the blinding light from the large chandelier and the humbling devotion spread across the Bishop’s face as he silently stood watch in the room reminded me that beauty and inspiration are in the eye and heart of the beholder.  This was not my sacred space, nor were these sacred symbols etched into my heart from childhood – so I was not touched in the same way as those guests who share the Mormon faith. I left the room wondering how unchurched visitors regard our sanctuary – a sacred space that I find so wrenchingly beautiful.

As we wound our way through the temple, the Bishop continued to describe the Mormon faith and ceremonial practice.  In a sealing room, where marrying couples kneel facing one another and stare into mirrors that provide the visual effect of eternity, we learned more about the practice of celestial marriage.  In the bride’s room, we were told more about the role of women as leader of the home and family (according to the Bishop, this is a more important role than his own because Bishops only serve terms in leadership but women are leaders of the home and family forever).  In these discussions, it became all the more clear to me that I find portions of LDS doctrine deeply troubling – and yet, as the Bishop shared his heart with us, I also felt a growing respect for him and his faith.

As a result of the tour, I’ve been able to better answer my congregants’ queries, as well as a few of my own:

-Yes, the Mormons in our area will be good neighbors. 

-Do they count as “real Christians”?  That depends on your definition – but they sure do love Jesus!

-Could a Mormon be trusted as President?  Of course!  It all depends on the Mormon in question, just as it would depend on the Christian or Jew or Muslim or Buddhist in question. 

I’m still not certain what I think about many of the LDS beliefs, and I am still wary of their understanding of womanhood – but I’m also very certain that these Mormons in our midst are our brothers and sisters.  The more we know about one another the better – and these tours were a fantastic beginning of a conversation that should continue regardless of who wins the 2012 election.

As for that golden guy with the trumpet?  That’s the Angel Moroni.  And no, they don’t worship him.

“The Red Barn” was three stories of junk and treasure that stood for decades on the campus of Gould Farm, a long-lived residential rehab center in Massachusetts where I volunteered for two years in my early twenties. It had a dirt floor, reeked of mildew and dust, and was crammed with history and potential. If you needed something for your room or cabin, or for an adventure or creative project, you went looking in the Red Barn. And when something was no longer needed, or in the way, or no one knew what to do with it, a work team would come and “put it in the Red Barn.”

I can still see retro tennis rackets, a desk with a drop-lid, a plush but shredded loveseat, yards of old books, bicycles of all ages and sizes, mismatched cross-country skis, piles of clothes, antique egg beaters… piled on the floor, suspended from the ceiling, and hung on the walls.

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This week the General Conference of the United Methodist Church, the denomination’s governing body, is convening in Tampa.  The Rev. Katie Dawson is  in Tampa as part of the delegation from the Iowa Annual Conference.  Her post, reprinted here from her blog, “salvaged faith,” raises questions particular to the UMC, but also for young clergy women in other churches.   

Last Saturday afternoon, the Faith and Order legislative committee passed an amendment to paragraph 304.3 in the Book of Discipline that discusses qualifications for ordained ministry.  The change actually removes language that would bar a “self-avowed practicing homosexual”  and removes language that talks about from service and instead inserts this language:

 

I have a LOT of questions about this amendment that I hope are discussed before we decide to pass this change.

1) Does this amendment refer to only ONE marriage, or does it leave open the possibility for someone to be remarried.  As it stands, the amendment refers to a marriage between a man and a woman and makes no comment on the reality of divorce and remarriage, remarriage after death, etc.  Clearing up that question is important. We have many re-married clergypersons in our midst and if we are already concerned about the retirement tsunami in the next 10 years – this impact might be HUGE.

2) While our standards previously called for “fidelity in marriage and celibacy in singleness” (and still retain that language earlier in 304.2) there were no particular stipulations re: appointment for those who have failed to live out the highest of these standards.  Clergy who today have committed adultery may have sanctions, but we leave room for forgiveness, repentance, etc.  This new proposed language seems to preclude that by including unfaithfulness in marriage (as well as co-habitation) in the list of things that will make a person ineligible for commissioning, ordination, AND appointment.

3) Point two leads to deeper questions if the answer to my first question is “only one marriage.”  With the new language that is listed here, are clergy persons who have divorced and how have remarried not eligible for appointment?

4) What about sexual conduct outside of marriage that happened in the past?  What if I was a wild child as a younger adult and have since matured and changed my ways… does this amendment preclude them from being a candidate for ministry?  What if a person co-habitated before marriage?  Does this amendment apply retroactively to their behaviors and now as an ordained elder or deacon mean they will not be appointed?

5) **thanks to folks who talked with me in person and in the comments here** WHAT IS SEXUAL CONDUCT?! genital sex? kissing? smouldering eyes at one another over a table? Lord help our unmarried younger clergy (which we are trying to recruit) if they have to constantly fear something they are doing might be construed as sexual conduct.

I could go on and on and on about questions and implications of the wording of this amendment… the language needs to be CLEARER or else it might have implications on our current clergy that we have not for seen.

On the other hand, I’m guessing that someone who would respond to some of my questions might see that little word “may” in the fourth line from the bottom.  It says that those persons “may not” be certified, ordained, appointed.  It doesn’t say “shall not.”  It says “may not.” And that means that Boards of Ordained Ministry and the Appointive Cabinet can exercise judgment and flexibility and can leave room for grace and compassion and forgiveness.

And that is because legislatively speaking, “may” language is permissive language.  It has flexibility.  It leaves the question up to the person who is exercising judgment, rather than simply following a set, prescribed rule.

And actually, for friends of the LGBT community… that means it is a step in the direction of inclusiveness.  Previously the paragraph read: “The practice of homosexuality is incompatible with Christian teaching. Therefore, self-avowed practicing homosexuals are not to be certified as candidates, ordained as ministers, or appointed to serve in the United Methodist Church.”

“Are not” is very different from “may not.”

Words matter.

The Rev. Katie Z. Dawson is a United Methodist pastor serving in Iowa.  A graduate of Vanderbilt University Divinity School, she blogs at salvagedfaith.wordpress.com. She is a reserve delegate to General Conference and was crowned the delegation’s “twitter queen.” You can follow the action @katiez.

My husband and I were running errands one Saturday when we stopped at a local bookstore.  I noticed a display of books in the center aisle and realized I had never heard of them.  The covers were decorated with solid, bold colors and a large bird.

The Hunger Games?  What’s that?” I asked my husband.

“Oh, The Hunger Games,” he replied.  “All of my students at the high school are reading them.  They can’t seem to put them down.  They walk down the hallways with their noses buried in the books and when I ask them a question, they tell me to wait so they can finish the paragraph!”

“Really?” I replied.  “Well, then they must be good.”

I was enraptured by the Harry Potter series and recently finished The Twilight Saga, so I was anxious to read another great young person’s series.  So I bought the first book in what isThe Hunger Games trilogy.  I read it in two days.  And two days later, I bought the other two books.  I finished all three of them in one week.  They are well-written, intensely violent, page-turning thrillers.  Plus they have a great female protagonist.  Not the stuff of the Bible, right?

Well, I shared them with my father, who is also a pastor.  He read them in four days.  And when we discussed them during dinner one night, I proposed the idea of writing a theological reflection on them.  I had spent a year as a youth minister, and I knew if teens were reading them, then perhaps we as Christian adults should be reading and responding to them as well.  In seminary, I wrote similar reflections for various theology classes.  The Hunger Gamestrilogy proved to be not only an enjoyable challenge, but a fruitful theological exercise as well.

Within this Trilogy there are a number of parallels – including the character of Katniss – with classic Jewish and Christian figures and theology.  However, The Hunger Games trilogy is not an overt Christian allegory, like Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress.  Religion is never mentioned in the book.  Rather, Collins acknowledges her debt primarily to the Greek myth of King Minos, who sends youth to battle the Minotaur in a labyrinth.  She also remembers her father fighting in the Vietnam War and wrote the book out of concern for modern youth’s desensitization towards violence.

Nevertheless, throughout the three books, parallels to basic biblical characters and themes are noted.  As within the Bible, key figures become part of a narrative beyond themselves.  Katniss, for example, is similar to Moses and Jesus.  All three come from marginalized towns and people, receive their power from a greater source, lead a people yearning for restoration, and ultimately defy opposition for a triumphant end.  In Collins’ Trilogy, as in the Bible, suffering and loss do not have the final say, and sacrificial love transforms families and societies.  In the end, Collins offers a vision of a new reality in which everyone’s stomach and soul are filled.

The first movie of the Trilogy opens on March 23.  The movie’s release presents an exceptional opportunity for us clergy to connect core biblical narratives with contemporary culture.  Pastors and teachers can use this movie to engage students and members in their congregation in reflecting on basic theological themes.  It is an occasion to speak with youth and young adults who are disaffected by the current reality of modern society and who have fears about the future.  The books parallel the reality experienced by many young people today.  They witness daily violence on television, environmental abuse, lack of connection between political leaders and ordinary people, a rising gap between the rich and the poor, and loss of hope for the future.  For a younger generation familiar with video games and reality television shows, the novels take their experiences to a thought-provoking level.

The young audience of The Hunger Games trilogy is looking for a hero to arise from among them.  As Time magazine noted when it named “The Protestor” as the “2011 Person of the Year,” there is worldwide passion, especially among the young, to change the direction of the future before the world becomes as dismal and desperate as the one in the Trilogy.  Katniss Everdeen, the hero of the book, becomes a leader her audiences can follow – a leader who offers love and hope through sacrifice.  I admire Hermione and Bella, but I’m casting my vote for Katniss.

Ann Langford Duncan is a United Methodist pastor in Western North Carolina where The Hunger Games was filmed. A more comprehensive electronic version with a discussion guide and questions may be downloaded for $1 from Amazon Kindle: The Gospel According to The Hunger Games Trilogy.

Photo Credit: GoodNCrazy

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I was in the eighth grade when Hilary Clinton became first lady.  She was from my home town; how could I not have idolized her?  Her feminism was of a comfortable sort; she was a mom, albeit a working one. She spent too much on her hair, but understood that it takes a village to raise a child.  She was an equal partner in her marriage, even though he was the leader of the free world.  It might not have made her any friends in the GOP, but their relationship assured me that smart girls could score worthy men (a key priority as I entered high school; a dream unshattered by his extramarital terribleness).

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