#BlackFlagForKirby

 The past few days I had been planning on coming in, writing a piece about my frustrations at getting people to do things. Specifically, trying to get a group of well-meaning white folks off their butts and into the work of solidarity and equity.

But that suddenly pales today, because I learned today that a friend of mine has passed. 

Now admittedly, this was not someone I've known since childhood. This was someone I've met in the past year. A friend who served their community as a firefighter and as a paramedic, and who bore the scars from that work.

This friend and I had plans. We were going to start making training videos to be available online, for anyone to learn from. And then they disappeared, went out west I learned later, to help out at the end of the summer. When they came back to Minneapolis/St. Paul, we picked up again and started talking about training. We ran together, trying to keep each other and our community safe. 

I found out today that my friend died of an overdose, shortly after the last time that we ran as medics together.

It was more than a week ago, the last time I heard from my friend. They had disappeared again, but I figured they had gone up north, just like the last time they had gone out west. Just up and disappeared for a while.

I feel guilty.

I feel angry. 

I feel powerless. 

I feel numb.

A different friend of mine reminded me that we can't torture ourselves with hindsight, thinking of what we might have done, trying to identify all the warning signs we may have missed. Easier said than done.

But what is left for us to do? If I cannot look backward, then I should look forward, right? Continue the work of solidarity and equity. Trying to continue to do what my friend would have done, were they still with us here.

So maybe this one is about getting well-meaning white folks off their butts and into the streets. To do the work of solidarity and equity. To raise a black flag. 

Frustrated at the Pandemic and a Lack of Resolution

 This is a story of outrage... and whatever comes after that. 

Earlier this week, some friends invited me out for a social/fitness event. Admittedly, it was an event at a gym that was taking COVID precautions (mandatory masking, limited capacity, scheduled workout start times, etc). They invited me and I did want to go, but I realized that I did not have the spoons to take all the required steps to participate. So I made my apologies and asked whether there was another day that would work.

Later that same day, there was a knock at the front door and Amanda answered it. There, standing (six to ten feet) outside our front door was some dude. As the dog started unloading all her ferocious barking in this guy's general direction, the guy began his story about how he had a bunch of extra steaks after a delivery run, and did we want to purchase any of them "at a total steal!"

Did I mention that this winner was not wearing a mask?

After these interactions, I was feeling filled with something that I may have called righteous indignation. How dare people try to do things during a pandemic! I'm taking it seriously! I've taken all kinds of steps to do what I need to do, at home! I'm quite happy at home, thank you!

Despite this indignation, I did make an effort to keep a level head. I told the guy selling steaks door to door during the pandemic that no, we just stocked up and we didn't need his steaks. And I asked my friends whether we could have a Zoom call to try to find a better time.

Like I said, I think this gym that my friends wanted to go to is doing a good job of adapting to fitness during the pandemic. I did want to find a time to go there with my friends, and they were gracious enough to meet me online to talk about it. 

But as they shared their availability, I came to realize that they had already picked the best (almost the only) time that worked for them to go. With all kinds of family responsibilities that continued during the pandemic, they had kept this night of the week open for them to do something fun. And here I was, asking whether I could do this thing with them on a different day of the week, at a different time. 

I was rebuffed. And I started to wonder whether I had asked for a bridge too far. 

I don't know whether this story has a resolution. I mean, the guy selling steaks door to door? Him I sent away because he was being ridiculous. But my friends? I wanted to see them as much as they wanted to see me. And I found that the circumstances we found ourselves in presented so much more of a hurdle to seeing each other than I had conceived of. 

Just Vibing & Thriving

 I think I may officially be old.

I can already feel my mother do that teenager thing of rolling her eyes at me, so let me qualify my previous statement: like many I do not feel old, but I am definitely not a part of the generation that is coming of age right now.

One of the most recent new employees that I trained in at work, a young woman who has all of eighteen years of life lived, was born around the same time that I was starting high school.

I'm old enough that when I play my music, some of the "young, hip crowd" will make comments about how their dads always played this music. 

So all this is to say that I don't think I've really understood what is meant by the term "vibing" until today. 

I went to an open air event today, and everyone was just walking down the street, jamming out, calling back and forth. And it felt good. 

It seemed like everyone was chill with everyone else. Everyone was keeping an eye out for everyone else, just to make sure everyone stayed safe while we did our thing. My head was on a swivel as I watched what everyone was doing... and yes, making sure that nobody would get hurt. Once a healthcare worker, I guess...

And that's all. I felt like I was where I was supposed to be. I felt like I was spending time with my people. I felt like I was vibing. Just like the kids say these days.

The One the Darkness Got

So I went to a funeral last week for a guy I hadn’t met.

Which isn’t important, that I didn’t know him. I decided a long time ago that funerals are important. I don’t just randomly show up to to funerals, but if there is one happening and I have some degree of connection with them, I will go. That is what I decided I would do in this case.

Hospital Visitation, Or, People are Weird

I feel like I'm always starting my blogs by apologizing for one thing or another; either it's been too long since my last post, or I'm posting late in a church season and I neglected to write anything earlier in the season (that got me on Lent and Easter this year). So therefore I'm not apologizing today for the gap since my last blog post. I will only articulate my regret is that it's getting harder for me to figure out what to write about.

Being in new career fields, one that requires me to protect patient privacy and the other that requires me to keep operational information secure, makes it hard sometimes to figure out what I can write and share.

I borrowed this from Savage Paramedics on Facebook

Anyway, the upshot is that I started a new ministry at church recently: I'm now helping out the group that takes communion to the hospital. I haven't been doing this long, but already I'm realizing that there's something meme-worthy about bringing a spiritual thing into a place of modern healing.

Before I get too far into this (because I feel like some of you might balk and clutch your pearls at what I'm about to share), I offer a disclaimer: I believe in the value of taking things that have spiritual realities to people who could not otherwise access them. And in true fashion, I will share a little of that insight later on... after I share the clutch-your-pearls happenings.

In the Wake of #PolarVortex2019

The Polar Vortex came and went (again; and may come again) in Minnesota! Right on the heels of the government shutdown, school districts across the state and the region were cancelling, in lieu of stupid cold temperatures (that's a scientific measurement, by the way). It's always strange to me that the state itself won't go ahead and call off school when it's colder here than on parts of the surface of Mars, but obviously there are smarter people than me making those decisions...

This from the National Weather Service. And this wasn't
even as cold as it got...

All of the advice from media and the authorities was that we should avoid going out as much as possible. In temperatures like what we had, hypothermia can start in less than five minutes. And I'm not scoffing at that; I've had enough training and done enough winter adventuring to know that you need to prepare to go out, or all kinds of suffering and gnashing of teeth will ensue. But that being said, I know people who do scoff, saying things about when I was your age and mocking those who feel more than chilled at stupid cold temperatures (again, scientific assessment).

I'm of two minds when it gets so cold; I want to stay inside, stay warm. And I want everyone else to do the same. Meanwhile, I also see all the snow and think of how much fun it could be. Though there wasn't much snow during  the Polar Vortex, most of that came afterward. But in regard to wanting people to stay inside, I react with something resembling anger when I see people out walking from place to place when the air can literally freeze your bodily tissues solid. Seems stupid to me. But on the other hand, I feel like there's this you are your brother's keeper thing stirring in me; I have a warm house. How many people don't have that?

Advent Is Coming! And There It Goes...

Happy (liturgical) new year! For those of you, dear readers, who come from less liturgically focused traditions, the season of Advent encompasses the four Sundays before Christmas and prompts us to prepare for Christ's coming as a baby into our world. It's officially the start of the next yearly rotation of liturgical seasons. And I find this season fascinating, because it's both the beginning and the end. It prepares us for Christmas, specifically to recognize that when Christ arrived bodily into this world, he was both the savior (big responsibility) and a defenseless, helpless infant (itty bitty operating capacity).

But Advent also points to the end. And yeah, I mean like that crazy guy on the corner with 'the end is near' on a sandwich board, end of the world type stuff. Advent also prompts us to prepare ourselves and be vigilant for that. Like the story of the ten bridesmaids in Matthew's gospel, we don't know when Christ will come into this world again, so we need to keep alert. And Advent helps us with that, but for me it's also a reminder that the encounter with Christ changes everything. Christ as a baby changes everything. Christ will come again with angels and loud trumpet calls and everything will change.

Did I mention that I'm fascinated by Advent? But I'm also really bad at it. I'm not usually in the groove of Advent until the third or fourth Sunday. And then it's basically over and we've got twelve days for the Christmas celebration. Yay! And I'm that jerk who will insist on saying "Happy Advent" while everyone else is fighting about "Merry Christmas," but I'll start saying "Merry Christmas" on the 25th of December and I'll keep saying it until the 6th of January, while everyone else is like "what is this guy doing? Christmas is over..."

So that's (probably) the end of the didactic part of today's blog...

The Journey So Far, or, This Might Just Be a Listicle...

Last Friday (20 Oct), my wife pointed out to me that it was the one year mark of my enlistment in the Minnesota Army National Guard. So to mark that, I want to share the posts, give some updates, and have some fun with Top 10 lists... this post might seem disjointed, but hopefully there's some fun because of it!

Here is what I wrote about it last year, accentuated by my wife's wonderful photography:

So Amanda has been my primary documentarian for the past 36 hours or so, and a lot has happened in that time. Shaved a beard, went to Ft. Snelling, took the ASVAB test, had the most in-depth physical of my life, and ultimately got sworn into the National Guard. I'm now a citizen soldier, so I will be doing drill one weekend a month, while still teaching at North Lakes (if anyone was concerned about that)
I know that I haven't shared this process with many of you, so let me try to get everyone up to speed and let you ask questions if you want:

My Beloved BSA Is Now Co-Ed! Or, I'm Happy to Have More Eagles

I don't think I'm supposed to do this, but I'm going to because I want a chance to voice my opinions. And that's what a blog is for, right? But in all honesty, I'm not speaking on behalf of the BSA, so what I'm about to write needs expressly be viewed as my opinion, not sponsored nor representative in any way of the BSA. I'm just writing my take and my reactions to the buzz.

Again, I'm not sponsored by, nor a representative of
the BSA, which is also why I'm not using an official logo.

This past Wednesday (11 Oct 2017), the Boy Scouts of America made an official announcement that the organization would be integrating female youth at all levels of the program. This is going to start with Cub Scouts (the BSA children's program) in 2018, and extend to Boy Scouts (the iconic teenage program) in 2019. A copy of the official release can be found on the BSA website.

Before I launch into any arguments from detractors, I first want to emphasize that this is not the first introduction of co-ed programs in the BSA, much less the Scouting Movement at large. The BSA has organized Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts, Venturing, Exploring, and Sea Scouts, and only those first two have been persistently all-male, up until the announcement last week. Venturing was officially formed in 1998 and has been co-ed the whole time. Explorers have existed in various forms since 1935 and have been co-ed since 1971. Sea Scouts has also existed in various forms for over 100 years and is also now a co-ed program.

And these are all just programs offered by the Boy Scout of America. The majority of the worldwide Scouting Movement has been co-ed and we in the US are really only matching them now.

So this is really where I want to start the discussion; recognizing that, for people who are up in arms about female youth being included in Scouts, Scouts has been inclusive for both sexes for a long time. Of course, we can talk about the inclusion of LGBT youth as well, but that's another discussion entirely (though my opinion there is not so different from my opinion here).

At any rate, let's talk about why people are upset with the BSA.

Triptych Chaplains, or, Some Parts of BCT Didn't Suck

Two years is a long time.

Or, on the other hand, it can pass in the blink of an eye and you realize that you haven’t updated your blog with anything that resembles consistency. The latter is true for me, dear readers. There have been so many changes in my life recently and my wife and I are still getting ready for more. So many changes that change seems to be our new normal.

There are probably too many changes to describe in a single post. Probably too many changes to update you in a series of blog posts. So I’m not going to do that. The name of this blog is based on the story from the book of Ezekiel where the prophet watches the Lord reanimate his people. So the blog itself is supposed to be telling the story of resurrection that I witness. Therefor, I’m going to do my best with that by just jumping in.

Why Wood Badge Was My Latest Watershed

Those of you, dear readers, who have read most of my blog posts know that I haven't posted much of anything for the past year or so. Part of that was that the fire for lectionary analysis had died down to embers (becoming something I mostly kept to myself), and the fact that I didn't feel that I had much to share, now that I was not in the diaconal formation program anymore.

As such, I didn't share on the blog that I had joined up with a Boy Scout troop in September. I joined as an adult leader, thinking that I would be able to be a mentor, or that I would be able to contribute somehow to the lives and formation of these young men.

I suppose that I have, but more than anything, I have been taken with what Scouts has opened up for me, now that I'm back in as an adult.

Coming Back from the North Shore

I usually try to post something every weekend but this past weekend, I did not. I didn't post anything because I was off camping with my wife and some of our friends.

I snapped this one of my friends at Temperance River
State Park and posted it here.

Now that I'm back, I have this sense of longing and I feel like I'm always forgetting something. I think that this sense of emptiness, if I gave into it, could cause me to go back out into the wilderness, thinking that everything is easier there. And I think it is... things seem to make more sense, there is less to worry about. People even seem more honest when you're out hiking through state parks.

And then there's the scenery. We were up on the North Shore of Lake Superior and the vistas were incredible. They were moving. And I know I might be painting a "grass is greener" type of picture, but I have genuinely felt sad here at home now because the potted plants and the mowed lawn outside my sliding glass door don't really inspire the same sense of awe and majesty that I felt gazing at the landscape on the North Shore.

So let's see if I can describe to you what I felt and see what shape it takes...

Is America So Beautiful? Or, I Didn't Expect to Write a Fourth of July Post

Yesterday was the Fourth of July; Independence Day in the United States of America. Of course, this day means lots of different things to different people (and some people who have no idea what it means). For me, when I began reading through some of the more erudite parts of the Book of Common Prayer, I found out that Independence Day is actually a feast day in the Episcopal Church (listed under "Other major feasts"). So really, we should be having church services on the Fourth of July, even though most of the churchy people that I know are really uncomfortable with bringing in any kind of semi-patriotism into church.

But regardless of any of that, I sang "America, the Beautiful" at church today. All the verses, not just the first one or the last one. I think those ones are sang most often because they are thought to be the most poetic. They are certainly the most platitudinous.

If you've not sang or listened to all the verses lately, here's your chance:

And if you're one who thinks that takes too long, you can read them here

So if you're paying attention, you'll notice that the end of second and the third verse include conditions. This isn't just a song of praise, it's also got some expectations in it:

America! God mend thine ev’ry flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law!

O beautiful for heroes proved In liberating strife,
Who more than self their country loved,
And mercy more than life!
America! America! May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness,
And ev’ry gain divine! 

This morning, as I was singing this, I was realizing that it's not just a Hoo-rah! Murica's the Greatest! song. This one is specifically asking for action on the part of God and on the part of the people present. As I was singing this song, I realized that the prayer it contains is going unfulfilled. 

Our national gains are not divine. Far from it, I think that many of the "gains" are for the privileged and taken from the downtrodden. I'm thinking in economic terms here. Wealth is often collected in the hands of the wealthy, not used for the good of all.

How many "successes" can we say are actually noble? On Independence Day weekend, I'm thinking about the red, white, and blue decisions that come down from Capitol Hill. I don't think there's a whole lot of nobleness there. Heck, I think that the successes we've seen lately have come from the streets. They're hard-won but I'm still not sure I would call them noble.

Self-control is popularly thought to the opposite of liberty and freedom. This always makes me laugh out loud, since I would cry if I didn't. More often than not, I encounter Americans who have an attitude of "In Murica, I'm free to do whatever the f*** I want." But that's not what was intended when our founders started talking about whether we really were interested in protecting Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. 

So that's my soapbox and you can stop reading here if you want. But I know that some of you, dear readers, come to read my blog because I've usually got the "Church, for the rest of us" attitude. And of course, that's true again today. 

Headed Down to San Antonio for #ADDD15 and the AED Board Meeting

Last weekend, there was not post on my blog. If any of you, dear readers, were crestfallen, I heartily apologize. But the reason that I did not post was because I was on a plane, heading to San Antonio to hang out with a bunch of deacons!

Some of the incoming board members and new board officers
at a celebration of ministry Saturday night

A Prayerful Community at #CP15MN, or, Some Combination of Those Words

Last weekend, on Saturday-Sunday February 21-22, a group of 14 twenty- and thirty-somethings gathered for a retreat called Common Place. It happened at the ECMN Retreat Center on the campus of Shattuck-St. Mary's school in Faribault, Minnesota. Amanda and I were two of those 14 and, after this weekend, I would not hesitate to call any of the other attendees friends.

Thank you, ECMN for the uploading of the pictures!

The theme of the Common Place retreat was "Stories and Silence." There were five stories and five accompanying silences that happened, and I was asked to provide one of the stories. Initially I was told that my topic was "Prayer/Community." That seemed very broad and I felt totally unqualified to talk about community, but as I thought through it, a couple of stories came to mind, so I thought maybe it wouldn't be that bad. However, when I arrived at the retreat, the schedule said that my topic was "Prayer in Community." Then, shortly afterward, it was said as "Prayer and Community." Personally, I'm a bit of a grammar nerd so the conflict between preposition and conjunction was really messing with me. Before it finally came time for me to share my story, we settled the issue by calling the topic "Prayer-in-slash-and-slash-slash-Community." So I guess we just made it work.

[Before I go any farther, a statement of full disclosure: This post is a compilation of my notes and some responses from a Twitter poll that I took in preparing for my story. It's not the exact product that I presented at the retreat, but I hope that you find it worth the read here on my blog.]

Stumbling into Lent, or, Welcome to the Desert

So I am totally unprepared for Lent this year.

Shrove Tuesday (or Fat Tuesday or Mardi Gras, depending on your tradition) totally snuck up on me. I mean, it's been on the calendar for a couple weeks and I knew that I was going to help out making pancakes at church. But the day that it actually happened, I hadn't made any time to prepare myself for this celebration or the season that was to follow it.

What would I do without imgflip?

At the Time of My Grandmother's Passing, or, the Kingdom of God Comes Near

My grandmother and I visiting my grandfather's
gravesite on Memorial Day 2014

My grandmother, Patricia Mary Monson, passed away last week on Thursday, December 11. She was buried on Wednesday the 17th. For me, it's an odd sensation because I had lived in her house for almost ten years and after that she was simply a constant presence throughout my life. I've noticed in retrospect that I've just kind of had this child-like sense that she would always be there, like some kind of indomitable force that would keep organizing parties and feed anyone who might walk in the door.

I've been really frustrated because, even though my family knew that Grandma was fading, it's still really hard when someone so special dies. The fact that we're so close to Christmas doesn't help that, either. For my part, I've been trying to reconcile this season of Advent (waiting for the coming of the Savior) with the sense of mourning and loss from my grandmother.

Now, I need to state that this blog post is not meant to be an obituary or a eulogy or anything else. It is just something that I think I need to do. After all, some of you, dear readers, will know that this post is me breaking radio silence in the blogosphere. I am doing this just because I need an opportunity to write out my thoughts and feelings at the passing of my grandmother. And here, at the time of her passing, there are two sets of stories that I want to share.

Starting a New Fire after #Kindling14

First thing in this post, let me admit that attending any given conference is still an enigma for me. What I mean by that is that I really enjoy conferences; there is usually a really good energy and dynamism when they're well-planned. But meanwhile, a conference is not my learning style. I do much better when I'm allowed to take hand-written notes on a topic and then allowed to take a day or two to digest and ruminate on the information before I take notes on a new topic (hmm... sounds an awful lot like my college schedule). At your typical conference, I have have had anywhere from 15 minutes to two hours to digest things before going onto the next workshop. And even then, the workshops and presentations may not be conducive to note-taking. So I have not been able to figure out what to do with myself at conferences, even though I think I have attended a fair number of them.

That being said, I attended this year's Episcopal conference on Young Adult and Campus Ministry. It happened at the University of Minnesota, out here in my neck of the woods. It was also dubbed Kindling '14 (because I assume we will be using the same title next year).

This is what was printed on all our itinerary and press releases

In the Words of Popeye: "I Yam What I Yam," or, Maybe That Was YHWH...

So I'm going to do something slightly odd here; I started writing this post and then changed my mind... but I want both beginnings. So I'm going to give you both and you decide which you want to read... you won't hurt my feelings, as long as you read at least one.

But before you begin, please be aware that this post, regardless or the beginning that you read, is another effort on my part to articulate what I mean when I say that "I am what I am."

Original Beginning
On Thursday, June 26, a good friend of mine, Vant Washington, was ordained to the diaconate. I've mentioned Vant on my blog before, in regard to his preaching. Along with him were a few other candidates who I have become acquainted with through various events that happen in the Episcopal Church in Minnesota. All told, including my friend, there were 14 deacons ordained that evening, as well as two priests.

Vant is the one in the corner of the picture with black hair...
you can only see the top half of his head and he has his eyes closed...
a very flattering picture that I borrowed from Bp. Prior's blog

It was a wonderful celebration, my dry explanation notwithstanding. I heard afterwards that the 16 candidates who came into the worship space that evening had the entire range of emotions from holy-crap-this-is-happening-I'm-not-ready, to this-is-what-I've-been-working-toward, to the simple I'm-exhausted. What's more is that the entire place was packed. I know that in the picture I provided above, there is nobody who is not vested, but just imagine at least ten times the number of people in the picture; family, friends, faith community members, all gathered to support and lift up these individuals for ordained ministry. It was moving. And it was really hot with that many people stuffed into what seemed like a cavernous worship space.

Dying and Rising to New Life in Star Wars

I know that many of your are disappointed in me right now... I did not post anything last week that reflected on the lectionary readings... but frankly, if you want a really awesome commentary, I refer you to the Rev. Janet MacNally's sermon for June 22. I do this 1) because she's my mentor, and 2) the lectionary seemed really inaccessible, but Janet just knocked it out of the park.

Meanwhile, last week I went to a Star Wars marathon that was also hosted at my church (my geek went into overdrive). We watched them in the Machete order, which begins with Episodes IV and V, then goes back to Episodes II and III (please note that it ignores the episode which shall not be named), and finally ends with Episode VI. It was glorious. By the time we finished Episode VI: the Return of the Jedi, I was in awe of the story arc that is Star Wars.