Creative Endeavours

Today was another example of creativity in the kitchen. I made soup for a friend. The recipe was Gorgonzola Cauliflower Soup. It was quite easy; the recipe was found at http://www.101cookbooks.com/about/. But, the creative part involved the quiet contemplation of the task, the mindfulness of it. I cooked slowly, I didn't rush, I chopped fine, when the recipe asked me to do so. I even coped with the super teary eyes from the four small onions. And, the soup was so yummy. That was the best part.

At St. John's church, Jan, the Deacon, bakes bread early on Sunday am, so that we have communion with real bread. It's the best communion bread ever. Really. It's like real bread. It's heavy and yeasty and wonderful. It makes me so happy. We actually jostle a bit to finish up the bread, if it doesn't all get eaten. Yesterday, Jan brought me a wee loaf of the communion bread. I was in heaven. I ate a chunk of it yesterday in the car and am now saving the rest for lunch with Sue tomorrow.

The freshness of the bread makes it really fragrant. And when Jan sets the table, she fills the chalice to the brim with a rich red wine.

This scene of freshly baked bread and brimming chalice seems to be what communion is all about. The loaf is big, abundant. The chalice is full. Whoever comes will be fed.

What is most notable for me, as presider is how sensual an experience presiding at THAT table can be. As soon as I approach the table, I can smell the bread and the wine. Often, the bread is still warm to the touch. It's rough and a bit uneven. It never looks the same way twice.

Somehow, when I preside and the "bread" is actually cardboard-like wafers and the wine is some cheesy pale port, I can be carried away by the mystery of the sacrament, but I don't feel like what I'm doing is a meal. However, when I lift a still warm loaf up into the air, feeling its weight and density, and then struggle a bit to tear the loaf, to break the bread, and lift a chalice that brims with wine, I know that what we are about in this space is feeding and nourishing those who come to the table.

When I talked to my spiritual director on Weds. night and told her about my Lenten discipline of being creative every day, she was thrilled. She actually called me a contemplative, which was sort of a surprise for me. But there it is. When I suggested to her all the things that I could do, she paused and said, "What about cooking?"

Now, I like to cook. Adore it really. It makes me super happy to troll cookbooks, find interesting recipes, and cook. Super happy. But, I have to confess that I am not a mindful cook. I don't measure, I cut corners, and, shocking as this may be, I can get a bit stressed in the kitchen! Grin.

So, this morning, when I woke up for the second time, I woke up thinking of scones. I used to make them all the time. So today, I baked mindfully. I found a pair of scone recipes and sort of blended them together. I worked slowly and steadily. I was creative in what I did. And, I did it in silence. And, the best part was that I had wonderful, warm, cinnamon scones to eat when I was done. I stopped at 2, which I thought was pretty impressive.

When I talked to my spiritual director on Weds. night and told her about my Lenten discipline of being creative every day, she was thrilled. She actually called me a contemplative, which was sort of a surprise for me. But there it is. When I suggested to her all the things that I could do, she paused and said, "What about cooking?"

Now, I like to cook. Adore it really. It makes me super happy to troll cookbooks, find interesting recipes, and cook. Super happy. But, I have to confess that I am not a mindful cook. I don't measure, I cut corners, and, shocking as this may be, I can get a bit stressed in the kitchen! Grin.

So, this morning, when I woke up for the second time, I woke up thinking of scones. I used to make them all the time. So today, I baked mindfully. I found a pair of scone recipes and sort of blended them together. I worked slowly and steadily. I was creative in what I did. And, I did it in silence. And, the best part was that I had wonderful, warm, cinnamon scones to eat when I was done. I stopped at 2, which I thought was pretty impressive.

Both last night and tonight, I spent a half hour playing the piano. I've not touched it in months, and it was one of the things I've been missing. I'm totally rudimentary and amateur, but it makes me really happy to sit in front of it and try to plunk things out. I still want to find a teacher who could give me some basics, but in the mean time, I'm happy to plunk away.

In other news, I had spiritual direction tonight, and I want to get down some of my thoughts from my conversation with Liz. Be forewarned, they are totally random.

God is both loving and truth - and so when there is a sense of loving truth in a decision, God is in the midst of that decision.

My/our Lenten discipline is really very contemplative. The mindful prayerful nature of the creativity is a contemplative truth.

Julian of Norwich - I am enclosed in God and God is enclosed in me - what does prayer look like when I feel this truth in my bones?

The woman of my dreams has a loving heart, is a romantic, is a lesbian (seems logical, but there you have it!) and loves God. OK. Sounds fine to me - now, where is she?

Intentionality. That's what I've been missing in my life - and so how can I add intentionality in little ways to what I do?

Well, I've been sort of a slacker in the creativity dept. Though, I have spent time thinking about all the ways I CAN be creative. The list includes: photography and the creation of things with digital photographs, knitting, tatting, needlework, beading, jewelry making, macrame, wordwork, colouring, writing, poetry, short stories, erotica. Wow! For someone who has spent most of her life thinking that she's NOT creative, this is quite the list.

Today, I woke up with a headache, and it's never really gone away. So, my deep thoughts about how I might be creative today - DAY OFF - went south. I took a nap, instead. But, tonight after supper, I rediscovered my collection of mandala colouring books. I LOVE THEM. All sorts - a total of six. Celtic. Tibetan. Random. And, I decided to do a mandala study on the liturgical seasons. I was courting the spirit tonight, so I did one that was vaguely Pentecost in theme - though given the limits of the crayon box, it was red/pinkier than I think Pentecost strictly is. But, it was great, and it got my out of my headachy misery. At least for a wee while.

Well, technically, I'm not sure that a sermon is quite what I had in mind when I said that I would be creative for at least a half hour per day. However, that's what I've got tonight. And, since my original plan had been to preach Manuel's sermon for Lent 1, the fact that I spent four hours writing this instead seems worthy of note. So, here it is.

Lent 1, Year C - Ontonagon

In this morning’s reading from Luke’s gospel, Jesus is driven into the desert where he is tempted by the devil for 40 days.

How does the devil tempt Jesus? Certainly, he does so by dangling before him things that might be useful to a man who A) has been in the desert without food and water for 40 days and B) wants to bring about radical change in the world.

First, the devil suggests that Jesus turn stones into bread, then he offers him power over all the world, and finally he tells Jesus that if he throws himself off the height of the temple, God will protect him.

It’s what happens in that last temptation that I want to focus on this morning. When the devil tempts Jesus to throw himself off the top of the temple, he quotes scripture to bolster his argument. Hear that again: The devil quotes scripture to tempt Jesus.

Popular culture has fed us a host of images of the devil. The devil is nearly cartoon-like, sort of a red dude with horns and a pointy tail. He’s got a lear, a goatee, and an evil smile. The devil is the stuff of Halloween costumes.

It’s harder and much more frightening to realize that the devil might come amongst us as one of us. Maybe the devil comes to church every Sunday. Sits in our midst. Has the best intentions in the world. Or not. Either way, the devil may be harder to recognize than we think.

When the devil tempted Jesus, he used some verses from Psalm 91 to suggest that if Jesus were to throw himself from the top of the temple, God would protect him because he is the Son of God. However, a full reading of Psalm 91 shows that the devil is using this scripture passage in a VERY limited way. In Psalm 91, God assures those who find their strength in Him that God will offer protection. God promises to keep safe those who rely on God. There’s nothing in Psalm 91 that says that if you act recklessly, God will keep you safe. There’s nothing to suggest that in all circumstances God will keep you from harm. What gives you safety in Psalm 91 is loving God.

The devil accomplishes his tempting using a shady technique called proof-texting. He pulls a couple of verses of scripture totally out of context and then uses them to try to persuade.

It happens all the time in the church. We pull out a bit of scripture and hold it up above all others. We fail to check one line against another to see if we are getting the fullest meaning.

Or, we fail to pay attention to things like genre. Is the text quoted an allegory? Poetry? History? What setting was the text was written for? Is it addressing a particular issue? Does it have broad application?

In the history of The Church, people have used proof-texting to justify all sorts of bad behaviour - slavery, the ill treatment of women, discrimination against gay and lesbian people, and odd dietary choices, war in the Middle East, really the list goes on.

In terms of full disclosure, I have to confess to you that, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m feeling a bit fired up about scriptural interpretation this week. I’ve been affected by the primate’s meeting in Tanzania last week and recent events in our church and communion. I’m watching certain segments of the church level accusations, rework Anglican polity, or leave their dioceses all because of what I think of as bad scriptural interpretation. It's breaking my heart.

It’s nearly impossible for me to think of Archbishop Peter Akinola, or Bishop Robert Duncan, and not think that we’re back in the desert with Jesus and the devil is quoting scripture to tempt us. In this case, the devil is quoting scripture in our churches.

The men (and some women, as well) who would ask the Episcopal church to limit just who is fully welcome in the church, to limit who has access to holy orders, and to decide whose relationships can be blessed by the church are doing just what the devil did when he tempted Jesus. They are looking at small parts of scripture in isolation and then using them to tempt us to behave wrongly.

These devils pull a few verses out of Leviticus or from the letters of Paul. They hold these verses up to bolster their tempting. And because it is scripture and because they speak with authority, many many in the church listen to them.

What is required here, is that we be discerning listeners. We must weigh what we hear using a broad variety of tools. There’s the idea of the Anglican stool where we use four “legs” to examine things - Scripture, Tradition, History and Reason. Responsible scriptural interpretation requires us to look at the context of a particular passage. For example: Why was the book of Leviticus written? What situations were being addressed by its authors? Do we give equal weight to all parts of the book? How about the passage in Romans? Is there any connection between what Paul was addressing in that book and the situations we find today?

And finally, here’s the really bad news. We are as likely to be the devils as those who disagree with us. Honestly, I am as capable of wrongly interpreting as anyone else. All that we can do is try to be faithful.

The Trappist Monk, Thomas Merton, wrote a wonderful prayer that can help to guide us as we look carefully at questions of faith and interpretation. He said:

MY LORD GOD, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone. AMEN

When I first moved to the UP, it happened alot. I'd be on my way to do something. Some work, some where. And, I'd be knocked flat. Crying hard, in the car. Tears of amazement/joy/surprise. I was here, and I was doing this work. It was all so unexpected. And then, I settled in. I began to see the routine in what I was doing. And that's not a bad thing. In fact, it sort of sucks to drive and be crying hard. So, I was sort of knocked flat tonight, when presiding at the Eucharist, I felt myself getting choked up.

Presiding at Eucharist on Ash Wednesday
We were small, this gathered assembly:
Seven congregants,
A woman acolyte older than I,
(Still new) Priest in street clothes and purple stole.
I'd said the words about repentance and a holy Lent.
We'd begun an examination of things done and left undone that might separate us from the Holy One who loves us no matter what.

At table, I counted out wafers and poured wine.
As I prayed those words which have been said
throughout the ages,
Tears came, voice caught
At the wonder of Christ, present among us in bread and wine and one another.

I created this LJ as a way to jumpstart some creative writing. Erotica. Poetry. Fiction. Perhaps even some commentary. I intend it to be a place where I can write from my heart and soul.