Liberation Theology Lutheran

For Your Sunday Listening Pleasure

2012-01-29T08:37:00.000-05:00

This morning, I listened to a great interview on the On Being NPR radio show. Krista Tippett interviewed the late poet and philosopher John O'Donohue. I heard the interview when it first aired years ago, and the rebroadcast reminded me of what a wonderful conversation it was. They talked about a wide range of topics, like the role of beauty and our need to be known for who we really are and language and landscape.

Here are some quotes to whet your appetite:

"Well, I think it makes a huge difference when you wake in the morning and come out of your house. Whether you believe you are walking into dead geographical location, which is used to get to a destination, or whether you are emerging out into a landscape that is just as much, if not more, alive as you but in a totally different form. And if you go towards it with an open heart and a real watchful reverence, that you will be absolutely amazed at what it will reveal to you."

"So, I think that it would be great to step back a little from one's life and see around one who are those that hold me dear, that truly see me, and those that I need, and to be able to go to them in a different way. Because the amazing thing about humans is we have immense capacity to reawaken in each other the profound ability to be with each other and to be intimate. That's one of the things I've always thought here is that, you know, there is loneliness here that is covered over by this fake language of intimacy that you meet everywhere."

"I think that beauty is not a luxury, but I think that it ennobles the heart and reminds us of the infinity that is within us. I always loved what Mandela said when he came out, and I was actually in his cell in Robben Island, one time I was in South Africa. Even after 27 years in confinement for something he never — for wrong you never committed, he turned himself into a huge priest and come out with this sentence where he said, 'You know that what we are afraid of is not so much our limitations but the infinite within us.' And I think that that is in everybody. And I suppose the question that's at the heart of all we've been discussing really, which is a beautiful question, is the question of God, you know?"

"When I think of the word "beauty," some of the faces of those that I love come into my mind. When I think of beauty I also think of beautiful landscapes that I know. Then I think of acts of such lovely kindness that have been done to me, by people that cared for me, in bleak unsheltered times or when I needed to be loved and minded. I also think of those unknown people who are the real heroes for me, who you never hear about, who hold out on lines — on frontiers of awful want and awful situations and manage somehow to go beyond the given impoverishments and offer gifts of possibility and imagination and seeing."

Through the magic of the Internet, you can hear the whole show or read the transcript here. That site will give you lots of other resources, including additional poems and a slideshow of the landscape described in the conversation.

The Saddleback Approach or the Monastic Approach?

2012-01-28T08:01:00.000-05:00

Today is Rick Warren's birthday. He wrote The Purpose-Driven Life: What on Earth Am I Here For? which has sold over 30 million copies. I have always wondered if people picked up that book without realizing its Christian focus and then were confused when what they thought would be a self-help book turned religious on them.

I have read that book, and while I didn't agree with all of its theology (it seems to discount free will in a way that makes me uncomfortable), I didn't find it egregious. I also read The Purpose-Driven Church. I remember that it had some interesting suggestions, but I also remember thinking that a lot of his ideas won't work for a lot of churches.

For one thing, he suggests taking out the pews and putting chairs in the space. On the one hand, it makes sense. You can then arrange the chairs in whatever way makes sense for the service you're planning. But most of us in established churches have a sanctuary that is designed for pews. In most church buildings I've seen, you'd take out the pews, but you'd still have to put the chairs in rows because of the space.

His approach also seems more suited to people who are in churches that are more free-form and non-traditional. I'm part of a liturgical church, which means that services will likely have certain elements. We're not going to throw away centuries of tradition.

I've read books that talk about appealing to the unchurched, books that talk about removing crosses and other sorts of theological symbols that might make people nervous. Yikes.

I'm a poet, so my approach would be to stuff the sanctuary with more symbolism. When I first went to Mepkin Abbey, I was fascinated by how the sanctuary changed throughout the day and from day to day. For example, the monks had artwork that they used to enhance the worship, and the artwork changed depending on the festival of the day.

The more I think about Rick Warren's approach, the more I decide that I have more in common with monastics than with the Saddleback preachers of the world. I love the monastic approach of calmly and quietly doing what the community has been doing for centuries. Some years, the world approves, and seekers come. Some years, they live in obscurity.

However, I've met more than one person whose life has been changed for the better because of a megachurch. I understand the need they fill too.

Happily we live in a wide world, where there's room for both approaches and all sorts of experiments in between.

Let There Be Light (and Color!) in Late January

2012-01-27T04:23:00.000-05:00

I tend to think of January as bleak and dreary. I've always wished that Christmas came in February, late February, so that we had some sparkly lights and special decorations to brighten our January and February.

As I've been looking through my pictures, I'm surprised by how many pictures I take simply because I like the colors and the light.

Even when a picture comes out fuzzy, I like to keep it, because I like the way the colors blend and blur.

Even shots of metal (below, the pipes of a pipe organ) can give my eyes a jolt of light.

I like the gleaming metal beside the more organic flowers below (and yes, scientist friends, I understand that metal, too, is organic).

Glass is a great conductor of light:

Can you find the cross in the picture below?

At our April 2011 Create in Me retreat, our group project was filling a cross with broken objects, which fit with the theme of "Broken, but Beautiful." The cross now lives by the outdoor labyrinth:

Close up photos of the cross yield interesting pictures of light and color:

In the picture below, can you see the leaves and trees?

At an earlier Create in Me retreat, our group project was creating mosaics on windows outside of the main office:

Mosaics often reflect light in intriguing ways, even more so when lit from the back:

Soon the sun will return to us; until then, we have to make our own light.

Meditation on this Sunday's Gospel

2012-01-26T05:42:00.003-05:00

The lessons for Sunday, Jan. 29, 2012:

Deuteronomy 18:15-20
Psalm 111
The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom. (Ps. 111:10)
1 Corinthians 8:1-13
Mark 1:21-28

What on earth are we to make of this Gospel? Here we see Jesus casting out demons, an act which might make us modern folks very uneasy. We don't believe in evil spirits, do we?

Do we?

In her book, Preaching Mark, Bonnie Bowman Thurston points out that the person who had demons was cast out of the worshipping community, and thus away from the presence of God. She encourages us to wonder what "demons" separate people from our worshipping community today.

We might broaden our scope to think about what “demons” separate people from their larger communities in general. We might turn our analytical skills back on ourselves. What separates us, as individuals, from the communities of which we yearn to be part?

For some of us, it is that we just do not feel worthy. In her book High Tide in Tucson, Barbara Kingsolver describes her childhood as a child who read a lot; as a consequence, she says she’s often surprised as a grown up to find that people really do want to be friends with her. Many of us suffer from the kind of low self-esteem that might be described as a demon plaguing us.

Or maybe we don’t want to be part of any of the societies we see around us. Maybe we’re turned off by the values which can be so different than ours. Maybe we’re surrounded by mean people, by greedy people, by people who do not want the best for us. It’s not a far stretch to describe some of the larger communities in our world as demon possessed; evil does seem to be in charge.

For many of us, the issue is time. We’re increasingly overburdened by our to-do list. For those of us still lucky enough to have jobs, we’re likely doing not only our work, but the work of those who have been fired or not replaced. We work longer hours, and then we have family commitments, and our possessions need attention. We never have much down time, even when we sleep or go on vacation. We may feel tormented by demons who never leave us alone, who bedevil us so much that we cannot think.

For many of us, those demons are our electronics. Many of us are possessed by our smart phones, by our Internet ramblings, by all the things which promised to connect us (the demon seduction) but that leave us with so little time to make real connections with that which would bring us joy.

For this week, let us think about all of our personal demons and all of our societal demons. Let us decide how we will attempt to cast them out. As a church, what can we do to minister to those afflicted? As individuals, can we be doing more to reach out to those who, for whatever reasons, feel on the outside of our communities?

When my mother-in-law was sick in the hospital, the hospital had us wear visitor stickers on our shirts. Sometimes I would forget that I was wearing mine, and I'd go to the grocery store. I noticed that people treated me more kindly. That sticker showed that I wasn't having a normal day.

We should go through our lives, seeing our fellow humans as wearing similar stickers that show their need for our gentle treatment. Think of what a different world we would inhabit if all people of faith made gentle treatment of their fellow humans a daily practice. Think of how those demons would be diminished.

The Confession of Saint Paul

2012-01-25T06:08:00.050-05:00

Today the Church celebrates the conversion of St. Paul. Take a minute to imagine how the world would be different if we had had no Saul of Tarsus. There would have been no Saul persecuting the Christians, no Saul to have a conversion experience on the road to Damascus, no Paul who was such a singular force in bringing Christianity to the Roman empire.

Early Christianity would have had some traction even had there been no Paul. Those disciples and apostles had a fire borne of their experiences to be sure. But it was Paul and his compatriots who brought Christianity to populations apart from the early Jews. Without Paul, Christianity might have withered on the tiny Palestinian vine, since the other disciples and apostles didn't have the same fervor for converting people outside the immediate geographical area.

Would someone else have come along? Probably. The Holy Spirit does work in interesting ways. But Paul was a fascinating choice, a man with extensive training, a man who could speak to multiple populations. For those of us who feel we don't fit in anywhere, we should take comfort from Paul's story. The Holy Spirit can use misfits in fascinating ways. The Bible is full of them.

Some criticize Paul's letters for their inconsistencies. I would remind us that Paul was writing to real congregations who were facing real problems. I imagine that he would be aghast at the idea that anyone centuries later would use them as a behavior manual to teach right behavior. It would be as if someone collected an assortment of your e-mails and centuries later saw direct communication from God in them.

For those of us who have found Paul troubling in terms of his ideas about women, about married people, about slaves, I'd recommend Classics scholar Sarah Ruden's Paul Among the People: The Apostle Reinterpreted and Reimagined in His Own Time (Pantheon 2010), which I first wrote about here. She gives a window into the ancient world which I had never really peered through before. Her depiction of sexual relations of all sorts makes me shudder, and more than that, makes me so glad to be alive today. The Roman empire really was a rape culture in all sorts of ways. Viewed through this lens, Paul's ideas on relationships seem radically forward-looking.

Here is a prayer for today:

Triune God, you work in truly wondrous ways. Thank you for the ministry of Paul and all the ways that we have benefited from his missionary fervor. Let us use the life of Paul as inspiration for our own lives. Let us trust that you can use our gifts in all sorts of ways that we can't even imagine. Give us the courage to follow your calling to the far reaches of whichever empires you need to send us. Give us the words that congregations need right now. Grant us the peace that comes from having partnered with you.

Leftovers from the Rapture (or was it the Rapture?)

2012-01-24T04:52:00.002-05:00

If you're looking for a fiction book that's a compelling read, while also a challenging book about religion, pick up Tom Perrotta's new book The Leftovers. It's a book about what happens when the Rapture--or was it the Rapture?--happens, and the people you'd expect to be taken aren't taken. Worse, there are truly vile people who disappear. And the fact remains that people aren't sure what actually happened. Their loved ones were there, and then they weren't. The book takes place 3 years after the Rapture-like event.

How do the ones left behind make sense of it all and go on with their lives? As I was reading, more than once I said, "This book is the perfect post Sept. 11 book!" And as I kept reading, I thought that it was far broader than that, since very few of us will escape having to wrestle with having been left behind.

Perrotta shows that he understands how religion has been used to meet the emotional needs of vulnerable humans. He depicts several religious movements in his book that seem chillingly possible. There's the Guilty Remnant, people who drop out of their families, live in communes, dress in white, and take a vow of silence. There's a group of barefoot people, neo-hippies, who may be tuned into a higher spiritual plane or maybe they just have access to better drugs. There's a messiah who leads a movement based on hugs, a movement which quickly degenerates into problematic sex. It's a brilliant way to dissect the role of religion in our modern lives, by not talking about religions that currently exist, but by creating new ones: no one is offended, but we get to explore the ways that religion shapes our society.

There are also plenty of characters who aren't ready to believe in these fringe religions, but who must wrestle with which way is best going forward. Everyone in this book must figure out how to reassemble their lives.

Tom Perrotta is one of our best writers working today who depicts life in suburbia and how ordinary adults experience it. His depictions through the years of humans who have gotten what they want and now must deal with the implications have always been deeply resonant. I'm happy to report that as he moves away from strict realism, his insight is no less searing.

In The Leftovers, Perrotta has written a work of zinging satire with characters we really care about--that's no small feat to accomplish. It's a page-turner, a work of depth that doesn't get mired down in the bogs of preachiness or show-offy mastery of psychological facts. In short, it's what I want: a readable book that's not fluff, but compelling enough and zippy enough that I can read it in a week.

Update: If you want a taste of this book, the good folks at Macmillan have sent this link to a sample from the audio book. If you click on it, your computer may launch it directly, rather than taking you to a different site where you can click to listen.

Leaving Our Nets and Radical Hospitality

2012-01-23T05:53:00.000-05:00

Yesterday in church, I thought of pastor David Eck's post on what it really means to be a welcoming church. He concludes: "The reason why I bring this up is that I believe the phrase 'All Are Welcome' is dead. It has lost its meaning because it has been relegated to an overused catch phrase. The challenge is for progressive congregations to talk about what it truly means to live out this phrase. Then, when we're ready to embrace the meaning of these words, we need to tell our story to the community at large with clarity and power."

Yesterday in my church, our pastor talked about radical hospitality and what it might mean. Our pastor talked about the need to take our hospitality out of our churches and into the world. It's not enough to sit in our churches and wait for people to find us. We need to think about the world which has a deep need for the kind of hospitality that Christians offer.

The Gospel yesterday had Jesus calling us to fish for people, and our pastor challenged us to leave the safe boats of our churches. I love Kathleen Kirk's view on this approach in her blog post for yesterday:

"Pastor Bob was interested in what would make you drop everything and start a new adventure, and, specifically, what would you need to give up to do so.

This was not leading to an easy equation, nor a conventional platitude: to win big you have to take a big risk, etc. This was a suggestion that we might have to give up a sense of identity. When Simon and Andrew left off fishing, they were leaving a way of life. When James and John stopped mending their nets, they were leaving a family business:

We can safely suppose there were sacrifices involved--psychological ones as well as material, having to leave behind not only their livelihood but something of their self-understanding, too."

Here's one of her conclusions that I'll think about today, as I'm facing today's tasks and yearning to drop all kinds of nets: "Yes, the nets could well be seen as entanglements, or things we hold onto that can drag us down into the swirling depths, or even drown us. It's hard to swim tangled in a net or lugging a lot of mental baggage."

Meditating on a Spin Bike

2012-01-22T09:06:00.000-05:00

Earlier this week, I wrote this post about praying while on a spin bike in an exercise class. Yesterday, I did a guided meditation. I gave it a spiritual twist.

I've done this guided meditation in spin class with this instructor before. We start off with visualizing a color that symbolizes to us the way we feel when we're totally engaged in a task, so engaged that we lose all track of time. We visualize it first as a dot and then we enlarge it. Eventually it becomes a tunnel of color through which we pedal.

Yesterday, I tried to envision the color (purple with green edges) as God. I tried to imagine the color as God's love dripping into me. I tried to imagine my cells, which all week have been filled with anxiety and worry, filling up with God's love. I tried to imagine God's love squeezing all the negativity out of my cells.

I was able to meditate in this way successfully. I haven't always been successful with meditation. My mind drifts off, and I look at my watch, and I wonder when it will all be over so that I can go on to something else.

Yesterday, we did our spin class in a dark room lit only by some violet light. We did our meditation in the middle of our spin class, which meant that our bodies had something to do as our brains explored. That kind of meditation works for me. I don't do as well at the end of a yoga class when we all assume corpse pose on the floor and lie there still and silent for 15 minutes.

I mention these experiences to remind us that there are all kinds of ways to do spiritual practices. You may not do well with prayers in which you chat with God. So, try fixed hour prayers out of a prayer book where the prayers have been written for you, often centuries ago or try reading the Psalms as prayer (see this post for more on fixed hour prayer). Maybe you'd like to keep a journal but you hate writing. Play with collage or photography.

And don't be surprised if your preferences change as the years go by. What worked well one year might not work as well a decade or two later. Be flexible. Try new things. Look for practices that let you listen for the invitations that God offers you.

Life Lessons, Small and Major

2012-01-21T08:13:00.000-05:00

Earlier this week, at my creativity blog, I wrote this post about life lessons, so far, from January. I tried to be both serious and humorous, while avoiding preachiness.

I've had the idea of life lessons on my brain, in part because my new year started with the funeral of my grandmother. Her life taught me many things: the joys of a well-seasoned cast iron skillet, the many ways we have to recycle and re-use almost everything, the simple practices that can enrich our lives in ways we cannot articulate (morning devotion time, daily dessert, weekly church attendance, social time with family, service to community).

A few years ago, during a car trip back from our Thanksgiving family reunion at Lutheridge, my spouse asked my grandmother for her advice about what makes a great life.

She said, "You have to exercise every day. You need to giggle every day. And be grateful for what you have."

I was often in awe of my grandmother's wisdom, albeit, often in hindsight. She would have scoffed at the idea that she was wise. She didn't value the things that she knew how to do in the way that I valued them: quilting, canning, growing food, sewing, I could go on and on.

But in her quiet living of her life, she bore powerful witness. And I must say, the quote above sums up her philosophy quite nicely.

And it agrees with so much that researchers have "discovered." We need to keep our spirits up, and laughter is a great way to do it. We need to keep our perspective, and gratitude helps immensely. Physical exercise, which need not be vigorous (my grandmother took a leisurely walk each evening), helps in more ways than we understand.

I will continue to record the wisdom of my elders so that later, when my memory falters, I'll have access. I wish that my grandmother had been more of a writer. She scoffed at that idea too. Unfortunately, she subscribed to the notion that only some of us are important, and that an old woman living in a rural outpost couldn't be one of those people.

Luckily, she was surrounded by people who didn't agree. And luckily for us, she was willing to talk.

Praying to the Rhythms of Exercise

2012-01-20T05:06:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was a trying and exhausting day on many levels, not the least of which was finding out that my credit card had been stolen when someone wanted to make a $1500 donation to the March of Dimes.

I'd like to eradicate birth defects as much as the next person, but if I could afford to make a $1500 donation, it would be to Lutheran World Relief or to the ELCA malaria eradication efforts.

We got the phone call from the Fraud unit of the credit card company after a long morning of all the phone calls that an impending real estate transaction takes--we are hoping to finally sell my mother-in-law's condo next week. She died just as the real estate market imploded, and we've been stuck. But selling a condo is not without special headaches.

So, by the time I got to evening spin class, I was wrung out from a day of anxiety and phone calls. I was also feeling guilty (and yes, anxious) about my inability to turn off my anxiety response. I hopped on the bike and spun and prayed.

I'm always startled when I can pray during spin class. The music is loud, and the instructor has to give us direction, and we're often changing approaches. But when I can pray, the rhythm often works.

I've had great luck praying during walks, either in straight lines or in a labyrinth. But I don't often pray in other exercise situations.

The pounding music was great for short prayers, repeated over and over again. The exercise setting reminded me to pray for health for so many people who are struggling. The sweat poured off of me, which felt like a baptism.

I emerged from spin class feeling energized and cleansed. I need to remember to try praying during exercise more often.

The Simple Jesus You May Not Know

2012-01-19T06:01:00.000-05:00

The day before Christmas Eve, I picked up N. T. Wright's Simply Jesus: A New Vision of Who He Was, Why He Did, and Why He Matters; I couldn't put it down. If someone else had written this book, I might not have bothered. I might have said, "What else is there to say about Jesus that hasn't already been said?"

Of course, there's still plenty to say. And N. T. Wright is the person to say it, and often in ways that surprise me.

This book is most important in describing the time period of Jesus, particularly the ways that first century humans understood time, space, and matter, and the way that first century Jews understood the Temple. Wright also does a remarkable job in explaining the prophets, the reformers, and the radicals who came before Jesus, who inspired the imaginations of their contemporaries. It's a great way to understand the context of Jesus, what people were expecting, and why Jesus might have used the language that he did.

The second part of the book explains what it all means to us, modern believers centuries later. He talks about our job as believers: "The Beatitudes are the agenda for kingdom people. They are not simply about how to behave so that God will do something nice to you. They are about the way in which Jesus wants to rule the world. He wants to do it through this sort of people--people, actually, just like himself (read the Beatitudes again and see. . . . When God wants to change the world, he doesn't send in the tanks. He sends in the meek, the mourners, those who are hungry and thirsty for God's justice, the peacemakers, and so on" (page 218, italics in original).

If you've been going to church, the ideas in the second part of this book will probably not be unfamiliar to you--although you may be delighted and/or perplexed to see how Wright interprets the Gospels and the lessons of Jesus.

By now, you may be thinking, hmm, sounds a little heavy for my capacities. That's another beautiful thing about this book: it's readable, it's accessible, and it's fascinating.

Here are some quotes to whet your appetite:

"The disciples wanted a kingdom without a cross. Many would be 'orthodox' or 'conservative' Christians in our world have wanted a cross without a kingdom, an abstract 'atonement' that would have nothing to do with this world except to provide the means of escaping it." (page 173)

"Jesus is like somebody who has two homes. The homes are right next door to each other, and there is a connecting door. One day, the partition wall will be knocked down and there will be one, glorious, heaven-and-earth mixture." (page 195)

"Jesus rules the world through those who launch new initiatives that radically challenge the accepted ways of doing things: jubilee projects to remit ridiculous and unpayable debt, housing trusts that provide accommodation for low-income families or homeless people, local and sustainable agricultural projects that care for creation instead of destroying it in the hope of quick profit and so on." (page 219)

"Jesus has all kinds of projects up his sleeve and is simply waiting for faithful people to say their prayers, to read the signs of the times, and to get busy. Nobody would have dreamed of a Truth and Reconciliation Commission if Desmond Tutu hadn't prayed, and pushed, and made it happen. Nobody would have worked out the Jubilee movement, to campaign for international debt relief, if people in the churches had not become serious about the ridiculous plight of the poor. Closer to home, nobody else is likely to organize a car shuttle to get old people to and from stores. Nobody else is likely to volunteer to play the piano for the service at the local prison. Few other people will start a play group for the children of single mothers who are still at work when school finishes. Nobody else, in my experience, will listen very hard to the plight of isolated rural communities or equally isolated inner-city enclaves. Nobody else thought of organizing the 'Street Pastors' scheme, which, in my country at least, has had a remarkable success in reducing crime. And so on. And so on." (p. 230)

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

2012-01-18T08:47:00.000-05:00

The Readings for Sunday, January 22, 2012:

First Reading: Jonah 3:1-5, 10

Psalm: Psalm 62:6-14 (Psalm 62:5-12 NRSV)

Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 7:29-31

Gospel: Mark 1:14-20

I'm interested that in this Gospel (as well as other stories we've had recently, like Mary's call in Advent), people don't seem to hesitate. They don't weigh the cost of discipleship. They don't create a spreadsheet that compares the pros and the cons.

No, God beckons, and these men leave their normal lives immediately.

The story we get in today's Gospel seems like a young person's story. How hard is it to give up everything when you're young and don't really have all that much to give up? I think of the mother of Andrew and Simon Peter, who must wonder if her sons have lost their minds. I imagine her sighing, saying, "Eh, they're young. They'll come to their senses and come back to the family business--I give them 6 months of this homeless lifestyle, following this wackadoo Jesus."

I think about Jesus moving in the world today, and I wonder if we’d recognize him and if we’d drop everything to follow him. Would we think about our jobs and the current unemployment rate and the likelihood that we’d never find a full-time job again if we dropped everything? Would we think about our family obligations? Would we worry about our stuff and our mortgages and how we’d pay our bills if we just dropped everything to follow Jesus?

Would we even hear Jesus at all? Many of us wander through the world with our cell phones pasted to our ears or our fingers, careening into innocent bystanders because we’re so oblivious. What would Jesus have to do to get our attention?

Our Bible stories train us to look for burning bushes, so we ignore the still, small voice that speaks to us out of the darkness of a sleepless night: it's not God, it's indigestion. We're ready for hosts of angels, or bright stars, or wise men who let us know that there's a new savior on the scene. But if God speaks in a small whisper, can we hear over the din of our electronics?

And if we hear, can we make time? I see God as the friend who continues to invite me to lunch, the one to whom I say, “I’m super-busy this month. What’s your calendar like for next month?”

The good news is that God continues to call us anyway. No matter how many times we reject God and God's hopes for us, God comes back to see if we're interested.

God has great visions for us. But even if we can't rise to those grand plans, God will entice us with smaller parts of the larger vision. And then, years later, we look up, amazed at how our lives' trajectories have changed.

What is God calling you to do? And if you're not comfortable with the larger plan, are there smaller bits you can do right now?

Maybe you're not ready to go back to school, but you could take a class or two. Maybe you can't leave your job, but you could try something different through volunteer work. Maybe you can't solve the larger social justice issue that keeps you up at night, but you could write a letter or educate your fellow citizens.

We are all so much greater than we know. Christ came to us to show us what is possible in a human life--and so much is possible. What part in this great human drama were you born to play?

The Easter Story from the Gardener's Perspective

2012-01-17T07:53:00.000-05:00

Those of you familiar with my poetry know that I've had fun imagining Jesus alive and moving around physically as a human in today's world. I've written about Jesus on the softball team, Jesus bowling, Jesus showing up to do hurricane clean up.

I also enjoy taking less prominent characters from Bible stories and spinning a poem. One year, when hearing the Easter story, I zoned in on Mary thinking that the risen Jesus was the gardener. That tidbit made me think that there must have been a real gardener, and that realization made me wonder about the Easter story from the gardener's perspective.

That poem has just been published here, in Eye to the Telescope, in a collection of poems that are persona poems. You'll need to scroll down to get to my poem.

You may ask, what's a persona poem? The editor, Jeannine Hall Gailey, explains: "The definition of persona poetry is poetry that is told from the first-person perspective of a character who explicitly is not the poet; the word 'persona' is derived from the Latin for 'mask.' I like persona poetry because it allows poets to use a lot of the tools available to fiction writers; it gives poets the permission to use the imagination, to free themselves from the strictures of autobiography. Speculative poets already push the limits of imagination in their work, so this is a uniquely ambitious kind of project. I also like persona poetry because in it, you can choose to retell stories from a different perspective—often a perspective left out of the original story. If you are interested in reading a little more about the definitions of and uses of persona poetry, you can check out this essay on the subject, available here."

When I first started writing poems using Jesus or other people in the Bible, it felt very dangerous, almost profane. I've had lots of teachers who always encouraged us to push through our fears, who said that if the writing felt dangerous, then we were on the track of a subject worth pursuing. And so, I pushed on.

I've found that the process of writing the poems gives me new appreciation for the Bible stories. And I've also found that for many of my readers, the poems that felt dangerous when I was writing them are often the ones that speak to them most forcefully.

Even if you don't think of yourself as a poet, you might try something similar as a spiritual experiment. Take a page of paper and imagine Jesus moving with you throughout your day. What would Jesus say to you? What would Jesus see in our world?

Or, take a Gospel story and think about the humans in the story that don't have a voice. I've long been intrigued by a reference to Simon Peter's mother-in-law. What must she have thought about the events of Peter's life? And mother-in-law presupposes a wife--but that wife is never mentioned that I can see. Still, the idea of Peter's wife--I still haven't written that poem. I think of Peter's wife, at home, taking care of the family fishing business, while Peter goes about the business of the early church.

So, take out some paper and adopt an attitude of play. God won't mind. Our God is not only an awesome God, but also a playful God--if you don't believe me, look at the variety of creation, and see if you don't see a sense of play at work in the world.

Arcing Toward Justice

2012-01-16T08:35:00.000-05:00

I've written about Martin Luther King numerous times before, and today, I've written this post about MLK and nonviolent resistance for the Living Lutheran website.

My creativity blog has this post with some additional links to some of my previous writing about MLK, along with a poem.

I also write about saints on this theology blog periodically, which leads me to wonder if MLK will ever be canonized. I could make the case that the Civil Rights legislation of the 1960's was proof of miracles that we can attribute to MLK. My thoughts in this direction make me think about what the feast day of Martin Luther King would look like.

Well, we already have a glimpse of that, don't we? Some communities would have parades, while others would engage in social justice projects. We would sing songs like "This Little Light of Mine" and "We Shall Overcome." We'd remind each other not to let evil turn us around.

So, on this day where we honor the dreams, both realized and yet-to-come-true, of both Martin Luther King and the Civil Rights Movement, let's continue to dream of justice, to determine that we will continue to work towards that vision of a day when we'll be judged on the content of our character. Let's continue the spiritual formation of having a character that's worthy.

What Word Do You Need Today?

2012-01-15T07:18:00.000-05:00

When I was at Mepkin Abbey this past November, I was intrigued by this basket of ceramic circles, each one with a word on it:

They're a variation of the old worry stone, a talisman we can keep in a pocket, a physical object that will serve as a reminder: a reminder not to worry, a reminder of what we want more of in our life, a reminder of the better life that God has offered to us.

I found myself drawn to the words "dream," "integrity," and "serenity." We have been in a season of shrinking and job loss in my workplace, as well as in the larger landscape of workplaces in the U.S. I want to dream of new vistas, instead of reacting in a panic. I want a job that seamlessly fits with my values, a job that doesn't sacrifice integrity for the sake of paying my bills. I want the serenity that comes from trusting that God, who knows all the sparrows and every single hair on my head, will provide all that I can dream of, and more.

God is not hemmed in by our shallow imaginations. God has good things in store for us. Our bowls will be full of good food that will sustain us.

Small Kindnesses and MLK

2012-01-14T05:58:00.000-05:00

During this week-end where we remember Martin Luther King and the huge gains of the Civil Rights Movement, I think it's important to stress that small kindnesses can change the world too. I yearn for sweeping policy shifts as much as the next person. I long to be remembered for transforming my society. But we're not all called to do that.

We are called to be kind to the people around us. When I think about yesterday, a day of tiring meetings, classroom observations, and other work duties, what I will remember is the kindness of the student worker in the bookstore where I went to pick up my new campus parking sticker.

I said, "I'm here to get a parking sticker, but I just realized I brought no ID with me."

The student worker said, "But I know that you work here." And he handed me the forms to fill out. I might mention that these forms only require information about my car (make, model, license plate #). The form doesn't require information from my driver's license. It does require my employee number, which I've memorized.

I've had other people who also knew I work with them insist on seeing my ID. And here's a student who says, "You came to observe my class today. I know who you are." Both of those responses came from workers who were lower in the caste system which is academia. One response insisted on knocking me down a peg whilst being unhelpful. One response bestowed kindness and gave me a sense of well-being that lasted all afternoon.

I could go further and say that these kindnesses can transform the world just as surely as the larger Civil Rights Movement did. I could argue that the Civil Rights Movement was rooted in the need for small kindnesses. Those early activists gathered together to comfort each other after being in the larger world that was full of disrespect and meanness.

Imagine how the world might have been different if the Montgomery public transit system had been committed to small kindnesses: every weary person gets a seat on the bus after a long day at work. If Rosa Parks hadn't had to make a stand by not standing, would the Civil Rights Movement have been launched? Certainly not in the same way.

Small kindnesses soften our souls so that we're ready to attempt larger kindesses. If we treat the people in our immediate circle of daily life with gentleness, maybe we'll be ready for the transformative work that the world needs. Maybe we, too, can follow in the very large footsteps of Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King.

An Accessible Book on Simplicity for Your New Year's Reading

2012-01-13T04:18:00.000-05:00

Many of us probably made New Year's Resolutions that revolved around simplifying our lives. Perhaps we made resolutions about adopting spiritual practices that bring us closer to God.  Jan Johnson's book Abundant Simplicity: Discovering the Unhurried Rhythms of Grace describes some practices that can help us do both at the same time.

Some of the material here will not be new to any of us. We likely already know that we need to think about our priorities before we say yes to new activities, for example. But I love her spiritual spin on simplicity. She reminds us again and again that we should be adopting these practices so that we have more time for our relationship with God.

She's also very encouraging as she reminds us again and again to do what we can, not to stress over what we can't do: "The guideline for all spiritual practices is a version of Benedictine John Chapman's words: 'Pray as you can, not what you can't.' This means focus on a simplicity practice as you can do it, however imperfectly, not as others do it or the supposed one right way to do it."(55).

Some of her simplicity practices surprised me. She devotes a chapter to fewness and fullness of words.  Throughout this chapter, she reminds us that the purpose of speaking should be to "impart grace" "promote kindness" (64). Think about that idea as you go about your day. How much of your language shines light into the world? How much of your speech is devoted to ugliness?

In this chapter she also talks about the value of complete silence. She describes an experiment that her graduate student undertakes; she remains silent for 24 hours. Johnson also tells us about other ways we might weave silence into our noisy lives.

Each chapter concludes with a variety of experiments to try and a list of questions to explore in discussion or in private pondering or writing. Again, some of these will be familiar, but it's good to be reminded of their usefulness. And it's a treat to have some new material to use.

Other topics she covers include learning not to worry, learning to pare down, learning how to keep our free time really free, learning to be unhurried, and cultivating a spirit of gratitude. Again and again she reminds us that we're doing these activities with a higher purpose.  It's not about clearing out our closets and shelves so that we can clutter them with more junk. It's about making more space for God.

At 172 pages, with chapters that you can dip in and out of, with headings to help you navigate, readers will find this book accessible and friendly. For those of us who already find the busyness of modern life sabotaging our resolutions, the reminder that we can start again will be welcome. For those of us who think that there must be more to life than what we're seeing, this book points the way to a path we can follow to a life with more depth.

Who Is a Minister?

2012-01-12T08:04:00.000-05:00

I'm still puzzling over the recent Supreme Court decision about Cheryl Perrich, the teacher in the Lutheran school, which you can read about in this article from The Washington Post. I'm most puzzled that the female teacher in question was considered a minister in her Lutheran school--especially once I found out that the school is part of the Lutheran Church--Missouri Synod tradition.

Why did this fact make me take notice? The Lutheran Church--Missouri Synod does not ordain women. More traditional LCMS churches don't even let women read from the Bible in the pulpit. Yet the school claimed that the teacher was a minister?

True, her training went far further than that experienced by many teachers: "Perich joined the school as a “lay teacher” in 1999 and then underwent extensive religious training. She became a 'called' teacher, expected to perform her job 'according to the Word of God and the confessional standards of the Evangelical Lutheran Church as drawn from the Sacred Scriptures.'”

I can't shake the feeling that there's more to this story, but I must confess I'm more interested in the Human Resources side of the story. The teacher left on medical disability leave for over a year; not surprisingly, the school did not hold her job for her, and as I understand the law, the school was not required to do so. The Post reports: "When she threatened to sue to get her job back, she was fired for 'insubordination and disruptive behavior.'” Why was she not simply let go for dereliction of her teaching duty when she didn't return from medical leave?

It's hard for me to see the discrimination here, but like I said, there may be more to the story. Did she ask for reasonable accommodation? Did the school take pity on her and try to keep her employed, only to find themselves baffled at a worker threatening a lawsuit?

The courts ruled unanimously, which makes me think that the case was fairly clear-cut in First Amendment terms. The school called the teacher a minister, the teacher disagreed, the Supreme Court has just decided that she was a church leader. Will this case have far-reaching implications?

Some of the Justices don't think so: "Justices Samuel A. Alito Jr. and Elena Kagan wrote separately to make clear that they do not think the term 'minister' is central to courts determining who is covered by the exemption. Catholics, Jews, Muslims, Hindus and Buddhists rarely use the title, they wrote."

So, will later cases revolve around how a minister is different from a chaplain, a pastor, a priest? Will the Justices need to think about church founders like Martin Luther, who coined the term "the Priesthood of all believers"?

The newspaper article points to all sorts of inconsistencies, again making me think there's more to the story. The teacher "claimed a special ministerial housing allowance on her taxes." And again, I come back to the idea that the LCMS doesn't recognize women as ministers, which makes me wonder what the school is thinking.

It also makes me wonder if the Supreme Court thought about that fact. If you don't ordain women, can you claim the exemption that the LCMS school claimed? I would say no, although I would support the school in its claim to have done no wrong, based on what I read in the article.

I wish I could come up with some snazzy conclusion that would tie up all the loose ends in this blog post. I wish that writing this blog post had helped me clarify all the points which left me confused, but that hasn't happened. I remain where I was at the beginning, wondering about all the parts of the story that haven't been covered.

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

2012-01-11T05:09:00.002-05:00

The readings for Jan. 15, 2012:

First Reading: 1 Samuel 3:1-10 [11-20]

Psalm: Psalm 139:1-5, 12-17 (Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18 NRSV)

Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 6:12-20

Gospel: John 1:43-51

In this week's Gospel, we see the start of Jesus' ministry--and what a simple start it is. A low pressure invitation to come and see.

Note what is left out of this narrative. I assume that many people declined Christ's invitation, for all the standard reasons: no time, conflict of interest, kids have after school activities, guests in town for the week, laundry and grocery shopping to do, too much work to do before quitting time; we are people with responsibilities; we can't just abandon them to follow some guy around the countryside. Experts tell us that it takes 4-8 invitations before a friend will come with you to church. Imagine what Jesus faced as he offered invitations to total strangers.

And notice that Jesus carries on. Jesus doesn't go off in a huff. Jesus doesn't spend time complaining about how he'd rather have a different sort of ministry. Jesus doesn't whine to God that God promised him something different, one of those mega-churches perhaps. Jesus walks from town to town, issuing a simple invitation: Come and see. The ones who respond to the invitation offer the same invitation to their friends. Come and see.

Jesus doesn't do spectacular miracles in the Gospel of John, at least, not at first. He tells Nathanael that he'll see great things, but he doesn't wow the audiences with his powers.

There are several powerful messages for us here in this Gospel. We, too, have been offered this invitation. Come and see. And what are we to make of what we see? How do we respond? Do we tell others? Do our lives change? Can other people tell that we've been changed?

One of the tasks that God calls us to do is to transform the world we live in, to make the Kingdom of God manifest here on earth. No small task. But God has given us an example of how to do this: Christ's experiences on earth show us the way.

For those of us who are members of small churches or small ministries, we should take heart in this example. Jesus doesn't start with a huge group. Jesus doesn't start with a huge budget. Jesus doesn't even have a building to call his own. Jesus shows us what we can accomplish with a small group of dedicated people.

Perhaps this doesn't sound like good news to you right now. Maybe you're tired and not feeling so dedicated. Maybe you find yourself waking up at 2 in the morning with doubts consuming you and eating away your stomach lining. Pay attention to the Gospel lessons in the coming weeks. God can work with that kind of disciple too.

In the meantime, listen for God. On a daily basis, an hourly basis, God constantly calls us to come and see. God always calls us to transform the world and God promises that transformation is possible, even probable. We are Resurrection People: Life blooms even in the middle of death, even in the deep midwinter.

Prodigals Returning

2012-01-10T08:31:00.000-05:00

This morning, I returned to running (I will use the word running, even though less kindly other people might use words like "slow jogging," "lumbering," "slogging," "shuffling"). It's been almost 2 months since I ran down the Broadwalk at the beach. Again, I wonder, why have I denied myself this pleasure?

Well, for the better part of December, I didn't run because I couldn't inhale without coughing. And then there was travelling and then there was my eye infection.

And then there was laziness.

I am always a bit surprised to find that my muscles remember how to run, after a long period of not running. And as a poet, my brain goes to other areas where I notice a similar dynamic. In so many areas of my life, I return to activities and people which bring me joy--and I always wonder, why have I denied myself this pleasure? I wrote a blog post with poems about the subject here. But let me also consider the spiritual dimension.

Many of us are similarly surprised when we return to the churches of our childhood and find comfort from the Scripture, from the hymns, from the liturgy, from the community. We may wonder why we waited so long to return. We may find ourselves surprised to find the open arms that welcome us.

Likewise, we may experience something similar in our relationship to God. We may begin the discipline of prayer, or return to it, and we may be surprised to find that God has been there waiting all along.

And the parable of the Prodigal Son reminds us that God is not standing around, growing impatient, watching the celestial clock, wondering where we are. God plans the feast that God will give upon our return: a fatted calf, a fine cloak, a circle of friends, a ring for our finger.

Now is the time of year when many of us return to regular life. We put away the excesses that often come with December. We return to jobs, to exercise, to regular bedtimes, to housework, and to moderate eating. We might also be struggling with a smidge of depression--December was so much fun, so lovely, so festive!

Now is a good time to pick up those spiritual habits that we may have let slide during December. Your worship community is still there waiting for you. God looks forward to your return. May you find, as you return, that the quiet joy in these relationships takes away the depression that can come as Winter settles in.

Into the Pool!

2012-01-09T05:38:00.000-05:00

Yesterday at my local Lutheran church, we not only celebrated the baptism of Jesus, but our own baptisms. We did the Reaffirmation of Baptism, with our pastor explaining the different parts.

When we got to prayer that concludes the Reaffirmation, our pastor had the children come forward. Every time the word water was mentioned, the children jumped up with hands in the air and yelled "Water!" I loved the interactive nature of it. Then the children and the pastor went through the church sprinkling us all with water with a palm branch. It was fabulous.

Our pastor preached a wonderful sermon about baptism. He had an extended metaphor, based on the swimming pool his family had when he was growing up. It was New York, so the first swim of the season was in very chilly waters. He remembers that as a child, he didn't care: he'd cannonball himself into the water.

As a teenager, he'd carefully arrange the floats so that he could be in the water and not touching the water. And the adults were content to sit around the pool and barely dip a toe in the water.

He reminded us that new converts are like those kids, enthusiastic and energetic. As our faith matures, we're in danger of losing this enthusiasm.

He encouraged us to listen to what God would have us to do. God doesn't want us to just do whatever we want to do. No. If that was enough, there would be no sin, no lives gone astray.

How can we grow into the promise of our baptisms. Our pastor gave us a question to ask ourselves.

He asked, "Having chosen us, what does God want us to choose to do?" He encouraged us to listen with discernment.

It's a question that spoke to me, as I may be approaching a place in the not too distant future when it's time to think about career choices for the second half of my life.

Our pastor closed by reminding us that Jesus has gone before us into the baptismal water. He said, "C'mon in--Jesus is waiting for you in these baptismal waters."

Yes, the water's fine--let's jump in!

Grandma's Love, God's Love

2012-01-08T09:05:00.000-05:00

I have my grandmother on the brain a lot these days. I've been feeling the grief that one would expect, of course, when a loved one dies. I've also been feeling gratitude. I've been thinking a lot about the love that we experience, or don't experience, from our families, and what that love can teach us about God's love.

My grandmother was not always an easy woman to love. She had some fairly traditional ideas about how we should behave. Her pre-20th century ideas about blacks, women, and homosexuality could be tough for me. I remember that we cousins would often try to influence her beliefs. Now that I'm older, and from this side of time can see the futility of our attempts, I shake my head at our belief that we could change her attitudes.

I always tried to remind myself of the social changes that she had seen in her lifetime. Here's just one example: her farm family used horses as vehicles, and then during the following decades, she was one of the first women in the county to ride in a car, and she saw ships carrying humans launched into space. How dizzying.

I often just ignored her attempts to change my behavior, and now that I'm older, I see my actions as petty and disrespectful. She didn't want me to wash my car in her driveway on a Sunday afternoon, but I did it anyway. Would it have killed me to have waited one day? Of course not. I was trying to prove a point.

Now that I'm older, the idea of Sabbath time becomes ever more precious to me. But to be honest, my grandmother didn't want to to avoid washing the car because of Sabbath time. No, she was worried about what the neighbors would think.

My grandmother continued to welcome me back to her house, even when I didn't behave in the ways that she wanted. In many ways, this love reminds me of God's love.

My grandmother wanted what was best for me, as God does. Her ideas for what was best differed from what I may have thought, but she didn't cast me away.

And I was stubborn too. I kept coming back, even when she occasionally said ugly things about my life's choices. Keep in mind that I wasn't doing anything truly dreadful, like developing a heroin habit. She was baffled about my continuing on in school. She was even more baffled about my spouse's long trajectory towards a real job. She didn't understand my problems with organized religion. But I continued to come to see her. As I worked on my B.A. degree and my graduate degrees, as I worked at my first grown up job at a community college, I visited every month or 6 weeks. She cooked me dinner and often had a tin of cookies. She continued to sew clothes for me. She often gave me larger gifts that would have taken me months or years to afford.

We both continued to keep the lines of communications open, and so, she was able to enjoy the times she had scarcely dared hope for, like my return to the Lutheran church. In much the same way, I imagine God, continuing to cook meals for us and to sew us clothes, continuing to give us help, in the hopes that we'll turn our lives around.

I realize that not every story of family love ends this way. Too many people experience family estrangement to find the idea of God as a parent or grandparent to be a comfort. Too few of us find an earthly incarnation of the kind of unconditional acceptance that God gives us.

My hope is that we can find partial examples of that love and extrapolate. My grandmother's love of me was incomplete. She spent too many years feeling more disappointment than love. I like to think that God would be more full of love than disappointment.

The love of family and friends gives us a window into the magnitude of the ways that God loves us, forgives us, roots for us, and comforts us. And as we think about that idea, we can also think about the ways that we can help others experience a fragment of the love that God has for humans; we can love others and be an example of the Divine love. In this way, our lives full of love can become sacrament.

A Funeral So Close to Christmas

2012-01-07T08:09:00.000-05:00

A week ago, we had my grandmother's funeral and burial. In many ways, it was a funeral service both beautiful and strange.

The church was still decorated for Christmas, complete with lights and candles. I found it oddly comforting, even while it made me feel a bit disjointed.

My grandmother died on Dec. 28, the day after her 97th birthday. Our Gospel reading was the reading for last Sunday, Luke 2:22-40, with the faithfulness of Anna and Simeon. I thought it was a strange choice for a funeral reading, but the pastor made it come together surprisingly well.

The pastor's homily focused on her near-Christmas birthday, her near-Christmas death, and the meanings of Christmas. It focused on being a servant in the tradition of Christ. The pastor talked about faithfulness and living a long life in faith, as Anna and Simeon did. The meditation worked surprisingly well.

We ended the service with "Joy to the World," one of my favorite Christmas hymns, that I haven't sung at all this season. Again, a surprising choice, but it worked.

Oh, we sang more traditional funeral hymns. My grandfather's favorite hymn was "Children of the Heavenly Father"; we sang it his funeral, and we sang it at my grandmother's too. That song makes me weep even when we're not at a funeral. Would it make me weep if I didn't associate it with funerals?

I find it comforting even as I'm weeping.

We read the passage from Romans (8:31-39) which assures us that nothing can separate us from the love of the Almighty. We read Psalm 23.

In all, the funeral did what funerals need to do. It celebrated the life of my grandmother. It reassured those of us still living that death will not have the final answer. It comforted those of us gathered together to grieve a loss. It reminded us that we are still alive, with important work left to do.

The Last Day of Christmas

2012-01-06T03:05:00.000-05:00

Today we reach the end of the Christmas season, which every year seems all too short. Today we celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany, the arrival of the Magi, those wise, wise men.

Matthew 2: 10-11

10When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. 11On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure-chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

I find my Advent mood seeping into this Feast Day. I think of those wise men, their study of the night sky, the arrival of the new star.

I've written a longer blog post about this aspect of the story over at Living Lutheran: "But the Magi don’t miss the message of the star. They show up to do the work. They’re not lazing about hoping that something reveals itself. They are present and receptive to the message of the skies. They participate in the discovery of the message."

We might prefer the blaze of angel light, the night sky disrupted, the message plain and clear. We might wish that we didn't have to rely on a lonely star, beaming its speck of light from such a great distance. The wise men remind us of the Advent message, the value of watching and waiting and staying alert.

The travel of the Magi speaks to some of us this time of year. Not only were the magi watching the skies, they were ready to hit the road.

Jan Richardson has a great meditation and poem on this aspect of the story: "As we travel toward Epiphany and savor the final days of Christmas, this is a good time to ponder where we are in our journey. As we cross into the coming year, where do you find yourself on the path? Have you been traveling more by intention or by reacting to what’s come your way? What direction do you feel drawn to go in during the coming weeks and months? Is there anything you need to let go of—or to find—in order to take the next step? In the coming months, what gift do you most need to offer, that only you can give?"

Too often, with both our Christmas story and our Epiphany story, we stay with the happy elements: we focus on the baby in the manger, the arrival of the wise men, the happy crowd, all assembled. We forget what happened next.

Matthew 2: 12-14

12And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road. 13 Now after they had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, ‘Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.’ 14Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt,

The journey of the Magi plunges the family into chaos, into flight, into refugee status. These stories are not all sweetness and light.

In this post, David Eck reminds us of the political implications of the Epiphany story, the fact that the wise men didn't find the new king in any of the power centers of the Roman Empire: "This is good news for us who live in a world where rulers are easily corrupted and governments cave-in to lobbyists and special interest groups. It serves as a reminder that Jesus, the ruler of our hearts, is found among the poor and the needy, the lost and abandoned. If we really want to see him face to face we will NOT see him in Baptist ministers running for political office or in T.V. preachers living lavish lifestyles. We will find Jesus sitting with the homeless on a park bench, shivering in the cold, waiting for a shelter to open for the night. We will find Jesus holding the hand of the victim of a hate crime who is crying out for justice and for safety. We will find Jesus huddled close to a space heater with a family of five because it is the only source of heat in their entire house."

Here is a prayer that I wrote for today:

Creator God, on this day when we celebrate the mystery and the wisdom of the Magi, we ask that you grant us a portion of their patience. Let us continue to watch and wait for you. Let us see the specks of light that lead us to you. Let us have the courage to follow the star, even if it leads us to unexpected places. May we not react in great destruction, as Herod did. Grant us the wisdom to know our gifts and to bring them forth. Let us bring your light to all the dark corners of the world."

Holy Spirit, Earthly Spirit

2012-01-05T06:10:00.000-05:00

Last night was the first night of 2012 that we went to First Lutheran to take dinner to the hungry and homeless. I expected it to be a record setting crowd, since it was so cold outside, cold by South Florida standards.

Of course, when it's cold, the city opens a shelter, so maybe that's why we didn't see as many people as I expected. On the Wednesday before Christmas, a balmy 85 degrees, we served 139 people. Last night, with the low in the 50's, we served under 70 people.

The pastor wasn't on site by the time it was time to say grace, so I said, "Luckily, we belong to a religious tradition that doesn't believe we need a pastor to pray to our God." No big deal--I've done it before, and I'm comfortable praying in front of a group.

A man raised his hand and asked to be the one to pray. I was a bit uneasy--was he enthusiastic because of the Holy Spirit or because of earthly spirits? I said, "Let's pray together. You go first, and I'll finish."

As he came forward, I noticed uneasy looks being exchanged across tables. I said, "You're not going to be profane, are you?"

Oh me of little faith! He took my hand and offered a beautiful prayer. He said, "Now you."

I prayed, "I don't have much more to add to that, except to ask that you be with those who can't be with us tonight and to be with us as we leave each other at the end of our time together tonight."

First Lutheran offers an ecumenical worship service after the meal. The pastor still hadn't arrived by the end of the meal, and the First Lutheran woman in charge asked if I would do the service. I hadn't counted on that, but I was game; I decided to go with an Epiphany theme, since I'd recently been writing about Epiphany (here at the Living Lutheran website, and here at my weekly Gospel meditation). I consulted with the pianist/choir director, found a Bible passage, and waited for time to begin.

We sang "We Three Kings." I read Matthew 2: 1-21. I talked about the wise men knowing what they were seeing because they had been observing the skies for many years. I talked about the different responses to God: the wise men get up and get moving, while Herod reacts in devastatingly destructive ways. I talked about God choosing to live among the poor, the refugees, the immigrants.

Several of the homeless men wanted to talk, and I let them. I'm enough of a teacher that I'm comfortable with that approach, although it unnerved at least one of the First Lutheran members.

Then I took prayer requests and fashioned a prayer. We finished by singing "Joy to the World."

Last night was one of those Holy Spirit nudges. I always love serving a meal. As I have said to more than one friend, who can object to feeding the hungry? But I really loved putting together a service and doing the preaching.

I know I might not love it as much if I had to do it week in, week out. I know that to be an ordained Lutheran, I'd have to take on a lot of student debt as I went to school for years. I feel the Holy Spirit nudging me, but I'm unclear of the final destination.

Am I unclear or do I not want to see? I am guilty of wanting the Holy Spirit to speak in grand gestures, like a full scholarship to a seminary with living expenses covered too, not in gentle whispers. I worry that if I want a grand gesture, the Holy Spirit will get my attention by way of the grand gesture of unemployment or something horribly negative. My earthly spirit clearly doesn't fully trust the Holy Spirit.

Perhaps that's why the Holy Spirit tends to work in nudges and whispers. Most of us are skittish animals, after all, easily spooked.

Today I return to my regular life, a work life full of Holy Spirit nudges, where no one asks to pray with me, where few worship, where whining often wins out over gratitude.

I want to be like my grandmother, whom so many have told me cultivated a garden of calm and acceptance. I want to be that woman, no matter where I'm working. Come, Lord Jesus, and transform my worry into joy.

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

2012-01-04T08:29:00.002-05:00

The readings for Sunday, Jan. 8, 2012:

Genesis 1:1-5
Psalm 29
The voice of the LORD is upon the waters. (Ps. 29:3)
Acts 19:1-7
Mark 1:4-11

This Sunday marks the baptism of Christ. I love the words of God in this baptism: "Thou art my beloved Son; with thee I am well pleased." Note that God says this at the beginning of Christ's ministry, before Jesus has actually done much. In fact, in this Gospel of Mark, the baptism scene is our first introduction to Jesus. Mark doesn't give us a nativity story.

Here's the best news of all: God feels the same way about you.

God feels the same way about you: you are God's chosen ones; God is well pleased with each and every one of you.

For those of us who might have grown up with the idea of an angry God, a punishing parent, this message can be quite powerful. God loves you, regardless of what you've done, in spite of what you've done. God's love has nothing to do with what you've accomplished.

Certainly God has ideas of how we can live our best lives, in much the way a friend wants what's best for a friend, a parent wants a child to make choices that will lead the child to fulfillment. But regardless of what we've done or not done, regardless of the roads we've taken, regardless of how well we're living our mission to be the light of Christ in the world, God loves us.

This is a powerful message as we start the new year. For some of us, a new year is a chance to beat ourselves up over how much we haven't accomplished. We think of all the past resolutions we haven't been able to keep. We think of all the ways we haven't been our best selves. We think of all the people we've disappointed. We can quickly spiral into a vicious circle of self-hatred and depression.

God knows all the ways we might not deserve it, but God loves us anyway. Again, that's the great thing about being a Lutheran and believing in grace--God knows us completely, and God loves us thoroughly. We don't have to do anything to earn this love. Indeed, we can't.

Look at the great lengths God has gone to to let us know of that love. Think of the Christmas and Epiphany stories. God becomes a little baby, born in a stable--and why? To let us know of God's love. God becomes a refugee because of Herod's jealousy. God loves us so much--the Bible is full of stories that show God going to great lengths to show humanity this love. An observant person might say that God still goes to great lengths to get our attention.

The juxtaposition of the Christmas/Epiphany stories and the Baptism of Christ also gives us an opportunity to see how differently people respond to this gift of grace and love. Herod is so threatened that he slaughters every child in Bethlehem and the surrounding region. John, on the other hand, tells everyone about the coming arrival of Jesus.

How will you respond to God's great gift of love?

The Meaning of Christmas, One Week Out

2012-01-01T08:10:00.025-05:00

A week ago, we'd have been celebrating Christmas. This is the time of year when so many of us go into a funk as the twinkly lights disappear and the days don't seem to be growing noticeably longer and we face the stern reckoning of what the holidays have done to us in terms of our weight, our good habits, and our finances.

A week ago I posted pictures of the baby Jesus in the manger. For too many of us, the story ends there. We forget the true meaning of Christmas.

Jesus didn't come to be a cute baby in a manger. If we stop with the cute baby in the manger, we've lost the story. In his various Christmas homilies, our pastor reminded us that Jesus comes to live in our hearts and transform our lives so that we can be Christ to each other.

He gave us the example of the feeding program at First Lutheran which so many of us participate in. Once a month, we take dinner to First Lutheran and serve anyone who shows up. Our pastor reminded us that since we started participating, we've fed over 3000 people.

Some days it feels like we do so little. We've been feeding people for over three years, and yet the problem hasn't been solved. We might even say it's gotten worse. We see the same people each time. We feed them for a night, but we haven't solved the thorny issues of homelessness and hunger.

I must return to the Advent words of John the Baptist: "I am not the Messiah."

The Christmas message is that God came into the world, born to a homeless couple who would soon become refugees. The most grim of circumstances can be redeemed. I don't have to know how it will happen. Christmas tells me the great glad tidings that it will happen: the redemption of creation is underway, in ways I can't possibly predict.

Return to the angel's message. Don't give up hope, even as the dreary days of January drape across your spirits.

The Feast Day of the Holy Family

2011-12-30T06:50:00.034-05:00

Today we celebrate the Holy Family. This feast day is relatively recent; we've only been celebrating the Holy Family for the past 300 years or so. Our idea of family, especially a family unit separate from multiple generations, after all, is really rather modern.

It's interesting to take up this feast day after all these days where we've celebrated Mary, and her decision to be the Mother of Jesus. It's a great counterpoint to remember that fathers have a role in the family too.

I always wonder if these kind of feast days bring pain to people who grew up in dysfunctional families. I know plenty of people who have been scarred in ways that only family can do. What do they take away from these feast day? Despair in all the ways that families can hurt each other? Hope that families can really be a sacramental rendering of the love of God?

Below you see a huge sculpture, made from a tree that toppled in a storm, of the Holy Family fleeing Herod's murderous intent. I think of the Holy Family as refugee family, fleeing danger, with only the clothes on their back. I think of all the families torn apart or torn away from their homeland because of terrible dictators. I yearn for the day to come when we will not experience these fissures in the family.

Here is a prayer I wrote for this day:

Parent God, you know the many ways our families can fail us. Please remind us of the perfection in family that we are called to model. Please give us the strength and fortitude to create the family dynamics you would have us enjoy. Please give us the courage to minister to those who have not had good family experiences. And most of us, please give us the comfort of knowing that the restoration of creation is underway, with families that will be whole, not fractured, when all our members will be accounted for, when no one will go missing.

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

2011-12-29T09:47:00.001-05:00

The readings for Sunday, January 1, 2012:

Isaiah 61:10—62:3
Psalm 148
The splendor of the LORD is over earth and heaven. (Ps. 148:13)
Galatians 4:4-7
Luke 2:22-40

By now, you may be feeling that familiar post-holiday let down. Many of us spend the first weeks in the new year feeling bereft: our favorite set of holidays is over, our friends and families have left us and maybe left us feeling let down, and we have to deal with all the ways our holidays weren't what we wanted. Maybe we have whiney children to entertain. Maybe we're missing a loved one who won't ever return to us. We miss the lights and the sense of anticipation, the parties and the expectations. What's left to look forward to? Our New Year's resolutions? Presidents’ Day? No wonder so many of us go into a funk.

It's important to remember this feeling when we hear about the life of Jesus in the weeks to come. From a distance of 2000 years, it's difficult to understand why so many people were resistant to Jesus' message. But many of Jesus' contemporaries had a post-Christmas feeling when they saw Jesus in action: "This guy is our Messiah??? For how many years did we wait??? And this is what we get???" Keep in mind that the Jews of Jesus' time wanted a Messiah who would defeat the Romans and return their holy places to them. What did they get? A guy who spoke of love, a guy who offered them spiritual liberation, which was not the kind of liberation for which they yearned.

But throughout Jesus' life, there were some people who recognized him. Today we hear about Simeon. In later weeks, we'll hear about the first disciples, who left their careers and family to follow Jesus. We'll also hear about people who didn't believe, people who would eventually demand the death of Jesus.

Where are you in these stories in the weeks to come? Are you Simeon, who has been faithful, for decades longer than most of us could have been? Are you Anna, the prophetess who has been watching for a very long time? Are you Mary and Joseph, parents to a very special child? Are you the disciples, willing to risk it all, if it means a closer relationship with Christ?

Or are you a Pharisee, disappointed with what God offers you? How can you move away from being wrecked by your emotions, in order to see the great gifts offered to you?

Maybe, instead of adopting the standard resolutions (losing those 10 pounds, getting a raise, exercising more often), you could snap out of your post-Christmas blues by thinking about resolutions that would enrich you spiritually. Could you read your Bible more? Could you start and end your day in prayer? Could you move towards tithing? Could this be the year you take a retreat?

God reaches out to you, going so far as to take on human form. What are you willing to do in return?

The Slaughter of the Holy Innocents

2011-12-28T06:30:00.027-05:00

Today we remember the slaughter of all the male children under the age of two in Bethlehem in the days after the birth of Jesus. Why were they killed? Because of Herod's feelings of inadequacy, because of his fear. Today we might say, "What an idiot that Herod was!" And yet, if you look around, you'll see that we haven't really grown that much as a people.

We are still likely to respond to our feelings of inadequacy with lethal force. Instead of saying, "How interesting," we say, "How stupid!" And then we go to great lengths to prove that we're right, and whatever is making us feel inadequate is wrong.

So often, in my adult life, I feel like I will never escape middle school. I remember middle school as a particular kind of hell, where the boundaries were always fluid. Kids who were acceptable one day were pariahs the next. Middle school bodies are always changing, and middle school children are under assault from their own hormones, from the changing expectations of adults, from their bodies that take up space differently each day, from an increased school work load, from the crisis that comes out of nowhere to undo all the hard work done.

Adult life can sometimes feel the same way. We fight to achieve equilibrium, only to find it all undone. Most of us don't have the power that Herod does, so our fight against powerlessness doesn't end in corpses. But it often results in a world of outcasts and lone victors.

Of course, the paragraphs above are not meant to downplay the physical deaths that can happen when the powerful lash out against the powerless. We live in a world where dictators can efficiently kill their country's population by the thousands or greater. There's never a good reason for genocide. Yet the twentieth century will be remembered for all the genocides that took place, the ones we knew about and the slaughters that we likely didn't.

On this day, we also remember the flight into Egypt, the Holy Family turned into refugees. We remember the Holy Family fleeing in Terror, with only the clothes on their backs. Today is a good day to pray for victims of terror everywhere, the ones that get away, the ones that are slaughtered.

Here's a prayer for the day, from Phyllis Tickle's The Divine Hours: Prayers for Autumn and Wintertime: "We remember today, O God, the slaughter of the holy innocents of Bethlehem by King Herod. Receive, we pray, into the arms of your mercy all innocent victims; and by your great might frustrate the designs of evil tyrants and establish your rule of justice, love, and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you , in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen."

The Feast Day of St. John

2011-12-27T06:07:00.038-05:00

The day after we celebrate the life of the first Christian martyr, St. Stephen, we celebrate the life of the only one of the original 12 disciples die of natural causes in old age. Tradition tells us that John was first a disciple of John the Baptist, and then a disciple of Christ, the one who came to be known as the beloved disciple, the one tasked with looking after Mary, the mother of Jesus.

There is much debate over how much of the Bible was actually written by this disciple. If we had lived 80 years ago, we'd have firmly believed that the disciple wrote the Gospel of John, the letters of John, and the book of Revelation. Twentieth century scholars came to dispute this belief, and if you do scholarly comparison, you would have to conclude that the same author could not have written all of those books.

Regardless, most of us remember St. John as the disciple who spent a long life writing and preaching. He's the patron saint of authors, theologians, publishers, and editors. He's also the patron saint of painters.

Today, as many of us may be facing a bit of depression or cabin fever, perhaps we can celebrate the feast of St. John by a creative act. Write a poem about what it means to be the beloved disciple. Write a letter to your descendents to tell them what your faith has meant to you. Paint a picture--even if you can't do realistic art, you could have fun with colors as you depict the joy that Jesus brings to you.

Here's a prayer for the day, from Phyllis Tickle's The Divine Hours: Prayers for Autumn and Wintertime: "Shed upon your Church, O Lord, the brightness of your light, that we, being illumined by the teaching of your apostle and evangelist John, may walk in the light of your truth, that at length we may attain to the fullness of eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen."

The Feast Day of St. Stephen

2011-12-26T05:49:00.033-05:00

Today we celebrate the life of St. Stephen, the man who is commonly known as the first Christian martyr. What does it mean that we celebrate the life of a martyr so soon after we celebrate the birth of Christ? After all, it's not like we know the birth day or the death day of St. Stephen. Our ancient Church parents could have put this feast day anywhere. Why put it here?

If you pay attention to the Lectionary readings, you will see that the issue of death is never far removed from the subject matter. Time and time again, Christ is quite clear about what may be required from us: our very lives. And we'd like to think that we might make this ultimate sacrifice for some amazing purpose: rescuing the oppressed from an evil dictatorship or saving orphans. But we may lose our life in the midst of some petty squabble; in some versions of St. Stephen's life, he is killed because of petty jealousy over his appointment as deacon, which triggers the conspiring which ultimately ends in his martyrdom.

Many of us live in a world where we are not likely to die a physical death for our religious beliefs. What does the life of this martyr have to say to us?

We are not likely to face death by stoning, but we may face other kinds of death. If we live the life that Christ commands, we will give away more of our money and possessions to the destitute. We will end our lives without as much wealth and prosperity--and yet, we will have more spiritual wealth. If we live the life that Christ commands, we may have uncomfortable decisions to make at work or in our families. We will have to live a life that's unlike the lives we see depicted in popular culture. That's not always easy, but in the end, we can hope the resistance to the most pernicious forms of popular culture will have been worth it.

And history reminds us that events can unfold rather quickly, and we might find ourselves living under an empire that demands us to live a life different than the one Christ calls us to live. We may face the ultimate penalty. Could we face death? Could we pray for the empire that kills us? As Christians, we're commanded to pray for our enemies, to not let hatred transform us into our enemies.

Let us take a moment to offer a prayer of thanks for all the martyrs who have come before us. Here's a prayer for the day, from Phyllis Tickle's The Divine Hours: Prayers for Autumn and Wintertime: "Almighty God, who gave to your servant Stephen boldness to confess the Name of our Savior Jesus Christ before the rulers of this world, and courage to die for this faith: Grant that I may always be ready to give a reason for the hope that is in me, and to suffer gladly for the sake of our Lord Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen."

Full Mangers

2011-12-25T06:59:00.000-05:00

Christmas Day dawns, and we are delighted to find the promise fulfilled, the mangers full. The people who have dwelt in darkness have seen a great light!

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it!

The Empty Manger

2011-12-24T05:41:00.000-05:00

The manger is empty, but not for long.

"Be strong and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the Lord." Psalm 31:24

"For God alone my soul in silence waits; truly, my hope is in God." Psalm 62:6

A Prayer in the Pre-Dawn of Christmas Day Eve:

Oh, God, we weep in our chains. So many things hold us captived in our devastations, the ruins of our cities. Fill our hearts with courage. Remind us of the promise of redemption. Come to ransom us from all the things which hold us in fear. Set us free.

Amen! Come Lord Jesus!

Can We Achieve Community in Complete Silence?

2011-12-23T11:06:00.000-05:00

You may remember this post, where I wrote about talking to my friends about why one has a spiritual practice in this age of science. My spouse, a fellow life-long Lutheran, took part; both friends were raised Catholic, before one decided to be an atheist and one decided to become non-practicing.

Last night, the non-practicing friend told us that he'd been thinking about the conversation and that he could really see the reason for having a religious practice so that you'd have community.

Then the talk turned to the meaning of community. Can you have a religious practice without it?

I've always said that you could, but most of us aren't that disciplined. My spouse thinks that we need to gather in church so that we have a knowledgeable person leading us through our reading of the Scriptures; I'm not convinced that most church leaders are as knowledgeable as they should be, and therefore, cannot fulfill that part.

And of course, we're Word and Sacrament people, but last night, we didn't talk about the Sacrament side. My lapsed friend, interestingly enough, has a brother who's a monk, but a different kind of monk than the Mepkin monks. He's one of the Irish orders that runs a school.

My lapsed friend said that he doesn't see his brother as part of a community because so much of his time is spent in solitude studying. My friend said, "And what about those orders that never even talk to each other?"

It's an interesting question: can we have community without knowing each other as individuals? I would say that we can. There's a whole school of thought that would say that our individual selves are not even essential when it comes to community.

My friend, on the other hand, seemed to think that if we don't know each other in a close way, we don't have community. I see his point of view too.

From my visits to monasteries and from my reading about monastics, I find that they try to subsume their individual selves for the good of the greater whole and for the continuing of an ancient tradition. It's a very different view of community from the one that says, "We're not really in communion unless you know me deeply, with all my faults and flaws, and you love me anyway."

I'm not sure that one is correct and one is not. It's just two very different ways of thinking about what community means.

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

2011-12-22T08:17:00.000-05:00

The readings for Sunday, December 25, 2011:

Choice 1:

First Reading: Isaiah 62:6-12

Psalm: Psalm 97

Second Reading: Titus 3:4-7

Gospel: Luke 2:[1-7] 8-20

Choice 2:

First Reading: Isaiah 52:7-10

Psalm: Psalm 98

Second Reading: Hebrews 1:1-4 [5-12]

Gospel: John 1:1-14

In this season of dying dictators (Muammar Gaddafi and Kim Jong Il) and dying dissidents (Vaclav Havel), it is interesting to come across the Gospel from John for Christmas day. I’ve watched Koreans weeping for their “dear leader” who left thousands of his people to starve to death, literally, in the cold. I’ve been reflecting on the way that language can shape us for good and evil. And now, here’s an uncommon metaphor for God: God as a word that lives amongst us.

I’ve been thinking about how despots use language to convince the people that they’re living different lives than the reality they actually experience. I’m thinking about how dissidents use a similar tool to dismantle empires. Anne Applebaum wrote a great essay about Havel for Tuesday's The Washington Post. She writes:

"In this essay (‘The Power of the Powerless’), Havel didn’t talk about marches or demonstrations. Instead, he asked the inhabitants of totalitarian countries to 'live in truth': that is, to go about their daily lives as if the regime did not exist, to the extent that was possible in societies where the state ran all businesses and all schools, owned most of the property and banned free speech and free press. By the late 1980s, 'living in truth' was widely practiced across central Europe. The first time I went to Poland in 1987, I stayed with friends. According to the law, I was supposed to register my presence in a private home with the police. 'We don’t do that,' my friends told me. 'We don’t believe the police have the right to know who stays with us.' I didn’t register — and because thousands of other people didn’t either, that law became unenforceable.

But Havel proposed more than mere civil disobedience. He also argued in favor of what we would now call civil society, urging the inhabitants of totalitarian states to found small institutions — musical groups, sporting groups, literary groups — that would develop the 'independent life of society' and prevent their members from being totally controlled from above. This, too, was widely practiced, in Prague’s famous underground philosophy seminars, in the illegal printing presses all across the communist world, in Poland’s independent 'Flying University,' and, most successfully, in Poland’s independent trade unions."

Reading about these resistance techniques reminded me of Nelson Mandela, who spent his decades in prison not plotting revenge but dreaming about the best ways to govern. When he was released and elected president, he was ready with plans for creating a better South Africa.

The good news that the angels announce is not just that God has come to live in our neighborhoods in the messiness that is a human life, although that would certainly be good enough news. But the true scope of the message has to do with the redemption of creation. God has broken through the dictatorships that would hold our imaginations in dank prisons. The redemption of creation is underway, and we’re invited to participate.

We can choose to live as people of God, no matter what our human empires would have us believe. We do not have to weep in the ruins of our cities. Advent has promised us that help is on the way, and Christmas gives us the Good News that the redeemer has come, and in the most unlikely circumstances.

That’s the way redemption works—not in the ways we would expect, but in surprising ways that take us where we could not dream of going, and sometimes faster than we would expect. If we could travel back in time to tell the people of 1985 that the Soviet Union would soon crumble and South Africa would be free of white rule, the people of 1985 would think we were insane. If we could travel back to the first century of the Roman empire to tell of what the followers of Jesus would accomplish, those people would laugh at us—if they even knew who Jesus was.

In a Monday essay in The Washington Post, Madeleine Albright sums Havel this way: “he declared himself neither an optimist (‘because I am not sure everything ends well,’) nor a pessimist (‘because I am not sure everything ends badly’) but, instead, ‘a realist who carries hope, and hope is the belief that freedom and justice have meaning . . . and that liberty is always worth the trouble.’”

Christians, too, believe that freedom and justice have meaning and that liberty is always worth the trouble. And if we believe in the Good News that surrounds us at Christmas, we can be wild-eyed optimists. We know that things will end well; we have a multitude of promises and plenty of evidence that God will keep those promises of liberty for the captives.

Poem for the Feast Day of St. Thomas

2011-12-21T05:26:00.001-05:00

Today is the Feast Day of St. Thomas, most famous for his doubting. I've always wondered what else he did, and whether or not he'd feel annoyed that he's most remembered for that moment that he doubted. I have this vision of Thomas as having amazing artistic talent for example, and no one knows that now. We remember him for that one moment of disbelief.

It's not so strange that he doubted, after all. He saw Jesus die an agonizing death. Why would he believe his fellow disciples with their strange tales of seeing Christ back from the dead? He must have thought they'd finally lost their collective minds, which wouldn't have been improbable, given the events of the week.

I love the post-Resurrection stories where Jesus shows up and forgives everyone: Thomas for doubting, Peter for denying, everyone who ran away. I was always taught that Judas would have been forgiven too, but he disrupted that potential by taking his life. In my older view of an all-forgiving God, I think that Judas was still forgiven. I believe that a God who has lived with us in human skin understands the despair that can lead to suicide.

But back to Thomas, who should serve as a hopeful tale for all of us in these darkest days of the year (at least in the Northern Hemisphere). It can be hard to maintain our faith, especially in the face of the spirit-cracking grief of disappointed hopes. We may yearn for evidence that's supported by our five senses. We may get that evidence.

Thomas gets credit for bringing Christianity to India, although that's legend that's hard to support with facts. A few years ago, I played with an idea that finally made its way into a more formal, rhymed poem than I usually write. I was inspired by this blog post by Jan Richardson. Her post made me think of those fancy Easter eggs that had a charming scene inside, and the interesting juxtaposition between those eggs and Jesus' open wound.

Into the Wound

Thomas approached his Savior’s bloodied side,
Everything for which he longed, yet so feared.
He felt the warm flesh and looked deep inside.
The vision left him changed and scarred and seared.

He saw a series of worlds in that wound.
He saw a future that could be so fine.
He saw a world of absence, so ill tuned.
He saw a table set with bread and wine.

He saw the start of all the universe
And staggered back, but Christ kept him steady.
“Wash your hands,” Christ said, his voice almost tense.
Christ knew the dangers for those unready.

Legend says Thomas walked to India;
What dream prompted him, we always wonder.
But you, too, could hike to outer Asia,
If you had the same vision to ponder.

Artistic Advent Alternatives to a Sermon

2011-12-20T07:07:00.000-05:00

About a month ago, a group of us gathered at the parsonage to talk about a different approach to Advent. I'm lucky to have a pastor who's a creative guy and thus, is open to doing worship with creative elements--especially if one of the lay people wants to take the lead.

Our pastor had a vision of having an alternative creative activity that would take place each Sunday in Advent. We anticipated that mainly children and youth would participate, but certainly adults would be welcome too. I had a vision of people who learned by hands-on activities working on the creative offering and listening to the sermon.

Those of you who have worked with groups of children will laugh. But I'm calling it a success. Do I think that participants in the creativity project got the exact same message that they would have, had they been listening to the sermon? No. But do I think that they'd have gotten those messages if they had been sitting in the pews? Not necessarily.

Our experiment turned out to be a success, so I thought it worth documenting here.

For Advent 1, the participants made 6 banners, with the Advent themes of Joy, Hope, and Waiting. Below you'll see a sample.

For Advent 2, with its theme of Good News, participants made paper chains out of newspaper.

I thought our plan for Advent 3 was most ambitious. The theme for the Sunday was the message of light breaking through, so one of our team came up with the idea of turning the windows in the back of the church (windows that connect the sanctuary to the nursery and to a rehearsal space) into a stained glass look by painting on them.

Below you see the windows in the before-but-prepped stage:

Below you see the participants painting the windows.

I particularly like the shot below, with the cross in the distance.

And below, the finished windows:

For Advent 4, with its themes of promises kept and the Magnificat, I thought back to what we'd done with silk and interpretive dance at a Create in Me retreat. I had a vision of people writing/drawing onto silk the ways that they'd seen God keeping God's promises and prayers for what they still needed/wanted God to do.

I bought 12 yards of silk from Dharma Trading Company, after a very helpful Customer Service rep helped me decide what would work best for the project. When it arrived, I thought, well, I've bought far too much fabric--as I so often do.

But as it turns out, we used the whole length. And then we processed up the aisle as the offering was brought forward.

If I decide to do more with silk and liturgical dance for Pentecost, we'll practice more before we process. We didn't quite get the hang of getting the silk to drift and float through the air--and of course, the children participants were shorter than the Create in Me participants.

We put the silk at the bottom of the tree.

It's been an interesting, creative approach to Advent. And I know that some of our participants wish that we could keep having creative activities, even after Advent ends.

A Soul Card for the 4th Sunday in Advent

2011-12-18T06:33:00.000-05:00

Here we are at the 4th Sunday in Advent, the Sunday when many of us will be hearing about Mary, the Sunday when many of us will sing all of the verses of "Oh, Come, Oh, Come, Emmanuel."

In January, I had a week-end experiment with collaging and soul cards; see this post, this post, and this post for more details. I made the card above. I like the way it combines some classic Advent themes and some maternal imagery. I post it here for your inspiration pleasure.

Maybe this afternoon I'll make some more soul cards. I love cutting out images, and I love combining them in interesting ways. It's a calming, meditative activity. Why don't I do it more often?

Real World Christmas and Its Meanings

2011-12-17T06:49:00.000-05:00

I sometimes forget that the rest of the world goes into frantic shopping mode at this point in the calendar year. Long ago, my family agreed to give to charity instead of giving presents to the adults. We have enough stuff.

The ever-wonderful Jim Wallis reminds us of what our holiday dollars could have bought: "Last year, Americans spent $450 billion on Christmas. Clean water for the whole world, including every poor person on the planet, would cost about $20 billion. Let’s just call that what it is: A material blasphemy of the Christmas season."

Sobering.

He reminds us of what God has risked for us: "It is theologically and spiritually significant that the Incarnation came to our poorest streets. That Jesus was born poor, later announces his mission at Nazareth as “bringing good news to the poor,” and finally tells us that how we treat “the least of these” is his measure of how we treat him and how he will judge us as the Son of God, radically defines the social context and meaning of the Incarnation of God in Christ. And it clearly reveals the real meaning of Christmas."

The whole piece offers a nice counterpoint to those who would tell us that the real meaning of Christmas lies in making sure we say "Merry Christmas" instead of "Happy Holidays." It gives us a wonderful reminder of what Christmas really should mean to Christians and to the larger world.

At this blog post, I was intrigued by a picture of Mary looking at a home pregnancy test kit stick. Pastor Joelle's accompanying essay offers wonderful nuggets for thought, like this one: "But this is in a part of the world where to this day, women are imprisoned for being raped, and stoned for adultery. How interesting that God chose to challenge this obsession with the purity of women by coming into this world this way and the church ended up using Mary to reinforce that purity obsession."

There was a moment in church last week, when I watched a mother comfort a crying baby, and I caught my breath at the thought of God taking on that vulnerability to enter the world as a baby. And not only that, but to choose to be born in a remote corner of a brutal empire, to be born as a member of an oppressed class of people, why it's just remarkable.

Wallis says it this way: "What is Christmas? It is the celebration of the Incarnation, God’s becoming flesh — human — and entering into history in the form of a vulnerable baby born to a poor, teenage mother in a dirty animal stall. Simply amazing. That Mary was homeless at the time,a member of a people oppressed by the imperial power of an occupied country whose local political leader, Herod, was so threatened by the baby’s birth that he killed countless children in a vain attempt to destroy the Christ child, all adds compelling historical and political context to the Advent season."

This week-end, many of us in the Christian world, at least those of us following the common Lectionary, will hear the story of Mary. We will be reminded that with God, nothing is impossible. We may not understand how God will make a way out of a series of dead-ends. But the Advent texts promise us that the crooked pathways will be made straight, that the ruins and devastations will be restored to wholeness, that there will be justice tempered with mercy. Come, Lord Jesus. Be incarnate in our messy, messy world!

On the Death of Christopher Hitchens: Revisiting "God Is Not Great"

2011-12-16T05:42:00.000-05:00

With the news of the death of Christopher Hitchens, my mind went back to his book God is Not Great. Will Hitchens be remembered for his atheist views, for his attack on Mother Theresa, for his attacks on many other people? It's likely too early to say.

I can't claim to have read his work comprehensively. Whenever I saw his articles, I read them, and even if I disagreed with his views, he always gave a lively performance. When it came to his book-length treatment of God and religion, I felt like he missed the point in so many ways.

Here's the review I wrote of the book when it first came out:

First, I should offer some disclaimers. I come from a long line of Lutherans, and some of my family members have been pastors and lay ministers in that denomination. I’ve spent more years of my life attending church services (of various types) regularly than I haven’t. I’m the type of person who goes to monasteries and cathedrals while on vacation, and I’ve even attended services—while on vacation. In my spare time, I read and write theology. For fun. So perhaps I’m the wrong person to write a review of Christopher Hitchens’ book God is Not Great.

I’ll be the first to admit that his writing is wickedly funny, and I’d agree with him on some points. Religion has been used in a variety of harmful ways; most Christians will be the first to tell you that. I haven’t met any Christians, and I’ve met a huge variety of Christians, who deny that Christianity has had its dark years or centuries, like the Crusades and the Inquisition and the failure to rescue more Jews from Hitler’s genocide.

However, for every dark moment that Hitchens brings up, I could list at least five ways that Christianity has transformed society for the better, and Hitchens seems determined to overlook that. What about the Christian cultures (like Scandinavian Lutherans) who rescued Jews from Hitler’s genocide or refused to cooperate? Some of the most successful social justice movements of the twentieth century have been possible because of the faith that undergirded them—for example, the Civil Rights movement in this country or Gandhi’s accomplishments or the monks in Burma who push for change. There are communities all over the planet who live out their faith in concrete ways that transform the secular community around them; think of the Catholic Worker movement or Habitat for Humanity.

Hitchens also takes on the Bible, and the problem that I have with him here is that he’s incredibly literal in his interpretations. He’s worse than most fundamentalists I know. Of course, I’ve been faulted for my approach to the Bible, rooted in my experiences as a poet and an English major, where every story has multiple meanings beyond the literal.

It’s in his approach to the Bible that I first realized the biggest problem I would have with this book. Hitchens seems to have read no theology at all, at least not any that was written recently. He’d have found modern theology has much to offer when he feels revulsion at the idea of a savior who must be crucified because Hitchens will sin two thousand years later. I won’t list all the possible counterarguments here, but there’s a whole discipline in theological studies that addresses issues of redemptive suffering and atonement and the idea of sacrifice and what it means. For example, one school of thought looks at the fact that Christianity emerged out of Judaism and that the first generations of followers tried to undercut the Temple monopoly on the forgiveness of sins and the stranglehold that priests had on the Jews; priests not only collected sacrifices to right sins, but also collected money that was due to Rome. Or you might say that Jesus was crucified for our sins in the same way that Martin Luther King was killed for our sins. Both men came to offer the world a radical vision of peace and justice, and a harshly stratified society had to muffle that vision to avoid uprisings of the oppressed demanding transformation of that society.

When Hitchens attacks what he perceives to be the Church, he seems most upset with the Catholic church, circa 1952. The Church he describes really hasn’t been the way he describes, at least in the U.S. and Europe, during my lifetime. In my lifetime, we’ve seen a decline (and in Europe, almost a death) of mainline Protestantism and Catholicism; we’ve been dealing with some fallout of the time when the Church was predominant, certainly, like pedophile priests, but those most of those headline grabbing crimes are being brought to light decades after they’ve happened. You might counter by offering the spectacle of the Republican Right and their dance with Evangelical Christians for the past quarter decade, but Hitchens doesn’t spend much time on the Evangelical emergence.

Again, his lack of research seems glaring to me. If he had read a book like The Next Christendom, by Philip Jenkins, he’d know that he has much more to fear from Christianity in the Global South, not some phantasm from his youth. In the past decade, we’ve seen Rwanda send missionaries to the U.S. and Europe (an interesting historic reversal) because they see us in need of the Good News. Lately, some conservative U.S. Episcopalian congregations have left to join the Nigerian Diocese.

Why should we care? Many churches in the Global South take the Bible even more literally than U.S. fundamentalists. Take that obscure verse “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live” (Exodus 22:18). Many Africans take that quite seriously and literally. Jenkins points out, “Even today, a single outbreak of witch-panic can lead to hundreds of murders in a period of weeks or months. Moreover, one of the main centers of modern witch-hunting activity has been South Africa, the most developed state on the whole continent” (123). If you read Jenkins’ book, you realize that Christianity isn’t in decline throughout most of the planet, and the Christianity that’s practiced, if adopted widely, will have far more unpleasant consequences than the ones that Hitchens contemplates in his book.

The coming clashes of fundamentalisms of all types of religions seem like a far more pressing problem to me, and it’s a problem that gets very little press time or book length treatments or political consideration. Hitchens had a chance to turn the discussion, and he resorted to trotting out familiar arguments about issues that were dead decades ago. What a shame.

Walking Dead Through Advent

2011-12-15T07:38:00.000-05:00

I don't always have time to watch much in the way of movies and television during Advent. But then again, thankfully, I'm not often as sick as I have been this Advent. Over the past two and a half weeks, I've watched a variety of shows when I've been too tired to move far from the sofa and the tissue box.

As you might expect, we've watched Christmas movies and every Christmas episode of every TV series we ever loved (at least the ones available via streaming). But we also watched the entire first season of The Walking Dead, a series set in Atlanta after some sort of disease has turned most of the population into zombies and life has become apocalyptic.

Yes, zombies and Advent--not a combination that usually comes to mind when preparing for the season. And yet, it works. It's wonderful to watch this series with the words of Isaiah thundering in my head:

They shall build up the ancient ruins,
they shall raise up the former devastations;
they shall repair the ruined cities,
the devastations of many generations. (Isaiah 61: 4)

You don't get much more ruined than a city overrun by zombies!

We're seeing zombies everywhere these past few years in popular culture. What does it mean? Does it show the deep-seated fear that many of us have about Alzheimer's Disease? Does it speak to our fears that we're losing our humanity as we become more digitized? I would argue yes.

In the series, we see the hopes of the survivors--how they yearn for a savior, for some sort of deliverance, for answers. Since it's an ongoing series, they haven't gotten what they need yet. They move through the blighted setting, on a quest for redemption. Again, it feels very Advent to me.

In the midst of zombies, we also watched a more traditional Christmas movie: Midnight Clear (not to be confused with the WWII movie, A Midnight Clear). The movie follows a variety of characters through the day and night of Christmas Eve. Along the way we see that no one is living a perfect life, although the diversity of ways that these lives have gone wrong almost stretches my willing suspension of disbelief at times. The movie also presents several characters whose lives haven't gone wrong so much as just not according to plan. I thought it was refreshing to see a conversation between the youth group leader and the pastor, in which the youth group leader expresses his doubt that carolling is worth the effort. The unspoken part of the conversation that hovers below the surface is the possibility that the youth group leader doesn't think that any of the church work that he's doing makes any kind of difference at all.

This movie, too, works beautifully in the Advent season. We see these characters who long to be sure that their lives aren't worthless. We see these characters, some in such desperate need of redemption. We see that redemption delivered via methods we don't expect--a very Advent theme.

In the end, Midnight Clear is a Christmas movie in the best sense of that tradition, with a quiet, gentle insistence that we will not be left alone to our own self-destructive devices. In our hectic Decembers, we often forget that part of the Christmas story, that glad news, the great tidings of joy. This movie reminds us of the true message of Christmas, and it manages to do it without sinking into either irredeemable pathos or treacly sentiment.

Don't get me wrong: I like It's a Wonderful Life as much as the next person. I say many cheers and prayers of thanks every time A Charlie Brown Christmas airs; how unlikely--and wonderful!-- it is that a nation of largely unchurched viewers will sit still while Linus recites Luke's version of the Christmas story. But I also love discovering Advent messages in the most unlikely places--I love these unexpected gifts!

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

2011-12-14T08:20:00.002-05:00

The Readings for Sunday, December 18, 2011:

First Reading: 2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16

Psalm: Luke 1:47-55 (Luke 1:46b-55 NRSV)

Psalm (Alt.): Psalm 89:1-4, 19-26

Second Reading: Romans 16:25-27

Gospel: Luke 1:26-38

Today we get to one of the more familiar Advent stories, one of the ones we expect to be hearing. We may say, “Thank goodness! I’m tired of John the Baptist. I can relate to Mary.”

Can we relate to Mary? Two thousand years of Church tradition tend to paint her in terms that serve whatever purpose society needed at the time. So in some decades we see Mary a perfect woman, sinless and blameless, the kind of woman who transcends humanity and gives birth to the Lord. Some decades write Mary out of the picture once the work in the stable is done, while other decades depict her as an interfering mother—the first helicopter parent!

I’m not Catholic, so I’ve never had to wrestle with the idea of Mary as sinless. In fact, the churches of my childhood and adolescence stressed that Mary was as human as the rest of us. In a recent blog post, Pastor Joelle stresses: “In fact, I think the whole idea of the Immaculate Conception, that Mary HAD to be conceived without sin in order for her womb to be worthy to hold Christ kind of chips away at the whole idea of the Incarnation and God entering this messy sinful world. And it begins with entering the womb of a young girl who was, like the rest of us, far from perfect. Mary doesn't need to be perfect to hold Jesus. And neither do we.”

We’ve heard the story of Mary so many times that we forget how remarkable it really is. We forget how bizarre the story told by the angel Gabriel must seem. A young girl growing God in her womb? A post-menopausal woman conceiving? It’s all too much to fathom.

I always wonder if there were women who sent Gabriel away: "I'm going to be the mother of who? It will happen how? Go away. I don't have time for this nonsense. If God wants to perform a miracle, let God teach my children not to track so much dirt into this house."

We won't ever hear about those women, because they decided that they didn't want to be part of God's glorious vision.

It’s important, too, to notice that God’s glorious vision doesn’t always match the way we would expect God to act. We see a history of God choosing the lowly, the meek, the outcast. Moses the stutterer, David the cheater, Peter the doubter. What business school would endorse this approach to brand building?

But our Scriptures remind us again and again that God works in mystical ways that our rational brains can’t always comprehend. If God can accomplish great things by means of a young woman, a barren woman, a variety of wandering preachers and prophets, tax collectors and fisherman, just think what God might accomplish with all of our gifts and resources.

Of course, first we have to hear that message, that invitation from God. It’s hard for this message to make its way through all the fear-based messages beamed to us from our culture. The angel tells Mary not to be afraid, and that is a message we need to hear. Don't dance with your dread. Don't keep company with your fears, your worst case scenarios. Dream big. Think of the world God promises (read further in Luke): God will fill the hungry with good things. The one who is mighty does great things for the lowly.
We have much to fear, but we’re not that different from past cultures. The ancient prophets move me to tears with the promise of the building up of the ancient ruins, the raising up the former devastations, the repair the ruined cities (last week’s Isaiah reading) and the establishment of a throne established forever for a God who wants to dwell with us (this week’s reading from 2 Samuel).

Our culture gives us stories of chronic unemployment and possible economic collapses yet to come. Our Scriptures tell us of a God that breaks into our normal lives to remind us that God is redeeming creation even if we aren’t aware of that process. Our prophets remind us that ruin doesn’t have to last forever. Gabriel gives the promise that nothing is impossible with God. Now, that is Good News indeed.

Advent Art: Santa Lucia Day Baking

2011-12-13T07:14:00.000-05:00

When I thought about my Advent Art project, I wasn't thinking that so much of it would be baking. I wanted to branch out, to try other artistic mediums. I've been making Advent breads and cookies for over 30 years now.

Here's a photo of the page of the 1980 Bon Appetit magazine where I first saw the recipe for Santa Lucia bread:

Maybe I need to broaden my thoughts about my creative projects. On Sunday, my spouse and I went to our friend's house. She suffered a devastating house fire, and on Sunday, we went to the house that she's renting while her old house is being restored. We helped her sort through possessions and figure out where the salvaged items would fit into her new place. When we left, her rental house felt more like a home than it has since she moved into it.

I didn't take pictures of that process, but I did take pictures of this morning's Santa Lucia Day breadbaking. I started last night, so that I'd be further ahead this morning:

This morning, I got the dough ready to be braided:

The bread braids before baking:

And after baking:

The Bon Appetit issue showed this photo layout of holiday breads:

Somewhat different than mine, I guess--but I've got a kitchen of tasty bread nonetheless!

For a more traditional meditation on the feast day of Santa Lucia, see this post from 2009, where I conclude, "So, happy Santa Lucia day! Have some special bread, drink a bracing hot beverage, and light the candles against the darkness. "

Prophetic Voices in Our Wildernesses

2011-12-12T06:48:00.000-05:00

I found yesterday's Old Testament reading (Isaiah 61: 1-4, 8-11) profoundly moving, with its talk of building up the ancient ruins, raising up the foremer devastations, repairing the ruined cities. And Psalm 126 has always been one of my favorites: "When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, then we were like those who dream."

I don't remember being similarly moved 3 years ago, when we last dropped by these readings in the Lectionary cycle. Of course, then, we were only at the beginning of the Great Recession. Now I have no idea how we'll move forward. The prophetic texts offer me a vision that I desperately need.

Our pastor focused on the Gospel. He opened with a story of a little boy who asked him, "Pastor, are you Jesus?" And from there, he moved into a sermon that reminded us that every aspect of our lives can lead others to Jesus. We can be John the Baptist.

He marveled at this idea that God trusts us to point the way to God by our actions, our speech, our relationships, every bit of our being.

He asked the question, "Will you be bold enough for people to see Christ in you?"

He ended by having us look at our hands. He said "These are the hands that God has entrusted to be Christ in the world."

Mine was holding a pen!

The Steve Jobs of Religion

2011-12-11T07:10:00.000-05:00

Those of us in mainline churches have likely done a lot of thinking about how we can appeal to the unchurched, many of whom are not atheists, but have yet to find the church they like--or at least, that's what we hope.

In an essay in today's The New York Times, Eric Weiner ponders why we're so bad as a culture, those of us in the U.S., at talking about faith, spirituality, and what we really believe. Early on, he asks, "For a nation of talkers and self-confessors, we are terrible when it comes to talking about God. The discourse has been co-opted by the True Believers, on one hand, and Angry Atheists on the other. What about the rest of us?"

He posits that religious choices these days are often aligned with political choices and that many people reject both. His thesis makes some sense: as we've become more and more of a nation of non-voters, we're more and more a nation of non-churched.

And yet, those of us who know about the variety of ways that the church has worked in the world can make an endless list of ways that the church has made the world a better place. Not all of us are waiting for heaven. Not all of us are angry people who have given up on this world.

Weiner speaks to a different dichotomy:

"We are more religiously polarized than ever. In my secular, urban and urbane world, God is rarely spoken of, except in mocking, derisive tones. It is acceptable to cite the latest academic study on, say, happiness or, even better, whip out a brain scan, but God? He is for suckers, and Republicans.

I used to be that way, too, until a health scare and the onset of middle age created a crisis of faith, and I ventured to the other side. I quickly discovered that I didn’t fit there, either. I am not a True Believer. I am a rationalist. I believe the Enlightenment was a very good thing, and don’t wish to return to an age of raw superstition."

Those of us in the mainstream denominations haven't done a very good job of showing that there are plenty of other options. I attend my Lutheran church where I'm not asked to give up my scientific beliefs. I'm sure there are many other churches like mine.

Weiner concludes:

"What is the solution? The answer, I think, lies in the sort of entrepreneurial spirit that has long defined America, including religious America.

We need a Steve Jobs of religion. Someone (or ones) who can invent not a new religion but, rather, a new way of being religious. Like Mr. Jobs’s creations, this new way would be straightforward and unencumbered and absolutely intuitive. Most important, it would be highly interactive. I imagine a religious space that celebrates doubt, encourages experimentation and allows one to utter the word God without embarrassment. A religious operating system for the Nones among us. And for all of us."

It's an interesting proposal and a very different way of thinking about the ideas of mission and outreach.

The Steve Jobs of religion. Hmm.

If we invented a new way (which might be a very old way) of being religious, what would that look like? Would we adopt some monastic traditions? Would that way embrace technology in ways that we haven't before? And what would a new way of being religious offer in terms of creativity?

Those are the strands that immediately came to my mind: monasticism, technology, and artistic creativity. I don't always weave those strands together. What would happen if I did?

A Basket of Angels

2011-12-09T07:20:00.000-05:00

A year ago, I created this photo essay about angels. I'm not an angel person in the traditional sense. I don't see angels in a warm, fuzzy light. I won't wear them as decoration. I don't want to trivialize them in that way. If I saw an angel, I'd expect to be terrified, since they so often begin their encounters with humans by telling humans not to be afraid.

Still, something about the way that humans depict angels makes me want to photograph them. And I've found a surprising amount of joy throughout the past year going back to that photo essay. So, on this one year anniversary, let me post another series of photos of angel depictions.

At Mepkin Abbey, I was struck by this basket of angels (angel ornaments, that is):

What do angels think of from their tree tops?

Angels and gadgets that add oxygen to wine more quickly

Even angels need to sit down.

Were the artists thinking of angels when they painted the canvases below?

And my favorite angel ornament from my own collection:

This ornament comes from Haiti, and I love its Caribbean vibe. I love the exuberant colors that traditional Haitian artists use. I love that this angel is non-traditional.

More on Wreaths and Calendars, Advent and Otherwise

2011-12-08T07:40:00.000-05:00

I have calendars on the brain. Yesterday at my creativity blog, I wrote this post about writing/organizing a book by the calendar year, which led me to remember a retreat exercise, which led to this post on how we did it and what it means. We were given a blank calendar page and 3 markers. We had 10 minutes to fill in the calendar however we wanted. Here's what I did:

You'll notice a mix of sacred and secular motifs. There are the Halloween images in the bottom left. There's the blue cup flowing over. We had been studying the miracles of Jesus, so you'll see multiplying loaves and fishes (the fishes are those yellow blobs).

I've also been thinking of Advent calendars and Advent wreathes. The candles around my Advent wreath are still unlit. Sigh.

Of course, lighting candles can lead to interesting developments, as this post on Pastor Joelle's blog reminds us.

Maybe I need a simpler Advent practice, like this Scandinavian Advent calendar that has been in my parent's house since their Air Force Days in Europe in the mid 1960's:

Ah the beauty of paper cut-out hearts!

My sister has a more complicated Advent calendar:

This lighthouse has 25 drawers, into which all kinds of treats could be deposited for children to discover each day.

All this writing of calendars reminds me that I have yet to buy my favorite calendar, the Simple Lifestyle calendar that the Appalachian Science in the Public Interest group puts out. Each day of the calendar gives a suggestion for living a simple, joyful life. And the photography always interests me, even when it's not always something I'd want on my wall forever. I've been ordering this calendar since my college days. That's getting to be a long time now.

Simple living--many of us will spend a small fortune on any number of devices that promise to help us simplify our lives and get our schedules under control. It's a good time of the year to think about our approaches to that issue: what's worked in terms of living balanced lives that have time for all we want to do and what hasn't? How can we make more time for ourselves, our friends and family, and for God in the new year?

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

2011-12-07T06:05:00.002-05:00

The readings for Dec. 11, 2011:

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11
Psalm 126 or Luke 1:47-55
The LORD has done great things for us. (Ps. 126:4) or The Lord has lifted up the lowly. (Luke 1:52)
1 Thessalonians 5:16-24
John 1:6-8, 19-28

Notice that in this week's Gospel, John has a chance to claim greatness; he could even claim to be the Messiah, and people would believe him. But he knows his role in the story: to get people ready. He tells everyone that someone is coming, someone greater than him.

John the Baptist probably seems odd to most of us, John the Baptist, this man who lived in the desert and ate locusts and honey. What are we to make of him? Are we to model our lives on his? Does being a Christian mean we forsake the familiar and eat bugs?

Well, yes and no. The Advent stories are full of people who could serve as models. John the Baptist, along with the Old Testament prophets (like Isaiah, from whom we've also been hearing a great deal) remind people that the lives they live now are not the ones they've been promised. They remind people that life could be SO much better, and they implore people to get on board with the Kingdom vision. Prepare the way for salvation. What would that way look like?

Mary, also, serves as a model. When told of her role in the Nativity story, she doesn't tell Gabriel all the ways that God's vision won't work for her. She remembers God's promises through the generations and rejoices in her ability to be part of the plan.

There are more stories to come, familiar Christmas stories. Who are you in these narratives? Are you a shepherd, keeping watch? Are you Herod, so threatened that you lash out in fear and hatred when you hear the Good News? Are you one of the Wise Men, willing to set out on a long voyage? Are you Joseph, a stranger in a strange land, with a family to care for? How do you respond when God (or God's messengers) appear, when they say, "Behold, I bring you great news of a great joy?" How are you helping to deliver that message to all the people?

We are not the Messiah. But our Messiah invites us to be part of the creation of the new kingdom. What part shall we play?

The Feast Day of St. Nicholas

2011-12-06T05:57:00.002-05:00

It's always a bit of a surprise to realize that Saint Nicholas was a real person. But indeed he was. In the fourth century, he lived in Myra, then part of Greece, now part of Turkey; eventually, he became Bishop of Myra. He became known for his habit of gift giving and miracle working, although it's hard to know what really happened and what's become folklore. Some of his gift giving is minor, like leaving coins in shoes that were left out for him. Some were more major, like resurrecting three boys killed by a butcher.

My favorite story is the one of the poor man with three children who had no dowry for them, which would have made marriage possible, and so, they were going to have to become prostitutes. In the dead of night, Nicholas threw a bag of gold into the house. Some legends have that he left a bag of gold for each daughter that night, while some say that he gave the gold on successive nights, while some say that he gave the gold as each girl came to marrying age.

Saint Nicholas is probably most famous for his associations with Christmas. Today, all over Europe, the gift-giving season begins. I had a friend in grad school who celebrated Saint Nicholas Day by having each family member open one present on the night of Dec. 6. It was the first I had heard of the feast day, but I was enchanted.

Saint Nicholas is also the patron saint of sailors, who used to leave each other by saying "May Saint Nicholas hold the tiller!"

So, on this day, may we be led by the spirit of generosity, especially generosity to the poor. May Saint Nicholas hold our tillers and guide us to open our purses and wallets and bags of gold.

Pink Eye Sunday

2011-12-05T10:18:00.000-05:00

No, it's not some new or neglected liturgical holiday you've missed. It has nothing to do with the 3rd Sunday of Advent, where the wreath traditionally has a pink candle. No, it's how I spent yesterday, at home, trying not to infect people with my conjunctivitis.

Now, I know that I likely wouldn't have infected anyone, as long as I didn't let them get close. It's passed through the tears, mucous, and other crud coming from the infected tissue. It's not like I had TB, which as an airborne disease, would have put the whole congregation at risk. But I also know how scared people get when they know someone has pink eye.

And so, I stayed home and sent my spouse off to service. I got some writing projects finished. I got some decorating done. I felt lonely.

I love the Advent season, and I've now missed half of it. Sigh.

But I'm on the mend, and my eyes look better this morning. My ferocious cold, which knocked me low last week, seems to be receding. Maybe I can still get my Advent back on track.

Advent Art Projects in an Ecumenical Hue

2011-12-04T09:02:00.000-05:00

You may remember that I had plans for a tropical Advent wreath; I wrote about it in this blog post. I thought about adding additional tropical elements each week.

I've abandoned that plan. The palm branches have really dried out, which pleases me symbolically (Advent proceeding to Palm Sunday, albeit rather quickly).

I have an Advent calendar idea percolating in my head. My friends and I spent a week exchanging Advent calendar memories; My German friend thought the Advent calendar an obscure, mostly dead German custom, but she was floored to learn how many of us had spent our childhood Decembers opening those little doors. And we grew up to have a wide diversity of spiritual beliefs (Wiccan, Lutheran, atheist)--could I create some sort of project that speaks to that? I'll continue to think.

In the meantime, for your Advent creative pleasure, I offer decorated cookies. Head to this blog post to see pictures and/or to follow up on this post, where I first talked about my atheist friend who found herself yearning for Advent.

Yesterday's event was much more ecumenical than I'd ever dreamed of, back in my much younger years, when ecumenical outreach meant a youth gathering with Baptists or Catholics. I'm a Lutheran, and yesterday I celebrated Advent with a Wiccan, a Hindu, a Jew, an atheist, and a woman of indeterminate spiritual outlook. Our group used to have a Charismatic Catholic, but she moved.

It continues to fascinate me to compare stories of childhood and how different holidays were observed. Long ago, I assumed that most holidays would be celebrated across cultures with cookies or some sort of sweet. How strange to learn that is not so. No dreidel cookies? Really?

It's fascinating too, to learn where spiritual beliefs and scientific beliefs and children dovetail and then depart. My atheist friend grew up in a Catholic household in the 1950's, so her religious memories are very different than mine, much more negative. I grew up in the Jesus soaked 1970's--my views are different. My dad, a computer scientist, was a devoted Lutheran. My Wiccan friend is the daughter of scientists, but her spiritual trajectory is different than mine.

We can all come together over cookies, even for those of us, like my Hindu friend and my Jewish friend, who didn't have cookies as a part of their childhood memories. It's not a surprising finding, to be sure. Jesus showed us the way originally: if you want to form community, begin to do so at a table that has food and drink. It worked over 2000 years ago, and it worked yesterday.

Voiceless Advent

2011-12-03T06:26:00.000-05:00

You'll read many theological folks this time of year who suggest that we resist the general craziness of the Holiday season if we can. You'll read the work of many writers who are yearning for a more contemplative Advent, even as the pace of life in December ramps up to unsustainable levels.

I have often wished for a quieter Advent myself, and this year, my wish has been granted. But as is so oftent the case in the ways of granted wishes, not in the way I expected.

I returned home from Thanksgiving with a whopper of a cold. For the past week I've had a very sore throat which I've been trying to keep from developing into a cough. I've been much quieter this week than usual, and when I have spoken, people have backed away. My voice comes out as a squeak or a growl or a whisper. And then I cough for about 2 minutes.

I've weighed everything I've thought about saying this past week: "Is this worth the hacking cough that will follow?" I'm humbled by how much can remain unsaid.

I've taken a few days of sick leave, which is unusual for me. When I've been in the office, people have been avoiding me--all the sick people are home, and those who remain are trying desperately to avoid germs.

This week has not been one of my weeks where I was scheduled to do a lot socially; if I had been, I would have cancelled. My week has slowed considerably. I haven't had too many deadlines at work, so I was able to take my sick days without too much worry about projects going off track. I've slept more than I usually do. Yet even with all my sleep, I've been bone tired, so I haven't done as much as I would in a usual week. I've had just about enough energy to choose which holiday special to watch in any given day.

As always, I wonder why it takes illness to get my attention, to get me to slow down, to get me to rest. For one thing, it's one of the few remaining acceptable reasons to cancel plans. I can call and say, "I'm terribly sick, so I'm not going to risk infecting everyone at work." I can't call and say, "You know, I'm just not up to this event today."

When I've wished for more contemplative times, I haven't thought of contemplation in terms of lost voice. My inability to speak has thrust me into a more contemplative space, but I miss my ability to chant the liturgy of the hours. I want to sing the Advent songs. I want to talk to people; this is the time of year when people are more willing to talk about their deep yearnings, and that's the kind of talk I miss throughout the rest of the year.

My cold is receding, so I'll likely return to the noisy world soon. I hope I can take some of the messages of my voiceless first week of Advent with me though. I want to measure the importance of my words and only utter the ones that have a mission. I want to carve out time for Advent devotions and the Advent wreath, whose candles remain unlit. I want to feel healthy enough to bake cookies and other activities which may seem frivolous, but which connect me to my past.

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

2011-11-30T07:33:00.000-05:00

The readings for Sunday, December 4, 2011:

First Reading: Isaiah 40:1-11

Psalm: Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13

Second Reading: 2 Peter 3:8-15a

Gospel: Mark 1:1-8

Today's Gospel takes us to John, a fascinating character. In today's reading, we see him, clothed in his strange costume, eating locusts and wild honey. Other Gospels present him as the cousin of Christ. Who is this guy?

I find him fascinating for many reasons. Maybe I'm always intrigued by a prophet. This year, I'm thinking about John's place in the drama of Christ's life, and how he seems completely comfortable with his place.

In earlier years, I've wondered if it would be hard to be John, with his more famous cousin Jesus overshadowing him. This year, I notice that he has the perfect opportunity to upstage Jesus--people of the time period were desperate for a Messiah, and there were plenty of predators wandering around, trying to convince people that they were the Messiah. John had more legitimacy and a wider following than most of the other people with their wild claims.

But John knows who he is. And he fills out his full potential by preparing the way for Jesus. Not only does John know who he is, he knows who Jesus is. John knows for whom he waits and watches.

We might be wise to see John as a cautionary tale too. John is one of the earliest to know the true mission of Jesus (in some Gospel versions, perhaps he realizes the mission of Jesus before Jesus fully does). Notice that John's life is turned upside down.

Many people are shocked to discover that being a Christian doesn't protect them from hard times. Being a Christian doesn't mean that we won't suffer sickness, that we won't lose our jobs, that we won't lose almost everything we love. To be human means that we will suffer loss--and thinking people know in advance that we will suffer loss, which means that we suffer more than once.

But we have a God who has experienced the very same thing. Think of the life of Jesus, who had no place to lay his head and died by crucifixion.

The good news is that we have a God who fully understands all the ways in which we suffer--and wants to be with us anyway. We have a God who fully understands all the ways in which we will fail--and loves us fully anyway.

John reminds us of our Advent goal, which is to keep watch, to stay alert. Of course, our Advent goal should spill over into the rest of our life. It's easy to keep watch in December, when the rest of the world counts down to Christmas. It's harder to remember to watch for God in the middle of summer. That's why we need to develop daily spiritual practices that will keep us watchful.

John also reminds us that we are not the Messiah. It’s Christ’s role to save people. It’s tempting to think that we can save ourselves and each other. But we can’t. It’s comforting to say, “I am not the Messiah,” as John the Baptist does, in John 1:20. In our daily lives, we’re confronted with scores of problems that we can’t solve, from various national debt crises to meetings about missed numbers and opportunities to friends and family who make disastrous choices. We can only do so much. We are not the Christ for whom the world waits.

That phrase can keep us humble too. Many a powerful figure has been disgraced by forgetting that someone else is the Messiah.

These days, perhaps we have the opposite problem. Far from feeling powerful, we may feel oppressed by forces outside our control. But our scripture readings offer comfort. We have a larger salvation, even when our daily lives feel like a persecution. Christ came to claim us, the Holy Spirit stays with us, and the day will come when we will be reunited with the Divine. Watch and wait and work for "a new earth, where righteousness is at home" (2 Peter 3: 13).

A Muppet "Godspell" and Other Gifts

2011-11-29T06:28:00.000-05:00

My spouse and I have spent a lot of time in the car lately--it's been 6 weeks of lots of coming and going for us. We're lucky in that we travel well together. It's good to have company--and someone to share the driving.

As we drove to our Thanksgiving reunion, we listened to the soundtrack from Godspell, one of our favorites from way back. I'm not sure how we came to start singing in the voice of different muppets, but we did. And we were off, envisioning how we'd put on a production of Godspell with the muppets.

It felt a bit profane, but also thrilling to think about how many people might be won over by our production. Of course, we forget that when Godspell came out, it seemed a bit profane--Jesus and the disciples as a bunch of clowns!

Later in our Thanksgiving travels, I was amused to hear an old college friend singing songs from Veggie Tales--and he has no children. He explained, "It's just good music!"

There are many ways tell the Good News. In this time of Advent, perhaps we should think about alternate strategies.

The time before Advent is also a time for thinking about giving gifts. My post is up at Living Lutheran. It gives advice about how to give gifts without sacrificing our core values. Ah, to live an integrated life--a worthy goal indeed, but harder for many of us this time of year.

2011 Advent Art Project #1: The Tropical Advent Wreath

2011-11-27T06:36:00.015-05:00

I know that the Advent wreath tradition is to have evergreen/pine boughs--so I decided to play with the theme. Each week, I may add additional tropical elements. Although if later weeks are like this week, I may run into trouble. My palm trees are not nearly as much in need of cutting back at this time of year as they are in the summer.

Here's the view from the top. I kind of like the mix of palms, which I associate with Holy Week, with the Advent elements. I was thinking strictly in terms of tropical greenery. It wasn't until I was cutting that I said to myself, "I remember doing this prior to Easter for Palm Sunday."

It is the start of Advent, where we turn our eyes to the manger--and to the end of the story, in so many ways. Ah, Advent, with its apocalyptic texts, its watching and waiting. Light the first candle and contemplate!

Keeping Our Eyes on the Prize

2011-11-25T04:38:00.026-05:00

Today, as many of us jump into the Christmas shopping frenzy, I thought it would be a good time to post a photo essay to help guide us back to the reason why those of us who are Christians celebrate this holiday.

And as we look to the creche, we should always also keep our eyes to the cross.

Thanksgiving: A Good Day to Plan for Advent

2011-11-24T06:18:00.006-05:00

Today in the U.S., we celebrate Thanksgiving. Many of us will spend the day cooking, eating, and resting in a variety of ways. For today, many stores are closed. That will all change tomorrow, early in the morning.

We're about to plunge into the Christmas season. Today is a good time to plan for how we're going to have a meaningful Advent, how we're going to resist the consumerist, capitalist madness of a whirlwind that tends to sweep us all along.

Let's strategize. How can we avoid a hectic season? How can we invite more contemplation and quiet into December?

--Make a budget now. Just hours from now, the Christmas shopping season begins for those of us brave enough to go into stores. Before you go, make sure you know how much you can spend. It's easy to get caught up in the shrill cycle of good deals and fierce desires. Don't buy so much that you'll still be paying off those credit cards in July. Nothing is worth that.

--Instead of buying stuff, buy experiences. Most of us have too much stuff. Why not give someone a meal out or a movie? Give the gift of your time.

--Instead of buying stuff, donate to charities. I'm lucky enough to be able to buy just about everything I need (and my needs are fairly simple). I am haunted by all the charities that are underfunded. I am haunted by the gaping needs in the world. I would prefer that people give money to the needy than to buy more stuff for me. Chances are good that lots of people on your gift list feel the same way.

--Plan your social calendar now. And keep it simple. Choose only one or two events per week-end. Declare that you won't go out on school nights. You can't do everything, and you'll only feel irritable if you try. What's most important to you and the ones you love?

--Purge the traditions that have ceased to have meaning. This one is tough. For example, I often find myself bored and irritable as I sit through The Nutcracker. I always think I'll love that ballet, probably because I loved it as a child. I don't love it as an adult. Why spend the money and time? Of course, if everyone else in the family adored it and wanted to go, it might be worth it. But now is a good time to have a frank discussion, before we're caught up in the sentimental sweep of December.

--Streamline some of the traditions. Do you really need to bake every kind of cookie that you remember from past holidays? Maybe you and your friends could have a cookie swap. Or get together to bake cookies together. Have a wonderful afternoon of cookie dough and wine and leave with enough cookies to get you through the holiday. For years, I did a cookie bake/swap with friends, which grew into a dinner swap, which we'd still be doing today, if I hadn't moved 700 miles away. Consider other ways to make the holiday meals simpler. Maybe this is the year to simplify the holiday card tradition. Ask yourself which church events mean something to you and which you're attending because you always have.

--Take time to help the needy, and bring your children along. Some of my favorite holiday memories involve helping others. My Girl Scout troop used to go carolling at nursing homes. The church of my adolescence assembled gift baskets for homeless women. The words of Isaiah are knitted into every fiber of my being: "learn to do good; seek justice, correct oppression; defend the fatherless, plead for the widow" (Isaiah 1: 17). My parents, along with social institutions like church and school, modeled the good behavior of working for social justice. It's stuck with me. Advent is a great time to train the next generation in the habits of social justice and charitable work.

--Maybe today, as we cook and clean up, we can think about how we'll have some meditative time during the upcoming season of Advent. Will we have an Advent wreath? Will we start the day with a devotional time? Will we listen to sacred music during our commute time?

It's important to remember that even with all the best plans, we may find ourselves overscheduled and cranky. Plan now to forgive yourself for those times. Plan now for how you'll get back on track. Plan now to get yourself back to the waiting and watching state that should be our Advent mindset.

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

2011-11-23T06:30:00.004-05:00

The readings for Sunday, November 27, 2011:

Isaiah 64:1-9
Psalm 80:1-7, 16-18 (Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19 NRSV)
Show the light of your countenance, and we shall be saved. (Ps. 80:7)
1 Corinthians 1:3-9
Mark 13:24-37

First of all, happy New Year! For those of us observing liturgical years, this Sunday marks the start of a new liturgical year. This year, many of the Gospel readings come from Mark, believed to be the first of the Gospels written (about 70 years after the death of Jesus).

Advent is a time that stresses that the liturgical year exists often in stark contrast to the calendar year. Stores have been decorated for Christmas for months, and we're only just beginning (the strictest liturgical traditions don't decorate for Christmas until after the last Sunday in Advent--that's much closer to Christmas than most of us would like). Worship planners field many complaints about not singing Christmas carols before Christmas Eve--and yet, we're observing Advent, not Christmas, so technically, Christmas carols aren't appropriate.

The readings for Advent will often seem jarringly out of place with the festive atmosphere one encounters in the secular world. Look at the Gospel for today. What an apocalyptic tone! Stars falling from the heavens and such tribulations as haven't been seen since the beginning of creation. This end times language is how we count down to Christmas?

Yet in many ways, this apocalyptic tone is appropriate. Watch and Wait. That seems to be one of the lessons for the day. Look at how many times the word Watch is repeated in the Gospel. Like a pregnant woman, like Mary, the people of God keep watch for God's presence in the world while we create new life on earth (with God's help). Perhaps we should take a cue from the Gospel and carve some time for meditation during this busy holiday season. We get so caught up in the frenzy and the festivity that it's easy to lose our focus on what the season should mean to us. Watch and Wait. Light a new candle each week as we watch for the Messiah.

Of course, the Messiah has already come--our salvation is assured. The idea of the end being contained in the beginning is part of our Advent readings as well. We hear the story of the preparations for Jesus' birth with readings that are often interpreted as prophecy about a Messiah (found in the Old Testament, particularly Isaiah) along with Bible readings that remind us that Christ will come again.

Christ is coming (as he has come before, as he is present with us now)--are you ready? Take some moments this season--quit buying Christmas presents, quit cooking, quit racing from party to open house to family reunion. Listen to the voice crying in the wilderness. Think about the promises that God has made to us, the commitments God asks from us. How can you prepare? For the Kingdom of God is at hand.

Poetry Tuesday: Family Farm Heritage

2011-11-22T06:45:00.022-05:00

Perhaps I should post a more spiritual poem. This blog is my theology blog after all. I should write a poem about gratitude and God and great feasts.

But Thanksgiving suggests a different kind of spiritual heritage to me. For many years, we went back to my grandfather's homeplace, where his relatives were still farming on a small scale. We ate a turkey that had been scratching in the yard very recently. We ate vegetables grown in the fields outside the door. We talked about our ancestors.

I learned about my great grandmother who was picking beans when she had a heart attack. She made the men wait to take her to the hospital until she could change into clean underwear.

Of course, I learned more than just funny stories. I learned about how people survived hard times and how they celebrated bounty. I learned about a quiet spirituality (of a Lutheran variety) that formed the backbone of my family. I learned about tables that were full of enough food to share with the family members who didn't have as much to contribute--for many starving student years, my husband and I would go to the feast with a meager loaf of pumpkin bread, and we'd leave with enough food for a week--and a Christmas tree cut from the fields!

So, here's a poem that celebrates that heritage. It was first published a year ago in Big Muddy.

Thanks Giving

Finally, I am with my own kinsfolk.
I do not feel a freak of nature anymore.
Here beneath this hook
where my great grandfather butchered hogs and deer,
I stare into faces familiar to me.
My future face.

I have the strong, solid body
which doesn’t belong to this age
of computers and office politics.
I was meant to be up at half a crack of dawn,
fixing a huge breakfast
before I plowed a field and put an addition on the house.
All in a day’s work.

The strength of my people lies
buried in my bones and brain,
a genetic code impossible
to diet or exercise away.
My hips would balance a baby
while I shaped bread dough and slaughtered chickens,
if only I would comply.

But I’ll submit to my genetic destiny on some level.
I will always awaken before sunrise,
always keep an eye to the sky,
track the weather like a second religion.
I’ll cook enough food for a small third world country
and share my good fortune with others.
I’ll tell the family stories
about strong women
with indomitable wills.

God of the Mountains, God of the NICU: Alathea Sings!

2011-11-21T05:12:00.000-05:00

Last night, we went to see the folk duo Alathea at our church. They sing a fairly even mix of Christian themed music and music that's more secular. Most of the works they've written themselves, and they play a wide variety of instruments.

In between, they tell great stories. I loved hearing about the two young women sitting in the NICU, singing to the child who had arrived 6 weeks early. We heard about the huge windows that look out on the Appalachian mountains. We heard about the young woman realizing that our God of grand mountains is also the God of the ICU. Well said!

I love that they sing their own music, but they can launch into Johnny Cash if the need arises. They told a story of spending 12 hours in a German nursing home as they led groups of youth in singing to the residents. One elderly German man looked at them and said, "Smoky mountains." The group nodded. The man said, "Johnny Cash!" And the group launched into "Ring of Fire." They sang it for us too. They invited us to sing along. Some of us did.

They also sang some Christmas songs, which fit well with the baby in the NICU theme: our God of majesty comes to be with us. We are not alone any more! How I love Advent and Christmas.

I love that they've managed to make their living by singing and witnessing this way--for 12 years, no less! I love that they see their work as a ministry. They tour the country and do a lot of work with youth. Hurrah!

If you want to find out more about them, their website is here--but be warned, it launches with song, so if you're at work or in the library, you might want to mute your speakers first. We have all of their CDs, and we love them all. If they ever sing near you, make the effort to go--they're great!

Atheists Missing Advent

2011-11-20T08:17:00.000-05:00

My atheist friend finds herself yearning for Advent.

I could just leave that statement there. We could celebrate the strange movements of the Holy Spirit. But I want to explore a bit further.

My friend is German, and she pulled out some German books. Even though I speak no German, the pictures were enough to let me know what tugged at her heartstrings: cookies, decorations, candles--oh yes.

Her Advent childhood wasn't much different than my Advent childhood. We both had Advent calendars, with windows that we opened each day. We had Advent wreaths. We baked all kinds of cookies.

My atheist friend is planning an Advent craft day on Dec. 3. We will create some of the creations of her childhood. My Wiccan friend will bring sugar cookies. My Hindu friend will play along. She's lived in this country long enough to understand the pull that Christmas has on us--plus, her German grandmother immigrated to India, so she has some connections to this holiday too.

So, is it the Holy Spirit at work? Or do we get to a certain age and succumb to nostalgia?

For those of you who drag your children to church and force your families to celebrate in certain ways, if you wonder if it's worth it, if you wonder if it will all pay off, I'd have to say yes, based on the experiences I've had with my non-believer friends.

My atheist friend says, "Don't read too much into this. I'm just using Advent as an excuse."

I say, "I know. You're using Advent as an excuse to celebrate Advent."

I'm not pushing the issue too much. I know that we can celebrate Christmas with absolutely no religious intent. In fact, I know that even the most spiritual people can get lost in the commercialism of Christmas. I've always been an advocate for the healthy things that bring us joy--and Advent traditions do that for many of us.

A week from today, Advent begins. How will you celebrate? How will you stay centered?

"Flunking Sainthood": Who Can't Relate?

2011-11-18T05:02:00.000-05:00

During my recent trip to Mepkin Abbey, I realized I hadn’t packed well in terms of books. While I had brought some great novels, I found myself with a craving to read something more spiritual. How had I got to Mepkin Abbey without Kathleen Norris or Thomas Merton in my bags?

Happily, Mepkin Abbey has a great gift shop with a marvelous selection of books. I decided to splurge on a book purchase, even though I know I could get that same book for a cheaper price on Amazon. I’ll happily let Mepkin Abbey keep those profits.

I also decided to buy because I have time to read at Mepkin Abbey, unlike during other times of my life. I chose Jana Riess’ Flunking Sainthood: A Year of Breaking the Sabbath, Forgetting to Pray, and Still Loving My Neighbor. I had read a good review, and it looked like something I would enjoy.

It’s a delightful book, although if you want something dense and chewy for your brain, you might want to go back to that Thomas Merton. Jana Reiss zips through religious practice after religious practice, without ever really mastering any of them.

Her book is structured in much the same way as Gretchen Rubin’s The Happiness Project: Or, Why I Spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning, Clean My Closets, Fight Right, Read Aristotle, and Generally Have More Fun. Each month, Reiss chooses a different religious practice to try. She also reads at least one book about the practice.

So, for example, in September, she explores the practice of hospitality. She tells us about her experience dropping in on her mother’s cousin David, a Benedictine monk, with very little notice. She talks about how generous he was: “Before I hung up the phone, David had made me feel like he had woken up that morning just hoping against hope that a ragtag band of loosely confederated idiots would descend on his monastery that very day, and he simply couldn’t wait to show them around” (114). She reads the Rule of Benedict. She contemplates pet sitting and Facebook in terms of hospitality. She realizes that “making guests feel welcome is about allowing them to be who they are, not who you want them to be” (125).

She sprinkles each chapter with great quotes, and she includes a section of notes that explain some of the quotes and that gives a reader who wants more information on the practice some additional resources. The book gave me enough information so that I felt fed, but not so much that my brain hurt.

What I really liked was her sense of humor. But it’s not a nasty sense of humor. It has a piercing insight to deliver, even as I’m laughing. For example, she says, “We believe we fall short and need to repent, but we don’t dwell heavily on the idea that we are born sinners. That’s even more true in American culture, where the only time we’re likely to hear the word sin is in a sentence about a particularly rich chocolate cake” (pp. 150-151).

I also appreciated that as she tried each practice and failed, she kept going and trying. At the end of the book, she realizes that most of these practices would have needed more than a month to take root, and more time for her to practice. She also realizes the value of attempting these practices within a community, rather than by her solitary self.

It’s a quick read, but a satisfying read. It’s relatively short, at 171 pages, which I value these days—it means I’m going to actually finish the book.

Here are some more quotes:

--“In a brilliant book about the theology of housekeeping, Margaret Kim Peterson says that it’s precisely the never-ending nature of household tasks such as cooking that makes them ‘so akin to the providential work of God’” (p. 30).

--“In Jesus, God is cleaning his house” (p. 31).

--“The problem isn’t shopping. The secret problem is coveting” (p. 61).

--“Christians absolutely can be thankful and unhappy at the same time. In fact, we ought to be because this world is not as God intended it. When we are in despair about a child getting leukemia, God is right there beside us feeling righteously pissed” (p. 110).

--“I do know one thing: the world would change tremendously if more Christians would tithe” (p. 161).

--“It occurred to me as I dropped everything to be at my father’s bedside that when we truly keep the Sabbath, God can mold us into the kind of people who don’t make an idol out of work, which is a particular temptation for me and perhaps a lot of other Americans” (p. 170).

--“And if I did it all again, I would try to stop practicing charity from a distance. One of my greatest failures this year was my careful refusal to get involved” (p. 170).

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

2011-11-17T07:58:00.000-05:00

The readings for Sunday, Nov. 20, 2011:

First Reading: Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24

Psalm: Psalm 95:1-7a

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 100

Second Reading: Ephesians 1:15-23

Gospel: Matthew 25:31-46

This week, the liturgical year comes to a close with Christ the King Sunday. In some churches, this will be a high festival day that celebrates the power of Christ. But the Gospel reading makes it clear that Kingdom power is not the same as worldly power.

We might expect a Gospel reading that reminds us that Jesus transcended death. We might get a Gospel reading that tries to scare us with a vision of Christ at the next Coming, descending in glory to judge us. Well, in a way, we do.

But the vision we get is not the one that we might expect. We might expect to be judged and found wanting because of what we've been told are sins: our drinking, our gambling, our loose sexuality. We might expect to be judged for all the Sundays we decided we'd prefer sleep to church. We might expect to be judged because we've been lazy and we didn't go for that promotion at work.

This Gospel reminds us of how God will judge us. Did we feed the hungry, clothe the naked, welcome the stranger, visit the imprisoned? Then we have been attending to our royal tasks.

And why do we do this? The Bible is full of stories of the Divine showing up in circumstances where we wouldn't expect to find God. The Bible tells us that God prefers to hang out with the poor and the marginalized. If we want to find God, we need to go there. We have a history of thousands of years of Christians whose lives support what the Bible tells us--we will find God in the meekest of places. Next week, we celebrate Advent, where we remember one of our central Christian stories: God comes to be with us two thousand years ago, but not in the power center of Rome. No, God comes to us in one of the outposts of Roman civilizations and God lives with one of the groups of people that the worldly, dominant power structure of the time despised.

This Gospel also reminds us that we are to see God in everyone. It's easy for me to see God in the eyes of my husband as he looks at me lovingly. It's harder for me to see my difficult coworker as Jesus incarnate. In any given day, we are besieged by people who aggravate us, from our family members to our colleagues to strangers who drive the road with us (or shop in the same stores or send their children to the same schools). By forcing myself to treat everyone as Jesus-in-Disguise, I will transform myself into the Christian that I want to be.

Jesus was the model, after all. Jesus had dinner with the outcast. Jesus treated everyone with love and respect, even people who were out to sabotage him. I could let myself off the hook by saying, "Well, yeah, he was God incarnate. I could do that too, if I was God incarnate."

No, you can do it, because Jesus did it. Jesus came to show us the full potential of a human life. Jesus came to dwell among us and to show us a better way to live. It's not the way the world tells us to live. The world would scoff at a king who sought out the poor and dispossessed, who sold his possessions so that he would have more money for the poor.

But Christians know that our power lies in our compassion. We don't achieve compassion by sitting in our homes, working on being more compassionate. We become more compassionate in the same way that God did, by getting involved in the world.

And we're not doing this for some after-death reward, although many preachers will use this Gospel to lecture on that. We do this because God has invited us to be part of the redemption of creation--not in some far away time, but in our very own. We don't have to wait for Jesus to come again. When we model Jesus in our everyday behavior, Christ re-enters the world.

We're not here to make money, to have a good retirement, to accumulate stuff. God has a greater purpose for us, one that will leave us infinitely more satisfied.

Safe Space Documents and National Scandals

2011-11-16T09:04:00.000-05:00

Our church has been working on updating our Safe Space document since summer. We switched insurers, and they wanted to see a safe space document. We looked at what we had on file. It would not do. The last time we had created one, we addressed things like standing on ladders.

How the world has changed! Actually, to be more accurate, the world hasn't changed, but we've become more aware of the dangers and tried to talk about them more.

I worked on the Safe Space document this summer (for more on that process, see this post)--not exactly how I envisioned using my writing skills, but still, I'm glad to be of use. We sent it to our denomination's specialist in these matters and tweaked it a bit.

Last night was the Council meeting where we needed to approve the document. I expected that it might be harder than it was. But in the face of the grim national news about the predatory coach in Pennsylvania, who can argue that we're overreacting?

We like to think that we'd report anything that we see that's off or wrong. But history reminds us again and again that we won't. Most of us won't. David Brooks wrote about that issue eloquently here, explaining all the reasons why we might not report crimes that we witness. He says, "In centuries past, people built moral systems that acknowledged this weakness. These systems emphasized our sinfulness. They reminded people of the evil within themselves. Life was seen as an inner struggle against the selfish forces inside. These vocabularies made people aware of how their weaknesses manifested themselves and how to exercise discipline over them. These systems gave people categories with which to process savagery and scripts to follow when they confronted it. They helped people make moral judgments and hold people responsible amidst our frailties."

Will a safe space document change the tendency of humans not to intervene? We hope so. The stakes are very high.

I thought of this blog post, which reminds us "What was really telling was the information that pedophile networks (you know there are such things, where they advise each other how to find and groom victims) are advising one another to go to church. Not to find Jesus. To find little boys and girls."

Should anything inappropriate ever happen to a child at our church, we will not keep the investigation in-house. No. We will call the police, who, after all, have been trained in this work.

We all worry about false accusations. But the police and social workers are trained to investigate and determine the truth. As a church, our focus must be on keeping children safe

How I wish we lived in a world where people didn't prey on little children. How I hope that documents like the one we approved make that world closer to reality. I know that churches of my childhood never considered that abuse could occur, and that left a lot of us vulnerable. I'm lucky in that I never experienced abuse at church--but I can't close my eyes to all the people who did.

Artistic Advent Enrichment

2011-11-15T08:20:00.000-05:00

It's hard to believe that the end of the liturgical year approaches. This Sunday is Christ the King Sunday, which means that Advent is just around the corner. I plan to do some sort of art project for each week in Advent, from something as simple as assembling a tropical Advent wreath, to making a creche out of wine corks, to making holiday breads. I'll post pictures and updates, so that you can feel inspired too.

If you're looking for a disciplined approach and a guide to walk you through each practice and to help you make the connections between spirituality and art, allow me to recommend Christine Valters Paintner's latest book, The Artist's Rule: Nurturing Your Creative Soul with Monastic Wisdom. Much like Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way, Paintner's book is set up as a 12 week intensive immersion into techniques and practices that will make us better artists and deepen our spiritual experiences.

You might be saying "Twelve weeks? Isn't Advent 4 weeks?"

Yes, it is. So this book could take you beyond the Advent season--or you could choose 4 chapters which sound most interesting and do those activities for the week.

Paintner's book finds inspiration from monastic practices. Paintner is not the first person who has noticed the similarity between artists and monks, but her insights bear repeating. Both groups work in fields that aren't always honored by the larger community. Both groups are largely misunderstood by the larger community. Both groups engage in practices that aren't always understood. Both groups have to practice some sort of contemplation to do what they do. Both groups have to establish boundaries. In many cases, both groups experience a sense of awe and wonder on a more regular basis than members of the regular world will experience.

Paintner's book is a wonderful introduction to monasticism. It's also a wonderful introduction to a variety of practices that can be used in a number of ways. She has her readers make wisdom cards and arts altars. She has her readers experiment with movement in a variety of ways. She offers guided meditations. She suggests that readers play with poetic forms and fairy tales. The book includes poems, Bible verses, and quotes, and Paintner encourages the ancient practice of Lectio Divina, close reading which allows readers to uncover wisdom.

Her writing style is accessible, even for those of us who have never given monasticism much thought. When she offers activities for readers to do, her tone encourages novices and experts alike. Each chapter gives a wide variety of possible approaches, and most of them sound intriguing. I was first introduced to Paintner's approach to life and her writing style at her comprehensive website, and this book doesn't disappoint.

So, buy this book--either for yourself or for the artist or monastic on your gift list. If we're close to Advent, we're close to the Christmas shopping season. Plan now, for a sane approach. Books are a gift that can keep on giving, especially books that are set up so that readers will be interacting with them for weeks to come.

And remember, you deserve these kind of books too!

God's Economy: No Fear!

2011-11-14T05:25:00.000-05:00

It must be tough to prepare a sermon on the parable of the talents in our current climate. Our pastor began his sermon by saying, "The last few years have plucked at our tail feathers of risk taking."

He reminded us that the 5 talents would represent 75 years of earning. yet he went on to say that this parable is not an economic one, at least not the way stewardship campaigns would approach it.

He quoted Kelly Fryer, who says in Baptism, we all get a job to do, that our job is to determine our vocation and where it fits with the work that needs to be done in the world.

I'm uncomfortable with the ending of the parable, especially when it comes to seeing the master as God. I do agree with my pastor, who reminds us that in God's economy, there is no room for fear. I'm also aware of the apocalyptic nature of these parables, with their tales of watching and waiting and being cast into darkness.

I'm also aware that this Gospel wasn't written as Jesus was living it. It was written many decades later, when faithful Christians had been expecting the return of Jesus and were likely getting impatient. These parables of missing men in charge must have resonated.

I'm grateful to Kathleen Kirk's blog post, which directed me to this blog post which has many interesting viewpoints and quotes from others. She quotes Alyce McKenzie: "The Faithful and the Unfaithful Servants (24:45-51), The Ten Bridesmaids (25:1-13), and The Talents (25:14-30) have common features: a powerful figure goes away for a period of time and in his absence people act in two contrasting ways. When he returns, he responds positively to the ones who did well and he judges those who did not. The first parable concerns slaves whose master is delayed. The second concerns bridesmaids when a bridegroom is delayed. This morning’s parable of the talents concerns slaves whose master went on a journey for a long time. The first parable ends just as we would expect – the slave who had gotten drunk and beaten the other slaves was punished. The next two parables, though, feature five bridesmaids and a slave who are judged and condemned, not for acting badly, but for failing to act. They are rebuked and punished for their passivity."

She also quotes Caspar Green's blog: "The sign that the kingdom is near is the simultaneous widening of the gap between the haves and the have-nots, and the narrowing of options to the two end states of complicity in inhumanity on one hand, or misery and fear on the other. At that point, where people have been reduced to the point of having nothing to lose, a third option becomes thinkable: leaving the old social, political, and economic system altogether and letting the cards fall where they may. And that is exactly what Jesus was contemplating on the Mount of Olives. Two days later, he’d be crucified. A generation later, the temple would lie in ruins. Who knows what empire may fall tomorrow.”

Ah, to leave the old social, political, and economic systems altogether! Now that's a compelling vision!

In an Age of Science, Why Have a Religious or Spiritual Practice?

2011-11-13T08:58:00.000-05:00

Last night, at the house of good friends who happen to be lapsed Catholics (and one is a devout atheist), the talk turned to religion and why go to church. In a world where science explains so much, why bother?

It began as a simple question: as educated people, how do we view the Bible?

Not a simple answer, of course. My spouse talked about how he viewed the Bible in the tradition of wisdom literature. I talked about my approach to the Bible as a poet, which means I don't take it literally. I've had this argument with many people, as we talk about what the Gospels teach us. Those books weren't written to be a historical record of the life of Jesus. So therefore, do I believe in the Christmas story that I find there (or, to be accurate, the 2 or 3 stories I find there?). No.

So, why read the Bible? I tried to explain that I read the Bible so that I can find strength for the task of resisting the values that our larger culture of Empire would like me to have.

My atheist friend had lost patience at that point. She reverted to the argument that she often does when we have these conversations. She claims that she doesn't need religion to lead a moral life. She doesn't kill people--but not because some church tells her not to do so.

I brought up my argument that living an ethical life is far trickier than not killing people. We talked about how hard it is to live a life that is truly integrated, how hard it is to make sure that we're really living in accordance with our values.

Today, I'm thinking of all the other reasons why a spiritual life, why a disciplined practice (ideally daily), is so important. Today I'm thinking of everything I forgot to say.

I did talk about the moral message of the Bible as not caught up in sexual politics or in the murder/not murder question that most people think of when they think of the morality of the Bible. I talked about economic justice, the fact that there are about 12 Bible passages that address sex and over 2000 Bible passages that address economic inequality. And that social justice element is important to me.

But a relationship with the Creator does so much more. I like to think that I'm more appreciative of the beauty of the world around me because of my religious practices. I try to remember to say, "Great show, God!" or "Wow! Cool creation!"

I also try to foster gratitude in similar ways.

I never had a chance to talk about this, but my atheist friend has talked about her fear of poverty. I just don't share her fear. I would prefer not to be poor, but my Scriptures teach me that God hangs out with the poor more than with the rich. I think that too much money is spiritually dangerous. It teaches us to rely on ourselves, not God.

My spouse also talked a bit about the comfort factor of our religious faith, but it's not comfort in the traditional way, the when we die we go to Heaven where we see our loved ones and our favorite dog kind of comfort. It's the comfort of knowing that the world isn't quite right, but God has a plan, and the restoration of Creation has begun. We didn't go into that aspect too much. It requires a lot of background and a lot of explanation for people like our friends who haven't really been to church since 1963 or so.

This morning, as I caught up on an old On Being show and this morning's episode, I thought of how much a contemplative practice can be a comfort. Oh, to be able to quiet the mind at will! I haven't met many people who can do that outside of some kind of spiritual practice--except, for maybe long distance runners, which I might argue are practicing a spiritual discipline during the longer runs.

Having just got back from Mepkin Abbey, I could have talked about the monks and about the importance of praying for the world. But the hour was growing late, and I didn't want to go down that road. Once upon a time, I'd have sneered at the idea that prayer was important. I'd have told people to get out there and feed the poor. Now, I think that praying for the oppressed can be just as important--perhaps even more.

My friend whom I meet at Mepkin Abbey every year says that she would go to church even if she no longer believed because it helps her feel a vital connection to her ancestors. My friend is African-American and Episcopalian, so she's got an interesting perspective. She says that her experience of church is akin to Asian ancestor worship, where she can actually feel the spirits of her ancestors in church the way that she doesn't anywhere else.

I feel that connection too, although I'm not sure that I feel actual spirits. But that discipline connects me to past generations, both those related to me by blood and not. I love knowing that I'm singing some of the same hymns that my grandparents did. I love saying the creeds that centuries of Christians have recited, even though I understand them differently than a medieval Christian would.

I could go on and on about the reasons why my faith is important to me. It's impossible for me to answer concisely, and I always feel frustration later that I've left out so much. I also feel frustration that I'm unable to really explain it in a way that makes sense to non-believers.

Maybe I should take a lesson from my more mystical brothers and sisters. Some elements of life can't be explained neatly. I'm comfortable living in the mystery, even if I can't explain why I am to anyone's satisfaction.

"And With Our Brothers, Who Are Away"

2011-11-12T06:25:00.000-05:00

On my first visit to a monastery, I attended every service except for the ones at 3:10 a.m. I loved the way that the Psalms and the rhythms settled into my brain, pulsed through my blood, seeped into my very bones. I noticed that we prayed for God's help and protection to be with us, and "with our brothers, who are away."

It took me a few prayers to notice that pattern, and a bit of time to figure out what the language meant. I thought at first we prayed for travelling monks, and that may be the case. Monks do need to go out into the world, to do something simple, like grocery shopping, or to for more complex reasons, like travelling to meet with a book publisher, for example.

There are also darker reasons why a monk can't be in the chapel praying with the others: sickness and death.

I love the idea of a community that extends beyond the group that's gathered. It's an idea that speaks to us as human mammals on a deep level.

I was reminded of that longing the other night, when we took dinner to First Lutheran to feed the group that gathers there, predominantly homeless and predominantly male. I'm often the one who prays as we gather. It's a prayer to bless the food and to ask for safety as we head back out into the night.

About a year ago, one of the men asked me if I would please pray for the people who couldn't be there with us. Of course I was happy to do so. And I continue to be grateful for that request. It's good to pray for those who can't be with us, for whatever reason.

So, today I'll pray for all of us, that God be with my brothers and sisters, who are away.

Armistice Day: How Should Christians Celebrate?

2011-11-11T09:58:00.000-05:00

Many of you may be saying, "Armistice Day? I thought it was Veteran's Day?"

Yes, here in America, that's what we're celebrating today. But before it was Veteran's Day, it was Armistice Day, the day that celebrated the signing of the Armistice that ended World War I. In some ways, it's not a hard holiday to celebrate. Any event that restores peace in our time is worth some sober meditation.

However, those of us who know our history may be chastened by the knowledge of what was to come. The end of World War I planted the seeds that would blossom into World War II. World War I brought carnage on a level never before seen--but World War II would be even worse.

Why is it so hard for humans to remain at peace? There are whole series of books that address this question, so I won't attempt it here. Still, today is a good day to offer extra prayers for sustained peace in our time. World War I offers us vivid examples of the horrible consequences of the lack of peace.

Armistice Day is also a good day to offer prayers of thanks for the military people who have been willing to fight. I want desperately to be a pacifist, but I will admit that sometimes tyrants must be dealt with forcefully. My pessimistic side believes that violence is the only language that tyrants understand, but the 20th century has given us many examples of the peaceful overturning of despots, so I don't fully believe my pessimistic side. Still, we often don't use the forces of non-violence in enough time, and so, force may be our only option (witness the example of Hitler).

A few years ago, I was at Mepkin Abbey on Armistice Day. It also happened to be near All Saints Sunday, the first All Saints Day after Abbot Francis Kline had been cruelly taken early by leukemia, and the Sunday we were there was a memorial service for him. Part of one of the services was out in the monks' cemetery, and all the retreatents were invited out with the monks. I was struck by the way that the simple crosses reminded me of the French World War I cemeteries:

I took the above picture from the visitor side of the grounds, but it gives you a sense of the burial area. I turned all these images in my head and wrote a poem, "Armistice Day at the Abbey." It ends this way, by pondering the graves of monks and the role of monks:

Their graves, as unadorned as their robes,
stretch out in rows of white crosses, reminiscent
of a distant French field. We might ponder
the futility of belief in a new covenant,
when all around us old enemies clash,
or we might show up for prayer, light
a candle, and simply submit.

Here's a prayer I wrote for this Armistice Day:

God of Peace, on this Armistice Day, please renew in us the determination to be peacemakers. On this day, we pray for all who are damaged by wars big and small. We offer a prayer of thanks for our veterans, and we offer a prayer of hope that military people across the world will find themselves with no warmaking jobs to do. We offer our pleading prayers that you would plant in our leaders the seeds that will sprout into saplings of peace.

Happy Birthday Martin Luther!

2011-11-10T05:31:00.000-05:00

Today is Martin Luther's birthday. I've written before about the Reformation and what it means to me--and Western civilization. Would we have had a Reformation without Martin Luther? Yes, certainly. But I could make the argument that we'd have ended up in a completely different landscape without him.

At the turn of the millennium, I remember reading many essays about which historic figure had done the most to launch us into modern life, and Martin Luther made the list. Einstein eventually won Time magazine's Human of the Millennium designation, as I recall. But we could posit that there would have been no Einstein without Luther.

Maybe that's a stretch, but still, how long would it have taken for mass literacy to have taken off without Luther? Luther translated the Bible into the language of ordinary people--which infused ordinary people with a fierce desire to be able to read it.

Sure, argue that the printing press fostered literacy--you'd be right. And you could make the argument that we'd have had no Luther without the printing press.  With no printing press, Luther's words would not have found the wide audience that they did as quickly as they did.

I know that Luther has some awful traits, like his beliefs about the Jews.  Of course, he was like many Catholics of his day. Does that excuse him? I'm torn about this, to be frank.  As an English major, I've had to deal with the fact that most of the writers who produced work that I loved also happened to have beliefs that I've found reprehensible. But should I reject the work of William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge because they allowed/expected Dorothy Wordsworth to transcribe their poems? For years, I did. But then I read more, and realized that Dorothy took great joy in their literary community. It seemed unfair to castigate William and Samuel for their lack of modern feminist sensibilities.

Even as a Lutheran, I find some of Luther's writing to be a bit much. His concept of grace very much hinges on his dim view of humanity and our sinfulness. It can be hard for a 21st century sensibility to accept.

And yet, he's different from most pre-19th century theologians. Think about Calvin, for example, with his view of pre-destination. And think about the medieval theologians with their anti-woman, anti-flesh, anti-pleasure views.

Here's a quote from Luther, courtesy of The Writer's Almanac: "Be strong and cheerful and cast out these monstrous thoughts. Whenever the devil harasses you thus, seek the company of men or drink more, or joke and talk nonsense, or do some other merry thing. Sometimes we must drink more, sport, recreate ourselves, aye, and even sin a little to spite the devil, so that we leave him no place for troubling our consciences with trifles. We are conquered if we try too conscientiously not to sin at all. So when the devil says to you: 'Do not drink,' answer him: 'I will drink, and right freely, just because you tell me not to.' One must always do what Satan forbids. What other cause do you think that I have for drinking so much strong drink, talking so freely and making merry so often, except that I wish to mock and harass the devil who is wont to mock and harass me."

I also value that Luther valued women, unlike so many thinkers of his day. His marriage to an ex-nun, Katherina Von Bora was by all accounts happy, and he treated her well as they raised their 6 children and gardened and made music. There are many denominations of Christianity where I could never feel at ease because of their negative beliefs about women; happily, I've rarely felt that negativity in the Lutheran tradition, the ELCA, which I must rush to remind readers is the liberal branch of the Lutheran tree. In the more conservative branches, I might not feel that way.

The Catholic church will never canonize Luther. In fact, I'm told that in Rome, there's a statue of Martin Luther in the arms of Satan. But if I was in charge of the process, I'd nominate Luther.

I know that candidates for sainthood need to have performed a miracle, and the Catholic church would see miracles differently than I do. For me, the fact that Martin Luther could take such a strong stand and not back down ("Here I stand; I can do no other") and still survive the full wrath of Rome--that's miracle enough for me.  With the smidge of translating that I've done in my life, I give miracle credit to Luther's task of translating the Bible from Latin into German.

What would be a good way to celebrate this feast day? With good beer, of course! And probably some hearty sausages. And more beer. I wish I liked beer.

And we should probably do some singing. Maybe write some songs. If we don't have musical training, we can do what Luther did: take popular music (Luther used drinking songs) and craft theological lyrics.

Or maybe we should celebrate more simply, but more profoundly: we can read the Bible in our own language and say a prayer of thanks for Martin Luther, who realized the importance of being able to do that.

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

2011-11-09T05:26:00.000-05:00

The readings for Sunday, November 13, 2011:

First Reading: Zephaniah 1:7, 12-18

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Judges 4:1-7

Psalm: Psalm 90:1-8 [9-11] 12

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 123

Second Reading: 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11

Gospel: Matthew 25:14-30

This week's Gospel gives us the parable of the talents. One servant turns his 5 talents into 10, one turns his 2 talents into 4, and the servant who buries his one talent in the yard doesn't create any new capital. It's easy when reading this Gospel to focus on the word "talent." It's natural to think of our own talents, to wonder how we're investing them, and how we're wasting them by burying them in the yard.

The parable makes it clear what will happen to people who bury their talents. Now, I know that many of us are blessed with a multitude of talents. We do have to make judicious choices about which talents are worth cultivating. I hope that we won't be the servant cast into worthless darkness because we pay attention to one set of skills over another.

But let's look at that parable again. Let's look at that word, "talent," again. Read the parable substituting the word gold blocks for talent.

It's worth noting that a quantity of 5 talents, according to my Bible footnote (and my Bible is published by Oxford University Press, so I trust the footnote), is worth 15 years of wages of this laborer. In an article from The Christian Century, James Howell, a Methodist minister, points out that the servant who got just one talent would be receiving more money than most of us get in a lifetime of work: "This amount would stagger any recipient and send him into utterly uncharted territory. A Mediterranean laborer wouldn't have any more of a clue about how to invest five talent than the guy who bags my groceries would about $74 million (even if I and all my friends tried to advise him)."

As I read this week's Gospel again, I forced myself to think about the fact that this parable really is about money. It's not instructing me to return to the piano keyboard at the expense of the computer keyboard. And it's an unusually Capitalist message from Christ. I'm used to the Jesus who tells us to give our money away. I'm not used to the savior who encourages us to make wise investments of our money.

I'm not used to thinking of money management as a talent. But this parable makes clear that it is. Jesus makes clear that money is one of the gifts we're given, and the verses that follow (31-46, ones that aren't part of this week's Gospel) show that Christ is not straying from his essential message. The verses that follow talk about treating the stranger, the naked, the sick, and the prisoner as if those people are Christ incarnate. God has a vision for how we'll use that gift of money.

The servant who was cast into out darkness was cast out because the talent went to waste buried in the ground. How would he have been treated if he had given the money away to the poor, the sick, the stranger? I suspect he would NOT have been cast into outer darkness.

Our collapsing Capitalist paradigm often doesn't take community into account. Not making enough money in America, where workers have unreasonable demands like a living wage and safe working conditions? Just move your industry to a country that has less oversight. Sure, you rip apart the social fabric, but at least you're making money.

God calls us to a different vision. Our God is always obsessed with the poor and dispossessed. And we're called to be part of that obsession.

Unfortunately, tough economic times mean that we'll find many opportunities for this aspect of Kingdom Living. With the holidays approaching, we might think about our customs. Maybe, instead of giving people who have lots of stuff even more stuff, we could donate to a charity in their name. In my family, the adults decided that instead of exchanging presents with each other, we would choose a different charity each year and donate to that charity. Maybe, instead of an endless whirl of parties, we might give some time to our local food pantries or soup kitchens. As we buy a book or two for our favorite children, we could buy a book or two for local reading programs or donate to RIF (Reading is Fundamental, the nation's largest child literacy organization).

The ways to help heal the world are endless, and God invites us to join in the creation project. We can donate money, time, skills, prayers, optimism, hope. Doing so is one of our most basic Christian tasks.

Even Monks Need Sabbath Time

2011-11-08T04:24:00.000-05:00

I am back from Mepkin Abbey, a Trappist monastery. I tend to think of monastics as leading a life that hasn't changed over the centuries, at least in terms of schedule. So, I was surprised to arrive on a "Desert Day," something new.

At Mepkin, the monks begin their day by getting up at 3 a.m. and going to their first worship service, Vigils, at 3:20 a.m. It's the first of 8 services of varying lengths throughout the day.

On a Desert Day, the first Friday of every month, the monks can sleep late. They don't have a service until the 7:30 a.m. Eucharist Mass. The second and last service is a short Benediction service at 7:00 p.m.

The Abbot told us that they adopted a Desert Day routine because they needed more rest. On a Desert Day, they try very hard to do no work of any kind. It's a day to slow down and to do far less than they usually do. He sounded a bit despairing about how busy they'd become at the monastery.

I said, "So even monks need Sabbath time."

The Abbot smiled and nodded.

At first I felt relieved that I'm not the only one who feels bound to a relentless schedule. Later, I felt terribly sad. As I told my spouse later, I tend to think of monks as leading the most balanced lives possible: work, prayer/worship, and study.

My spouse said, "None of which is rest."

As usual, my spouse went straight to the heart of the matter.

It shouldn't surprise me that monks feel the need for rest. After all, they have a fairly small community of members, many of whom are significantly older, and they have an ever-increasing stream of visitors. Their Benedictine tradition requires hospitality to strangers, but still, it must be tough. They have a huge property to maintain, and several businesses. No wonder they need a down day once a month.

I wish they could have a day a week. Their monastery gives me such a gift of renewal. I wish the same renewal for them.

This Blog Will be Silent for a Few Days

2011-11-04T17:00:00.000-04:00

I'm off on my annual trip to Mepkin Abbey for a Writer's Workshop. I expect to return to regular blogging on Nov. 7 or 8.

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

2011-11-03T05:09:00.003-04:00

The Lectionary readings for Sunday, Nov. 6, 2011:

First Reading: Amos 5:18-24

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Joshua 24:1-3a, 14-25

First Reading (Alt.): Wisdom of Solomon 6:12-16

Psalm: Psalm 70

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 78:1-7

Psalm (Alt.): Wisdom of Solomon 6:17-20

Second Reading: 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18

Gospel: Matthew 25:1-13

The All Saints Sunday readings for Sunday, Nov. 6, 2011:

First Reading: Revelation 7:9-17

Psalm: Psalm 34:1-10, 22

Second Reading: 1 John 3:1-3

Gospel: Matthew 5:1-12

This Sunday we celebrate All Saints Day. Most churches focus on loved ones of the congregation who have died; some churches give special emphasis to members who have died since the last All Saints Day. Some churches will be thinking about the larger collection of saints.

The Gospel reading for today at first seems jarringly out of place. Why are we back to the Sermon on the Mount? But after reading it, we see the connections. These are the behaviors of those whom we traditionally consider saints, people like Mother Theresa. They should be the behaviors of those of us still on earth who consider ourselves to be part of that saintly pantheon.

It's even more interesting to read this Gospel in the light of worldly events. These behaviors are not the ones endorsed by most of the world. Spend a night watching television and contemplate what it says about our culture. We don't see many messages that remind us to be meek, to hunger for justice, to work for peace, to be pure in heart. No, we're supposed to dance with stars, or sing for a panel of harsh judges, or watch dramas about ghastly criminals.

The Lectionary Gospel reading uses bridesmaids and lamps to tell us about the kingdom of God. Half of the bridesmaids keep their lamps ready, while half are careless and bring no oil with them. Here we have another story that reminds us to stay alert and prepared and warns us of the consequences if we don’t.

When we read Gospels like these, many of us might think that we do these things as our admission ticket for Heaven. But some of the more interesting books of theology that I've read lately remind us that Christ didn't come to take us to Heaven. In fact, the concept of Heaven with all our loved ones waiting for us there is relatively new to Christian thought. Christ came to announce that God's plan for redeeming the world had begun. That plan involves our pre-death world, which is not just a place where we wait around until it's our turn to go to Heaven. No, this world is the one that God wants to redeem. Christ comes to invite us to be part of the redemptive plan (if you want to read a book-length treatment of this idea, make N.T.Wright's Surprised by Hope your November reading).

Jesus comes to show us what a God-drenched life would look like. I recently rediscovered this quote by Marcus Borg (from a lecture that he gave 5 years ago) in my notebook: "Jesus is the epiphany of God. He shows us what can be seen of God in a human life. There's much of God that can't be shown in a human life, but Jesus shows what can be seen."

Jesus also comes to give us instructions for how we can join together in the redemption of the world. Think of the Sermon on the Mount as a behavior manual. As you move through your days, view your actions (and your thoughts) through the lens of the Sermon on the Mount. Do your actions support this vision of peace, justice, mercy, and comfort? If not, how can you change to be more in alignment with God's vision of redemption?

We could use this All Saints Day as a reminder that we need to jump start our efforts to act as saints in this world. If that behavior means that we also get to be saints in the next world, swell. But the good news of Jesus is that we don't have to wait until we die to experience redemption. We're already saints. We just need to remember to be about the business of sainthood, and to avoid the behaviors that distract us from our mission.

The Feast of All Souls

2011-11-02T05:18:00.000-04:00

Today is the Feast of All Souls. You might be confused--didn't we just celebrate this holiday yesterday?

No, that was All Saints. All Saints was originally designed to honor the saints, those who had been beatified. Official saints, canonized by the Pope.

All Souls Day, celebrated the day after All Saints, was designed to honor everyone else who had died.

In some traditions, All Saints Day honors all the Christian dead, and All Souls Day honors those who have died in the past year. Those of you with excellent memories of your English major days may remember that Sir Gawain left for his adventure with the Green Knight on All Souls Day. Medieval audiences would have read a lot into that date of departure.

In most Protestant churches, I'm guessing that you'll only celebrate All Saints Sunday, unless you're part of a tradition that doesn't celebrate that holiday at all. It is a holiday that has retained a lot of its Catholic form, and some Protestant traditions will want no part of that.

What a pity. I'm all in favor of more church holidays, more ways to infuse spirituality into our lives. So let's take a few moments today to think about those who have died recently.

Here's a prayer I wrote for today:

Comforter God, you know that we miss our recently dead. We do take comfort from your promise that death will not have the final word, but there are stages of our grief where it is difficult to believe. Please forgive us our unbelief and doubt. Please keep reminding us of your love and care. Please strengthen us to be able to provide the same quality of love and care to those around us who are grieving loss. Please keep our creative imaginations focused on the redemption of Creation, where you have promised we will not have any reason to cry anymore.

The Feast of All Saints

2011-11-01T06:26:00.000-04:00

Today is the Feast of All Saints. Traditionally, this day celebrates the saints who have gone on before us. Traditionalists would not approve of what this church festival has become. Most churches celebrate All Saints Day as the day we celebrate the lives of all our loved ones who have died, whether they were consistently saintly or not. Traditionalists would only celebrate the lives of the truly beatified and the lives of those martyred for the faith.

I think that we could refashion this holiday to cover all those bases. Those of us in non-Catholic faiths could probably use some instruction about what it takes to become a true saint. We could all benefit by spending some time thinking about the behavior of the saints and how it is so different from our own.

At the same time, we could also benefit from celebrating the lives of the faithful who have gone on before. As a Lutheran, I believe that none of us can behave our way to salvation, and yet many of us use that as an excuse not to worry about our behavior at all.

Yes, today is a good day to think about how we could emulate the lives of the saints--or the lives of the faithful we have known. For example, my grandmother doesn't have a sophisticated faith; we would not have a discussion about the meaning of the cross, for example. Yet she has started every day with a brief devotion and prayer. I need to emulate that behavior.

Here are some other ways to celebrate the Feast of All Saints:

--You might start with the lectionary readings for today:

First Reading: Revelation 7:9-17

Psalm: Psalm 34:1-10, 22

Second Reading: 1 John 3:1-3

Gospel: Matthew 5:1-12

--You could then light a candle as you remember the faithful in your life who have nourished you. You could expand your thoughts to those who you didn't know who nonetheless have bolstered your faith.

--Write your living older family members a note or a card. Some day, you'll remember them on this feast day. Write them a note of appreciation now, while they are alive to appreciate your gratitude.

--Say a prayer of thanks for the saints who have gone before.

--Take a page out of the book of our Hispanic brothers and sisters. Prepare a picnic to share with the dead. Make some special sweet treats. This website has all sorts of interesting pages: recipes, photos of altars, and other interesting information.

--Plant some flowers. In many parts of the United States, now would be a great time to plant bulbs. Then in the spring, you'll have an additional treat.

--Remember your family stories. Even more important, start writing them down. You won't remember them forever. And there will be younger generations who will be starving for those stories. If you write them in a blog, hopefully, they'll be there forever.

--Make something with the herb rosemary, traditionally used as a symbol of remembrance. How about a chicken, roasted with rosemary, lemon, and garlic? Vegetarians can make a tasty bean soup with the same trio of rosemary, lemon, and garlic--add several cans of beans (whirled up in the blender, if you prefer a thicker soup) to your pot of rosemary, lemon, and garlic, and you've got an easy delicious soup. Throw in some steamed carrot pieces for an even more nutritious soup.

Here's a prayer I wrote for today:

Comforter God, we give thanks for all the saints who have gone before us. Give us the wisdom, courage, and faith to follow in their footsteps. And when the time comes that our earthly light will be extinguished, allow us to rest easy in the sure knowledge that we will be welcomed into the company of all the saints.

Halloween and Christians

2011-10-31T16:12:00.000-04:00

I'd have mentioned this earlier, but I've been on a plane--or doing all the stuff that one must do to get on said plane (drive to airport, security, we all know the drill).

As you wait for trick-or-treaters and want something to read, my blog post is up at Living Lutheran, about being a Christian and thinking about Halloween. And as we wait for Halloween to pass into All Saints Day, perhaps it's the perfect reading material.

Reformation Sunday and Halloween Eve

2011-10-30T04:53:00.014-04:00

So, have you bought all your candy for tomorrow? Planned your costume? Carved the jack-o-lantern? No? You still have time.

You don't have much time left to decide how you'll spend Reformation Sunday. Will you be going to church? Protestant or Catholic? Will you sing some stout German hymns? Will you drink stout German beer?

Even if you're not a church going type, the Reformation has changed your life. I won't cover 500 years of history here, but suffice it to say that those Reformers launched us further down the road towards modernity than we would have been without them.

Will we some day say the same thing about the Occupy Wall Street Movement? The Tea Party? Is there a religious group that is even now working to change the Church in such ways that we will barely recognize it 500 years from now?

Or maybe these thoughts are too heavy for a Sunday morning. Maybe you want to dress in red today and think about your personal Reformations for which you yearn.

May your bulwarks never fail! Wait, we don't use that line (from "A Mighty Fortress") any more. Drat! How will children learn that word?

That song seems more appropriate than ever for our age. Societal institutions left and right have shown us of their inadequacy. We're lucky to have God as our shield and comfort.

So, in whatever way you celebrate, may you have a meaningful Reformation Sunday. I plan to spend some time thinking about grace and the places in my life that could use some grace. I will pray that God fill me with the spirit of grace as I move through these darkening days of November.

Reformation Sunday Approaches!

2011-10-28T04:50:00.000-04:00

I first wrote this post two years ago. I think it's worth another look. I thought I'd run it today, so you still have time to plan for Reformation Sunday, which is this Sunday.

How to Celebrate Reformation Sunday

I'm biased. I think the best way to celebrate Reformation Sunday is to go to your local Lutheran church, sing "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God," and celebrate the Eucharist. Then you could come home, listen to Garrison Keillor's show (if your local NPR station rebroadcasts it at lunch, as mine does), drink some German beer, and take a nap.

Even when I wasn't a member of a church, I've always been intently aware of the liturgical season and the holidays that the Church celebrates. I grew up in a Lutheran family that went to church every time the doors were open--and that included when we were on vacation. So those rhythms imprinted themselves into my brain.

I love to celebrate, and I love that I have additional things to celebrate by being liturgical. But I know that not everyone is good at creating celebrations.

So, for those of you who are on your own this Reformation Sunday, here are some things you can do to celebrate.

--Go to a German restaurant and eat a German meal. Think about Martin Luther, who ate this food. Drink a German beer. Think about Martin Luther, who was not inhibited about the earthly delights.

--As you're drinking that German beer, write your own hymns. Not a musician, you say? Use popular drinking songs as your base! Lutheran legend has it that some of our greatest hymns have tunes that originated as drinking songs. So, the melody is already created for you--write a hymn.

--Not in a songwriting mood? Write your own 95 theses. What do you see as wrong with the Church? Do you have any suggestions? Extra points if you can back them up with Scripture.

--One of the Church's actions that outraged Luther was the selling of indulgences, which he saw as victimizing the poor. We like to think that the modern church has moved beyond the selling of indulgences, but history suggests that we're fooling ourselves. In what ways do you see the Church selling indulgences? Another way of thinking about this question: in what ways does the Church abuse its power?

--If you want to follow in the footsteps of Luther, indulge in some guilt. Luther held himself to some stringent standards, especially in his early life. Think about all the ways you've let God down--and then remember Luther's teaching about grace, and feel better.

--Read the Bible. Rejoice in the fact that you can read it in your own language. Thank Luther for being one of the earliest translators of the Bible into the common language.

--You don't want to worship at a Lutheran church today? Go to a Catholic church. Remind yourself of where you'd be if Luther hadn't started the Reformation.

I'm being a bit facetious with this one. I know that if there had been no Luther, there'd have been others to lead us down the Reformation road.

And in all seriousness, one of my most memorable Reformation Sundays was spent with a Lutheran friend and an Episcopalian friend during our retreat at Mepkin Abbey, a Trappist monastery. We got in touch with Christian roots that are much more ancient than the roots that we usually celebrate during Reformation Sunday.

And another memorable Reformation Sunday was spent on a South Carolina beach with some of my best friends from graduate school. wWe had a reunion on one of the barrier islands in 2006, 16 years after the last time we'd been together in South Carolina. One friend was raised Southern Baptist and has gone on to find joy in a Unitarian church, but at the time she thought she wanted nothing to do with church. My other friend was very active in her local Church of England congregation, but she felt strongly called to become a Quaker. And I was part of a Lutheran congregation that left me desperate for more spiritual nourishment. We spent that Reformation Sunday talking about our spiritual struggles and our desire to find a group where we felt more at home.

I'm rather startled to reflect that each one of us has found her heart's desire. I give credit to the Reformation process of being able to talk about what we yearn for, about where the Church has fallen short, about being able to have a vision for the future.

Our Reformation Sunday Gospel finds Jesus promising that we will know the truth and the truth shall set us free. The truth can be terrifying and send us hurtling down paths that seem dark and dangerous. At times we may not know whether we're heretics or whether we're struggling to birth something new and inspiring. If we keep ourselves rooted in church traditions, we're less likely to flirt with the heretical. Yet, as the life of Luther reminds us, sometimes there are traditions that have gone completely rotten.

On this Reformation Sunday, I pray for us all to renew the Church the way that Luther did. I pray that God will show us the truth. I pray for us to be set free.

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

2011-10-27T08:07:00.000-04:00

The Reformation Day Readings for Sunday, October 30, 2011:

First Reading: Jeremiah 31:31-34

Psalm: Psalm 46

Second Reading: Romans 3:19-28

Gospel: John 8:31-36

The Lectionary Readings for Sunday, October 30, 2011:

First Reading: Micah 3:5-12

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Joshua 3:7-17

Psalm: Psalm 43

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 107:1-7, 33-37

Second Reading: 1 Thessalonians 2:9-13

Maybe it’s because I know several pastors who plan to stay with the Lectionary readings this Reformation Sunday. Maybe it’s because I’ve been working on an article on ecumenism for The Lutheran. Maybe it’s because I read this interesting blog post over at Living Lutheran.

In that post, Clint Schnekloth argues that celebrating Reformation Sunday is spiritually dangerous: “If we celebrated an entire year, 52 Sundays, with each Sunday celebrating a development in the history of the Christian faith, with the Reformation situated within that larger context, it might work. As it stands, Reformation Sunday is the only Sunday of the entire church year that commemorates a moment in the history of Christianity rather than a moment in the narrative of Scripture itself. It is elevated and idealized precisely because it is so unique. This needs to stop.”

I hadn’t ever framed Reformation Sunday in that way before. I had always loved the celebration of Martin Luther’s accomplishment and the singing of those stout, classic German hymns. I loved the idea of nailing ideas to a door. Of course, I couldn’t tell you what those 95 theses said beyond some of the most famous ones.

Of course, many church folks couldn’t even tell you one of those theses. If you ask them to explain the Protestant Reformation, in terms of protest or reform, many Christians can’t. And when it comes to more ancient Church events, many of us are even more woefully ignorant. If we reshaped the calendar to include more Church history, we could address that: Councils of Carthage Sunday, anyone?

The creators of the Lectionary, however, must have realized the folly of a church year that celebrates Church history. Our worship should keep us focused on God, and less on human actions. And so many of those events out of Church history, important as they were, set into motion some unfortunate side events too. For example, as I’ve read more about the events that happened in the centuries following the Reformation, I was rather aghast at what Luther set into motion. I still approved of his wanting to reform corrupt practices out of the Church. But the amount of lives slaughtered because of different religious beliefs, religious beliefs which don’t seem worth discussion much less murder, still staggers me.

These days we might argue for the inclusion of Reformation Day as a high Holy day because so few people feel passionately about their religious beliefs. Maybe we hope that Reformation Day will reignite that flame of Protestantism, at least, the Protestantism that doesn’t make us uncomfortable.

The Lectionary readings give us a cautionary tale about religious groups who get too puffed up with self-righteousness. Jesus reminds us that outsiders will judge us more by our actions than by our spiritual creeds.

So, as we sing “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God,” let’s think about our heritage. But let’s also think about our future. Most importantly, let’s think about our present: are our lives a testament to a God who lives and moves among us? How can we be the light of Christ in a world that needs light so desperately?

Make Your Whole Life a Living Sacrifice

2011-10-26T08:44:00.000-04:00

In his latest book, Naked Spirituality, Brian McLaren offers great ideas for infusing your life with more spiritual richness: "How can we infuse our daily lives with the poetry, song, and dance of worship and praise? I've tried to maintain several disciplines of worship in my life through the years, each involving a way to render my whole life a living sacrifice:" (page 77).

He then goes on to list them, and in the book, he discusses them in detail (pp. 77-810:

Give God the first greeting every morning.
Give God the first thanks at every meal.
Give God the first response to every pleasure.
Give God the first consideration in your weekly schedule.
Make God the first supervisor or customer for all work.
Give God the first part of every paycheck.
Give God the joy of your creativity.

How many of these suggestions do you already follow? What could you add to your schedule this week?

Jesus and Miracles and the World

2011-10-22T07:44:00.000-04:00

A month ago, I was going to the Lutheridge retreat to plan the Create in Me retreat. For 2012, we're focused on Jesus and miracles as art and invitation. So we spent some time reading the passages about miracles and discussing them. Here are some things we noticed:

--More is possible than we humans imagine.

--The world is full of raw materials.

--The laws of physics (as humans understand them) don't constrain Jesus.

--Each miracle is individually tailored to the recipient. For example, not every healing miracle is the same: some times Jesus uses dirt, some times spit, some times touch, some times commands.

--Many of the miracles require the participation of the recipient: seeking Jesus out at the very least, washing, . . .

--The miracles show the abundance in the world.

--my group was intrigued by Mark 8: 22-26. This miracle needs fine tuning! After Jesus' first attempt to heal the blind man, the blind man says that the people look like trees walking. So Jesus tries again.

Matchbox Car Theology

2011-10-20T04:29:00.000-04:00

My 5 year old nephew asked how people got to Heaven. My sister (his mom) said, “You remember. We put a matchbox car in their coffin, and God drives them up to Heaven.”

I saw a problem with this idea. What if people didn't know to put the Matchbox car in the coffin? I hastened to add, “But if there is no Matchbox car, God can get them to Heaven anyway.”

I'm his godparent. Should I have said more? Should I have talked about Jesus as the Matchbox car? Even though I take my godparenting duties seriously, I don’t want to be the crazy adult whom my nephew avoids because my sole focus is on “boring churchy stuff,” as I termed it when young.

Part of me wondered if he'd understand the metaphor, although I suspect that children have less trouble understanding symbol and metaphor than grown ups do. Part of me worried that I couldn't really make the metaphor work. Part of me worried that I'd teach him theology which I don't necessarily believe.

In the few weeks since we had that conversation, I've been thinking about the issue of metaphor. I've wondered about what we take literally and what might have started as metaphor.

Let me say it more plainly. I know that many people think we don't get to Heaven without the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross. Our sins aren't forgiven without that sacrifice. We may have gotten that message wrong.

If you look at the agenda of the Gospel writers, some scholars suggest that a different picture emerges. As Christianity evolved from being an expression of Judaism to a separate religion, some Gospel writers used elements of the Jesus story to subvert the authority of Jewish priests. The idea of Jesus as a blood sacrifice means that people no longer needed to participate in the Jewish rituals of animal slaughter that brought/bought forgiveness. But did those Gospel writers mean for us to take that seriously or were they talking metaphorically or were they just trying to move people away from the influence of Jewish priests?

Many books have been written on this subject and great rifts have been created as believers disagree. I can't pretend to do justice to those ideas in a simple blog post. But long-time readers of this blog know that I believe that Jesus was crucified because he posed a threat to the government. Crucifixion was a capital punishment reserved for enemies of the state. If the Roman empire hadn't felt threatened, Jesus would have been stoned or beheaded.

Needless to say, I didn't want to go into all of this with my nephew, so I didn't pursue the idea of Jesus as Matchbox car. But I have been thinking about translating theology into terms that children could understand. I have thought about symbols and metaphors that make sense to children.

A Matchbox car theology. A Barbie doll theology. A blankie theology. God as Power Ranger or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. Hmm. I see problems, but also possibilities!

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

2011-10-19T04:46:00.000-04:00

The readings for Sunday, October 23, 2011:

First Reading: Leviticus 19:1-2, 15-18

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Deuteronomy 34:1-12

Psalm: Psalm 1

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 90:1-6, 13-17

Second Reading: 1 Thessalonians 2:1-8

Gospel: Matthew 22:34-46

The Gospel this week finds Jesus being tested again with trick questions. This week a lawyer demands that Jesus tell which commandment is greatest. And Jesus sums up the whole Bible by saying that the most important thing we are required to do is to love God completely, and secondly, to love our neighbors as ourselves.

Of course, this presupposes that we're good at loving ourselves, and we live in an age where this is increasingly not the case. We don't take time to exercise or eat the right foods, and most of us are sleep deprived. We're depressed about the way our lives are progressing, and instead of changing our lives, we self-medicate in a variety of ways or use other destructive methods of forgetting our sorrows. We wish we had more time for our friends and families, but we take on extra work to buy them more stuff--or worse, we take on extra work so that we can keep the job we have and worry desperately about losing.

How would your life change if you really did put God first? If God's priorities became your priorities? You'd take better care of yourself so that you could do the work and play that God requires.

And how would your life change if you responded with love, not just once a day, but throughout the day? And not just to people with whom you've made an investment, but with complete strangers? Or with people you don't really like, but you're forced to live with (like your co-workers, your child's school, your neighbors)

In this year of multiple natural disasters, I'm struck by how kind and loving we can be when facing such disasters. What would it take to show that care and commitment all the time? You might protest that you'd just be too exhausted, too depleted to do all that love and caring--and remember, that love should translate into action, and who has that kind of time?

But God requires it--and when we replenish the world with our love, we find ourselves replenished. The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand--if you're willing to do the work (which might often feel like play) to make it possible on earth.

The Feast of St. Luke

2011-10-18T07:45:00.000-04:00

Today we celebrate the life of St. Luke, who most scholars agree wrote the Gospel of Luke and Acts; Scholars do not agree on who the man named Luke actually was. Luke is the patron saint of artists, doctors, surgeons, students, and butchers. Take a moment to think about those connections.

I could argue that all those groups engage in the art of deconstruction. Some of those groups engage in the art of putting elements back together again. When I wrote that last sentence, I thought of butchers as the only ones who don't reconstruct, but in a way, they do as they prepare cuts of meat for the best cooking and presentation.

Traditionally, we've thought of Luke as a physician and a writer. Some have wanted to give him credit as a historian, but he likely wasn't thinking of himself as the person who needed to record early church history. As a Composition teacher would point out, he was writing for a different discourse community. He had different goals in mind for the audience that would read his writings. Historians and evangelists have very different goals, goals which do intersect, but which are not the same.

Luke as an iconographer is not as well known. In popular imagination, Luke gets credit for creating the first icon of the Virgin Mary. I am not brave enough to write about icons in this post, but I'm grateful to Luke and to the early Church for recognizing how the Arts can enrich our spiritual lives.

Here are the readings for today:

First Reading: Isaiah 43:8-13

First Reading (Alt.): Isaiah 35:5-8

Psalm: Psalm 124

Second Reading: 2 Timothy 4:5-11

Gospel: Luke 1:1-4; 24:44-53

Here's a prayer that I've written for today:

Creator God, thank you for the inspiration that you gave us in the life of Luke. Help us to discern our gifts for deconstruction and reconstruction. Help us to heal what needs to be stitched together. Help us always to have the mind of a student: curious and quick to make connections. Guide us as we follow our creative instincts. In all things, be our muse.

The Power of Communal/Corporate Prayer--But On a Smaller Scale

2011-10-16T09:10:00.019-04:00

Three weeks ago, as we opened our first day of the retreat to plan the Create in Me retreat, we stood in a circle and the leading pastor asked us what we needed, what we should pray for, specific requests for invitations and miracles (images we'd be using in our retreat).

It was powerful in a way I didn't expect. I liked hearing about the needs of my fellow retreatents, many of whom I've known for years. I liked offering up my own need. I liked being able to pray for us all as the planning retreat progressed.

Why does the power of communal prayer continue to surprise me? After all, I grew up in a church, where communal praying was what we did. Lutheran liturgy circles back to prayer again and again.

But our corporate prayer at the retreat was on a much smaller scale. It was a moving blend of the corporate prayer and individual prayers. We held each other's hands. We only had about 8 requests from the group of a dozen or so participants to keep in mind.

I prayed for back-up plans. My job lately feels more tenuous. I don't think my job will disappear. But of course, the 40 or so people in my school who have lost their jobs due to downsizing in the past year probably didn't think their jobs would disappear either.

When I was a teenager, I had no shortage of back-up plans: "If that college doesn't take me, I'll go to that college." Even as I progressed through my early adulthood, I had plenty of plans.

In this current economy, it's harder to believe that I can make a back-up plan or two and that they'll be viable, should I have to use them. What better time to pray for guidance?

The Feast of St. Teresa

2011-10-15T08:30:00.032-04:00

Today is the feast day of Saint Teresa of Avila, the 16th century Carmelite mystic. For those of us soothed by meditation, we owe her a debt of gratitude. But really, all of us, especially women, owe her a debt of gratitude. Saint Teresa made some important gains for women in the church, by way of her writing and her leadership during the Counter Reformation. I've always given medieval women credit for simply surviving in such a patriarchal institution, and for a woman to actually thrive despite the constrictions is quite remarkable.

Often, mystics make me feel further away from God--their visions are so different from anything I've experienced. Many of what I've read about Saint Teresa has moved me similarly--her visions are so full of pain and piercings that they leave me a bit revulsed.

I'm grateful to Christine Valters Paintner, who has helped me see a different version of St. Teresa. Paintner has written a wonderful book, The Artist's Rule: Nurturing Your Creative Soul with Monastic Wisdom, which I'll review more thoroughly when I've finished reading it. But in reading it, I've come across two references to Saint Teresa which have made me reconsider her.

In a guided meditation, Paintner says, "The great Spanish Carmelite mystic St. Teresa of Avila described such a spiritual journey as a movement through concentric rooms of an interior castle until we reach the diamond at the center of our being. She says when we reach this diamond we will finally realize how truly beautiful we really are" (page 11).

Paintner talks about the sacraments of daily life: "This is one of the elements I love most about Benedictine spirituality. The cup you take down from your cupboard each morning for tea or coffee is as sacred as the chalice that holds the consecrated wine. St. Teresa of Avila, the Carmelite mystic, said to the sisters of her community: 'The Lord walks among the pots and pans.' We make artificial distinctions between sacred and secular, between what is worthy of our awe and gratitude and what is not." (page 38).

May the Lord be with you in your kitchen today or in your living room where you watch the television or in the Autumn afternoon with its many delights.

Nourishing Our Souls

2011-10-13T08:26:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I talked about our God who wants to be in relationship with us. I thought of my response during a 2010 workshop at Synod Assembly. I can't exactly remember what prompt the moderator gave us, but I was struck by this image of God always inviting me to lunch or dinner, and me checking my calendar and seeing date after date would not work.

During our discussion of what we wrote, I said, "I'm afraid God will quit issuing lunch invitations." Then I burst into tears.

The Good News, of course, is that God will not stop issuing invitations. But my time-starved existence could well be damaging me in other ways.

I need to think of time in the same way that I approach food and nutritional choices. I've often thought that the modern approach to dieting is all wrong. We focus on permitted foods and forbidden ones, much the way that some churches focus on permitted behaviors and ones that are banned. But what we should be doing is considering the nutritive content of everything that goes into our mouths. Some foods,like spinach, carrots, broccoli, oatmeal, V8 juice, are packed with nutrients and well worth the calories. Some foods are empty of nutritive value, and a waste of calories--and some are downright harmful. Every time we eat or drink, we have an opportunity to promote health and healing--or to undercut it.

Likewise, the way we live our lives moves us closer to God or further away. If we looked at all our activities and evaluated them about how they impacted our relationship with God, what choices would we make? If we thought of every action in terms of what it contributes to creating a world that is more merciful, more kind, more like God, how would we live each day?

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

2011-10-12T05:10:00.000-04:00

The readings for October 16, 2011:

First Reading: Isaiah 45:1-7

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Exodus 33:12-23

Psalm: Psalm 96:1-9 [10-13]

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 99

Second Reading: 1 Thessalonians 1:1-10

Gospel: Matthew 22:15-22

This week's Gospel contains a saying of Jesus that is probably familiar: "Render therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar's and to God the things that are God's" (Mathhew 22, verse 21). Even people who have never set foot inside a church are probably familiar with this saying, although they may attribute it to somebody else, like Shakespeare or Ronald Reagan.

I love how Jesus realizes that the Pharisees have set a trap for him, and he manages to avoid entanglement. This passage also shows Jesus reacting to the legalistic outlook of the spiritual leaders. He seems to tell us not to be so rigid in our formulas of our finances. We know what we must do. We have bills and obligations (among them, caring for the less fortunate); we cannot escape those worldly cares. But in figuring out our tithes and taxes, we should not lose sight of the larger spiritual picture.

God calls us to more than a rigid formula of living. Instead of dividing up our budget into rigid categories, we should always be on the lookout for ways to love each other. Some days/months/years, that love might be manifest in monetary ways. But in a way, just writing a check is much too easy. God calls us to be involved with each other's lives. That doesn't mean we need to hop on a plane to personally respond to every huge disaster. Look around--you'll see plenty of opportunities just outside your door.

My mother has a theory about tithing money. She posits that in our society, giving money isn't the same kind of sacrifice that it would be in earlier times. Most of us have more money than we know what to do with. You might disagree, but if you compare your income to the rest of the world's, you are rich beyond compare. I would argue that we buy so much stuff because we have that much disposable income. Do you really need more than one outfit a day? Is your closet overstuffed, like mine is? There's a disconnect.

My mother says that the more precious commodity in our culture is time, and I think she's right. Most of us can barely find time to phone each other. Have you tried to have anyone over for dinner lately? It seems to take the scheduling skills of those people who used to organize Superpower Summits. My mother's theory is that if Jesus spoke directly today, he'd tell us to sacrifice time, not money.

What if you gave 10% of your time? There's 168 hours in a week. If you gave 17.8 hours to God, how would you need to change your life?

And the reality is, that God wants and needs more from us than a mere 18 hours a week. God wants an ongoing relationship with each and every one of us. And that relationship should transform us to do the tough work of transforming creation, of creating the Kingdom of Heaven right here and now.

In these days of financial insecurity, the message of Jesus seems more prescient than ever. If we save up our treasures on earth, moth or rust or inflation or deflation or bad policies or any other kind of ruin you want to name will leave us bankrupt.

The way we live our lives moves us closer to God or further away. If we devote our lives to God, our whole lives, not just an hour on Sunday, then we'll find a relationship that we can count on. And that relationship can help us transform not only ourselves, but our families, our communities, everyone we touch.

Happy Birthday, Thich Nhat Hanh

2011-10-11T08:15:00.000-04:00

Today is the birthday of Thich Nhat Hanh, perhaps one of the most famous Buddhist monks ever. His influence has stretched far and wide; perhaps he is most famous in terms of his influence for persuading Dr. Martin Luther King to oppose the Vietnam War. In terms of my own personal influences, I'm amazed at how many of my mentors, both the ones I've known in real life and the ones I've known through their writing, acknowledge the importance of his ideas.

In doing some research this morning, I was struck by how many monasteries he has founded. I am fascinated by intentional communities of all sorts, and I'm convinced that intentional communities with an underlying spiritual commitment have a better chance of lasting through the decades or the centuries. But I tend to forget that forming intentional communities aren't just activities done by ancient monks in medieval times. No, people are still banding together even today.

In terms of social justice and liberation theology, Thich Nhat Hanh has moved Buddhism in a direction similar to those embraced by liberation theologians and people of all sorts working for social justice. It's not enough to practice detachment. It's not enough to meditate. It's not enough to make oneself a peaceful person through these techniques. No, engaged Buddhism teaches us that we must take all sorts of stands against oppression.

I'm grateful that I'm part of a religious tradition that is open to wisdom from non-Christian sources. I can't imagine what it would be like to be part of a community who rejected Thich Nhat Hanh, just because he's Buddhist.

The more I study religions of the world, the more intrigued I am by the intersections. I do agree with Brian McLaren, who says, "Now contrary to popular opinion, it is not true that all religions say basically the same things. They have much in common, but there are notable contradictions and incompatibilities, many of which become more significant as they go deeper. But in many cases (again, not all), at any given moment, different religions are not always saying different things about the same subjects; rather they are often talking about different subjects entirely" (A Generous Orthodoxy, page 255). But it is interesting to look for similarities.

Perhaps it's time for me to read Going Home: Jesus and Buddha as Brothers, a book of Thich Nhat Hanh's which isn't quoted very much. I bought it years ago, but haven't read it yet. My spouse, who has spent more years studying world religions than I have, read it, and said it was good but didn't seem particularly heretical.

Of course, he was raised Lutheran too, and like me, he did his undergraduate work in a liberal arts college. These ideas wouldn't be radical to us.

So, happy birthday to one of my favorite monks, with sincere gratitude for all he's brought to the human race! If we canonized non-Christians, this monk would be the first on my list of candidates.

Who Is Missing from the Table?

2011-10-10T04:16:00.000-04:00

Our pastor's sermon yesterday focused on the idea of the wedding party--who gets invited and who doesn't. He reminded us that congregations struggle with who's supposed to be at the table, and then he gave us some examples from other churches that he's served.

He asked us to consider who is missing from the table. He reminded us that Jesus calls us all to the table. That's the vision of Kingdom living that so many of us forget.

He probably looked out over the congregation and saw too many people smiling smugly at these tales from other churches, too many of us thinking surely our church would never do that. I know of at least one or two examples of people who have been less than welcome, so I knew he wouldn't let us get away with that.

I admired how he handled that task. After asking who is missing from the table, he said, "It is a foolish church that believes we've done all we can do to invite people to the party."

So, today, I'll spend some time thinking about who is missing from the table, who doesn't even know there is a table.

The Nobel Peace Prize Calls Us to Social Justice for Females

2011-10-08T07:08:00.001-04:00

Yesterday, the Nobel Peace Prize was awarded--what a memorable day it was. Three women who have fought valiantly for social justice in some of the toughest parts of the planet won the award. Hurrah for them!

In this article from The Washington Post, Sudarsan Raghavan and Michael Birnbaum explain what the women have done: "The winners were Liberian President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, the first elected female president in post-colonial Africa, peace activist Leymah Gbowee, also from Liberia, and Tawakkol Karman, a leading figure in Yemen’s populist revolt this year who inspired thousands of women to rise up in a region where women are considered second-class citizens."

I would state it more harshly: these women have accomplished their amazing feats in parts of the world where women hardly count as citizens at all. Astonishing. Only 12 women have ever won the award, and they've all done amazing things. If you compare what President Sirleaf has done to what President Obama, another winner of the Nobel Peace Prize, has done, there's simply no denying that her accomplishments are greater.

The accomplishments of these women call us to do more to secure the rights of females across the globe, which was the intent of the Nobel Committee: "The Oslo-based committee described the award as an important siren call for women the world over. In its citation, read by its head, Thorbjorn Jagland, a former Norwegian prime minister, the committee said that 'we cannot achieve democracy and lasting peace in the world unless women obtain the same opportunities as men to influence developments at all levels of society'" (from the previously cited article from The Washington Post).

Jesus issued a similar command during his ministry that focused on the poor and the outcast--and in his society, women occupied the bottom rungs of the social ladder. Even women who married well and thus found themselves in a secure position were continually at risk, should their husbands die.

All sorts of traditions call us to secure the rights of the dispossessed. Those of us who live in the U.S. are lucky in that we have some recourse, should our rights be trampled. But I haven't talked to a woman yet who feels totally safe and secure. We have work to do, no matter where we live.

Martin Luther King continually pointed out that injustice anywhere threatens justice everywhere. In the words of that old Civil Rights song, no of us are free when one of us wears chains. So today, let us refocus our attention on the lives of women. There's benefit to all of us if we make the lives of women better. Study after study has shown that as women's lives improve, so do the lives of everyone in the community. Most of the time, women are simply better at redistributing the wealth to bring about their vision of how life could be better--everyone's lives, not just their own.

So, in these waning days of the year, let's think about what we can do to get resources to those who need it most. Let's spend some time thinking about what a world that honors the lives of women and children would look like. Let's get to work creating it.

Moral Workers in Corrupt Institutions

2011-10-06T05:29:00.000-04:00

Some part of me has never gotten away from asking the kind of philosophical questions that used to keep groups of us up late at night in college, dissecting and analyzing.

Having deep conversations--how I miss it.

Lately, my favorite question has been: Can a moral person work in a corrupt institution and remain moral? More lately it's been: How long can a moral person work in a corrupt institution and remain moral? A few days ago, I saw a study about new legislators who arrive in Washington, D.C. Most members of the House and Senate come to Congress for the right reasons. Very few come looking to abuse the system. Yet, in time, they find themselves changing due to the inexorable, corrupting pressure of the institution.

When I ask most people this question about moral workers in corrupt institutions, they stare at me blankly and try to change the subject. When I asked a friend the first question, she said, "Well, that's very hard."

I said, "What if it's not hard? What if we say it's hard because we don't want to wrestle with the implications of the question and the answer? Because I suspect the answer is no, the moral person can't work in an immoral environment and remain moral."

She snapped something along the lines of needing her health insurance, and we moved to other topics.

Luckily, in the wisdom of my youth, I married a Philosophy major. When I asked my spouse that question, he didn't hesitate. We talked about working for change from the inside and remaining resistant to corruption. It was a great conversation, the kind I so rarely have anymore.

He mention Neibuhr's Moral Man and Immoral Society: A Study of Ethics and Politics. I've been meaning to read that book. Maybe now is the time.

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

2011-10-05T04:28:00.002-04:00

The readings for Sunday, October 9, 2011:

First Reading: Isaiah 25:1-9

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Exodus 32:1-14

Psalm: Psalm 23

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 106:1-6, 19-23

Second Reading: Philippians 4:1-9

Gospel: Matthew 22:1-14

Today's Gospel sounds impossibly harsh. The kingdom of heaven is compared to this story of a king who can't get people to come to the wedding feast? Well, those of us who lure people away from their manic work lives (for church, for a dinner party, to go to a movie--for anything, really) may be able to relate to that part of the story. But is God really like the King who murders people who won't come to the party and burns their city? Is God really like the king who punishes a guest who comes in the wrong clothes? And such a punishment!

Some churchgoers, no doubt, will hear a sermon this Sunday that revolves around judgment and punishment. My opinion is that God rarely has to punish us, because our poor choices provide punishment enough.

So, let's look at this parable from a different angle: what's keeping us from accepting the invitation to the wedding feast? If the wedding feast is the kingdom of God, what keeps us away?

Obviously, as we devote more and more of our time to work, we have less time for the things that matter, like family, God, our friends. Many of us don't have time to eat; some of us can’t even slip away to go to the bathroom! Jesus is quite clear on this issue: we must prioritize. What good will it do us to work ourselves this way, to devote ourselves to earthly things, like work and earning money?

Or maybe we reject God's invitation because we feel inadequate. We'll accept at a later time, when we've improved ourselves. But that's the good news of God's grace that we find throughout the Gospels. We don't have to wait. God loves us in all of our imperfections.

Maybe we reject God's invitation because we haven't found the right community yet. Several years ago, one of my best friends in England finally decided that she couldn't remain an Anglican. She yearned to join a Quaker community, but hated the thought of losing her Anglican friends. Finally, she made the switch, and found to her great surprise, that her Anglican friends supported her, and her children adapted happily to the new community.

Perhaps we should see ourselves in the wedding guest that didn't have the right garment. What clothes do we need to invest in to make ourselves better wedding guests?

Maybe we need to clothe ourselves in the garments of love and acceptance. Think of what attitudes you need to wrap around yourself, and work to shed the ones that do not serve you.

Maybe we need to clothe ourselves in some regular spiritual practices. We have thousands of years of history that suggest some techniques that work: regular prayer, regular spiritual reading, cultivating a spirit of gratitude, taking a day of rest, singing the Psalms to calm our nerves, and the list could last several pages.

Life is short, and Christ returns to this message again and again. We think we will have time to get to the things that will be important. We'll do it later, when the kids are older, or when we don't have to work so long and hard.

But God calls us to focus on the important things now. The apocalyptic tone of the recent readings may seem overly dramatic, but apocalypse dramas remind us that everything that is precious can be gone in an instant--and so the time to focus on what we hold dear is now.

The Feast of St. Francis of Assisi

2011-10-04T07:57:00.000-04:00

Today we celebrate the life of St. Francis. Many congregations will do this by having a pet blessing service. Here again, we see a powerful life story reduced to something significantly more mundane. I would argue that the church almost always does this reduction act--and why? Why give up the power of these stories that way? We see that in our approach to Jesus Christ, and in our approach to every other believer who has a dramatic story. Are we afraid of the implications?

We often remember St. Francis because of his work, "The Canticle for the Creatures." Many people see him as one of the early environmentalists. I have no problem with animal rights crusaders and the environmental movement, but it's important to remember that St. Francis spent many years of his early ministry living with lepers and caring for them. He gave up everything he owned--and he was rich--in a quest for a more authentic life. He inspired others to follow the same path, and he founded two religious orders that still thrive.

In churches that celebrate the life of St. Francis, will we hear these parts of the story? I doubt it. Those are the parts of the story that are threatening to the social order. We can't have young people behaving in the way that St. Francis did. What on earth would happen then?

Our society would be transformed. And one of the ways that Christians have let down their faith, this is one of the most damning: we dampen the transformative message of the Gospel or we dumb it down into some sort of self-help drivel. The Gospel can transform us as individuals, sure, but then we are called to go out and transform our societies. God has called us to do redemptive work.

So, on this day when we celebrate the life of St. Francis, let's consider how we treat our pets and how we treat our modern-day lepers. I'm willing to bet that the community in which you live, pets are treated much, much better than lepers. Think about how your church would react if someone brought their pet dog or cat to church. Now think about how your church would react if a drunk, smelly, raggedy person walked in.

Lately, I've been thinking about the care we offer our pets and contrasting that care with the amount of care we give ourselves. We often do no better at taking care of ourselves than we do of taking care of the poor and outcast of our society. I've known more than one person who cooked better meals for their dogs than they do for themselves. You can probably offer similar examples: humans who make sure that their pets see dentists, even when the human members of the family don't take care of their teeth, dogs who see therapists, pets who get wonderful treats that humans deny themselves--the list could go on and on.

Why is it so hard to achieve balance in our societies? Why can't we take care of the destitute in the same way we take care of our pets? Why does self-care often fall to the bottom of our to-do lists? Why do we practice self-care and then not do the larger work of caring for the world? Why do so many of us care for creation so badly or not at all?

As we think about the life of St. Francis, let's think about the wealth that we have and the ways that we can share it. Let's think about the earth and the ways we can care for our patch of the planet. Let's think about all the voiceless members of our society: plants, pets, children, the destitute, the elderly.

Here's a prayer that I wrote for today:

Creator God, we don't always take good care of your creations. Please give us the generosity of St. Francis as we wrestle with the best way to use our resources. Please open our hearts the way you opened the heart of St. Francis so that we can take care of the members of our society who are at the lowest levels. Please give us the courage to create communities which will allow the light of Christ to shine more brightly.

Living Our Faith Under Threat

2011-10-03T04:40:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I watched Of Gods and Men, a French film that tells the story of a tiny monastery in the mountains of Algeria that got caught between a corrupt government and Islamic fundamentalists, the two sides of an Algerian civil war.

At first we see the men living peacefully amongst the Muslim population; they are so accepted that they're even invited to Muslim celebrations, and they go. The population relies on them for medical care, rudimentary as it is. They pray, they help the population, they work in their gardens, and sell their honey. In short, they do what monks have done for centuries.

I remember when the monks were killed in 1996. I remember the international reaction that went along the lines of "Why would you kill monks who weren't hurting anyone?"

Of course, anyone familiar with church history will remind us that any of us can get caught up in political issues outside of anyone's control; in our lifetimes, we've seen similar situations throughout the Latin American world, particularly in Central American countries. The life of Christ himself serves as a potent reminder of the cost of discipleship: if you're living your faith correctly, you're likely on a collision course with earthly powers.

The monks weren't martyred because they were Christian; they were kidnapped because they were perceived to have value. The movie shows that they were taken hostage in the hopes that they could be exchanged for political prisoners. The circumstances surrounding their death remain mysterious.

Their Christian faith and their monastic vows keep them rooted in place and in danger. It's interesting to watch the monks wrestle with their commitment to stay put. At first, some of them would like to leave, but they don't. By the end, they've all decided that staying in place is the right thing to do, even though they face increasing danger.

We see the monks as real men, not as spiritual superheroes, which is sometimes the way that monks are portrayed in popular culture. They don't want to die, and they're tempted by the safety that returning to France or going to another monastery in Africa would offer them. Yet they know that the community needs them, and the poor Muslims in the surrounding community have no way to flee the terrorism that surrounds them. By staying, the monks can mitigate some of that misery.

I found the end of the film profoundly moving. A the monks march through the snow and the strangely beautiful, but desolate landscape, we hear the words of Christian, the thoughtful leader of the monastery, who reflects on the predicament of the monks, a predicament grim even before the monks were captured. Christian reflects on the call to discipleship and the model given to us by Christ.

It made me, in my comfortable U.S. living room, feel a bit inauthentic, like I should go out immediately and become a missionary and volunteer to go to someplace truly dangerous. Yet many theologians would tell me that I've missed the point of the movie. My mission is not to go someplace where I will be martyred. My mission, the mission of all Christians, is to be the light of Christ in a world that's dark for many reasons.

The monks show us that there are many ways we can do this. We can be a gentle presence in our workplaces. Or maybe we could be a more forceful witness for Christ in our workplaces. We can strive for balance between work, study, and worship. We can pray. We can rely on our communities for sustenance. One lengthy scene near the end of the movie shows the monks welcoming an old friend who has brought them supplies and treats; together they enjoy a meal and two bottles of fabulous wine and classical music played at high volume. In the last scene, as they trudge through the snow, we see those same monks holding each other up, literally, as they head towards death.

We are all trudging towards death. Our spiritual lives can do so much more than prepare us for life after death; our spiritual lives should give us a taste of that Kingdom right here and now, as we transform our communities, so that everyone has a vision of the Good News that Christ declares: that God has come to dwell with us, that Heaven is breaking into our normal lives, that we don't have to wait for death to commune with Christ.

Divine Spit, Human Saliva

2011-10-01T08:17:00.000-04:00

Over at my creativity blog, I wrote this piece about how spending time with my 5 year old nephew reminds me that we live in an abundant world. I wrote:

"I wish you could have seen my nephew's joy when a huge leaf washed up beside him as a wave swept in. He pounded on it, and said "A leaf!" as if he'd found true treasure.

But, of course, he had found true treasure. I know that I've spent the first part of this week at Lutheridge, studying the miracles of Jesus as art form so my perspective is different right now. The life of Jesus and many other spiritual leaders teaches us that we have everything we need, if we had eyes to see it. There are too many times in my life I forget this basic principle."

I will write a longer post about the miracles of Jesus within the next few days. But one thing that leapt out at me during our study was that Jesus used the materials at hand. Jesus didn't say, "Drat. We've only got bread and fish. I was hoping for some olives and a lamb." Jesus took what he had and what the crowds had and transformed them.

I'm also intrigued by the earthiness of the miracles. So much can be done with spit! Several thousand years later, we might protest, "But Jesus had divine spit."

I would counter that Jesus came to show us how to live our human lives as fully as possible. He came to show us what a human life could really be, if only we would live expansively.

Madeleine L'Engle addresses this point more eloquently, in her book, Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art: “God is always calling on us to do the impossible. It helps me to remember that anything Jesus did during his life here on earth is something we should be able to do, too” (page 19).

Let those words sink into your Saturday consciousness and think about how we'd live life if we had no excuses. Anything Jesus did, you can do. Yes, that would include raising the dead--and raising ourselves from death.

Most of us have trouble with the literal version of this idea. So, think metaphorically. What death do you need to release you? What grave cloths are holding you back and making you stink? How can you reject this death and embrace resurrection?