Taste and See

True confession: I didn't eat whole olives until I was in my fifties. I had horrid associations with olives based on some federal food surplus program in the 1960s that sent vast amounts of black olives to my school lunchroom. They were probably classified as vegetables, along with the ketchup. Since olives were not a food friendly to the palettes children, we quickly decided that they were actually projectiles that could be launched from any finger. Not a memory that inspired me to actually want to try eating them.

While I am not a picky eater, neither am I an especially adventurous eater. So it is exceedingly hypocritical of me to be judgmental of picky eating. There are very few childish behaviors that I won't excuse. I can tolerate exuberance, argumentativeness, excessive curiosity, repetitive behaviors, obnoxiousness, messiness, and even a little bit of rudeness, but picky eating drives me crazy.

I guess that for me, food has always represented wholesomeness, providence, creation, and care all rolled up into one neat package. I know that there are people who see eating as a chore but because I have imbued food with so many other qualities, picky eating feels to me like rejecting the generosity of God, nature, and the person who prepared the food.

Given my sanctimonious attitudes about picky eating, it's funny to think that lack of finickiness around food was one of the things that ticked off the Pharisees about Jesus.  He didn't always dine in homes that kept kosher. He sometimes dipped his bread in the same bowl as people who didn't take their ritual cleanliness seriously. The Pharisees called Jesus out on this more than once. The question of what the early believers were allowed to eat nearly created the first schism in the church as Peter and Paul argued on opposite sides of the kosher diet question.

Here, however, we see God at God's finest. For where are we most united in faith? At the table. Gathered around the altar. Meeting to eat and drink together; Christ's very body and blood, given for us. There and then, beyond all other places and times, we are united as one. What if we were too picky for that?

Every family has ideas about when children should be welcomed to the Lord's table.  In my congregation we leave it up to parents to decide. Theologically, it seems to me that any time is the right time. As a parent, I think that the right time is when they reach for it, or ask for it. I think that when your child reaches out to actively participate in the life of the church, it is the right time. Who would turn down a child who wanted to help decorate the Christmas tree or dye Easter eggs? We know that participation adds meaning to events so I support letting them participate early, and in as many ways as possible.

What introduced me to the wonderful world of olives was a curiosity about Middle Eastern food, about what Jesus ate. Your children may be curious about the meal at worship.  Help them expand their food choices by bringing them to the table.

Fasting or Starving?

Lots of people are swearing off chocolate or soft drinks for the next 40 days and calling it a fast, or a sacrifice. Some of us aren't really doing it to sacrifice; we are doing it to lose weight.  As a culture, we are extremely focused on appearance. Many people are nearly always trying to lose a couple of pounds.

Eating disorders aren't in the news as much as they were when my girls were teens but they remain a clear and present danger to our kids, especially our daughters, but increasingly also to our sons. They are serious, life-threatening illnesses. The exact causes remain unknown but it seems that self-esteem, body image, societal and family pressures, along with heredity all play a role in creating the perfect storm of an eating disorder.

The following is an excerpt from the blog Small Steps Upward written by a young woman I know who has been doing battle with anorexia for almost half of her life. She writes:

 I’m currently sitting at a coffee shop, wasting time before my group therapy session this evening. I am eating my snack, scrolling through different websites on my computer, listening to the music and the conversations that surround me. I hear the door open and a woman walk up to her friend. The first words out of her mouth are, “Oh my god, you look so thin! You’ve lost so much weight!” There’s no “hello, how are you?” in this conversation. 

Oddly, I find this to be infuriating.

I do not know these women. But, as they stand behind me, waiting for their drinks, the woman continues to praise her friend for losing weight. She then states, “I’m so jealous, you look great!”

Perhaps it’s because I’m seeking an identity outside of my size that I find this conversation to be frustrating. When did it become the social norm to make running commentaries on peoples’ appearances? How did it become acceptable to pick apart every minute detail of someone’s looks?

How indeed? Maybe this season of fasting can be a time to examine our family and personal attitudes toward food, shape, health, and exercise. How much attention do we pay to appearances? When the prophet Samuel was sent to anoint a new king, he was quite impressed with Jesse's son Eliab. "But the Lord said to Samuel, 'Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.'" (1 Samuel 16:7)

It is challenging, but necessary, for us to look into our own hearts. What do you love about your child? What do you see in his or her heart? Do you know in your own heart that your child feels loved and accepted as is? Is there anything in your heart that will cause you to send your child a message that she or he is not acceptable? Is there any doubt that your child is created in the Maker's image? Celebrate what you love about your child. Ask God to work in your heart so that you will love your child unconditionally. Unconditional love is the most powerful prevention available.

Eat, Drink, and Be Merry

. . . for tomorrow we fast.

It's Mardi Gras time in New Orleans, Carnaval in Brazil: a time of wild outrageous fun, or dark evil debauchery, depending on how you look at it. Strange as it may seem, this wild event grew out of the Christian tradition of fasting during the 40-day season of Lent leading up to Easter. Mardi Gras is French for Fat Tuesday, or one last fling before the fasting begins. A less exuberant celebration, Shrove Tuesday, marks the beginning of fasting by eating pancakes, and thus using up the rich eggs and butter in the larder before the Lenten fast. In many parts of the United Kingdom, there are wonderful Pancake Day celebrations that seem much more child-friendly than Carnaval or Mardi Gras. There are even pancake races at the National Cathedral (pictured above.) For full video go to YouTube.

When I was growing up we ate pancakes on Shrove Tuesday. In recent years my church has had a "Mardi Gras Pancake Breakfast" for children and parents on the Sunday before Ash Wednesday. We borrow from both traditions, serving pancakes, making masks, handing out beads, and ending with a parade, marching and singing "When the Saints Go Marching In." All of these various celebratory activities are designed to prepare us to fast during the season of Lent.

Why fast? What is to be gained from denying ourselves something that we like? Why fast during Lent? Tradition? Guilt? Repentance? Fasting is mentioned in both the Old and New Testaments. Lots of our favorite Biblical heroes fasted; Moses, David, Esther, Elijah, Jesus, and Paul all fasted. Should you? I don't know!

For me, the practice of giving up something for Lent (or its corollary, taking up something for Lent) has been a good one. It is always surprising what insights flow from the practice. It is humbling to find how little self-discipline I have. It helps me stay focused on how greatly loved I am as we move toward Good Friday. My small sacrifice in no way mimics the great sacrifice Jesus made, but each uncomfortable moment reminds me to think on Jesus' wondrous love. Hopefully, those frequent reminders make me look for ways to love those around me, remind me to carry on the work that Jesus began.

My "sacrifice" for this year is a small one. I am going to forgo eating out for the 40 days and give away the money I save. It will be inconvenient. It will mean forgoing an outing or two with friends or coworkers. I hope that each time I am faced with the temptation to grab a taco or a burger that I will remember all that was done for me. And rejoice in the love that has been showered upon me, and with good cheer, reach out in love to someone in need.

And next Tuesday, I'm definitely going to have a Mardi Gras lunch at a favorite restaurant. It is also good to celebrate this abundant life we have received!

Stargazing

Stars are lighting up the night sky. Not the gaseous, flaming globes placed in the heavens by the creator, but the celebrities created by human adoration and intense market manipulation. A quick review of the trending stories at Yahoo makes no mention of the war in Syria but is topped this hour with yet another story of JonBenet Ramsey, a child beauty pageant competitor who was murdered at the tender age of six, thirteen years ago.  Judging by what is foremost in the media, it would appear that we are more interested in celebrities than in any other subject. People magazine is the most popular magazine in America with 46.6 million readers. That's more than double the news magazine Time, its publishing parent.

Have we been manipulated into arrested development? When I was in junior high I read Tiger Beat magazine for alleged details of the private lives of Bobby Sherman and David Cassidy. I'm pretty sure that my mom had no idea who those heartthrobs were. By the time I started high school I was listening to different music and had abandoned Tiger Beat and the other celebrity rags. It seemed the natural order of things.

These days it would be hard to find someone who can't distinguish between Justin Bieber and Justin Timberlake. It would be nearly as hard to find any American who can name both the Canadian Prime Minister and the President of Mexico. It seems we have abandoned life as adults in favor of perpetual adolescence where we follow the exploits of the Real Housewives instead of the Real Kids living in our homes.

Celebrities aren't harmful in their own right but they have the power to distract us from things that really matter. It is a short walk from celebrity to idolatry. The celebrities themselves may not be the idols; it is often the lifestyle we imagine they live that we covet. When time spent keeping up with celebrity news takes away from worthier pursuits we may be committing sins of omission, leaving things undone. Another potential result of celebrity watching is the discontent with ourselves and our lives that can be generated. Who still loves their three-bedroom, two-bath home after taking a tour of Oprah's 23,000 square foot home on 42 acres outside of Santa Barbara?


The stars in the heavens cause us to pause and consider their maker. They can dazzle with their brilliance and lift our minds to a higher plain and a longer view. They can ignite our curiosity and inspire awe and wonder. The stars of Hollywood cannot do that. At best they entertain us while at worst they elicit discontent, envy, and distract us from things that are far more important.

I never tire of these words from Psalm 8: "When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established; what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?" Lift your eyes to the stars and moon and give thanks. God is mindful of all us mortals here on earth. . . even the ones we think are stars.

Peaceful Transition of Power

George Washington was quoted at the Inauguration of President Obama this week. The first president said that "the peaceful transition of power is what will separate this country from every other country in the world."  It seems to me that this is a good reminder for families as well. We should plan to make peaceful transitions of power part of our family life. After all, in every family, as in every country, eventually there is a transition of power.

Transitions of power, peaceful or otherwise, are going on all around us, all the time. With our children, each new stage of development leads to greater power for the child. Many parents have experienced the inevitable passage of potty training as a not-so-peaceful transition of power. Some children can't wait to be independent and do it themselves, while others don't want to be bothered with taking responsibility for their own bodily functions. Beginning in middle school there are battles for independence occurring nearly weekly. The empowerment of a driver's license or an eighteenth birthday can turn some children from agreeable family members to megalomaniacs.

On the other end of the spectrum, we see elderly parents clinging to power that might better be held by their children. They insist on continuing to drive after their eyesight and hearing have deteriorated to a point where this is no longer safe.  They want to continue to handle their own finances after their memory loss makes this impractical. Some aging parents make plans for a peaceful transition of power, making decisions about how things should be handled if they become frail or have memory issues. Others refuse to acknowledge that they are aging and make no plans, creating a very painful and sometimes chaotic transition of power when decisions need to be made.

We would do well to plan for orderly transitions of power in our families. Look ahead, and prepare our children to be responsible for themselves. Forecast that for them; let them know your expectations for their independence. Examine ourselves and see if we are keeping them dependent, or setting them up to fail, so we can keep them with us a little longer. It is helpful to look to our own experiences of transitioning to independence and avoid the mistakes of our own parents. It is wise to look around for people who transitioned the way we would hope our kids will, and try to imitate their success. On the flip side, we need to prepare for a time when we will no longer be able to have sole charge over our own lives; we need to prepare to make that transition of power peacefully as well.

Ecclesiastes 3 reminds us that "For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven." Most of you reading this are in a season of independence and power. You may be acquiring power as you begin your time as a parent, or your power may be waning as your term as the leader of the family draws to a close. It is the nature of things, and we would do well to make these transitions peacefully.

We can make all our transitions of power with the assurance that the ultimate power rests in the hands of a loving God who holds us all through all the seasons of our lives, saying, as many American presidents have said at their inaugurations: "So help me God."

Night Lights

A recent trip to a hardware store made me aware of the wide variety of nightlights available. Frankly, the only innovation in nightlights from the nights of my childhood to the nights of my motherhood was the invention of the electric eye which would turn the nightlight on for you. These days there are nightlights licensed for every children's movie, cartoon character, and fairy-tale princess, along with artistic renderings that are truly lovely, as well as functional. It gave me a warm glow to think about the comfort of nightlights and the wonderful metaphor of Jesus coming into the world as light.

My first nightlight memory is from about age five when we had a nightlight in the bedroom- under-the-eaves that my sister and I shared. I would sometimes wake when my mom's shadow blocked it out as she came to take my little sister to the bathroom one more time before retiring. My mother's presence enhanced the safe feeling the nightlight created. I can also still picture the fuzzy glow from the bathroom across the hall from my next childhood bedroom. Faint, barely there, but enough light to reveal where you were; my sleepy eyes could take in the shape of the door set ajar and the light through the transom above. I could see that I was in my own bed, at home, or find my way across the hall in the dark.

There is no underestimating the power of light to comfort a child, or an adult for that matter.  In the church year, we are in the season of light. The season begins with the star that leads the Wisemen to the newborn Jesus, and ends with this same Jesus shining like the sun just before beginning a journey to the ultimate darkness of death. During this season you can find a gazillion ways to talk with your children about God. With a little imagination, you can use almost anything that gives light to start a conversation about faith. Here are a few ideas:

• Light a candle at dinnertime and at the end of the meal, turn out the lights and have a brief prayer time.
• Read a story by flashlight, under the covers.
• Toast marshmallows in the fireplace and make s'mores indoors.
• Take a late night drive away from the city lights, spread out a blanket, and stare at the stars.
• Make a dessert you set on fire - like Bananas Foster
• Count the lights, and the different kinds of lights, you see in church 

You probably won't ignite a big epiphany, but you can plant the idea that wherever there is light, God can be found. In the words of the old camp song, “it only takes a spark to get a fire going.” Ignite your child’s faith in small ways and time, prayer, and the Holy Spirit will fan the flames of faith.

Why and what if?

With everyone else, I have been contemplating the events at Newtown. I have wept often in the days since the shootings; it seems so unfair that little children, with their whole lives before them should be torn from life so violently, so senselessly. I have tried to understand why people disagree with simply banning the kind of weapons Adam Lanza used that day. I have discussed the issue of mental illness with many other people. I have lingered in the why  and what if questions for many days.

Again and again I travel around the why and what if circle. Why did the shooter choose that school, that class? What if the shooter had grown up in a home without guns? What if we had spent more money researching solutions to mental health problems?

In the end I come back to the same place every death takes me to - that every person we grieve is evidence of love in the world. We do not grieve those we do not love. It gladdens my heart to know that there is love to be found in all of this. It hurts my heart to know how much these families grieve, but their grief bears witness to love.

Someone I personally knew died six days after the Newtown shootings. And I was reminded of a friend whose elderly parent died on September 12, 2001. She said she felt selfish to mourn just one who had lived a good and full life,  in the midst of the other tragedy. Not so, I said then. Honor the one you loved by grieving your loss. Only those who love someone can truly grieve them.

I cannot grieve the people who died in Newtown - I didn't know them, much less love them. Yet I feel great compassion for everyone affected by this, because I too have know the pain of losing someone I loved. And I feel compassion for the shooter's remaining family, because I too know the pain of losing someone to suicide. I know the guilt that accompanies that kind of loss. I too know the pain of losing a brother.

This is the place where we all intersect: love, and the inevitable pain that accompanies it. Almost all of us think that everything that love brings makes it worth the pain. Apparently God agrees. God loved us enough to bear the pain of coming into the world and suffering beside us. God loved enough to give up the Only Son. God loves enough to walk with us through every painful step, and every joyful one too.

We all share this - love and grief are our common experience. Love and grief transcend race, gender, geographic location, economic status, and models of governance. The great source of that love binds us together with love. Let yourself be bound to neighbor, friend, and family. Yes you will grieve, but first you will love.