fake it until it makes you

– the point of liturgy.

I’ve heard worship in the Episcopal Church described as a method of “fake it till you make it.”  I think this is close to right.  There’s no requirement or expectation that a person will come every Sunday or walk through the church door and feeling something every single time; there’s no lofty ambition that every attendee will be bowled over by the mystical mind-body-soul connection and the deep meaning of what their bodies and voices are doing during the service. But there is a sort of trust that something profound and shaping is going on at an almost-imperceptible level when our voices are saying the psalms and when our bodies are bowing and folding our hands.

However, unlike the popular adage, it’s not about our own effort, or our feelings about the experience, or even about our own experience of the moments at all.

When learning to cook something new, or trying a new cleaning method for the bathtub, or working on a new regimen for exercise, the steps are clumsy and take a long time and feel foreign and unproductive.  It’s frustrating and unfamiliar–sometimes we even give up, trying this new thing, because it feels so totally useless.  Think of all the things you’ve tried, and worked for, and gained proficiency in, though–these have become second-nature.  Maybe it’s cooking eggs, or swiffering the entire house in just a few minutes, but these things have had a real impact on your everyday life as they were practiced.  They made you into a person who was a master omelette-maker, or a whiz with dusting. These skills might even prove useful in other realms of life, giving you an edge when volunteering in the soup kitchen or providing a subject of conversation when seated next to a fellow shedding-dog-owner.

How much more do we hope and intend for daily Scripture reading and repeated meditation on psalms to change the way we understand the world around us, make us more attentive to the God revealed in Scripture, realign our habits and instincts to be centered around the God who came to be with us.

What a comfort to trust that it’s not up to me to “make it,” but to show up, as willing as I can be–and sometimes it’s not willing at all–for the sake of being trained, habituated, realigned toward Hope.

A gratuitous food diary of the Minnesota State Fair

The Great Minnesota Get-Together, 2014.

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My personal favorite, the thing I relish more than any other delicacy: $1, all-you-can-drink fresh milk (all-you-can-drink while you stay at their booth).  There is nothing like this milk.

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The Scotch Egg.  I had no idea this was a thing outside of State Fairs until Bon Appetit told me it was the new “it” item of 2012.  My dad eats them with horseradish sauce, which I heartily second.  It comes on a stick; I split mine–gotta start slow…

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My second-favorite fair item: the delicate, crunchy, warm little Tom Thumb donuts.  Never Tiny Tim donuts.  Never.

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Fried Cheese Curds (it will be several years before I’m able to forget these enough to eat Culver’s’ version again).  To be bought from the booth in the Food Building.

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Who can resist a Pronto Pup?  Corndog–but the batter is so much better.

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Cheers to being over 21 at the Fair!  Minnesota’s finest microbrews.

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Happiness List

1. Mornings below (!) the 70-degree mark; feels like such an autumn luxury.

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2. Simone Weil.  Finally diving into her this week.  She was inspiration for this week’s Quotation of the Day

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3. Morning Coffee with this man.

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4. Psalms.  This week’s selection really got to me.

There’s a system set up in the BCP–used lots of places elsewhere, too–that leads you through all 150 psalms in a 30-day period.  You read 2-3 every morning and evening, straight on through (sure, you spend a few days in 119, and you breeze through 5 or 6 on other mornings).  A colleague and I were talking about how, having prayed the psalms this way for awhile, there are certain days that each of us look forward to–I love Evening Prayer on the third day, for example, because we say Psalm 18, and the morning on the 27th (Psalms 120-125).  The psalms–prayers of people who have sought God in ages past–are becoming companions, friends on the journey.  I’ve even heard of old wizened pray-ers  of modern times who’ve memorized the whole book (this was rather common amongst monks, I suspect, as some systems have a person praying the entire psalter every day).

I leave you with this morning’s offering:

Psalm 139

O Lord, you have searched me out and known me :
you know when I sit or when I stand,
you comprehend my thoughts long before.
You discern my path and the places where I rest :
you are acquainted with all my ways.
For there is not a word on my tongue :
but you, Lord, know it altogether.
You have encompassed me behind and before :
and have laid your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me :
so high that I cannot endure it.
Where shall I go from your spirit :
or where shall I flee from your presence?
If I ascend into heaven you are there :
if I make my bed in the grave you are there also.
If I spread out my wings towards the morning :
or dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
Even there your hand shall lead me :
and your right hand shall hold me.
If I say ‘Surely the darkness will cover me :
and the night will enclose me’,
The darkness is no darkness with you,
but the night is as clear as the day :
the darkness and the light are both alike.
For you have created my inward parts :
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I will praise you, for you are to be feared :
fearful are your acts, and wonderful your works.
You knew my soul,
and my bones were not hidden from you :
when I was formed in secret,
and woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my limbs when they were yet imperfect :
and in your book were all my members written;
Day by day they were fashioned :
and not one was late in growing.
How deep are your thoughts to me, O God :
and how great is the sum of them!
Were I to count them,
they are more in number than the sand :
were I to come to the end, I would still be with you.
[If only you would slay the wicked, O God :
if only the men of blood would depart from me!
For they affront you by their evil :
and your enemies exalt themselves against you.
Do I not hate them, O Lord, that hate you :
do I not loathe those who rebel against you?
I hate them with a perfect hatred :
they have become my enemies.]
Search me out, O God, and know my heart :
put me to the proof and know my thoughts.
Look well lest there be any way of wickedness in me :
and lead me in the way that is everlasting.

how to make: a Grilling Party

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Finish the summer off right with a backyard barbeque.  Here’s what I’m wishing for this weekend:

Blue Cheese Cole Slaw (inspired by Bethenny–I don’t judge)

Combine in a saucepan and bring to a boil:
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
1 1/2 T white sugar

Pour vinegar mixture over about 8 ounces cole slaw mix, let stand to soak in about 15 minutes; then add, 1 t Dijon mustard, 1/3 cup mayonnaise, 1/3 cup crumbled blue cheese.  About 4 servings.

 

Roasted Corn

It’s the perfect time of year for corn on the cob–I feel like I’m still catching up from the two years in junior high when I had braces and couldn’t eat it!

Shuck the ears, place a tablespoon of butter (or less, if you’re feeling virtuous) in the center of the ear, and wrap up in foil–throw them on the hot grill (indirect heat) for about 15 minutes, turning occasionally.

 

Brats

Whether it’s Johnsonville or something ritzy from an artisan local butcher, there’s nothing like the snappy, juicy texture of a good grilled sausage; cook according to package–or butcher–directions, serve with mustard, ketchup, onions, relish…

Happy Labor Day Weekend!