Things that make me laugh

1. The Office…Until last night, I had never seen a single episode of The Office. Thanks to Netflix, I can watch on my computer whenever I want. If there’s actually anyone else left out there who’s not seen it, you must watch it.

2. My roommate…we were having an obscenely theological discussion in a class yesterday. A third of the folks were fully engaged, the rest were totally confused. At one point my roommate tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to find her with her ear pressed into her travel coffee mug, a blank stare on her face, saying “Shh…I can hear the ocean.”

Grocery Shopping

I went grocery shopping last night.  I didn’t really need much besides milk and juice and some mouth wash and moisturizer.  There were a lot of things on sale - namely store brand beverages - so my cart was quickly filled with things like sparkling water, diet cola, flavored sparkling water, and drink mix in addition to the necessary milk and OJ.  I also threw in a couple packs of Sponge Bob Square Pants Go-Gurt.  (for my friends living abroad, that’s yogurt you suck out of a tube.  it’s good.)

As I was placing my purchase up on the conveyor belt for the cashier, I joked that I had no food - just beverages and some toiletries.  He laughed.  I laughed.  Then I said, “oh, nope…I got some go-gurt., but I don’t know if that counts because you suck it out of a tube.”

Then while scanning my mouth wash he said…

“Yeah…and you know that when you’re sucking stuff out of a tube you have to have fresh breath and good skin to do it.”

I have no idea if that was the most unsolicited piece of advice about my sex life that I’ve ever gotten or if the poor guy didn’t realize what he was saying until it was too late, but I was dying on the inside.  I couldn’t even look at him.  I laughed a little bit, he laughed a little bit.  Then he suddenly stopped laughing - either because he realized what he had just said and was totally humiliated or he suddenly realized that that kind of innuendo  isn’t necessarily an appropriate exchange between the cashier and the customer.

Either way, I thought it was hysterical.  I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to eat my Sponge Bob go-gurt though,

I pack my life in Prada…

There’s a lot of talk out there about baggage.  Not the kind that you pack to take a trip to Bermuda or even to spend the night at Grandma’s.  Real baggage.  The kind that someone - most of the time, a lot of someones - pack for you.   It’s heavy and awkward.  It’s what makes us the weary and heavy-laden Christ beckons come.

The problem with baggage language is that too much focus gets left on the baggage itself.  The suitcase doesn’t deserve the attention.  The attention belongs to what got packed, the trip you’re taking it on and what you’re going to do with it all when you get there.

I used to think of all the stuff in my baggage as dirty or stupid or irrelevant or a liability.  In general, it was all crap, so I kept it metaphorically in a dark, dingy, duct tape-clad, well-locked 20-year old American Tourist suitcase someone dug out of a dumpster.  I managed to keep it hidden under the bed and simultaneously make it the elephant in the room.

But then one day I got the gumption to open that suitcase up and wade through all the things packed inside.  I found the things I was most afraid of - stained sheets, torn clothes, a brown leather belt.  And there were things I wasn’t sure of - a prom dress, some sheet music, an apron, a tie.  Then, once I had it all laid out, I realized there were things in there that I loved - gym shorts, blue jeans, a swim suit, a book.

Mostly other people had packed that suitcase for me, handed it to me, said it was mine to carry.  So I carried it as a burden.  With it fully unpacked, I could for the first time see that it wasn’t all crap.  Even the dirty, torn-up and bloody stuff wasn’t total crap.  And because it wasn’t all crap as I’d led myself to believe, it couldn’t/didn’t need to stay jammed into a suit case under the bed.  Or be left out in the open for others to uncomfortably ooh and aah over.

The suit case was emptied and now the things had to be put away.  Some things were left out, they were more than worth wearing.  Others were hung towards the back of the closet, within reach but safely, respectfully tucked away for the right occasion.   And yes, some things did go back in the suitcase because that’s simply where they belong.  But this time, I threw the American Tourist back into the dumpster it came from and put all of my precious suitcase-worthy belongings into the glamorous Prada they belong in.

Suitcases aren’t for hiding things.  They are for carrying the things we love from place to place, protecting them and keeping them safe.  They are for our precious things, the things others may have told us to be ashamed of, things that they shoved into the big ugly American Tourist with all it’s duck tape glory.  They are for our pearls, the things we will not cast before swine, the things that make us beautiful.

For the things we shall carry with style and grace.  They are the things I pack in Prada.

The Body of Christ is not a Snack

I will never be a very good Protestant. Or maybe the better way to put it is that I’ll always be a little bit Catholic. Namely in the way of sacraments. Especially in the way of communion.

After my first Protestant communion experience, I watched in horror as college kids tossed the bread around the sanctuary and then made plans to go home and make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches out of it. Since then, I’ve had a few positive communion experiences, but I’ve also had to bear witness to Protestants holding hands, text messaging and talking while they waited to receive communion.

Anyway, Protestant communion has left a very bad taste in my mouth and even though I am preparing to be an ordained Protestant minister, I avoid non-Catholic communion whenever possible. This avoidance includes the weekly communion service at my seminary every Friday.

Today I was finally able to tangibly show people why I am so uncomfortable with/annoyed by the way so many Protestants handle the Lord’s Supper.

After chapel everyone gathers for coffee, bagels and other snackish things for purchase. Much to my horror, a shallow dish containing the left over communion was sitting on the same table as the bagels, coffee and cream cheese. Seriously, the pieces of unleavened bread could have been Doritos.

Come on people. Would you use Doritos to serve communion? Well, then what on earth makes you think it is appropriate to treat the communion as if it were Doritos?

I know that the Roman Catholic church has a much different sacramental theology than any Protestant denomination. As does the Orthodox church. And there are even lots of differences in the Protestant world. But in what I believe to be both legitimate Reformed and Catholic theology, the sacraments are an outward sign of inward grace, a means of experiencing God’s graces and a mark of the covenant God has drawn us into. Whether the bread and wine become literally Christ’s body and blood is a mystery I feel no need to analyze, agree or disagree with. The whole point, transubstantiation aside, is that the elements bear God’s grace, grace given to us to satisfy and sanctify. And God’s grace is not snack food, bird food or any other kind of food.

Even if I were to follow a more Baptist route and say that the sacraments are meant to convey our faith in God and to remember what Christ has done , I think I would still say that communion is a special, sacred thing. They may not carry grace, but that hardly suggests the elements should be treated the way you would treat anything you make breakfast out of or that is flavored with nacho cheese.