Faith Works 3-30

Faith Works 3-30-13

Jeff Gill

 

At the Crack of Dawn, Rumblings of a Cloudless Sky

___

 

The "crack of dawn," no doubt, thought the gardener, as he rummaged in the dim pre-dawn light through his rough leather sack for the last of yesterday's loaf of bread.

 

Right enough, with the sky finally peeling back to show stars and the promise of sunlight, after these last few days of darkness at noon, ominous roiling clouds overhead, and the very earth shaking right through yesterday.

 

It began Friday, with a shock in mid-afternoon enough to knock a man off his feet, toppling grave markers and it's said in the streets that even the high, wide veil in the Temple itself tore from top to bottom, as the vast walls of the inner chambers heaved about.

 

Strange days, he thought, but now the first day of a new week, and a new week is just what we need. After the distraught frenzy of the crowds, building and growing through the Passover preparations, rioting in the porticos of the Temple itself, Roman processions in the street flaunting their condemned captives, snatching innocent pilgrims out of the throng for commandeered dirty work on their behalf: the Passover itself yesterday was subdued, quiet, with just the occasional shaking deep beneath everyone's feet to keep the uneasy calm off balance.

 

Now light is splitting the sky overhead, and the nearly visible beams of dawn reach over the Mount of Olives, touch the gold peaks of the Temple as with fire, and soon even this rocky garden patch on the west side of the city, just beyond the walls, would have light enough to move about without fear of a foot set wrong, a wrenched ankle for your troubles.

 

It was not the first time the Roman swine had used his property for an execution ground, and it was not as if he had any choice in the matter. No one bore him any ill will, for who could say "No" to Rome? Only messianic raving preachers on marketplace platforms could shout contradiction to the imperial eagles as they passed, and they were snatched up and stuffed away so quickly you couldn't keep their names straight in memory. All the Johns and Jameses and Joshuas started to blur together.

 

What this dawn and new week meant was a setting to rights. Crowds gathered, not too disorderly with legionaries nearby, but new spring flowers were trampled, gravestones not shaken by earthquake might have been swung about to make a place to stand and see more clearly . . . what kind of thoughtless fool would stand on a tomb slab? Didn't they know that someday they would want the peace of their grave to be uninterrupted into the ages? The Sadducees said that death was oblivion and the disposition of the body was no matter to anyone, least of all to the dead, but in his garden, the body would be given rest and respect, and the . . . soul, or what ever the Almighty might determine, would have a place, here if not in Sheol.

 

Dawn breaking over the western wall of Jerusalem, and the crust worn down by equally eroded teeth, the old gardener stood to survey his plot. The one piece of property he owned outside of the city proper, it was a rough square of rocky knolls, level spaces of bush and planted herbs or flowering shrubs, the vales each with their funerary niches and large stones to seal them from the dogs.

 

The Romans were all too good about cleaning up their own messes, so the post holes chipped into the higher rocks were bare to the sky, only the stain of blood on the bare ground about them showing their purpose. No nails, fragments of wood, or even nastier pieces of anything were left. It would be the litter of the witnesses only to pick up, and a few broken stems to either saw off or bend back.

 

Yet even at this hour, there was some disturbance further below; he could see, down where there was still some shadow, a figure quickly striding away in a clean white robe, and closer still a group of women rushing towards where he stood, holding ointment jars and no doubt looking for a particular tomb, or help with moving a stone.

 

The gardener sighed. This was never the start of a good day, or good news. He hitched up his robe at the shoulders, and walked towards the women to see what they had to say.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; tell him an early morning tale at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

 

Faith Works 3-23

Faith Works 3-23-13

Jeff Gill

 

Pieces scattered across the landscape

___

 

At just after 7:00 am on Wednesday, the Sun crossed the equator, and the vernal equinox marked a balance point for this half of the year, when day and night are equal, hence "equinox." This is the spring variety, so not the autumnal but the vernal equinox.

 

Over a thousand years ago, at the Synod of Whitby, England joined the Roman method for calculating Easter, the great celebration of the Christian calendar. This meant that the Sunday of Easter would fall on the first Sunday after the first full moon following the vernal equinox. Next week we have a full moon, and on March 31^st we have Easter, showing that St. Wilfrid's computation still governs our modern calendar, or at least the one for our candy purchases.

 

Just over two thousand years ago, a mysterious Greek workshop created an amazing bronze mechanism, about the size of a hat box, with gears and a crank. You could set the device to your current date, or any future (or former) date, and see on the analog display where the planets were, when the next Olympic or Pythian games would be held, and even calculate when eclipses would occur, along with the more everyday (or every year) events of solstices and equinoxes, and the phases of the moon.

 

The Antikythera Mechanism is the name of this object, discovered in dives on a Greek shipwreck that was carrying treasure and attractions to Rome for a parade to honor Julius Caesar. The statuary was the main attraction, and the corroded pieces of bronze gears were considered an anomaly until their possible practical uses were considered in just the last few decades. Once looked at closely, these linked gears constitute a device of which a lead scientist said "This device is extraordinary . . . The astronomy is exactly right . . . in terms of historic and scarcity value, I have to regard this mechanism as being more valuable than the Mona Lisa."

 

This morning, I'm going to meet with anyone who shows up at the Great Circle Museum at 9:00 am, and go for a hike looking for pieces of a device built about the same time as the Antikythera Mechanism, and only became truly appreciated about the same time as scholars realized what that Grecian gadget was really good for.

 

Not small and compact and metal, but four square miles and made of earth – yet doing much the same sort of calculation and prediction and observation they were doing then in Greece. It's the Newark Earthworks, and while we know mostly the big pieces (Great Circle & Octagon), there are small bits and chunks which help us understand the whole all the better.

 

We'll start and end at the museum there just off of Rt. 79, walk a little over three miles, and cross lots of busy streets (at crosswalks, looking both ways!). But we will wrestle with mysteries of time and history and the cosmos as we wander.

 

Religious observances take place at very particular moments of time, but almost always are intended to help we finite, mortal persons to find our connection to the infinite, to the eternal. Specific dates and the role of seasons as they pass don't get in the way of a more timeless perspective, but may actually be the only way we can come to understand what, and who is beyond time itself.

 

You have to know where you stand in order to comprehend the horizon, and where your journey is going. Maybe you need to know what time it is right now to figure out where your future is heading, with or without a full moon next week to guide you.

 

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's also the tour leader this time. Tell him where you found pieces fitting together at knapsack77@gmail.com or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Knapsack 3-21

Notes from my Knapsack 3-21-13

Jeff Gill

 

Pieces scattered across the landscape

___

 

At just after 7:00 am on Wednesday, the Sun crossed the equator, and the vernal equinox marked the balance point for this half of the year, when day and night are equal, hence "equinox." This is the spring one, so not the autumnal but the vernal equinox.

 

Over a thousand years ago, at the Synod of Whitby, England joined the Roman method for calculating Easter, the great celebration of the Christian calendar. This meant that the Sunday of Easter would fall on the first Sunday after the first full moon following the vernal equinox. Next week we have a full moon, and on March 31^st we have Easter, showing that St. Wilfrid's computation still governs our modern calendar, or at least our candy purchases.

 

Just over a two thousand years ago, a mysterious Greek workshop created an amazing bronze mechanism, about the size of a hat box, with gears and a crank. You could set the device to your current date, or any future (or former) date, and see on the analog display where the planets were, when the next Olympic or Pythian games would be held, and even calculate when eclipses would occur, along with the more everyday (or every year) events of solstices and equinoxes, and the phases of the moon.

 

The Antikythera Mechanism is the name of this object, discovered in dives on a Greek shipwreck that was carrying treasure and attractions to Rome for a parade to honor Julius Caesar. The statuary was the main attraction, and the corroded pieces of bronze gears were considered an anomaly until their possible practical uses were considered in just the last few decades. Once looked at closely, these linked gears constitute a device that a lead scientist said "This device is extraordinary . . . The astronomy is exactly right . . . in terms of historic and scarcity value, I have to regard this mechanism as being more valuable than the Mona Lisa.."

 

Saturday, March 23, I'm going to meet with anyone who shows up at the Great Circle Museum at 9:00 am, and go for a hike looking for pieces of a device built about the same time as the Antikythera Mechanism, and only truly appreciated about the same time as scholars realized what that gadget was really good for.

 

Not small and compact and metal, but four square miles and made of earth – yet doing much the same sort of calculation and prediction and observation they were doing then in Greece. It's the Newark Earthworks, and while we know mostly the big pieces (Great Circle & Octagon), there are small bits and chunks which help us understand the whole all the better.

 

We'll start and end at the museum there just off of Rt. 79, walk a little over three miles, and cross lots of busy streets (at crosswalks, looking both ways!). But we will wrestle with mysteries of time and history and the cosmos as we wander. Come join us on this ongoing adventure!

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's also the tour leader this time. Tell him where you found pieces fitting together at knapsack77@gmail.com or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Faith Works 3-16-13

Faith Works 3-16-13

Jeff Gill

 

Looking deep into the landscape

___

 

Monday I saw my first forsythia blossoms peeking out of their buds.

 

Granted, they were on a south-facing slope with a masonry wall behind them to hold the evening heat, but it's a sign.

 

Spring is coming, and the sap is flowing, and all of nature is warming up some songs and rhythms and soft shoe routines for your post-winter entertainment.

 

We're in the last few weeks of being able to see up along hillsides and down creekbeds for long distances. Soon the buds will break out into full blossom, twigs will beckon with leaflets straining to point skywards, and trees will slip on their more usual green dressing gown, covering their limbs.

 

Right at the end of winter, when the last leaves of the year before are all gone and enough white has dusted the slopes below, you have vistas that don't appear any other season. Homes you didn't know were there, trails you didn't know went up hills you'd never thought about climbing, tree stands and chimney remnants show up far off the road but easily seen even in a speeding glance from the car.

 

The landscape has no secrets in early March, but will soon retreat into the cover of foliage leaving only the memory of where you could look along the ridgelines and down the country lanes.

 

It's a good time of year to be observing Lent, the days lengthening (Old English "lencta") and the sharper angle of sunlight revealing through the barren branches all around. We're trying, we who observe a Lenten discipline or two, to live lives that are amenable to observation, not to flaunt any personal credit for following in the way (which is what "discipuli" do, follow in the way of one's teacher whether Socrates or Jesus), but to know that there's nothing about our personal journey that wouldn't stand up to scrutiny.

 

Which isn't really true, all the time, for any of us, is it? We generally welcome some cover, a little obscurity, the relish of "my way" versus the discipline of the Way shown us by the One we claim to follow as "discipuli."

 

A popular internet "meme" takes a riff off of the long popular "Footprints" story, about how our journey in the way can be clearly seen in a vision as two sets of prints on a beach, occasionally merging into one set, those stretches being when the One we follow carries us. The humorous version goes on to have the One note that there are also stretches where you see one set of footprints, and a pair of deep grooves in the sand.

 

"There, my child, is where I had to drag you kicking and screaming . . ."

 

In truth, we're happy to have the tide come in and wash away those gouged stretches of the journey, and we don't want all our failings and falterings exposed to public view. But Lent can be good practice in trying, and failing, in public view, or at least where friends nearby can see how we deal with not quite coming up to our own standards, where we know we've made promises in public we can't quite keep on our own.

 

Soon enough, all the treetop canopy will cover the hills, and brush and brambles over the valley floor. I'm looking ahead to March 31, and a sunrise service atop Horns Hill at 6:30 am that morning, when we celebrate the coming of One from whom nothing can be hid. When I drive up and down the streets of north Newark, I can see the outlines of the slopes and location of the picnic shelter above so clearly. That won't be the case come April.

 

For now, I enjoy the views across and into the landscape, and I hope that my own public choices this Lent have shown the world the kind of journey I'd commend to others passing by. "Live out loud" as Steven Curtis Chapman says, and look deeply into our landscape while we can, as Henry David Thoreau might have said.

 

They're both talking about aspects of Spring that speak to us all.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's probably out walking around somewhere right now. Tell him where you've found some lovely views at knapsack77@gmail.com or @Knapsack on Twitter.

Faith Works 3-9-13

Faith Works 3-9-13

Jeff Gill

 

There is help, there is hope

___

 

Anton Chekhov once said "Any idiot can face a crisis; it's this day-to-day living that wears you out."

 

He's not a pastor, nor a mental health professional, but both categories are likely to nod with recognition.

 

This is the third of three columns I said I wanted to write on faith and faith communities, and their relationship to mental health & recovery in Licking County. I've long been concerned that while only a very small number of mental health professionals see religion as a form of mental illness, and few churches see psychology as an evil, these kinds of stereotypes have clouded and complicated the relationships between people of good will in both communities . . . which, I might add, have more than a fair bit of overlap, even if quietly so.

 

Nowhere is the clash more evident, I think, than in addiction and recovery. There are no measures, no statistics that I can find to prove or blessedly disprove that more tension and conflict is present between church and counselors when it comes to alcohol and drug treatment, but I strongly suspect it's so.

 

Even when clergy & church leaders are completely understanding of the idea, for instance, that depression isn't something you "pull up your bootstraps, pray a little harder, and get over it," they are still somewhat more likely to be skeptical of rehab and group work and even AA.

 

Likewise, social workers and clinical counselors who are open to faith as a positive factor in clients' lives may have a strong negative reaction to someone saying "I'm not going to try rehab again, I'm going to work with a prayer group at my church that is going to give me an accountability check every day and lay hands on me."

 

Here's the toughest part, from my awkward perch at the intersection of all these streams: we don't have enough help to go 'round, and what we have works . . . somewhat.

 

Don't get me wrong, there are methods of care and treatment and recovery that have more research and data than others. But even some of the most "official" and "credentialed" looking programs are using approaches that were outdated thirty years ago. And it's hard to get into even those.

 

In-patient rehab for drug and alcohol addicted persons is plagued with long waiting lists, high costs depending on your insurance status and income (making some money is worse than making little or none in many cases, and making lots of money may mean you face a truly crippling bill *if* you get in, although it probably is still less than the cost of your addiction, it must be said).

 

And it often doesn't work. Seven times through rehab is often stated as an average, and we all know what average means, right? Some lower, some higher.

 

Let me say this next part very carefully, aware of minefields on both sides of the road – people often overcome addictions without inpatient rehab. But I have never known anyone who beat a drug or booze habit without supports, without a team around them of SOME sort. Pure willpower is NOT the solution, and the times I've been told by someone that's what they did, further conversation reveals they did so after three trips through in-patient programs, leading me to suspect that seeds were planted which blossomed only after much watering and a little more manure.

 

And for those who go into a program, outpatient or inpatient, some do make the decision and fulfill their plan to end the hold a substance has over them while in care, and the follow-up from that staff is largely credited with helping them hold the course. But those same staff would be the first to say: it happened because that person came to a firm resolve themselves that NOW is the time.

 

We have a very proud history in Licking County with incredible places like Shepherd Hill and Courage & Spencer House. We need ten of what we have right now, and it's not likely to happen. So we need to find ways to build those communities of support, of care, of love with clarity, of hope, around people who have gotten used to thinking there's no hope for them.

 

I think churches can be a great place to do that. We can't pretend we do or should operate alone, and faith communities need to educate themselves on the resources available (211 & 522-1234 are good places to start).

 

But treatment does work, and recovery does happen. God bless all who walk that road.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's on the board of Mental Health & Recovery of Licking/Knox Counties. Tell him where you've found hope enough to change your life at knapsack77@gmail.com or @Knapsack on Twitter.

Knapsack 3-7

Notes From My Knapsack 3-7-13

Jeff Gill

 

Education and its discontents

___

 

Recently a high school teacher wrote a compelling essay in the Washington Post about what he sees as the decline of the cultural & verbal skills of the best students heading into college. He wrote it as an apology to college professors.

 

I think he made some good points (it's easy enough to find online), but overall, I'm not sure an apology is really what's called for.

 

In this country, we are embarked on a great experiment, whose uncertainty of delivery right now does not undermine the intent behind it. No similar geographic area and breadth of cultural diversity has ever tried to say, as our country is right now, that "we intend to bring 94+% of all children up to a certain minimum standard of educational accomplishment."

Any large landmass that's tried to deliver education this broadly, in a comparable manner, has generally excluded large groups entirely from the process, or ended up delivering quality in most major population centers while leaving most of the hinterlands high and dry. I can tell you that high school students in Rio Arriba County, NM, Greenbrier County, WV, or Licking County, OH have startlingly *similar* academic experiences, and that was not true just thirty years ago. Our urban core schools are hamstrung by a mix of systemic racism and economic implosion that are reinforced in toxicity by a deeply embedded culture that is itself a result of that same racism and economic injustice, and we are still trying to figure out an adequate answer that works for more than 30-40% of the students in that context, but good people are trying hard (including many in union leadership).

American education is a marvel, and the "hoop jumping" some note in terms of increased graduation requirements is a contrast to the possibility not so long ago in many districts to get a HS diploma with minimal effort and little impact on the mind or memory. You are now expected to know something and be able to show ability to go with that knowledge if you get a HS diploma, but expecting each district to reach that benchmark with 90% or more of their students is a NEW challenge, and I can't say that often enough. 50% grad rates, measured by all children (not just by those who began high school), was seen as a good school as recently as the 1980s in much of the country.

All of which is to say: I'm encouraged and hopeful in many ways about the big picture, but the general quality of the best students, say the top 20%/quintile, as measured by their knowledge of social studies, literature, and effective written/verbal communication, is going to be lower for some time into the future, because we not only aren't focusing on those kids the way we used to — not entirely a bad thing! — but in order to do these other things for most/all, we're not doing the humanities & critical thinking & expression parts of learning for almost any. I don't think it's a malign conspiracy to make cattle of us, but there's a real reason to worry, and (to make some lemonade here) an opportunity for church youth groups and service clubs and art studios and many other extra-curricular venues to jump in and pick up some of what's been dropped.

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; tell him what you think makes for a good education at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Faith Works 3-2-13

Faith Works 3-2-13

Jeff Gill

 

Believe you can feel better

___

  

Last week I said that "Mental health and religion are often uneasy residents of a ramshackle duplex." I could have said mansion!

 

Both are, I'd argue, are simply part of the same complex set of supports and trusses and gables and dormers, all woven together structurally into the same shelter in which lives our community. Go in whatever architectural direction you think right.

 

What I want to make clear is that I pray for people who are struggling with issues of addiction and depression and anxiety, but I also look for skilled practitioners to bring onto the team. If someone comes in with a large growth on their body, or unexplained bleeding that won't stop, I don't stop praying, but I do it as we rush to the hospital. Mental health, for this pastor, is part of the same response.

 

So for instance, and I think this is most important, if someone reports to me that they are considering suicide, or threatening harm in any way to themselves or others, I'm not going to rest easy until I've made sure there are other trained professionals involved, no matter how effective prayer might ease the immediate self-reported symptoms.

 

How to do this? Well, there is always, and I do mean ALWAYS, 2-1-1. Too many still don't know that you can pick up the phone and dial 2-1-1 for a personal emergency in the same way you'd dial 9-1-1 for a police, fire, or other public crisis or disaster (if you need police, fire, or immediate medical assistance, call 9-1-1).

 

You may recall Pathways of Central Ohio in our county as the Crisis Center, and you may still remember 345-HELP (which you can still dial, 345-4357), but their number is now 2-1-1, and if you are dealing with a personal crisis of any sort, from everyday despair to practical problems ranging from housing to helplessness, call 2-1-1. The trained staff who answer that line will connect you to where you need to go.

 

They may well invite you to go to the nearest emergency room. ERs are not necessarily the best place to go if you're simply sad or blue, but if you are feeling that you or someone near you is heading into a dangerously dark place, and you call me, I might just say myself "Hey, can I meet you at the ER?"

 

An assessment at the ER can involve specially trained staff who will involve our county emergency mental health support, which is provided through Behavioral Healthcare Partners of Central Ohio (formerly known as Moundbuilders Guidance Center). They do our county crisis intervention for emergency mental health and alcohol/drug crisis situations; you can call them directly, weekdays, at 522-8477 or night and weekends you call . . . yep, 2-1-1.

 

Perhaps you're just feeling like the world is closing in on you, life is appearing grim and sorrowful, and you – or someone you know – needs to talk to someone. Or you're a pastor or church leader, and you've met with and prayed with someone, and you can tell that there's a desire for hope, but a struggle to actually feel anything other than sadness and sorrow.

 

Honestly, you can still call 2-1-1. Just talk to the person on the other end of the line. They welcome your call, and know how to guide you. You can call BHPCO at 522-8477 during regular business hours, again whether sufferer or caregiver, and ask what to do. And you can also call directly our Licking & Knox County co-ordinating body, the Mental Health & Recovery offices, 522-1234 (easy enough to remember in a pinch!) and talk to the Clinical Director there. Todd will be happy to help you!

 

If you are just muddled about mental health, and are looking for clarity, or help of a more general nature, you can call the folks at Mental Health America of Licking County at 522-1341. Even if you just look at their website at www.mhalc.org you can find online screenings, and information about support groups and programs that deal with all sorts of angles having to do with mental and behavioral health.

 

And finally, if you're already in recovery or living with a mental illness, you should know about The Main Place, whether online at www.themainplace.org or on South Third Street in downtown Newark. "Promoting Hope, Providing Tools, Removing Barriers" is their mission statement, and it's a good summary of what they do.

 

(What I've offered up here doesn't deal directly with addiction & recovery; that's an area I plan to discuss in the third and final part of this series next Saturday.)

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's interested in a community based approach to mental health & wholeness. Tell him what makes you feel whole at knapsack77@gmail.com or on Twitter @Knapsack.

Faith Works 2-23

Faith Works 2-23-13

Jeff Gill

 

Believing in mental health

___

  

Mental health and religion are often uneasy residents of a ramshackle duplex.

 

I'm not just trying to be discreet and avoid the usual "bedfellows" metaphor, but to make a slightly different point altogether.

 

The question of mental health not that long ago was mental hygiene, and before that, wasn't a medical specialty at all. Sadness, madness, or badness were all considered the work of the church, unless you harmed another person out of your dis-ease, in which case you became a legal matter, for the stocks or jail or some other legal punishment that might extend all the way to a penitentiary . . . and in that word you can see those two worlds coming full circle, since your time apart in confinement was supposed to be less a penalty as time to sit alone with your thoughts and prayers and have a chance to firmly resolve to amend your life.

 

Other than a social change from reformatories and penitentiaries to "prison" and a more punitive outlook, not much has changed (and that, I'd argue, for the worse).

 

Wait, you may well ask, what are you saying? Are you cra . . . I mean, what has deranged your thoughts? Aren't you aware of the great movement towards mental health and psychiatry and psychoactive pharmacology and counseling and coaches and, um, all that stuff?

 

Oh, trust me, I'm aware of it. And value it, both personally and as a pastor. The mental health community is a valuable asset, and in pastoral counseling, with which I have basic, minimal training, I know just enough to know my limits, and when to make a referral, which is pretty quickly in most cases. Most pastors are not fully up to speed in dealing with clinical depression, suicide, addiction and recovery, marital crisis beyond the basic communication and relationship level, unruly kids, and so on. We may have training or skills in one or two of those areas, but we're not going to be the whole enchilada.

 

A skillful referral can be our best skill when it comes to most pastoral counseling.

 

But to make a skillful referral, we need someone, somewhere to refer to, and it has to be doable. In terms of cost, in terms of access, in terms of availability. For many clergy in Licking County, there's a not unreasonable anxiety that for many of our parishoners, effective mental health supports seem out of reach. That's where I say that for a major swath, if not an actual majority of the population, there's still mainly the church, and the legal system, and not much more.

 

There are medications, and they have their place. Suddenly – and I can't remind us too often of how utterly new and still experimental so much of this world is – we have medications that any family practitioner can prescribe: for depression, for ADHD, for anxiety. They themselves still work within a billing and cost-management straightjacket (can we still use that word?) of twelve minute patient interviews (or less), but they can write the scrip and recommend a person or place to talk to someone, and then your management and self-care is still largely on your own.

 

You and Oprah, and Dr. Phil, or that book cousin Ed recommended.

 

There are options in Licking County for people without insurance or money to get help with mental health issues. Next week, I want to talk about some of our community providers, who are more approachable and accessible than is generally thought. Is it instantaneously available? Pretty much never, but a little patience can pay great dividends. There is a smaller hole in the doughnut than many seem to think. The worst case scenario is for someone working and making a semi-decent income, but with no insurance or on a very restrictive plan. IMHO, this demographic has the worst options before them, but even they have some places to turn, though nowhere near enough.

 

But I also want to extend an olive branch to the mental health community from those of us in the churches. There's a general sense that religion, at the very least, has a tendency to dysfunction, and that churches are enemies, not allies.

 

Aside from saying that's simply not true, I'd add a note from good old Sigmund Freud himself, who said "The goal of psychoanalysis is to convert neurotic misery into ordinary unhappiness."

 

Fair enough, Siggy. You do your part, and we pick up from there: faith communities can be where ordinary unhappiness can be transformed into joy. There's no pill for that. But we reserve the right to suggest that God might be part of the treatment team for that last step!

 

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's interested in a community based approach to mental health & wholeness. Tell him what makes you feel whole at knapsack77@gmail.com or on Twitter @Knapsack.

Knapsack 2-21

Notes From My Knapsack 2-21-13

Jeff Gill

 

Education and its discontents

___

 

Recently a high school teacher wrote a compelling essay in the Washington Post about what he sees as the decline of the cultural & verbal skills of the best students heading into college. He wrote it as an apology to college professors.

 

I think he made some good points (it's easy enough to find online), but overall, I'm not sure an apology is really what's called for.

 

In this country, we are embarked on a great experiment, whose uncertainty of delivery right now does not undermine the intent behind it. No similar geographic area and breadth of cultural diversity has ever tried to say, as our country is right now, that "we intend to bring 94+% of all children up to a certain minimum standard of educational accomplishment."

Any large landmass that's tried to deliver education this broadly, in a comparable manner, has generally excluded large groups entirely from the process, or ended up delivering quality in most major population centers while leaving most of the hinterlands high and dry. I can tell you that high school students in Rio Arriba County, NM, Greenbrier County, WV, or Licking County, OH have startlingly *similar* academic experiences, and that was not true just thirty years ago. Our urban core schools are hamstrung by a mix of systemic racism and economic implosion that are reinforced in toxicity by a deeply embedded culture that is itself a result of that same racism and economic injustice, and we are still trying to figure out an adequate answer that works for more than 30-40% of the students in that context, but good people are trying hard (including many in union leadership).

American education is a marvel, and the "hoop jumping" some note in terms of increased graduation requirements is a contrast to the possibility not so long ago in many districts to get a HS diploma with minimal effort and little impact on the mind or memory. You are now expected to know something and be able to show ability to go with that knowledge if you get a HS diploma, but expecting each district to reach that benchmark with 90% or more of their students is a NEW challenge, and I can't say that often enough. 50% grad rates, measured by all children (not just by those who began high school), was seen as a good school as recently as the 1980s in much of the country.

All of which is to say: I'm encouraged and hopeful in many ways about the big picture, but the general quality of the best students, say the top 20%/quintile, as measured by their knowledge of social studies, literature, and effective written/verbal communication, is going to be lower for some time into the future, because we not only aren't focusing on those kids the way we used to — not entirely a bad thing! — but in order to do these other things for most/all, we're not doing the humanities & critical thinking & expression parts of learning for almost any. I don't think it's a malign conspiracy to make cattle of us, but there's a real reason to worry, and (to make some lemonade here) an opportunity for church youth groups and service clubs and art studios and many other extra-curricular venues to jump in and pick up some of what's been dropped.

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he has been diagnosed in the past with chronic optimism, an apparently untreatable condition. Tell him what you think at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Faith Works 2-16

Faith Works 2-16-13

Jeff Gill

 

Religious leadership takes many forms

___

 

We're now a few days into Lent, the preparatory season preceding Easter, and since the cycle of dates for Easter is running early this year, we have one of our earlier Ash Wednesday beginnings of Lent, let alone Easter itself falling in March.

 

All my thoughts of fasts and feast days were banished by the startling news last Monday that Pope Benedict XVI was resigning his office. It turns out that, like a Supreme Court justice in the US, you CAN resign the papacy, it just doesn't happen much.

 

Only every 600 years or so.

 

The man once better known as Joseph Ratzinger may have been thinking about precedents, and his predecessor, the much loved John Paul II, whose death was a long and painful process lived out largely in full public view.

 

There's something to be said about the courage and example of living with limits and dying without embarrassment over those limits slowly closing in over you, but Benedict XVI clearly believes that there is also a public witness in saying by deed that the papacy is an office, with responsibilities, that it is not just a regal role that should always end only in death, and whatever long dying comes before.

 

Pope Benedict XVI will, with the dawn of March, become Cardinal Ratzinger once more, and retire to a monastery within the Vatican walls after a time in residence at the papal summer residence outside of Rome at Castel Gandolfo. His successor will be a man, probably a cardinal himself, but not necessarily. Whomever the papal conclave elects, if they are not a priest, a bishop, or a cardinal, they will quickly be ordained to each order of ministry there in the Sistine Chapel before the election to Peter's chair is made official (so it can't be a woman, since canon law would not allow that person to be ordained a priest etc., but the rules do allow any Catholic male to be considered).

 

If you're curious about a "papal conclave," you can type that pair of words into Wikipedia, where an admirable summary of no short length is waiting for your edification.

 

Many Christians are not interested, online or offline, in the papacy, consider it a misunderstanding beginning with Emperor Constantine, and while they're happy to acknowledge a Bishop of Rome, don't call that ecclesiastical figure a "primus inter pares," a first among equals. Anglicans have an ambiguous relationship with Rome, as does the Orthodox communion (Eastern, Greek, Russian Orthodoxy etc.), while many other Protestant bodies have a dialogue or discussion of some sort with Roman Catholic officials, but don't consider the Pope a figure of respect beyond that extended to any wise, humane public figure.

 

In my own very congregationally oriented tradition, I was momentarily surprised by a visitor making a comment recently about Rev. Dr. Sharon Watkins.  For the Disciples of Christ, we elect a "General Minister and President" who serves a six year term, and can be re-elected once; Sharon is in the middle of her second term.  She is a one-time missionary, scholar, and was pastor of a rural congregation down the road from my parents' church, where her husband and my dad got to be pals.

 

She's no pope, in other words.

 

But her writings, and her role as a spiritual mentor for President Obama, made Rev. Dr. Watkins a figure of importance and meaning to someone trying to understand my denomination. That was startling for me, for a moment, but then again, why not?

 

If you are a member of a religious tradition, do you know who the leading cleric or organizational figure is? Does that person "represent" your faith in a particular way? The fact is, even for those of us whose traditions are built around NOT making a particular person a central locus of faith and practice, there's a tendency for that sort of thing to happen. It can be a problematic tendency, such as with the heads of ministries who put their face and name on everything and try to have their children or family members succeed them, or it can simply be a definitional tendency, such as with the practical role of a Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church or a Moderator of the Presbyterian Church (USA) becoming the people who give press statements.

 

A central figure can be unifying, and that person can be polarizing, and even divisive despite their best intentions to the contrary. How does your faith community handle this?

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's not in charge of much except for the sermon tomorrow. Tell him who you think should be in charge of what at knapsack77@gmail.com or on Twitter @Knapsack.

Faith Works 2-9-13

Faith Works 2-9-13

Jeff Gill

 

God welcomes help of all kinds

___

  

We got a little theology during the late stages of the Super Bowl, not from the victorious Ravens or the hapless 49ers, but during an ad (of course), with words spoken in the distant era of 1978.

 

Paul Harvey's paean to farmers was justly praised as a rhetorical high point of the night, with Beyonce's praise of putting a ring on something coming in a distant second.

 

The next day, some were asking "Does God make any other professional categories?" In the spirit of the original, and with apologies to Paul Harvey, there's one parallel occupation that struck me as worthy of some theologizing, even if this one is never going to make it onto a Super Bowl broadcast.

 

Thus was born: "And God created artists."

 

And on the eighth day, God looked down on a creation filled with possibility and said, "I need a collaborator." So God made an artist.

God said, "I need somebody willing to get up in time for the golden hour, shoot pictures for subject studies before going to their paying job, and come home after pulling overtime waiting tables and still work for hours on a charette." So God made an artist.

"I need somebody with arms strong enough to carve wood and marble and yet gentle enough to help a grandchild draw a perfect circle freehand. Somebody to call the co-operative studio scheduling list, re-set everyone's time an hour because of someone else's mistake on Google Calendar, and tell everyone they understood how upsetting this was -- and mean it." So God made an artist.

God said, "I need somebody willing to sit up all night with a kiln. And watch the glaze inexplicably crack when you take the firing out. Then wipe their brow and say, 'Maybe next batch.' I need somebody who can make a frame from a piece of driftwood, assemble a display panel from foam core and duct tape, sort beads with tweezers for forty minutes, and pick them up off the floor after a hunk of the driftwood hits the tray when you turn to reach for your cell phone. And who, during Gallery Hop season, will finish a forty-hour week by Tuesday noon, then, after working as a grill cook for a lunch rush, put in another seventy-two hours." So God made an artist.

God had to have somebody willing to wash the brushes by hand even after the thinner runs out, and yet be willing to work with what's on hand when they come in and find all the supplies have been scavenged over by someone looking for paint to patch a wall. So God made an artist.

God said, "I need somebody strong enough to hoist video installation display units onto wall brackets, yet gentle enough to sort egg shells for a mixed media project that requires twelve dozen, who will stop their potter's wheel for an hour to talk to the delivery guy about how he always wanted to be an artist. It had to be somebody who'd paint layered or wash, spattered or straight, even on a wall with the proper legal releases and not cut corners. Somebody to dab, daub, dot, drip, drizzle, and delineate, marking the bounding line and blurring the margins and mixing up more number three and finish a hard week's work with a five-mile drive to church where you'll be asked to 'donate some of that art stuff you do' to a rummage sale."

"Somebody who'd look at a family together and with a few quick lines on a tablet outline the strong bonds of sharing; who would laugh and then sigh, and then look for enough oil paint in tubes that haven't yet dried up to start a painting of someone who hasn't even imagined that their life itself is a work of art."

So God made an artist.

  

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; tell him what you think God is making these days at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow on Twitter @Knapsack.

Knapsack 2-7-13

Notes from my Knapsack 2-7-13

Jeff Gill

 

Somewhat off-target observations

___

 

My relationship with guns is a complicated one.

 

There are no guns in my house. I grew up with a bunch around, two or three at least, but they were black powder muzzle loading Civil War re-enactor weapons, and as such, not what you worried about an intruder turning on you.

 

When I went to summer camp as a Boy Scout, I took up target shooting. My first swim test had not gone well at all, and most of Lake To-pe-nee-bee was off-limits to my non-swimmer self. So I took the long walk past the dam and the chapel and out to the far corner of the reserve where the Field Sports department was.

 

Archery was a tough pull and I was, hard though it might be for some to imagine, fairly short for my peers. But a few hundred yards past the archery range was the rifle range, and the shotgun hut next to it.

 

We were, I was to learn later, quite fortunate to have Mossbergs to learn on, a good quality .22 caliber rifle with a closed rear sights and an open post at the end of the muzzle. For a simple 50 foot range, with wooden uprights and wire across them bedecked with clothespins, it was all we needed to hang our targets and learn the difference between accuracy and precision.

 

What I quickly became fascinated by was the ritual act of opening the bolt (click thunk), inserting the brass cartridge into the breech, closing the bolt (thunk click), then raising the butt of the stock to our shoulder and thumbing off the safety (tick), keeping the rifle pointed down range without qualification or variation, because what we now had in our hands was a precision power tool that was ready to operate, and that improperly operated could do serious harm to ourselves or others.

 

Was my experience unusual, in hearing it put that way over and over? I don't know, but at Camp To-pe-nee-bee and a couple of years later, from Les Hill at Camp Tamarack up in Michigan, that's how I heard it said. A gun is a power tool, like a belt sander or drill press. And in northwest Indiana, where it seemed like most Scoutmasters had lost fingers at Bendix, or an eye at Studebaker, or been crippled in an accident at a steel mill along Lake Michigan, that was respect and fear enough. Part of growing up was learning how to behave around, and operate power tools, and it really didn't matter if you planned to work in the shop later in life, or if your dad was in management or worked out in the yard: we all needed to know basic safety with dangerous tools, and Field Sports was part of that.

 

Back then, we had "Rifle & Shotgun" merit badge along with Archery, and I got both. You picked which you were qualifying on, rifle or shotgun. More recently, the BSA has created two separate merit badges for Rifle Shooting and Shotgun Shooting, and the Lad has earned now all three Field Sports badges.

 

We still don't have guns at home. Nor have I ever gone hunting. But I've taken Hunter Safety three times, and plan to take it with my son someday soon. Hunting is common in this area, as are weapons in homes. The breath control and focus it takes to hit a target, at 50 ft or 100 yards (my M-16A1 was serial number 5511359, speaking of things you don't forget), is a kind of calming mediation that belies the violence some say is inherent in firearms and their use.

 

I don't think we need more guns in our society, and I'm open to all sorts of common sense restrictions on access to them. But I also reflect on Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.'s sage counsel "Hard cases make bad laws," and I wonder about what it would take to prevent some of the tragedies we've seen recently.

 

The only thing I'm sure of is that I think we all would benefit from taking Hunter Safety. Just to be more aware, and to understand, that if you see a gun, it's loaded, and you handle it accordingly, no matter who says it isn't.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's heavily armed with trivia. Tell him something new at knapsack77@gmail.com, or on Twitter @Knapsack.

Faith Works 2-2-13

Faith Works 2-2-13

Jeff Gill

 

Some things just don't change

___

 

 

With today being Groundhog's Day, I feel like I should write something about one of the most theologically thought-provoking movies ever made, but I've done that before.

 

See what I did there?

 

Anyhow, whether your tradition marks this date as Candlemas or you celebrate the Presentation in the Temple or anything else like that for Feb. 2, your faith community probably has a question common to us all: what do we do about the men?

 

Men's groups are generally harder to keep going and active than women's groups in the church. History and family and a love of personal connection seems to come a little more easily to females, while males . . . don't.

 

There are exceptions, of course, as there are to all general observations. But it is still the case that for local, regional, and national gatherings, "Women of Faith" is still going strong while "Promise Keepers" has largely fizzled, and for denominational groups, the women's events may be smaller than they were fifty years ago, but in many case the big national men's events simply are no more.

 

Men and their involvement with the life of the church in worship and leadership is a related concern, and there's a chicken and the egg relationship here. I've had men I greatly respect (hi, Dad!) ask if making women leaders alongside men will result in most of the leadership becoming female . . . and seen that question become a prediction. One can reasonably say "well, if men were only showing up because they had a job to do up in the front, then their commitment wasn't all strong to start with," but it's still one more part of a general disengagement in church life that is rightly and reasonably decried.

 

A few weeks ago I went to breakfast with "The League of Ordinary Gentlemen," a group of guys from the "Church in the Mall," whose intention is to be a sort of men's group with a contemporary twist, much like their worship.

 

Their online tag says "Reviving the lost art of gathering around a campfire" under "Est. 2012." Their throwback post-modern take is mitigated by the fact that we gathered at Stacey's Hometown Buffet for an all-you-can-eat buffet, something that arguably none of us, and few men, really need.

 

But what a draw.

 

And in fact, there were by our count at least two, maybe three other church men's groups gathered there that morning. And in some churches, an actual or de-facto men's fellowship makes a community breakfast as a contribution-only fundraiser, with the same essential attraction.

 

Anyhow, we went through the line, sat together around some big tables, prayed, and ate. And we talked about "guy stuff." Yes, guns, and killing animals (appropriately and in season), eating animals (ditto), and sitting around a fire was discussed even if we weren't actually doing so, unless you count a gas log across the room.

 

Men need a place to gather, whether they know it or not. In the US, men as a specific demographic group have seen their average income go down, adjusted for inflation, EVERY year since 1973. Men are making babies and not bothering with marriage, or even sticking around, in ever increasing numbers, and married men are chasing after women they aren't married to "because, well, you know, she, um, and one thing led to another . . ." and may I just say, as a pastor, and as a male: BS. One thing does NOT lead to another, men make choices, and you made some bad ones.

 

But lots and lots of men are making those kinds of choices, and acting sheepishly helpless afterwards, because, well, you know, it just happened (I refer again to my earlier prophetic statement: BS!).

 

I think, in the end, only men can be prophets to other men in a way that we need to hear. Most of us have women, often godly women, in our homes or at least in our lives, who call BS on us in other words but no less clearly. What many of us need are other men to laugh with us, but at our excuses, and say "Man up, dude – God does NOT smile on that kind of decision."

 

We need men's groups. Maybe at Gobbler's Knob in top hats, or around tables at Stacey's, or in prayer in church basements, or around a fire. Where we can speak honestly to one another.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's a fan of gathering around campfires. Tell him where you see men gather at knapsack77@gmail.com or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.