The restlessness of nestlessness

My grandma moved so often that my mom used to tell me every time grandma needed to clean her house, she just bought a new one. Once when my uncle showed up to mow her yard, as he did every week, a stranger emerged from the house to inform him that grandma didn’t live there anymore. Oy.

My mom was nothing like my grandma. By the time I arrived on the scene in 1952, my family was living at 435 Edwards Avenue and that’s where Mom remained until she was carried out of the house in 1981 on the day of her death.

I’m a lot more like my mom than my grandma. If I had my way, I would have lived in the same house my whole life. You wouldn’t know it, though, by the number of times I’ve moved as an adult. Since I finished seminary, I’ve moved 11 times. (5 of them were in Charlotte alone.) I hate everything about moving, from scrounging around for cardboard packing boxes to emptying and breaking down those same boxes for recycling after they’ve been unpacked…and everything in between. I hate it! And yet, here I go again. One of the things getting me through this move is that I’m assuming this is the last time. Please, God, let this be my final move!

I am a nester to the Nth degree. Separating me from my nest is like throwing me overboard in the middle of the ocean without a life vest. I know that sounds overly dramatic, but it's how it feels to be me. 

People assume I’m into traveling now that I’m retired. For those who have the means, travel and retirement seem to go hand in hand. But whenever I travel, as soon as I leave, it feels like I’m holding my breath until I can get back home again. That’s a sure sign that traveling is not my thing. I know it’s something a lot of people love, but I’m not one of them. That’s not to say that I don’t enjoy adventure because my curiosity about people and places I’ve never experienced is boundless. But I don’t like living out of a suitcase, I don’t like sleeping in an unfamiliar bed, and I don’t like being away from my cat, Guido.

I’m a few days away from my big move to Queens, New York. Although it’s not someplace I ever thought I’d live in retirement, not even the allure of snowless winters can compete with living near my grandsons. And I've decided that considering my aversion to travel and need to nest, coupled with my longing for adventure, New York City may be the perfect place for someone like me. There is so much to see and do that I can explore new places every day and still spend the night in my own home.

The attachment I have to my home in Maryland is pulling at me, and I know the melancholy will remain until I’ve built my new nest. Feeling unsettled is so... unsettling! I’m looking forward to the day when the furniture is arranged, boxes are unpacked, the internet is connected, pictures are hung, and I’m in my recliner watching T.V. with Guido on my lap. Then I will again be me.

 

Can the ELCA really change?

I’m enough of a church nerd that I’ve been watching the Churchwide Assembly of the ELCA on YouTube. I'm also following comments on Twitter because I’m especially interested in seeing how people a generation or two younger perceive what’s happening. For example, I have long been a fan of Roberts’ Rules of Order for large group gatherings like these. And I enjoy those moments when the proceedings go off the rails and the parliamentarian is called upon to rescue the group from the weeds. But yesterday I read this tweet: “what’s going to happen when there are no more boomers and nobody knows roberts rules of order?” A sacred cow of our denomination was under attack! Are these rules so confusing and restrictive that they keep people from participating, particularly those who are already being marginalized? Rather than allowing everyone a place at the table, is Roberts a barrier to keep some people in and others out? Yes! I can clearly see the truth in these questions. Why had it eluded me before?

The whole issue of inclusive language continues to be a huge indicator of division among God’s people. This tweet and others like it keep popping up: “It’s petty but, it’s an immediate no if you cannot expand your greeting to add ‘siblings’ when you address a room full of beloveds.” It’s another lesson for us Baby Boomers. There are a whole lot of people in our world today who will not hear another word we say if we begin what we say by excluding them. It’s as simple as that.

I suspect millennials may think they’re the first ones to deal with these struggles over inclusive language. As a pastor who attended seminary in the 70s, I can assure them that they are not. Of course, back then, the issue was using language that included women. The favorite communion hymn for my seminary community was “Sons of God”, and we sang it every week. I remember one day in particular sobbing through chapel when all the hymns, the liturgy, and the sermon used exclusively male language for God and people in general. The hymn “O Brother Man, Hold to Thy Heart Thy Brother” was the one that pushed me over the edge and I had to leave. Contrary to any of the verbiage we used at worship, there were women in attendance that day. Yes, most of worshippers were men, so much so that we women couldn’t hear our own voices when we sang, but we were there. I already felt out-of-place, like I was trying to break into a club where I wasn’t welcome, and this didn’t help. What hurt the most was that the men didn’t seem to notice. Why did we have to tell them, again and again, that we needed to be included?

Back in the 70s, when people referred to a pastor as “he or she” or addressed the congregation as “brothers and sisters” it went a long way. But what once was considered inclusive has now become exclusive. And, once again, it’s the people who are feeling excluded who are put into the position of reminding us repeatedly that “brothers and sisters” is leaving a whole lot of people out. I can understand why they resent it.

During my lifetime, I had the privilege of being in attendance at Churchwide Assemblies that made consequential decisions for the life of the church. As a member of the ALC, I voted to merge with two other church bodies to become the ELCA, and then I was present at the constituting convention in Columbus. I also had the honor of voting to remove barriers with ecumenical partners. And I was present for the big decisions in 2009 around fully including gay folks in the life of the church.

I’m sensing something different about this year, though. For all those decisions, we knew what our goal was, and we made it happen. And now, I’m not sure the voting members know exactly what they want to happen. The majority clearly know they don’t want things to continue as they are. They want the church to change to meet the needs of the world today, not the world as it was 35 years ago. There is a lot of tension between preserving the institution and authentically living out the gospel in a way that is just, inclusive, and compassionate. The desire is for a radical shift in understanding who we are as a church. Of course, an undertaking like this requires a smaller group of people to do the work before bringing it back to a Churchwide Assembly. And this seems to be what's freaking people out. Can we trust this process to really bring us to a new place? Perhaps the good news is that it's all up for grabs so the Spirit has space to create something new. 

In many ways, it’s a terrifying time for our Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. Only God knows what will become of us. But I’m ever hopeful. This Baby Boomer has seen a lot of changes in my lifetime. And now I watch and wait with those who have come after me. I feel a strong kinship with them, perhaps because of their passionate quest to cut through the bullshit. I pray they don’t give up the struggle and that I can support them along the way as they teach us all new ways of being church.