What We Fight For

One of my friends was reflecting on the past year, and she made a statement that church camps are worth fighting for.  I immediately thought about her words as a framing device, as a question, "Is ______ worth fighting for?"

I thought of how often I don't frame my thoughts this way:  my thoughts about decisions, about paths forward, about relationships, about creative pursuits, about the future.  I am more often asking different questions.  Am I any good at this?  Does this nourish me?  Am I wasting time here?  How impossible is this outcome?  Am I doing the right thing?

If it's a decision about a group, change the I to we.  I'm thinking of larger communities too, like higher ed, like the ELCA (the more inclusive Lutheran expression of church that I have committed to), like the U.S.  I'm thinking of decisions about ideas and ideals too:  democracy, being a poet/artist in the world, education, and yes, summer camp.

If I think about what makes monetary sense, I may make different decisions.  Those may be the right decisions, and I'm not advocating that we throw all of those practical considerations away.  But those questions don't always get at a deeper importance.  

If I come away having kept my bank account intact, but I've lost my soul, what/where is the profit?  

It's a question as old as time, and not one unfamiliar to many of us.  But I like my friend's formulation.  It's worth fighting for--so it's worth continuing, worth the struggle, and worth the joy.

Good News, Bad News Hurricane Recovery

Yesterday was the first day in over 45 days where we didn't get multiple phone calls from the City of Asheville telling us to boil the water that was coming out of our taps.  Yesterday we got the word that the boil water notice is lifted.  I emptied the last of the boiled water into the pitcher, my daily ritual.  Yesterday, I didn't boil more water.  It's been interesting to find out how much water we use for cooking and drinking--about a gallon or two a day, depending on whether or not we're home, whether or not we're cooking.

Some people went online to proclaim their jubilation.  I am tired, and part of me is always waiting for the other shoe to drop.  I try to do the things that help me maintain mental equilibrium.  On Sunday, I went for a walk, up to the chapel, to the outdoor altar where I planned to sit and breathe for a bit.

I saw smoke as I walked up the hill, and I expected to gaze out to see smoke drifting from a distant mountain.  Instead, I saw flames on the other side of the hill where the Quiet Way path would take hikers up to the chapel, flames not too far away from where I stood.  

I called the camp director before I called 911--in retrospect, that was stupid, but I wanted to make sure they weren't doing a controlled burn.  Nope, and he had called for help.  I walked quickly back down the hill, and then went down to a fork in the camp road to make sure to flag the trucks to the fire, should they come in the back entrance.

Happily, the response was quick.  I walked back up to make sure there was nothing more I needed to do.  The very kind fire fighter I chatted with briefly told me that I should never hesitate to call 911, that they often arrived to find fires under control, and those were happy days.

I have been worried about fire since the early days of hurricane recovery--so many trees down, and such a dry October and November.  I am glad the fire was contained, but worried about what would have happened if no one had been around/awake to see the smoke and flames, as several of us did.

I am also worried about the health of my spouse.  A few weeks ago, he did something to his back while helping with the chainsaw to get trees cleared.  It comes and goes, and just when I think we've turned a corner, he has a flare, a sciatica kind of pain.  Yesterday was a very bad flare.  Luckily, he has a doctor's appointment for his annual physical on Friday, so maybe we will discover that there's something that can be done.  

My spouse's experience makes me worry about the future. We do not live in a country that has lots of options for people who need more care than I can give--and with Trump in charge, I don't foresee our nation ever evolving that direction.  The long term outlook might terrify me, if I really let myself think about it.

But I don't have time to think about that now.  I have grading to do and then there will be more grading to do, and I have seminary work that must be done, and then final papers and projects for seminary.  Let me get that work underway before driving down the mountain to teach in person at Spartanburg Methodist College.

Feast Day of Saint Hilda of Whitby

Today is the feast day of Saint Hilda of Whitby (614-680). We know of her primarily through the writings of the Venerable Bede, who said, "her wisdom was so great that even kings and princes sought her counsel," and "all who knew her called her Mother, because of her distinctive piety and grace."

Whitby is on the east coast of England in North Yorkshire. Whitby is famous for many things, but in church history, perhaps most famous for the Synod of Whitby in 664, which ironed out some differences between Celtic and Roman practices in Christianity, including how to figure out the date for Easter. Hilda was a Celtic Christian, and yet, when ordered to do so, she began to adopt Roman ways. She is remembered as a reconciler of the two traditions.

She founded several monasteries and was trained five men who later went on to become bishops. The monasteries that she founded were centers of education and the arts, and through the work done there, the monasteries also preserved knowledge.

For those of us who are English majors, we might be most grateful to Saint Hilda for her encouragement of Caedmon, one of the earliest English poets who makes it into anthologies; some call him the first British poet. Many give her credit for encouraging the stories from the Bible put into song and spoken stories in ordinary language of the people who would hear it.

Hilda is one of the patron saints of learning and culture, including poetry. We remember her as being of key importance in the shift from paganism to Christianity in England.

As with many of these ancient Christians, I am in awe of what they both created and preserved in times that must have been more difficult than ours, in harsh landscapes. With Saint Hilda, there's the added aspect of her gender--she accomplished so much in a time when women weren't given much in the way of opportunity.

And these days, when the U.S. seems so bitterly divided, I find my brain returning to her ability to reconcile and also lead. Modern people might not realize the depth of these church divisions, like the one between Roman Christians and Celtic Christians; indeed, one group left the Synod of Whitby and went to Iona and later Ireland, which at the time would have been even more savage landscapes.

These days, I think about Saint Hilda and remember that it is possible to reconcile huge differences. I remember Saint Hilda and hope that more of us can channel her.

For a more developed essay that has wonderful photos, I recommend this blog post.

Friday Gratitudes Two Weeks Before Thanksgiving

Two weeks from today, Thanksgiving will be over.  I feel that autumn has zoomed by too quickly--I always feel that way, regardless of whether or not we've had a hurricane to disrupt everything (and part of my brain is still reeling at the idea that we've had such a huge amount of storm damage in the mountains of North Carolina).  I have volunteered to bring a vegan main dish casserole to the family gathering, so this week-end, I will test my idea:  a casserole with barley, roasted butternut squash, roasted brussels sprouts, and mushrooms with brussels sprouts frizzles and toasted pecans for the topping.

We are traveling to the other side of the mountain this year to have Thanksgiving with my spouse's side of the family who are gathering at the home of my father-in-law and stepmom-in-law.  As with many families these days, we have several family members who find their diets restricted for a variety of reasons.  I first started experimenting with vegetarianism back in the early 80's.  I love cheese and butter too much to be a vegan, but I understand cooking principles that will make vegan foods taste good without butter and cheese.

I've been training my whole adult life for this moment!

The other night, I had a similar moment in the middle of the night.  I dreamed that Trump had asked me to be in charge of the Department of Education.  In my dream, I thought, I don't have the experience to do that.

I woke up thinking, well, I have been teaching since 1988, so there's that.  And in the days since that dream, as various cabinet candidates have been announced, I've thought of that dream and who has qualifications to lead which parts of our national government.  I still think that I don't have the right kind of qualifications to lead the Department of Education--that person should have K-12 teaching experience.

Of course, I will not be asked to be part of Donald Trump's cabinet, and if I was, I would say no.  I hope to avoid that kind of toxic workplace going forward.  I feel incredibly lucky to be responsible for teaching, not administration, and that's how I want to end my working days.  I am under no illusions that "I alone can fix it."

In fact, in moments of despair, I have doubts that anything can be fixed (see hurricane in North Carolina mountains).  But then, through the magic of technology, I see good theatre, and I am once again inspired to write.

Last night, we watched Arthur Miller's All My Sons, a play I read long ago in high school.  It was the 2019 London production with Sally Field and Bill Pullman, and what a performance!  The play, which was written in 1946, still feels fresh and also timeless. 

It also reminded me that I'm teaching the American survey class next term, and I am so looking forward to that.  In these days where there's so much happening to upset us, let me remember how much joy we can still have:  good literature, good teaching opportunities, good theatre, and vegan creations that give us autumn in a casserole!

A Gift of a Teaching Day

I had a good teaching day yesterday, which happily, is not unusual, but it is unusual for the class in which it happened.  It's a class that has unruly energy, an energy that I can refocus a bit, but not usually for the whole class period, which means I leave the class feeling like a failure.  

Let me stress that I am not actually failing them--their writing has improved.  I persevere in teaching the concepts and having them practice, despite the rolling of the eyes and the overly dramatic heavy sighs.  

Yesterday, I started the last module of the class, which will be one where we look at different ways to approach writing, ways which involve more creativity.  I had them write a description of a pine cone yesterday, and tomorrow, I'll have them sketch the pine cone and then write a description again, to see if there are other ways of training ourselves to see and then describe.

Then I gave them the standard definition of a haiku which irritates those who have mastered the form, the syllable counting form of haiku.  I had them try one of their own.  I modeled for them, counting syllables.  And then I talked about how a haiku could connect an element of nature with something that was happening in society or in one's life, about how linking the two could lead to something even more profound.

Yesterday I pulled up Dave Bonta's marvelous website of haiku, micropoems, and photos.   We talked about a few specific ones--the election one was an easy entry.

One of the students in the small group that has seemed most resistant to the work of the class noticed the poem about seeds and cracks and the light getting in.  He gave an interpretation, which the other members of the small group disparaged, which made him go deeper, which in turn made the other members of the group cheer for him.  I pulled up the Leonard Cohen song which wouldn't play, but then I was able to get the song lyrics at least.

We then talked about the ways that these poems and song lyrics take huge concepts and distill them into something smaller and perhaps pointed and piercing.  The energy in the room was electric, and when it was time to go, several of the students said, "Wait, aren't we gonna read our haiku?" 

These are not students who have clamored to stay in the past.  They are ready to leave from the moment that class begins.  I assured them that we would return to haiku on Thursday, and if they wanted to read, they could.

I had a successful morning class too, where we talked about three different approaches to Suzanne Simard's work on how trees communicate.  We watched her TED talk, looked at her scientific article, and read a newspaper article.  We will create an annotated Works Cited page with those sources, and next week we'll look at other sources.  Students will finish the work of the term by writing a paper which refers to some of these sources and talking about which one inspired the most wonder and trying to analyze why.

It's the rare teaching day when all of the classes go well, when I can see students making connections, or at the very least doing the work.  I usually feel lucky if just one class hums along.  Yesterday was a gift, the kind of day that makes me feel like I'm doing the work I was put on earth to do.  

Theatre Lessons

I am feeling a bit fragmented today--let me gather some fragments into a blog post:

--One of my seminary classes has been studying stories of power:  traditional stories like Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, alongside the stories of power told to us by the Gospels.  Last night we discussed the stage adaptation of Macbeth.  What a great class it's been, both last night's class and the class overall.

--I have really enjoyed talking about all the literature, and as always, I wonder if God is trying to tell me something.

--What would that something be?  Something about teaching vs. pastoring?  Maybe something even more simple:  remember that you love to read.

--My spouse and I watched Macbeth on Sunday evening.  You could watch too, with just a one month subscription.  At 12-ish dollars, it's a heck of a deal.  Go here for more details.   

--We now have a month long subscription to the National Theatre at home, which means we will watch some great theatre.  We will also run out of time.

--Two weeks from today will be the last day of the semester at Spartanburg Methodist College--we get back from Thanksgiving, and students go right into exams.  Since I am giving an essay exam, an essay that they don't need to be in the classroom to write, I won't go back on campus until January.

--Maybe I will have some time to watch some of those plays.  Of course, what I'd most like to see, both halves of Angels in America, takes the longest amount of time.  But maybe that's what God is trying to tell me--why not spend time on stuff that matters, stuff that brings me joy?

Veterans Day 2024

Today is Veterans Day.  Here is a picture of my favorite veteran, my dad:

He's my favorite veteran for obvious reasons, but there are many other veterans who would also be favorites:  my father-in-law, an Army veteran, and my Florida pastor Keith Spencer and his wife, Piper Spencer, Navy veterans, for example.  I think of one of my best friends from high school, Chum Kimsey:

The above picture is from 2014, when she had just been diagnosed with esophageal cancer, which would take her life.  She served in the Army in the late 80's and early 90's.

Yesterday we watched a Veterans Day concert, which made me feel both grateful and teary-eyed.  I thought of our current country, how few people serve in this way, even as many people say they support our military.  The concert contained footage from an Honor Flight event, which made me think of my own experience with my dad and sister on a similar trip.  

It was both a joyful trip and a somber one, being surrounded by living veterans, all older than 65, and the monuments to the wars that they fought.  It was a sobering reminder of the ultimate cost that so many veterans pay/paid.

I am also thinking of all the quilters I know who make quilts for veterans as a way to say thank you:

I'm not at a point yet where I could do that--but this morning, I'm wishing that I could show gratitude in this way, a way that results in a beautiful quilt.  For this morning, though, words will have to do.