Pentecost and Wind

As you prepare for Pentecost, you might think about the role of wind. I spent some of my formative childhood years in Montgomery, Alabama, which had lots of thunderstorms and more tornadoes than any other place I've ever lived. I remember summer nights waking to the sound of the wailing sirens that meant a tornado might be imminent and going to the bathroom (the only windowless room in the house) to wait for the all-clear signal. So I tend to see wind as a destructive force.

It's only recently, and with the help of some excellent pastors and seminary professors that I've begun to notice how often the Bible features wind, wind which usually represents some aspect of God. Think about the great rushing wind that often symbolizes God's creative force.

Our Bible study leader at Synod Assembly told us about the Biosphere experiment and the failure of the fruit trees. At first, all seemed well in that enclosed environment. But the fruit trees failed to give fruit, and all the scientists wondered what was happening. Someone finally put the puzzle pieces together and discovered how important the wind is to fruitbearing. It's not about pollination. We can do that manually. There's something about being exposed to that force that hardens a tree in a good way.

As we head into Pentecost week-end, let's think about wind and speaking in languages we can understand and all the other ways the Spirit is moving in our world.

More Thoughts on Pentecost

As I look through my legal pad that I kept with me through my May travels, I realized that I have a lot of scraps that relate to Pentecost. Tomorrow, I'll write a more detailed blog post about Pentecost and Wind. Here are some other Pentecost thoughts (all of them come from our Assembly leaders, but unfortunately, I didn't write down who said what):

--Our Synod Assembly met on the feast day of Julian of Norwich, the medieval (12th century) anchoress. We were encouraged to "dream a missional dream--one so expansive that we will have to rely on God."

--Make a mess and call it on purpose.

--"The reason mountain climbers are tied together is to keep the sane ones from going home" Gerhard Frost, Blessed for the Journey (sounds negative at first, but it seems relevant to Pentecost, a high holy day that demands that we quiet our rational selves; we accomplish so much more when we rope ourselves together, especially as we contemplate ideas that seem outrageous or impossible).

--We studied the parable of the vines and the branches. Our leader reminded us that God is about bearing fruit, not causing us pain. Remember that, as you think about the pruning.

--We have too much to learn to be smug; we have too much to share to be modest.

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, May 31, 2009, Pentecost:

First Reading: Acts 2:1-21

First Reading (Alt.): Ezekiel 37:1-14

Psalm: Psalm 104:25-35, 37 (Psalm 104:24-34, 35b NRSV)

Second Reading: Romans 8:22-27

Second Reading (Alt.): Acts 2:1-21

Gospel: John 15:26-27; 16:4b-15

This Sunday we celebrate Pentecost, the event that sets into motion the events that will form the church as we know it. In mainline churches, Pentecost often gets overlooked. It doesn't have the gift giving potential of other holidays; it doesn't have any special candies or foods (although I see lots of potential here--flame shaped chocolates, anyone?). But I think the real reason that Pentecost has gotten the short shrift is that the events of Pentecost make many of us nervous.

Speaking in languages we don't ourselves understand? Evangelizing to strangers? No wonder we don't spend much time contemplating the meanings of Pentecost for modern life.

But maybe we should. Many North Americans are members of a church that is in clear crisis. Some of these crises explode on the national stage, like the wrenching scenes from Episcopalian churches who decide they'd rather be part of African episcopates than to continue to work with American bishops.

And even if my larger Lutheran church body, the ELCA, manages to avoid schism, it's hard to deny that many mainline churches are institutions in trouble. We face declining membership, declining donations. It's unclear how long many individual churches can keep limping along.

If we let the Holy Spirit loose in our home churches, what might happen? If we trusted in the transforming power of God, what changes might we see, both in our individual lives and in the lives of our church bodies?

Perhaps it is time for another Pentecost, for the next Reformation. Maybe the way we've been doing church is not just financially bankrupt, but spiritually bankrupt as well. Which leaves us with a burning question: what will the future look like?

Some people would tell you that the next Reformation is underway. In her slim book, The Great Emergence: How Christianity is Changing and Why, Phyllis Tickle explains how we've come to the point of another great Reformation, and she draws a compelling picture of the various ways the Church will look when we're done. Some people are excited, as they point to a number of churches, both mainline and experimental, who are thriving. For an inspirational read, turn to Diana Butler Bass's book Christianity for the Rest of Us: How the Neighborhood Church is Transforming the Faith.

Of course, there's a darker side. We are about to move into a time period where there are more Christians in developing parts of the world, like Latin America and African nations, than in the previous power centers, like the United States and Europe. No one has chronicled the changes already underway better than Philip Jenkins in The Next Christendom: The Coming of Global Christianity.

Let's leave the larger questions of the larger institutional church to the Bishops and other higher-ups who get paid to ponder these things. Let's think about our individual lives. What do you need to nourish yourself spiritually? How could a religious community be part of that vision? If we could create a church that enriched your life, on Sunday and the rest of the week, what would that church do?

Most of us go to church out of habit. We're used to paying a pastor and hoping that the leadership will deliver what we want. We don't spend much time envisioning something better. And yet, many of us have yet to reach our full potential as Christians, as Christians in community. Think about a religious community that could help you with that spiritual mission. What would that community look like?

What would your role be in such a community? How can you be part of creating that community? How can we go from a vision to a reality? Pentecost is the time for dreaming daring visions--and then going out to bring them into being.

Name Tags and Worship Services

During Synod Assembly two weeks ago, I realized how often people called me by my name, even though I knew about 5 people before I got there. We could do this for each other because we wore name tags, with our first names being the largest part of the tag.

I first started to think about the significance of my name tag during a Eucharist service at the Assembly. In a huge gathering, Lutherans tend to distribute the bread and wine at different stations. It can feel a bit dehumanizing.

But with a name tag, the ministers could address us by name. It may be the first time I've been addressed by my name during the Eucharist since college.

I had forgotten what a powerful experience it is.

I've been wishing that my church would do a name tag Sunday once a month. I could make the argument for every Sunday, but I understand that some people don't want to wear name tags all the time--maybe we could compromise and get people to commit to once a month. It would allow those of us who have been there for awhile to remember all the names we didn't remember when we were first introduced,long ago, before we were even sure we'd be members of the church.

But more importantly, it would allow us to be addressed by our names during the Eucharist. I could see that this first name basis might be even more important during a healing service.

I know that name tags feel artificial to some people. I suspect that those people have good memories for connecting names with faces. I do not. Name tags would help the rest of us so much, in so many ways.

Memorial Day Meanderings

At my poetry blog, I wrote a post that talked about a variety of resources for Memorial Day, primarily reading materials.

As always, I noticed that I collected an assortment of pieces that don't really address the spiritual aspect of Memorial Day.

I'm not sure that I'm really capable of doing it either. Even though my dad was in the Air Force, and then the Air Force reserve, for most of my life, I, like many Americans, feel some ambivalence about the military. I have some trouble reconciling my religious beliefs which tend towards pacifism, to the necessity for military protection. There have been times in my lifetime where I've thought, at last, we're moving towards a world that won't need military action. And then the world launches into a new form of barbarism.

I have this trouble on a national level, as well as on a personal level. I want to be a pacifist, but I'm not going to passively let someone hurt me. I've taken self-defense classes, and I know how to shoot a gun.

Someone asked me, "Would you really shoot someone who broke into your house?"

I said, "If someone is breaking down my door, I'm going to assume that they mean to do me harm. I hope that I would have the courage to shoot the person breaking down my door."

A friend said, "Not me. I would die before I shot someone. Some principles are worth dying for."

Sure, if faced with an even trade--my life or yours--I want to think I'd surrender my life. I'm a Christian. I've been promised that death is not the final answer.

Unfortunately, I'm also a woman who lives in a violent corner of the world in a violent time of history. I face other threats than death: rape, kidnap, torture, slow death. That's why I have taken various self-defense lessons, and I hope that I'll be brave enough to use them.

So, why don't I translate these lessons to the world stage? Well, in fact, I do.

Here's where being a Christian also helps me. I can live in complexity. The Kingdom of God is both here and not yet. I look towards a time where we don't need a military, where I don't need self-defense lessons. I yearn for that time. But it's not here yet.

And so, on Memorial Day, I spend some time thinking about those who have made all sorts of sacrifices, so that my life, as a woman who is a U.S. citizen, is considerably better than the lives suffered by the world's majority of women. I spend some time praying my gratitude prayers for those who did so much for a future generation they wouldn't survive to see. I pray for peace in the world, for a time when we tell tales of a military-industrial complex, and our children can't believe we'd spend so much money and require so much sacrifice.

The Spiritual Aspect of Good Work

At my other blog, I wrote a post about what makes work good and useful and beautiful--or at least, I wrote about seeing a variety of reading materials that has me thinking in that direction.

One absence that I see in all the things I've been reading is the spiritual dimension. In some ways, these articles are talking about the same issues that theologians have been discussing for many years; to paraphrase Jesus, "What good is it to have all this job satisfaction if we lose our souls?" But it would be interesting to read a book that directly addresses the question of whether or not we're all talking about the same thing, whether we use secular language or God-soaked language.

I've always wondered if I'm doing what God put me on earth to do. I have friends who scoff at that notion of Divine purpose. On the other hand, I've known plenty of people like my parents, who believe that God doesn't have your life mapped out when you're born, but does have an abiding interest in the choices that you make. My dad has always said that God can use you, no matter where you are. He used the metaphor (which he got from a book, and I'll find out which one and reference it later) of God as a weaver. No matter what color wool you are, God has the big picture and can weave you right in.

Part of me thinks that this idea of job satisfaction is fairly recent to the human condition. At what point did we think that our jobs would make us fulfilled. A few generations ago, most of our relatives would have been happy for jobs that put food on the table. They'd have turned to other activities for self-actualization (and they wouldn't have used a fancy term like that).

Nothing like a good economic downturn to bring out interesting things to read. As for these thoughts of a purpose driven life (and yes, I've read that book, and didn't find it as useful as others have, although I have a lot of respect for Rick Warren), I've been wrestling with them since adolescence, and I expect I'll still be wrestling with them on my death bed.

Professional Singing and the Church

At my other blog, I wrote about the e-mail I got, inviting me to a benefit concert, which would "Sing for the Cure." How could I object to that? At my other blog, I wrote about the concert from the view of creativity encouraged or dampened.

Then I started thinking about how seldom we sing together anymore. Part of it is economic; if we're working several jobs, we're not going to come home and play our instruments and sing. We're going to come home and sleep. Part of it, though, is that we've increasingly become consumers, and passive consumers at that.

That's one thing I've always treasured about church, at least the churches I've attended. There's no expectation of talent. Even in the choir, choir directors are expected to utilize the gifts of everyone who is interested.

I've heard of a disturbing trend in some churches. Some churches have moved to having professional singers or groups. They sing all the music, while the congregation respectfully listens. Just what we need, more passive consumption--and in church, of all places.

Now, I do wish the Lutheran church would integrate some other art forms as thoroughly as it has integrated music into its worship experiences. When I first went to Mepkin Abbey, I was amazed at how the worship space changed, from different flower arrangements, to different art moved around the chancel. There seemed to be a commitment to a wide variety of art forms to both enhance the worship experience and to be the worship experience.

Most churches, at least Lutheran ones, are probably open to the idea of incorporating more art. But the ones that I've been part of are waiting for direction: for artists to step forward, for volunteers.

I'm interested in the intersections between spirituality and creativity. I suspect I'll blog more about this as the days go on.