I feel similarly toward Christmas traditions. If I show up at a Christmas Eve service and no one mentions the birth of Jesus, I'm likely to be a bit perturbed. Other than that, no biggie...although I do like the candles. I've put up trees a month before Christmas, and on Christmas Eve, and not at all. I've had Christmases with my family, Christmases with my "eastern family," Christmases with friends, and Christmases curled up on my couch watching movies with my dog. They've all been good. They have been what worked with whatever situation I was in at the time.

My family was never terribly attached to tradition; we had some sort of gathering with extended family at Christmas, but that shifted as people moved, got married, had kids, etc. We often went to church on Christmas Eve, but the when and where were debatable. I never got used to a particular rhythm of how the holiday was "supposed" to go, or specific rituals that made it feel like Christmas.

Liturgically and theologically, I appreciate tradition. It connects us to the larger Church, and provides a theological standard for our worship services. But I tend to hold tradition in one hand, and relevance and functionality in the other. If our liturgy doesn't work, either in that it doesn't connect with people or that it doesn't work logistically, I'm likely to use the tradition to inform a new way of doing things. In Velvet Elvis, Rob Bell uses the metaphor of doctrine as a brick wall or a trampoline: you can choose to build up a solid edifice of doctrines (which may very well collapse if one is pulled out), or you can use doctrine as a jumping off point. When it comes to tradition, I'm more likely to bounce than pull out the mortar.

What all of this adds up to is that, as a minister, I have a small lacking when it comes to understanding how many people feel about traditions. Intellectually, I know that tradition is important to people, that it's comforting, that it gives them security - but I don't quite get it. Hence, I am forever running up against it. This year, we are having the Drama of Christmas with the youth, several of whom are quite annoyed at me for changing the Christmas Eve youth service so that they "don't feel like it's Christmas anymore."

I don't want to be the person who steals Christmas from kids. Good grief. I certainly don't want them to be angry at me (which they are), or to feel like they're being disrespected (which they do). But...I also don't want to foster church members who believe that the importance of worship hinges on everything going exactly as they want, and exactly as it always has. I don't want to be a part in turning these teenagers into elderly parishioners who hold the church in an iron grip and won't allow for necessary change. I don't want their faith to develop like a brick wall that will fall apart when one part of it gets pulled out later. We're compromising on the Christmas service, but it isn't going to look like it has for the last several decades. I want them to be able to bounce.

In my usual crowds, the distrust is mostly directed toward staff and GSC, and revolves around the sense that our way of doing business is becoming increasingly centralized, top-down, disrespectful of the authority of the classes, and intolerant of dissent.  We look around at some of the things happening around the RCA in regards to baptism, church-planting, and commissioned pastors, and wonder, "Who moved my denomination?"  There is also some talk about what we cannot say for fear that it will hurt the Belhar's chances of passing.  We can't talk too much about equality or inclusion, and God help us if we use the now-suspect word "justice," for fear that someone will interpret it as a clear sign that we will use the Belhar to force affirmation of homosexuality.  

In other circles, the distrust is aimed toward, well, people who believe what I do about the gospel's call to love and welcome all people.  They fear the adoption of the Belhar because of how it might be used to affirm homosexuality.  In a broader sense, I think they are also worried about another agenda usurping their priority on evangelism.

I think these are all legitimate concerns and necessary topics of conversation.  We need to be able to question the motives, tactics, and direction of our leadership.  We need to be able to talk about whether practices adhere to our standards for doctrine and polity.  But there is a fine line between expressing sincere concern in the interest of working out our life together, and operating in a state of paranoia about what "they" might do.

I have to remind myself sometimes that it is completely reasonable for someone who believes that affirmation of LGBT persons is not a biblically faithful position to question whether I will push them to embrace something they believe is sin.  I also have to remind myself that the fact that they ask this does not mean that they can't or won't be able to think of the Belhar in a broader way and discern whether it should be adopted based on something bigger than fear of this possible use of it.  I have to hope that they can and will.  I have to trust that our commonalities can help us work out how to live together in our differences.  And I have to hope as well that those who disagree with me can find some measure of trust that I, too, seek to be faithful to the gospel, and that I, too, make decisions about my beliefs and practices that are based out of a sincere desire for us to follow Christ.  If we can't get to at least that basic level of trust in one another, it will be less and less possible for us to even speak to each other, let alone be a witness to God's work in the world.

Boy, am I excited to give the Commission report on Monday.

Truthfully, it wasn't that bad - once I remembered to breathe.  But it did give me a different perspective on what it means to be leadership in this denomination.  These are people who stand up there and look into the bored/angry faces and know that their words are being dissected and ripped to shreds.  Of course, I am one of those who generally has my verbal scalpel well in hand, and I'm certainly not going to stop critiquing what is said by our leadership.  But tonight reminded me that they're human too, and also that maybe "they" sort of includes me.

I am the moderator for the Commission for Women.  This is a group of people who report to the General Synod, and are charged with advocating for the inclusion and participation of women.  Our focus has historically been mostly on women ministers, but has also broadened to include elders and deacons.  We work primarily on issues related to women in ordained office, not because we aren't concerned with the rest of the women, but because our sphere of influence is within denominational polity and governance.

The Women's Ministries is an office within the staffing structure of the RCA that works with supporting and resourcing women across the denomination.  They do programming aimed broadly toward women, both ordained and unordained, such as the women's conferences and Sister Share.  They also work with individuals, congregations, and classes desiring education and resources related to women.

We are related in that we both work with and for women, and because the coordinator for the Office of Women's Ministries has been the staff support for the Commission.  The situation is rather unsettled right now because the coordinator position is about to come to an end - although the Office itself will continue to exist through part-time administrative support.  What will come of the Office is up in the air right now; several overtures ask for the reinstatement of the coordinator position, and a consultation has been working on envisioning the future of women's ministries in the RCA.  One of the advisory committees will address these overtures before they come to the floor of GS.  I'm not sure what will happen, and at this point, I'm not sure I even have strong opinions about what should happen.  Perhaps that is for the best; it seems to me that we're going to have to come at this question from a different angle to find a solution that continues to support and advocate for women and is financially viable.    

I have to admit that my first reaction to this restaurant marquis was, "Ew, who would want to be BBQ?"  But then, I've never been a huge fan of barbeque, so maybe I just don't get it.

However, there are some things that I'd be willing to say go beyond just something I do, down to the core of my being, to who I am.  It also seems to me that there are some things that we as a denomination don't just do; we are.

This week we will take one more step in the process of approving the Belhar Confession as one of our standards - not the last step, but very, very close.  As I thought about this idea of doing vs. being, I realized even more how much I hope that the Belhar passes.  It is one thing to say that we're going to do what we can to eliminate racism in the RCA.  It's yet another to confess that part of our identity lies in being a people who hope and work for a future of justice.

Someday, I'd like us to be able to put that on a sign: "Justice - it's not just what we do, it's who we are." 

GS, in case you have never been, is a grueling experience of fourteen-plus-hour days where the mood on the floor often vascillates between tedium and tension.  And yet, I love it.  I'm a lurker who has been around in some capacity for seven previous sessions of GS.  Some of why I love it has to do with the "reunion" aspect of it; it's a good opportunity to catch up with friends in this very small world denomination.  (I do wonder how different the experience is for elders, who generally come there without having gone to seminary with a quarter of the other delegates.)  But it also goes beyond that.  This is the meeting of the church.  This is where we have to deal with each other, at our best and worst, and fight, and pray, and discern.  It's not barrel-of-monkeys-fun, but it is good.

This year I will be at GS as the corresponding delegate for the Commission for Women, of which I am the moderator.  It's a big year for the Commission, between overtures relating to the Office of Women's Ministries and the 30th anniversary of women's ordination to the ministry of word and sacrament.  It's also going to be the first GS chaired by a female minister.  I'm pretty excited...and trepidatious, as I consider how much mic time I may have this time around.  

- Do we (people in general) really want to change?

- What are the motives for change?

- How do we go about changing?

- What support/inspiration/prodding do people need in order to change?

- What sort of change do we need in our church?

Good question, all...but too often short on definitive answers.  This congregation has changed a lot in the last two years, and we're looking at more change, but it needs to be focused, intentional change.

I am also freshly returned from the inauguration, where I stood about as far from the actual ceremony as one could possibly get and still be considered to be on the Mall, packed shoulder to shoulder with such an immense number of people that I feel the 1.9 million estimate I heard today must be about a million short.  The word "change" was whispered, discussed, and shouted all around me, not just on the jumbotron, but by the crowds who had traveled to participate in the occasion.  Such a hopeful feeling pervaded the event that I can't help but think of the possibilities of real, nationwide - and by extension worldwide - change.

Meanwhile, the Church Herald's February issue also seems to be very much about change, albeit not so explicitly.  For some, being "missional" is merely a change in language; we can't forget that there are people and churches who have long been focused toward God and the world rather than toward their internal issues (even without knowing the word "missional."  Shocking!).  For others, this is such a complete paradigm shift that they're having a hard time conceptualizing what it might look like. 

Nonetheless, the call is clear.  The church, like the government and the culture, needs to change.  But what that looks like and how we get there is not so clear.

Clayton Smith's article about emergency responders struck a chord with me.  I hadn't previously thought about how emergency responders might fit (or not) in the church, but I meet people every day who, for one reason or another, just don't feel like they have a place in the church, even if they are people of deep Christian faith.  Usually, these are people who are just not good at the things that so often define church life.  They are not good at sitting passively while someone talks at them.  Rising occasionally to recite something in unison or to sing a hymn does not help them connect with God.  Spending more time in meetings deciding what to do than actually doing things doesn't sit well with them.  The world of committees and sedate corporate worship is not their world; it doesn't seem to have any connection or relevance to what they deal with in the rest of their lives. 

These are valuable people, valuable to God, valuable to the world, and valuable to the church.  But in order to engage them, the church will have to change.  The church will have to be less defined by orderly sitting and standing, and more by walking out the door. 

Change is in the air.  Now it's just a matter of taking the word and the hope behind it, and turning it into the action that gets us there.  

Somehow we're managing to talk with one another, and to come up with common hopes and action steps.  Honestly, it's a little surprising.  There are people in this room whose theological perspectives and ministry methods couldn't be more different from mine - and yet, we seem to be pointing in a common direction.  Granted, we have some very different ideas about what all this looks like.  But we're all talking about broadening our definition of partnership in mission, developing creative and mutual relationships with mission partners, and expanding our view of mission to include our own contexts.  Exciting stuff. 

As is usual with these sorts of meetings, I'm not entirely sure what will be done with the conversations we've had.  I trust that our conclusions are going to be considered by staff in some way, but how much and to what end, I have no idea.  I also don't know whether any of this - or even the occurrence of the consultation - will be shared more broadly.  If nothing else, I wish that more people knew that this level of diversity exists in the RCA, and that we can actually get along.