Sweet Book Plate

I came across this book plate in a copy of William Temple's Christus Veritas. The owner has impeccable taste!  Click on the photo to enlarge it.  

Brother Sun Sister Moon

I recently watched Franco Zeffirelli's movie on the life of Saint Francis, "Brother Sun, Sister Moon." I purchased it on iTunes; it was worth it! Here is the conversion scene. Check the movie out, I highly recommend it!

A Published Poet

I received word today from the editors at Anglican Digest that a poem of mine is to be published in their next edition.  Funny thing, I submitted it over a year ago and completely forgot about it!  I wrote this in February 2008 as I was preparing a sermon on the Feast of the Transfiguration.  I liked the idea of us--we, the Body of Christ--being bread to the world.  Admittedly, though, it is not my favorite poem or even my best work.  It's always interesting to see what others think of your work.  Nonetheless, after several various submissions, I can now claim to be a published poet!  

These Transfigured Loaves

by Chad M. Krouse

O Jesus,

your body for us:

taken, blessed, broken, and given. 

We, O Lord, are yours.

Come, O Come we sing:

The light that transfigures us

turns us into bread for your world. 

It returns to you not empty, but 

fills hungry mouths with insatiable

strength.

We too, O Lord, are loaves taken, blessed,

broken, and given to the world. 

We lay our sacrifice upon your altar

and all creation rejoices with you.

For we are bread.       

The Faces of God: God as Mother

I want to begin this reflection as "God as Mother" by borrowing from Henri Nouwen's famous book, Return of the Prodigal Son.  

"Often I have asked friends to give me their first impression of Rembrandt's Prodigal Son. Inevitably, they point to the wise old man who forgives his son: the benevolent patriarch.

"The longer I look at 'the patriarch', the clearer it becomes to me that Rembrandt has done something quite different from letting God pose as the wise old head of a family. It all began with the hands. The two are quite different. The father's left hand touching the son's shoulder is strong and muscular. The fingers are spread out and cover a large part of the prodigal son's shoulder and back. I can see a certain pressure, especially in the thumb. That hand seems not only to touch, but, with its strength, also to hold. Even though there is a gentleness in the way the father's left hand touches his son, it is not without a firm grip.

"How different is the father's right hand! This hand does not hold or grasp. It is refined, soft, and very tender. The fingers are close to each other and they have an elegant quality. It lies gently upon the son's shoulder. It wants to caress, to stroke, and to offer consolation and comfort. It is a mother's hand....

"As soon as I recognized the difference between the two hands of the father, a new world of meaning opened up for me. The Father is not simply a great patriarch. He is mother as well as father. He touches the son with a masculine hand and a feminine hand. He holds, and she caresses. He confirms and she consoles. He is , indeed, God, in whom both manhood and womanhood, fatherhood and motherhood, are fully present. That gentle and caressing right hand echoes for me the words of the prophet Isaiah: "Can a woman forget her baby at the breast, feel no pity for the child she has borne? Even if these were to forget, I shall not forget you. Look, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands."

Clearly, Nouwen reminds us that we need both masculine and feminine imagery when we speak about God.  I was challenged right at the beginning of my seminary formation to begin using "inclusive language" for God-talk.  At first, I really did not like using words like "Godself" in writing papers for class.  I was able, though, to move past this.  I remember having a conversation over inclusive language with my parents during the first Christmas break--my father refused to give in!

Why are we afraid to see God as feminine?  Do we lose something by the reference?  Quite the opposite, I believe.  "Expansive language" is more cutting edge these days, expanding the adjectives and metaphors for describing God.  We lose far more when we limit God and Godself to being simply male.  "There is no longer Jew or Greek," writes Saint Paul, "there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus" (Eph. 3:28).  Put into the positive, there is both Jew and Greek, there is both slave and free, and there is both male and female in Christ. Paul understands that the distinctions are exploded in the risen Christ.  And yet, we are still afraid to loosen our masculine grip on God. 

Having had both parents in my life as a child, I saw clear distinctions between the roles of mother and father.  My father was the busy bank executive who did what he could to spend time with me and my brother--coming to the baseball games, Scout camp-outs, and the annual father-son fishing extravaganza.  Dad was everything that you would expect in a fatherly role. Mother, too, filled the womanly role. She was the one who cooked, cleaned, and also worked full-time outside of the home.  When you put the two parenting roles together, everything was covered.  Separated, my mother was the one who, more often than not, spent time listening to me and encouraging my creative side.  I was always close to my mother, and now in my adulthood, I am growing closer to both parents.  My mother never used guilt to force my hand in a decision. On the contrary, she excessively worried for me over the decision!  And still does, bless her heart. 

Growing up, I felt as though both mother and father helped expand my view of the world by offering unconditional love and support. When I fell, and I did quite often, they helped me get back up and examine where things went wrong.  They never protected me from the world, but rather let me see and feel my own way in it.  They were always a few steps behind me, just in case. 

God as Father fits the mold of my childhood; my theology was shaped by the roles my parents filled.  God as the bread-winner and busy executive. God as the person that needs a drink at five o'clock following a hard day of meetings, and so forth.  It was harder to accept God as the cook, God as the laundry lady, and God as the healer of all the scratches and cuts.  But it works, doesn't it?  It makes sense that God fills both parenting roles.  God certainly can fulfill both roles.  

Our Father and Mother, who art in heaven. . .