Southwest Conference Blog

Oh The Humanity

I met Auntie Rose when I was four or five. She had to be 184 years old, give or take 100 years. Old was ancient to me, like the pyramids, dinosaurs, and God. Auntie Rose lived next door to my mom and my mom’s three kids of which I was firmly in the center. My older brother and my baby brother were my orbit. My dad was a satellite across town while my mom was the moon, sleeping during the day and shining somewhere far from me at night. It wasn’t a world with cohesion, just one with intense gravity.

We lived in apartments with too many kids and too few awake adults so anyone who took an interest in me became family. That was how a stranger named Rose became Auntie Rose and her husband (by association, not at all earned) became Uncle John. And I loved her. She was sweet to me and had a soft lap. She made me eggs some mornings when my mom wasn’t all that aware of my grumbling tummy. She asked me about things like hopscotch and fights with my brothers and my wishes to be the President and a country music singer, dual careers that felt realistic and achievable.

There was another ancient woman on the premises that everyone called Granny. Now Granny really was the oldest person alive, of that I am certain. I don’t have the Guinness Book of Records to prove it, but my memory filed her away as the oldest person ever and I still hold every centenarian up against her. Granny played solitaire, smoked cigarettes, watched daytime television, prayed the rosary, and made cookies. Auntie Rose visited with her several times a week for many years and I would trail over after her. Granny had one of those little plaques with wooden blocks that spelled out JESUS if your eyes adjusted to it in just the right way. I thought that was brilliant. I would let my eyes go in and out of focus while tracing the lines, amazed that blank space could become something else if you saw it the right way. Auntie Rose’s words and Granny’s cigarette smoke would waft around me as they talked about nothing that actually interested me, but held me just the same. I thought Auntie Rose and Granny were actually related. My mom let me know years later that they were not. I guess I was making chosen family for as long as I had the ability.

Auntie Rose wasn’t my neighbor for long, but while she was, she likely heard a lot through the thin wall that separated her home from mine. My mom’s boyfriend, my future step-father, wasn’t a kind man and expressed that loudly in all sorts of ways. She didn’t like him which made me like her more. She also didn’t like her own husband much. I could tell that right away. I could give or take him. He was silent and sullen. She did something that no ancient person ever did in the 1980s: she divorced him. And then she moved away.

Auntie Rose kept coming back to visit Granny, though, so I didn’t lose her. It was one of those visits when something shifted that never shifted back. It was a moment I remember so vividly and so clearly you would think something traumatic happened. It wasn’t traumatic, though. I had been in the living room, talking to Granny. Granny asked me to go give Auntie Rose a vase as she was in the back room doing some kind of rearranging of a closet for Granny. I walked down the hall to the bedroom and there was no Auntie Rose. Then I heard her call from the darkened bathroom that had the door wide open. “Need something?” I walked toward her and then froze when I heard the unmistakable sound of urine hitting the water of a toilet.

She was talking to me. While peeing. And can you even? I could not. I froze and felt my stomach hurt. I said, “Uh, no. Nothing.” I set the vase on the bed and hightailed it out of the apartment, confused and disoriented by the whole experience.

There is such a fragility in early childhood, a constant reckoning with the stimulus all around. A sense of awe or mortification seem equally in reach at any given moment. I had been awed so much by Auntie Rose’s unfailing kindness and love that mortification had an easy entry. She had seemed above need, above doing anything so base as having to use the bathroom. I never forgave her for being so very human when I had cast her as Love.

That memory was created when I was eight-years old and I must think of it at least once a month with a very specific trigger: embarrassment on behalf of another’s humanity. I feel the burn of embarrassment the most intensely when it’s my own humanity revealed at the most inopportune time.

There’s a great scene from a mediocre show that also occurs to me frequently alongside this memory. The show was Nurse Jackie and the scene depicts a conversation between one of my favorite fictional TV characters Gloria Akalitus and a second character named Dr. O’Hara. Gloria Akalitus is the head of an overtaxed ER. She is every medical administrator I have ever met with a wonderful, lovable, terrifying personality. Dr. O’Hara comes upon Gloria eating and says, “I don’t think I have ever seen you eat before.” Gloria’s response is, “I like to hide my humanity. Or at least keep it to a minimum.”

Why is admitting we are human the hardest thing we do all day? Feels like it has something to do with the red rover game between capability and vulnerability that plays throughout the entirety of our living.

So what didn’t match up for the eight-year old me that day? Was it that she was in the bathroom with the light off? Was it that the door was open? Was it that it was unexpected? Or was it just too human?

It was being confronted with base need where strength and comfort had been the only resident prior. It made everything feel a bit more fragile in a world that already wasn’t sturdy. I am thankful for that moment now. I know it’s a weird thing to be thankful for – someone using the bathroom with the door open. I am, though, because it serves me. It pops up when I want to run like my young self did. It presents itself when another’s humanity feels far too real or when my own feels far too ugly. I pause now instead of run. I remind myself that we are all just humans working out our needs the best we can. I remind myself of my own capability and of yours. And, most of the time, I stay.

I imagine if I hadn’t run that day then Auntie Rose would have likely finished her business, washed her hands, and come out of the bathroom to take the vase from me. She likely would have had a kind word for me as she often peppered mundane moments with affirmation. I would have likely returned to Granny while she played her millionth game of solitaire and smoked her millionth-and-one cigarette. My stomach would have settled and cookies would have been consumed. Life would have simply continued.

I don’t know what it is about being human that sometimes makes the stomach hurt and causes us to flee, but I do know that most of us have moments that feel too naked and real. May we not change them or run from them. May we wait them out and see what happens. May we accept our need as fully human. May we close the door when we go potty.

“Red rover, red rover, send acceptance right over.”

Prolonged Complex Compassion Fatigue: An Outcome of Caring Deeply

by Kay F. Klinkenborg, MA, Spiritual Companion, Retired RN, LMFT, Clinical Member AAMFT

I have a new phrase, “Prolonged Complex Compassion Fatigue”¹ to describe our accumulated experiences as we enter the third year of a world pandemic. No one debates that it is/ has been a time of extraordinary stress from the COVID pandemic with persistent residual feelings of worn out, more tired consistently, restless and discouraged. The words, COVID/ Pandemic Fatigue has shown up in various media forms in an attempt to describe our collective prolonged response. COVID has challenged every social structure in our world. And it has impacted every person in the world.

The deaths from COVID are staggering and the tsunami leaves a wake of aching hearts with complicated grief, discouragement, fear of the future and much more. What medical health care workers, first responders and hospital/nursing home staff have experienced is beyond the scope of this article…they are traumatized with resulting PTSD…way beyond compassion fatigue.

What we are experiencing is individualized, but also collective. I chose to call this experience ‘complex’ because it has multiple layers of impact. COVID-19 has exacerbated already-existing global issues of climate change, political unrest, and systemic injustice. There is an added existential worry/anxiety. A predictable outcome from caring and loving in a time of crisis. We have done nothing wrong. Caring and loving is how we are designed by the Creator. But the prolonged intensity, unpredictability, isolation, constant adaptation and worrying about your own and other’s safety has a wearing impact. It is because we have and do care that we are experiencing this phenomena. No one is exempt.

Registered nurse Carla Joinson (1992) coined ‘compassion fatigue’ to describe a unique form of burnout that affected caregivers and resulted in a “loss of the ability to nurture.”² This form of burnout was related to a variety of stressors, including long hours, heavy workload without any signs of potential time to rest and restore.

Dr. Charles Figley, PhD was the first professor (University of Florida) to lecture on trauma and mentioned the phrase ‘compassion fatigue’ as similar to ‘secondary traumatic stress syndrome (STS)’; resulting from over extended exposure to traumatic stresses of time in caring. He also noted that it was similar to PTSD, but that it came through a secondary source…the patient.²

From 1995 to 2005 I conducted workshops for all levels of professionals in the caring fields on the topic “Compassion Fatigue”. It also occurs in a time of disaster in dealing with multiple traumatized people in extenuating circumstances over a period of time…just like the last two years. Until now, the term has been limited to nurses, doctors, therapists, clergy: all professionals in care giving careers and care-givers of ill family members or friends.

What are signs/symptoms of compassion fatigue?

Feeling exhausted physically and psychologically.
Feeling helpless, hopeless or powerless.
Feeling irritable, angry, sad or numb.
A sense of being detached or having decreased pleasure in activities.³
Disrupted sleep, anxiety, headaches, stomach upset, irritability
Decreased sense of purpose
Self-contempt
Difficulties with personal relationships⁴

I find we are experiencing an extraordinary unprecedented more complex form of compassion fatigue. It is expanded because of the prolonged, unpredictable and unknown outcome of the pandemic and added existential worries. The professional literature I have reviewed, local and national news stories and feature articles in newspapers and magazines are all reporting about this intense time of stress. I add the following complex responses:

Existential Worries

Complicated grief because of isolation when loved ones are critical or dying
Job security
Up ended routine life schedules, always adapting, no ‘norm’ to reset which is unnerving
Unpredictable health care availability, unprecedented medical care staff shortages
US divisive politics (Note: this is experienced by Red and Blue constituents)
World conflicts, potential new wars
Starvation, droughts
Loss of homes
Natural disasters on the rise: fires, floods, tornadoes, tsunamis, etc.
Violence and hate crimes on the rise around the world
Climate change.
This is not the end of the existential worry list.¹

More intense responses to prolonged complex compassion fatigue

Malaise: a mind/spirit/ brain fatigue. I can’t think my way through this.
Finding ourselves alarmed that concentration capacity has decreased
Unconsciously consumed with keeping up with news/ media; needing the most current statistics/stories; obsessed with Internet or Facebook
Free-floating anxiety; especially when outside one’s home or in groups/shopping for necessities; keeping self and loved ones safe
Depressed, feeling blue but unable to connect it to a specific reason
Spiritual questioning: “where is God in this?”; or even wondering if God exists or is present.
“The issues are so big, I have no idea where to start, self-care is slacking, demotivated, can’t push myself to do what I know to do.”
“I am one person, no way can I impact these big social issues.”¹

Exhausted! Bone tired! Deep chronic fatigue that a week off doesn’t resolve. And in our retirement community I often hear: “this is not how I intended to spend the last good physical capable years of my life.” This isn’t the only age group to lose some dreams. We have all lost some dreams.

In a recent article: “Mental Health Therapists Worried About America”⁵, the research of 1, 320 therapists across the US, found that anxiety and depression are significantly on the rise and the most frequent reason to seek help. The rise in needs for counselors was even across Red and Blue states.⁵

Rise in relationship issues: couples have too much together time…no space to breath and do self-care; financial stresses are increasing couple difficulties; substance use/abuse on rise; arguing more; children at home doing school. Political disagreements increasing major stress for immediate and extended family members. One in four providers said suicidal thoughts were among the top reasons for clients reaching out for help.⁵

Every major news outlet and newspapers have published articles of concern about the mental well-being of our children and youth. How has this impacted their learning, their social skills or view of the world?

Suicide rates are on the rise of young people from age 11-22 years of age.⁵ One 10 year old boy told his therapist he was having “sad panic mode” in describing being overwhelmed.⁵

Just reading this article is likely triggering one or more of the above stress responses. So what is one to do to cope with Prolonged Complex Compassion Fatigue?

Back to the basics is a trite statement. Digging deeper for coping skills, exploring new coping strategies are options. But what does that mean?

I want to begin with one primary focus: developing a resilient focused mind set. How do begin to take care of ourselves with intention and practice to diminish the impact that will continue to come our way? For as all reports indict: “this isn’t over yet.”

RESILIENT FOCUSED MIND SET

Resilience is the capacity to recover from difficulties; toughness. The ability of a substance or object to spring back into shape; elasticity.⁸ Psychologists have found these skills can be learned.⁷

YOU CAN DO THIS ONE HARD THING!

For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor (bathos) the deep, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8: 38-39 NRSV.

I do not intend to be glib, but…you have used a lot of unidentified positive skills these first two years of pandemic and existential worries. Make a list of ‘how did you do this?’ You did make good choices. Learned to do different from some choices, but you kept moving forward. Creation is a continual evolution…we are continuing to evolve as people. If we did the last two years, we can do the years ahead of us too. Yes, its hard but there have never been any promises that life would be easy.

YOU ARE NOT ALONE IN THIS!

The Bible has 365 separate quotes of: “fear not for I am with you.” If it is that frequent, obviously history notes leaning on God (Divine) has proven to be of comfort and to own we are not alone. In addition, three characteristics that remind us of our competency. “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” 2 Timothy 1:7.

The Quran shares similar beliefs: “My mercy encompasses all things.

 [Quran] 7:156. “So verily, with this hardship, there is relief. [Quran 94:5]

YOU COME LEARNING HOW TO DO THIS!

Resilience requires this steadiness of mind and willingness to ‘be with’ suffering rather than turning away from it.⁹ As Poet Robert Frost said, “The best way out is always through.”⁹ We aren’t supposed to have all the answers about how to adapt to crises. This didn’t come with a manual. Paul, the Apostle wrote: “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” Philippians 4:13 NRSV.

Extend grace to yourself! Only then can you extend grace to others. You don’t have to know the future. You don’t have to have all the answers. Come with an open mind and heart to find a more peaceful way to be.

REASONABLE EXPECTATIONS

“Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.”⁶ Letting go of our expectations..’what should be’ compared to ‘what is’, wastes a lot of mental energy. Obsessing about facts we can’t change is sitting in ‘what should be’. ‘What is’ gives you choices about how to spend your time; what to read, etc. This is healthy movement and not being frozen or immobilized.

Dr. Michael Yapko cautions about ‘global thinking’: generalizing one thing to all things.⁷ An example: one rapid test clinic for COVID wasn’t using certified testing equipment; thus all clinics aren’t using certified testing equipment. Dangerous thinking pattern when you pause to contemplate this type of generalization. People who do a lot of ‘global thinking’ have a high predictability of depression according to Yapko.

We live in an uncertain unpredictable time. Learning to ‘go with the flow’ and trust that we can respond with wise choices can be a powerful confidence builder.

WHAT AM I TO LEARN FROM THIS?

Back to Havel’s quote: “Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.”⁶ You can’t learn from the present, if you are locked into focus on the past.⁷ Whether it is locked in your childhood pain, or betrayal as an adult, it is a waste of your spiritual and mental energy to ruminate on the past. In this moment, this time this space: What are you to learn?

Who are you going to chose to be…not who was I? Step into the future.

The old gospel hymn: “We’ve Come This Far By Faith Leaning on the Lord,” was a childhood favorite of mine. It pulled me forward when I was frightened; it pulled me through intense therapy to heal deep wounds; and it is pulling me forward to be engaged, productive and repeating my personal mantra: “What return can I make?”

A resilient mind set is my responsibility; that is my choice. Each of us can practice and hone this skill set. Yes, we will ebb and flow in our moods and response to these continued stressors. I pray by the grace of God I will continue to learn from this scary unpredictable time in which I live. This is resilience!

¹Klinkenborg, K.F. (Jan 24, 2022) W.I.S.E. Steering Committee Retreat for Church of the Palms, Sun City, AZ. (first use of term and defined).

² Compassion fatigue: toward a new understanding of the costs of caring. In Stamm BH

(Ed.): Secondary Traumatic Stress: Self-Care Issues for Clinicians, Researchers, and

Educators. Lutherville, MD: Sidran Press; 1995.

https://www.dvm360.com/view/compassion-fatigue-and-burnout-history-definitions-and-assessment

³https://www.stress.org/military/for-practitionersleaders/compassion-fatigue

⁴ https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/basics/compassion-fatigue

⁵New York Times, Dec 17, 2022. “Mental Health Therapists Worried About America.”

⁶Havel, Vaclav: playwright, essayist, poet, former dissident and 1st President of the Czech Republic (1936-2011).

⁷Yapko, Michael. May 14, 2018. “Keys to Unlock Depression: Why Skills Work Better than Pills.” Speech for Australian Psychology Society. ⁸Oxford Dictionary

⁹Search Inside Yourself Research Institute: https://siyli.org/compassion-resilience/

Why I need church (It’s not just the paycheck!)

by Rev. Deb Worley

For fifteen months–from March 2020 to June 2021, when the entire world was effectively shut down by the novel and mysterious and deadly Covid-19 virus–we worshiped online.

We wondered when we would be able to worship in person again. We wondered if we would be able to worship in person again. We wondered, if we were able to worship in person again, would we??

Would people come back? Or would people have realized there were other things to do on a Sunday morning? Better things? Easier things? More relaxing things? More entertaining things? More meaningful things? More relevant things??

When we began to worship in person again, on June 6, 2021, I felt strongly that worship had to be relevant. It had to connect with our Monday-Saturday lives; it had to speak into our daily living; it had to say something about real life.

And so for that Sunday, and for each Sunday since then, I have composed what I have come to call my “opening monologue.”

It’s not funny at all. I keep thinking perhaps we would draw bigger crowds if it were. If only I could somehow channel Jimmy Fallon, or Tina Fey, or Trevor Noah. Or even better, David Letterman! But alas, I am no stand-up comic.

I am, however, a person of deep faith. And I am convinced that the Gospel has the power to transform lives, and that those transformed lives have the power to change the world. Still. Now. Today.

I believe, deep in my soul, that the message of Christ is relevant, that an orientation toward faith makes life more meaningful, and that being part of a community of Spirit-seeking folks offers belonging and strength like nothing else does.

And still…each week I ask myself: why do I go to church? Why do I keep showing up? Why do I keep hoping others will show up? Do I really need church?…

Each week, as I prepare worship, I ask myself that question. And each week, I come down on the side of YES.

Here’s one example:

My “Opening Monologue” (January 23, 2022)

There’s a group of us who are participating in the weekly study group that has begun to read the Bible chronologically. It’s still just January, so we’re not very far along yet—we’ve just moved out of Genesis, as a matter of fact!

But wowee wow wow, are those people nasty! There is so much lying! And deceit! And manipulation! And conniving! And violence! And scheming! And sibling rivalry–my boys have got nothing on the 10 older brothers of Joseph!

It’s almost like, well, almost like the kinds of behavior going on in the world today! Lying…deceit…manipulation…conniving…violence…scheming…

I’ve been reminded that, sadly, these kinds of behaviors are not new.

They seem to be as old as the human race. Which is a little discouraging…

And…I’ve also been reminded that in spite of that, God has remained faithful! Amazing. Amazing!

We humans continue to lie and deceive and manipulate one another, and threaten and compete and inflict violence upon one another… And God continues to be faithful.

God continues to call us back to God. God continues to invite us into a different way of being. God continues to work in us and through us and–too often–in spite of us, to bring about that different way of being, a reality grounded in healing and wholeness and freedom! AND, most amazing of all: God continues to LOVE US!

Here is this place, I hope we can be reminded of the reality of God, in the midst of the reality of our not-so-pretty humanity.

Here in this place, I hope we can be reminded of the invitation God continues to extend to us, to participate in and work for God’s reality…

Here in this place, I hope we can be reminded of God’s faithfulness across generations, in spite of our coming and going in faith, our sometimes-hot and sometimes-cold and often-times-lukewarm faith…

Here in this place, I hope we can be reminded of God’s unwavering presence with us and all of humanity, even though we waver in our commitment and in our courage…

Here in this place, I hope we can be reminded of the goodness of God,

even with full awareness of how we humans have lied and cheated and manipulated and schemed our way through history…

It’s good to be reminded of the reality of God, and the faithfulness of God, and the goodness of God…”

That’s one reason why I need church.

Why do you?

Deb Worley

To every thing there is a…

by Rev. Deb Worley

“To every thing there is a season, 
and a time to every purpose under the heaven…”
 
(Ecclesiastes 3:1; King James Version)


Familiar words to many 
(thanks in no small part to the Byrds! 
For the full Biblical version, click here)
and words that seemed fitting 
for this time of bidding farewell to 2021 
and bidding welcome to 2022.


As we reflect on the year that has come to a close, 
and prepare to step into yet another “new” one,
perhaps it might be helpful to remember:
 
“To every thing there is a season, 
and a time to every purpose under the heaven…” 


As we reflect on the year that has come to a close, 
and remember the ups and the downs,
the pleasant and the unpleasant,
the good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly,
and everything in-between,
let us not feel drawn to claim only
the pleasant, the good, and the beautiful
(and hope for more of all of that 
in the coming year), 
and judge or feel shame
or want to hide or deny 
what feels unpleasant, bad, and ugly, 
(and long for less of all of that 
in the year that’s just begun).
Rather, let us remember:

“To every thing there is a season, 
and a time to every purpose under the heaven…”


As we reflect on the year that has come to a close, 
and prepare to step into yet another “new” one,
may we acknowledge 
and hold with tenderness 
the times of grief and sadness,
as we also give thanks 
for those of joy…

“To every thing there is a season, 
and a time to every purpose under the heaven…”


May we acknowledge 
and hold with kindness
the reality of our exhaustion,
as we also give thanks 

for momentary surges of energy…

“To every thing there is a season, 
and a time to every purpose under the heaven…”


May we acknowledge 
and hold with gentleness
the expressions of heartache, 
often veiled in outbursts of anger,
as we also give thanks 
for manifestations of compassion, 
expressed in all kinds of generosity…

“To every thing there is a season, 
and a time to every purpose under the heaven…”


May we acknowledge 
and hold with grace
the moments of doubt and fear,
as well as those of abiding love…

“To every thing there is a season, 
and a time to every purpose under the heaven…”


As we reflect on the year that is coming to a close, 
may we hold space for it all, 
with tenderness and kindness, 
with gentleness and grace--
for ourselves, 
for our loved ones,
for our neighbors 
and even our enemies;
may we hold space for it all, 
with vulnerability
and with courage,
 recognizing that, indeed

“To every thing there is a season, 
and a time to every purpose under the heaven…”


As we reflect on the year that is coming to a close, 
may we recognize those seasons
that have nourished us, 
and those that have depleted us;
may we acknowledge those seasons 
that have led us to shake our fist at God 
and rage against the universe,
and weep and wail and withdraw,
as well as those 
in which we have found ourselves
 rejoicing and giving thanks
at the beauty and wonder of it all…

“To every thing there is a season, 
and a time to every purpose under the heaven…”


As we reflect on the year that has come to a close, 
and prepare to step into yet another “new” one,
perhaps it might be helpful to remember: 

“To every thing there is a season, 
and a time to every purpose under the heaven…” 

and as people of faith we claim and proclaim that,
in every season and in every time,
God, the Maker of Heaven and Earth, 
God, Creator of all that is,
God, who took on flesh and walked among us as Jesus of Nazareth, 
God, who dwells in all persons as the Holy Spirit,
God, Emmanuel, is with us!


Thanks be to God!
And Happy New Year!
Deb

Checklist

by Rev. Deb Worley

“I Will Light Candles This Christmas”
By Howard Thurman

I will light candles this Christmas;
Candles of joy despite all sadness,
Candles of hope where despair keeps watch,
Candles of courage for fears ever present,
Candles of peace for tempest-tossed days,
Candles of grace to ease heavy burdens,
Candles of love to inspire all my living,
Candles that will burn all the year long.

At this time of year, we talk of Santa’s checklist:
Naughty or nice?

But this poem generates a different checklist in my mind, a 2020 [and 2021!] checklist:

Sadness? Check.
Despair? Check.
Fears ever present? Check.
Tempest-tossed days and heavy burdens?
Check and, sadly, check.

What a [couple of] years this has been….A year of struggle, a year of chaos, a year of darkness.

In the midst of all of this darkness, the world needs light more than ever. The world needs your light, and my light; the world needs our light. When my light is flickering, perhaps yours can make mine stronger [as it most certainly has!]; when your light grows weak, maybe the light of another can give yours new life. Our world needs light that is shared, so that the light might be multiplied…

Our world needs us to light Thurman’s candles this Christmas, so that we might step into this season and beyond with yet another checklist:

Joy? Check!
Hope? Check!
Courage? Check!
Peace and grace and love?
Check, check, and yes, check!

In this season of darkness, we need light. We need the Light that shines in the darkness and was not overcome. We need the Light of Christ. O Come, O Come, Emmanuel!

Peace be with us all in this holy season.

Deb

12 Days of Christmas

by Rev. Victoria Ubben

The song, “The Twelve Days of Christmas” was published in England in 1780 without music (as a fun rhyme or chant) but is probably French in origin. While there are many versions of this song and many stories as to what (if any) meaning there might be to the gifts, the following is the story that my mother taught me. Many scholars of music history today are uncertain of any possible religious meaning to this song. Thus, I cannot back this up with proof from the internet or other sources. This is the story that I was taught and that I have found to be helpful to me. May this be helpful to you and your family as you journey through the Twelve Days of Christmas!

My late mother taught this easy-to-remember and fun-to-sing carol to my brother and me AND she taught us the symbolic meaning behind each “gift” given from one’s “true love.” She always told us that this carol was written as a catechism song for young Catholics. Each element in the carol is a “code” for a religious reality which children can remember. Now as adults, we still remember the symbolism that our mother taught us even to this day.

This is what my brother and I were taught:

The true love one hears in the song is not a smitten boyfriend or girlfriend but Jesus Christ, because truly Love was born on Christmas Day.
The partridge in the pear tree represents Jesus because that bird is willing to sacrifice its life to protect its young by feigning injury to draw away predators. The tree represents the wooden cross on which Jesus died.
Two turtle doves are the Old and New Testaments.
Three French hens are faith, hope, and love (1 Corinthians 13). Other traditions indicate that the three French hens represent the three kings who brought gifts (Matthew 2).
Four calling birds are the four gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.
Five golden rings represent the first five books of the Old Testament, called the Pentateuch. (“Penta” means “Five.”)
Six geese a-laying stand for the six days of creation (Genesis 1-2).
Seven swans a-swimming represent the sevenfold gifts of the Holy Spirit: Prophesy, Serving, Teaching, Exhortation, Contribution, Leadership, and Mercy. Another source indicates the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit are wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and fear of the Lord. They are the gifts which were to characterize the Messiah (Isaiah 11).
Eight maids a-milking are the eight beatitudes (Matthew 5).
Nine ladies dancing are the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit: Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness, and Self-Control (Galatians 5).
Ten lords a-leaping are the Ten Commandments (Exodus 20 & Deuteronomy 5).
Eleven pipers piping stand for the eleven faithful Apostles.
Twelve drummers drumming symbolize the twelve points of belief in The Apostles’ Creed.

For hundreds of years the Christmas observance didn’t begin until Christmas Eve and didn’t end until Epiphany. So, why stop the gift-giving and the carol-singing on Christmas Day? Join my family and many others as we continue to sing joyous carols (like this one), light candles, and exchange gifts – while remembering and reciting the basics of our Christian faith and passing it all along to our children and grandchildren – for twelve more days!

Bits of this information is from:

Ann Ball, Handbook of Catholic Sacramentals.
Fr. Calvin Goodwin, FSSP, Catholic Tradition.

BUT…

Most of this came from my mother who was committed to passing her faith on to my brother and me. For that, I am so grateful.

The Contents of a Heart

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

He is red-hot angry. “When Mama dies, I’m going after him with everything I have. I’m going to make him pay.”

“You’re seventy years old.” I tell him this because I like him and because I adore his mother, my patient.

Her son, this man, furious because he believes his brother has stolen from the family, has told me how splendid his life is, how he’s been married for forty-nine years to a woman he loves completely, how he has a successful business, a wonderful family, how they’ve traveled the world enjoying great adventures. “So,” he snaps, “what does my age have to do with anything?”

“Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned working as a hospice chaplain it’s that life is short. Do you really want to spend your time consumed by this anger? Do you really want your life to be about that?”

In his book, The Exquisite Risk, Mark Nepo writes about an Egyptian myth that explains an end of life ritual. The Trial of Heart is a ceremony in which the heart of every deceased person is weighed on a scale, balanced against one ostrich feather, the symbol of truth. If the heart is lighter than the feather, it is believed that the person did not recognize and honor truth, that it demonstrated a life not fully experienced. If the heart weighs more than the feather then it has carried too much. It has held onto the painful truths, giving them too much weight. The ceremony reveals the contents of one’s heart and unless the heart is balanced, the soul is unable to enter into eternal peace.

We cannot dictate all of the circumstances of our lives. We cannot control all of the things that enter and exit. People we love harm and help us and sometimes we are left flattened by the choices they make that deeply affect us. We cannot orchestrate all of this. We can, however, choose what we hold and what we let go. And we make those choices every day of our lives, from ages seven to seventy and beyond.

I’m not sure I believe there is a court of the dead waiting to measure the contents of our hearts; but I do believe that no heart can fully experience peace unless there is true balance, unless there is equality in what is gained and in what is surrendered. I do believe that if a person picks up and hangs onto anger, the heart has no room for love.

I have no idea what this troubled brother will choose, where he will ultimately land. I can only hope that when the day of death comes for him, as it will come for us all, that his last breath is taken with ease because he knows his heart is at peace, because he has chosen forgiveness, because he has surrendered to love. And I hope when we face our own days of death, it may be so for us all.

You are the light of the world!

Installation Sermon for Rev. Susan Valiquette

by Rev. Sue Joiner, Senior Minister, First Congregational United Church of Christ, Albuquerque, New Mexico

Installation Sermon for Susan Valiquette

November 7, 2021

John 12:1-8 and John 11:44

12 Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. ²There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. ³Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. ⁴But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, ⁵“Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” ⁶(He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) ⁷Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. ⁸You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”

We live our lives based on the stories we have been told and even more, the stories we tell ourselves over and over. I heard a story in college that continues to profoundly shape my theology. Wes Seeliger tells this story from his own childhood. It may or may not be a coincidence that the one who changes everything in this story is named Susan. Wes said,

“Grandmother’s living room was large and dark.  She kept the shades down so her furniture wouldn’t fade.  One day in 1943, when I was five years old, I sat in the middle of her living room floor playing with my toy cars.  I had at least a hundred; fire trucks, buses, tractors, everything – even a hearse.

‘For me, playing with cars was serious business and there was definitely a “right” way to do it.  The idea was to form a large circle of cars on the living room floor.  And the cars had to be evenly spaced.  Precision was of the essence. I placed my toy box in the middle of the floor.  Then, I took each car out of the box and began forming my circle.  I was very careful.  No two fire trucks could be together.  No two cars the same color could be together.  It was a tedious process, but I was a determined kid.

When the circle was complete, I sat in the middle and admired my cars and my handiwork.  And since my grandmother never used the living room, my circle remained intact for days.  I returned time and time again to look at my cars and to make minor aesthetic adjustments.

One morning I was sitting in the middle of my circle.  Peace and contentment bathed my five-year-old soul as I surveyed my almost perfect toy kingdom with everything in its proper order.

Then came Susan.  Susan was my 3-year-old cousin, and she was a live wire.  Susan took one look at my precious circle of toys and charged.  My precious, tranquil circle was destroyed in an instant.  She kicked and threw my cars all over the room.  She was laughing and squealing – I was crying and screaming.  Grandmother dashed in to see who was being murdered. Grandmother told me later than I cried for two hours, and she had to rock me to sleep that night.  How can you sleep when your world has been destroyed?

The next morning, I went into the living room to survey the damage.  I was about to begin the painful process of rebuilding when Grandmother told me that Susan was coming over, so I gave up in despair.  So, when my rambunctious little cousin arrived there was nothing to destroy.

I met Susan at the door to try and avoid additional damage. Susan suggested that we take the cars outside.  What an idea!  I hadn’t thought of that.  But what if they get dirty?  What if one gets lost or broken?  It wasn’t my idea of playing cars, but I gave in.  I decided to risk taking my cars outside.  No use trying to build a circle with Susan around. We played outside all day.  We put real dirt in the dump truck.  We made ramps, forts, and tunnels.  I even let Susan talk me into crashing the cars together.  I had no idea playing cars could be so much fun.’

A lot of water has gone under the bridge since that day in 1943.  I have listened to hundreds of sermons and Sunday school lessons.  I have read stacks of theology books.  And a seminary degree hangs on my wall.

But I think Susan taught me all I really need to know about theology – SIN (unfaith) is sitting in the middle of our homemade universe; FAITH – is the courage and freedom to leave the dark, musty, familiar, living room and take what we love most into the great outdoors.”

Susan, you know the literal truth of this story already. You find energy outside, and you make sure you get out as much as you can. It keeps you grounded, and I experience that when I hear you pray because I feel your connection to God. Is there something you love that you are called to carry into the great outdoors?

Let’s be honest. The world is not always open to Susans. Susans come along and question how things have been done. Susans may suggest an extravagant alternative and that can be a threat. At the same time, it can be so beautiful. It is 2021 and the world still isn’t sure what to do with women in leadership. What a gift that First Church has been open and welcoming and loving with you. It is important for all of us to embrace your unique ministry here.

No one knew what to do with Mary. She sat with Jesus instead of working in the kitchen. Here she takes very expensive perfume and pours it on Jesus’ feet. Note she doesn’t just use a drop or two, she empties the jar and then wipes his feet with her hair. Could she be any more embarrassing? Where is her sense of dignity? But Jesus saw her. He saw the ways she ministered from the depth of her being. She wasn’t trying to be someone else. She wasn’t trying to fit in to a mold that didn’t fit. In fact, she is used to criticism. She doesn’t let that stop her from ministering in the way that is authentically her.

My concern about the stories we tell ourselves is that those stories may be the ones that keep us from being who we are at any given time. Susan, God called you to ministry. Today you are installed at First Church, and you all say a wholehearted yes to each other. My hope is that this covenant you make with one another will allow you to be who are as you serve this congregation. By doing so, you may all be surprised by the joy you find when you take what you love most into the great outdoors.

I didn’t read the story from John that comes before Mary’s ministry to Jesus, but it is important. Mary and Martha’s brother has died. He has been in the tomb for four days and he smells. Jesus calls Lazarus out of the tomb and then he turns to the people gathered and gives them a simple instruction: “unbind him and let him go.” My friends, that is what we are here to do. My understanding is that you know this, First Church. You have a history of it. My prayer for you as a church is that these will be your guiding words in the days to come. Jesus did not turn to the ordained minister. He did not turn to the lay leader. He turned to the entire gathered community and called them to be the ones who would unbind Lazarus. It is what we do for each other. It is what we do for those who dare to walk through our doors or log on to see if they could possibly be welcome here because they have been told there is no place for them in God’s church. It is what we do for those who have sacrificed everything to step into this country, hoping to find freedom. It is what we do for those in recovery, for those who are housing insecure, for those who are struggling with mental health challenges.

If we are going to unbind them and let them go, it will take all of us. This is not a job for a few volunteers or committee chairs. It will require the whole community to listen to one another and care for one another. It will mean decisions that are difficult. It will mean loss and sacrifice. It will take us into places that are scary and unknown and sometimes places where it seems there is only death. It is into those very places that Jesus calls us to make room for life.

We are trying to be the church in difficult times. The pandemic has taken over five million lives. There have been more than 37,000 deaths to gun violence in the United States this year alone. Suicide is among the leading causes of death in our country. Our planet is dying before our own eyes. As we have made decisions over the last twenty months, we are not just talking about what we should do, we are asking “who could die if we do this?” Death is not hypothetical.

We worship a God who teaches us again and again that death is not the last word. People are dying around us. God is not shielding us from death, but rather calling us to be the ones who will “practice resurrection” to use Wendell Berry’s words.

God is at work in the world right now. God is breathing life into those places where this is no hope, where there is nothing but death. God is showing us a new way. As Kate Bowler says, “God can make things new with or without us. But God chooses to use us.” Be warned, we are going to be asked to get involved. God will remove the stones from places we believed were only death. Then we are called to step in and begin the process of unbinding.

Wes Seeliger didn’t experience deep joy until he risked losing his precious cars. Susan taught him that life is to be lived out in the world and that means things will get dirty and broken along the way. But she showed him to live fully.

Before he became a full-time poet, David Whyte tells about being stressed and feeling like he was in a dead-end. He met with Brother David Stendl-Rast and said, “Speak to me of exhaustion.”  [David Stendl-Rast] put his glass down for a moment and realized that David Whyte was absolutely exhausted.  David Stendl-Rast said, “You know, David, the antidote to exhaustion is not necessarily rest.”  And David Whyte repeated, “The antidote to exhaustion is not necessarily rest.  What is the antidote to exhaustion?”  He said, “The antidote to exhaustion is wholeheartedness.  This is the point where you have to take a full step into your métier (meh·tee·ay), into your future vocation, and wholeheartedly risk yourself in that world.” (https://gratefulness.org/dw-session-1-transcript/).

In 2017, we took Kadhim Albumohammed into Sanctuary at First Congregational, Albuquerque. We did this with the support of the Southwest Conference, Bill Lyons, Ken Heintzelman, and Brendan Mahoney who flew to Albuquerque to talk with us about the legal implications of this decision. Kadhim was from Iraq. He worked for the U.S. military to teach them language and culture with the promise that they would take care of him. Instead, he received a letter to report for deportation. To be deported was guaranteed torture and death. He had betrayed his country and he would pay for it if he was sent home. In November that year, the Native American youth from the Rehoboth School in Gallup came to sing for worship. Afterward, they asked to hear Kadhim’s story. He spoke with them and then they asked him to stand in the middle of the sanctuary. They formed a circle around him and sang the words, “We are not alone.” When I hear these words, I am reminded that in the most difficult situations, God is with us.

Susan, First Church friends, today you commit to ministry together and my prayer for all of you is to do so wholeheartedly, to ground yourself in a God who calls us to life and to know this work must be done together. God is with you. May you discover the fullness of God’s love as you practice resurrection in the days to come.

Wilderness

by Rev. Deb Worley

“Behold, I am doing a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
and rivers in the desert.”

(Isaiah 43:19, ESV)

“Wilderness,” as we all know, can mean different things to different people. Heck, it can even mean different things to the same person, at different times in their life. Wilderness is not a one-size-fits-all endeavor.

Sometimes wilderness might look like unexpected suffering, or soul-wrenching depression, or uncontrollable chaos. Or mental illness. Or cancer. Or a global pandemic. Sometimes wilderness might be found in the midst of profound grief, or deep weariness, or ongoing uncertainty. Or too many responsibilities. Or too few resources. Or not enough young families.

Sometimes wilderness might be individual; sometimes, communal. At times, it might be blessedly short-lived; at other times, seemingly and agonizingly unending.

Wilderness means different things to different people.

As people of faith, we are not exempt from experiences of wilderness in our lives, whether as individuals or as the Body of Christ. We are promised, however, that we will not go through them alone. We are promised that God will be with us.

And not only that–if we are to take Isaiah at his word, we are promised that God “will make a way in the wilderness,” that God will lead us through it, that God will open a path where it had seemed to us there was no path. We are promised that God will be with us in and through and out of the wilderness, to the other side, where “rivers in the desert” await, where there will be healing and wholeness, abundance and life.

We can’t know for sure what that path will look like, or how long it will be, or how many twists and turns and hairpin curves and hills and valleys we will pass through along the way. Nor can we know with certainty when we will step out of the wilderness and find ourselves at the edge of the river, dipping our toes in the water and inhaling deeply and recognizing that we have moved into a place of healing and abundance.

But we can be sure that we will. We can be sure that we will!

Thanks be to God for the promise of new things, new paths, new life…that come after seasons of wilderness.

Peace be with us all.

Deb