Category Archives: Baptism

Anne Lamott: Young Kids, Cherry Pie, and Jesus

Earlier this week my wife Carrie had the opportunity to listen to Anne Lamott, author of Traveling Mercies and other books, at Barnes & Noble in Edina. Carrie recorded a short video of that conversation, which included this wonderful story:

From the flea market . . . I could hear this music wafting out of this ramshackled church with this one cruddy, “Waiting for Godot,” tree in front of it. And, you know, there’s an acronym for God that it’s the gift of desperation. And because I had no more good ideas, I hear this music, and it was like in the cartoons when the wife . . . bakes a cherry pie and puts it on the sill, and then [the] . . . aromatic cherry pie smell comes around, walking, walking, walking, and it taps [the husband] on the chest, right? And then he wakes up, and he follows it, and then he eats it, and then he gets in trouble, very comical, the angry wife, right? So that was how Jesus brought me. It was like a smell, an aroma of something baking that I could smell. And I got up and kind of walked, walked over. And I sat down in this church . . .

And then I started going. And then, as I wrote about in Traveling Mercies, I just felt like Jesus – I just felt like he was going to get me . . .

I got sober, and then I got baptized . . .

So that’s my church and that’s my Jesus.

The most exciting part of that day, however, came in the morning, when Anne Lamott was interviewed by Minnesota Public Radio’s Kerri Miller and Carrie called to ask a question about Sam, Lamott’s son, and Jax, Lamott’s grandson. You can read that exchange below or listen to it here (beginning at 22:33):

[Kerri Miller:] To the phones, to Carrie in St. Louis Park. . . .

[Carrie Willard:] Thank you, thank you. I’m a huge fan, and I loved Traveling Mercies, and I loved Operating Instructions. And one of my favorite, favorite parts of your books is when you’re talking about taking Sam to church, I think in Traveling Mercies. And I especially appreciate that now. I have two young kids, and my husband’s an Episcopal priest. And so I’m wrestling with these kids in the pews all by myself every Sunday morning, and I think about you all the time. And I’m wondering how that relationship changed as Sam grew up and how you plan to introduce Jax to your faith community, if you do.

[Anne Lamott:] That’s a good question. Thank you. I made Sam come to church till he turned 15, which was longer than the children of most priests and ministers – Episcopal priests and ministers – made their kids go. I felt that – in this world of video games and 24/7 information overload – that there were worse things you could do as a parent than to ask your kid . . . to come and sit with the revered tribal elders and to practice being quiet and to practice being polite and to practice getting out of yourself to become a person for others and to learn that there is something bigger and lovelier that you can hook into when you come to a community. . . . I bring Jax to church with me every single Sunday. . . . Jax has three little colleagues. I call them the colleagues. They’re all three years old – Cooper, Isaiah, and Zeke – and Jax loves it.

Sermon: “Whether we live or whether we die . . .”

St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church, Edina, Minnesota
The Reverend Neil Alan Willard, M.Div.
Proper 19A, September 11, 2011

We do not live to ourselves, and we do not die to ourselves. If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s. (Romans 14:7-8)

For many of us, those words of Saint Paul in his letter to the Romans bring to mind the opening sentences of the burial liturgy. Perhaps you’ve been to a funeral in this church and heard them spoken by a priest as one of the saints who has died is accompanied on the last part of a pilgrimage — a lifelong journey toward God. Those words remind us that we are the Lord’s possession no matter what happens to us in life or in death. It seems appropriate, therefore, to contemplate that reality on this tenth anniversary of the terrorist attacks that forever changed our life together as Americans.

Do you remember what you were doing ten years ago? People stopped the ordinary activities of daily life to watch the news reports about those awful events. We watched them over and over again. Throughout the country, others were doing the same thing, experiencing the same emotions, and fearing for the safety of family and friends. For weeks churches overflowed with those who needed community and who had promised themselves that the most important things – their loved ones, their neighborhoods, and the grace that binds us together – would thereafter be the main focus of their attention.

As this solemn anniversary drew near, more than a few of us shared a very different kind of experience with friends and strangers. This one was a wonderful, almost magical event. Continue reading

Oh When the Saints Go Marching In

Today in the life of the Church is the Feast of All Saints. It’s a time to remember the countless saints, known and unknown, who now rest in peace and at the last day will rise in glory. It’s also a time to welcome others into the community of faith through the sacrament of Holy Baptism. Last year on All Saints Sunday, I was thinking a lot about my father who had died the previous spring. That was tearful and sorrowful, but there were also tears of joy. At that same celebration, my son was bathed in the font, naked before the world (quite literally), clothed in Christ’s righteousness, and adopted into the household of God. It was a great privilege to be able to drench him with those waters of grace myself. My wife and I will always remember that moment. There will be much to tell our son about what happened on that morning, including the singing of “When the saints go marching in” with a dixieland band. I hope that he’ll want to be in that number, always knowing that he is a beloved child of God . . . together with all the saints. Alleluia, alleluia!

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