An Art Exercise and Meditation

While at the retreat to plan the retreat, we closed with an art exercise which led to a meditation, discussion, and prayer.

We divided up in pairs. Each pair got a piece of construction paper and two piles of neon-colored stickers, the kind that's like an office supply (to mark file folders or reinforce punched holes). We did the exercise in silence.

One person put a sticker on the paper, and then the other person put one sticker on the paper, and the process continued until each person decided to be done (we folded our hands when done). Each person could only place one sticker on the paper during any given turn.

When done, we put our papers on the board and meditated on all of them as a group. What a diverse group of finished projects. Some people had tried to create some sort of realism: flowers and figures and suns in the sky. Some of us did abstract art. All of the projects were compelling.

We talked about the implications. Was God like our partner, an active participant, unable to control us, yet intrigued by what would happen? Or do we believe in a more omnipotent God, one who knew what we would each create?

What did the process say about our own creative process? Those answers were as diverse as the 18 people in the room. I was amazed by how much I liked the other creations and after viewing them, how lacking I found the one that my partner and I made. I found myself wishing I had been given differently shaped stickers--no need for analysis there. I've spent much of my life wishing that I had different gifts than the ones that God gave me.

I enjoyed working with non-high-art materials. We'd have had a different experience using paint and canvas, I expect.

It led to an interesting period of discussion. I highly recommend it.

Back to Old Shoes and Porridge

We have returned from the retreat to plan the retreat; it's back to old shoes and porridge, as one of my fellow planners put it. Isn't that a marvelous way to mark the difference between life on retreat and/or vacation and regular life?

When I told people I was going on a retreat to plan the retreat, they kind of looked at me with surprise or disbelief. I couldn't tell if they thought that 2 days wasn't enough time to plan or too much time to plan.

It turned out to be just the right amount of time. Before, the planning was done around 4 lunch meetings. In later years, the participant list varied with each lunch meeting, so part of the time was spent bringing people up to speed.

We didn't have to do that when we were all there together on retreat. We had an amazing amount of focus.

We assembled at 3:30 on Sunday and read the Genesis 3 which will be the focus of our Create in Me retreat in the Spring. We have talked about the Creation story before, but we've avoided the Fall. I much prefer the earlier versions of Creation, where God declares everything good and very good.

We wrestled with the story throughout the two days we were together. We decided to focus on the 3 questions that God asks:

"Where are you?"

"Who told you that you were naked?" or another variation of that question: "Why are you listening to someone who isn't me?"

"What have you done?"

We did everything from the mundane (designing name tags) to the very important (worship planning). We chose workshops and drop in stations. We talked about T-shirt designs, special food, and decorations. We did it all. And in between, we had Bible study and arts meditations. The only thing that would have made it better would have been a Communion service.

We did a lot of work, but it never felt like work. It was wonderful to be with creative people, wonderful to make such progress. It was wonderful to get it all done in one fell swoop.

It's strange to be so far ahead. All the way home, I had to keep reminding myself that it's only October--no need to panic about how much we still have left to do. It's not that much really--contacting various leaders to make sure they're still willing to be leaders and creating the final schedule of workshops.

The weather on the last day felt almost spring-like: cool in the morning, hot as we drove away from the mountains. No wonder my inner clock is confused. But happily, I have my notes to remind myself of all the good work we did. I feel a bit of sadness that it's so long before we get to actually enjoy this wonderful retreat that we've planned. But more than that, I feel anticipation. We've got a great Bible study leader and wonderful worship planned. We've got a wide variety of arts to experience. It's going to be a wonderful way to finish the Easter season! Plan now to join us; you can find more information here.

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, October 24, 2010:

First Reading: Jeremiah 14:7-10, 19-22

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Joel 2:23-32

First Reading (Alt.): Sirach 35:12-17

Psalm: Psalm 84:1-6 (Psalm 84:1-7 NRSV)

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 65

Second Reading: 2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18

Gospel: Luke 18:9-14

We are so accustomed to seeing the Pharisee as the model for what we are not supposed to do and be spiritually that it's hard to see the Pharisee as Jesus might have intended him to function as a character. Go back to read the text again, and ask yourself how often you've been that Pharisee. It's easy to feel a sense of superiority at the good and righteous deeds we do. We might say, "I go to church every Sunday, even though I struggle with some of the directions the church seems to be heading. I give 10% of my income to the church, and I even contribute to other charities if they seem worthy. I give my old clothes to Veteran's groups. I try to remember to pray several times a day. Even when it's not Lent, I undertake spiritual tasks that others don't. I fast once a week, even though my church mates only fast on Good Friday. I work in a soup kitchen and a food bank. I try to be a model of Christ's light at work."

As an English major and a Composition teacher, I immediately hone in on the speech of the Pharisee and the tax collector, the subject and the verb. The Pharisee is the subject in the sentence structure and the actor of each sentence: I _____ (fill in the verb). The tax collector asks God to be the subject of the sentence and the actor. What are we to make of this?

Some theologians would say that Jesus tells us that only God can deliver salvation. We can take on as many spiritual tasks as we like and do them all superbly, but it won't be enough. Some theologians would tell us that Jesus is reminding us of the value of humility. The Pharisee might be more spiritually pure, but since he lacks humility, he fails on some essential level.

Many theologians would comment on the human trait to draw lines of in groups and out groups, just as the Pharisee has done. As humans, we seem incapable of just accepting people. We want to change their behavior or their lifestyle or their beliefs. We compare ourselves to others, so that we can make ourselves feel better.

Jesus reminds us again and again of the futility of this action. The only way to salvation is to pray as the tax collector does: "God, be merciful to me a sinner." Notice the simplicity of the prayer. If we could only pray one prayer, this would be the one. And a good second prayer would be one of thanks, thanks for all the way God showers us with blessings.

Jesus is clear about the dangers of exalting ourselves. In our current time, he might have spoken at greater length about the danger of humility turning into false humility. He might have preached to our inner adolescents, who might have protested and wondered why we should change our behavior at all, if it doesn't lead to God's favor. He might have told us that we do the things we do as Christians not to act our way to salvation, since that can't happen, but because we choose actions which will lead to enriched lives for ourselves and others.

It would be an interesting experiment to pray the prayer of the tax collector on a daily basis and to see how our lives changed. What a simple spiritual task. What a change of trajectory might be in store if we actually prayed it.

This Blog Will Be Quiet for a Few Days

This blog will likely be quiet for a few days. It's time for some down time with friends, some unplugged time. I expect to return to regular blogging on Oct. 21.

The Retreat to Plan the Retreat

For many years, I've been going to Create in Me, a retreat at Lutheridge which explores the intersections between spirituality and creativity. It was only recently that I could be part of the planning team.

When the retreat first started a decade ago, the planners were mostly local people who would come over to Lutheridge for lunch and planning. They'd do this several times a year, and the retreat got done.

Now most of the planners are coming from much further away. Last year, for example, my spouse and I took some vacation days and managed to get to one of the planning meetings. I think we win the award for furthest distanced travelled for a lunch meeting, but I'm happy for an excuse to escape to the mountains any time.

This year, we're trying something different. We're having a retreat to plan the retreat. We'll meet for 2 days, and the hope is that we'll get it all planned out. Last year, in addition to the planning meetings, the camp director and I spent more hours than I want to count in e-mailing, both each other and all the retreat leaders. Since the workshops and art drop in station parts of the retreat are mostly led by participants, we had about 20-30 people to coordinate.

Will it work? I don't know, but it's worth a try. Much as I love the idea of getting to the mountains 4 times a year for a lunch meeting, the realities of my work life mean that getting away is increasingly harder.

Once we've had the retreat to plan the retreat, I'll blog more about it, in case it helps those of you who are planning retreats big and small.

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

The Readings for Sunday, October 17, 2010:

First Reading: Genesis 32:22-31

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Jeremiah 31:27-34

Psalm: Psalm 121

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 119:97-104

Second Reading: 2 Timothy 3:14--4:5

Gospel: Luke 18:1-8


For many years, this Gospel lesson troubled me. I tend to approach Jesus' parables as teaching us something about the nature of God, so I always look for the character that is supposed to resemble God. In this parable, of course, I immediately assume that the Judge is the God stand-in. But what does that say about the nature of God? Do we really worship a God that is so distracted that he'll only respond if we beat the door down several times?

If we see the judge as the God character, we might use this parable to help us understand how God intervenes in a universe that God designed around the structures of free will. Think about your beliefs about how God operates in the world. We're back to some of those timeless questions: why does God allow pain and suffering if God is all powerful? One approach says that God gives us free will, and along with free will comes the decision to make bad choices. God is like a parent, who can't really control us, the adolescent children.

And yet, many theologians would argue that God is allowed to intervene in a universe designed to incorporate free will. The catch? God must be asked to intervene. And that's where we come in. We don't have to sit back and assume that God has the ultimate plan and design. No. In fact, this parable might teach us that our role is that of the widow. We are to demand justice for a ravaged world. If at first, we don't get it, we demand again and again, until righteousness is restored (if you're in the mood for reading more on this subject, check out the work of Walter Wink, especially Engaging the Powers: Discernment and Resistance in a World of Domination).

I'm still not comfortable with this view of the world or of God. Does that mean that the suffering in Darfur might have ended years ago, if enough of us had been praying? Does God turn away from injustice until enough people are outraged? Surely not.

Here, too, we bump into our beliefs about God and divine limits. Is God all powerful? Could God just point a finger and make people stop hurting each other? Where does evil come into the equation?

I'm not sure I believe in an all-powerful all the time God. I think God will be all powerful in the end and justice and mercy will be restored: the widow will have enough money, the poor will have food and shelter, lions and lambs will lie down together. I fervently pray for the restoration of creation (but I doubt it will happen in my lifetime). But I no longer rule out the very real power of evil, and it's clear to me that evil sometimes overpowers righteousness. My hope is that evil will not prevail in the end, but I also know that sometimes, I must work towards justice, without ever seeing results.

We are like the people who built cathedrals. We all have a role to play in restoring God's creation. We probably won't be alive to see its full glory; at least, we probably won't be alive in the bodies we have now. But we have a larger vision, and God requires us to do our part. Much of that role that we play is to cry out for justice. Will our cries be answered? Yes, eventually. Will we be around to feel good about the restoration of justice? Maybe. Even if we're not, that's not the point.

Think about how many people have been slaughtered as they advocated for the oppressed: famous people, like Stephen Biko or Archbishop Romero or Martin Luther King, as well as names we'll never know. They died before they got to see the full fruits of their labor, but the groundwork that they laid was vital for bending the arc of history towards justice (to use Martin Luther King's beautiful language). It's important to remember that sometimes when we advocate for justice, we might pay supreme sacrifices.

But the parable promises a positive outcome. Go back to the first verse: "And he told them a parable, to the effect that they ought always to pray and not lose heart." That's the lesson of the parable.

This morning, as I thought about this parable and my response to it, I thought, isn't it interesting that I first see God in this parable as the male, corrupt judge? Maybe God in this story is the widow. How would this change our view of God, our view of religion, if we saw God as the more helpless characters in Scripture, as opposed to an authority figure?

It's a scarier view of God, to be sure. Most of us, if we're honest, would say that we prefer God the smiter to God the helpless widow. Even viewing God as a parent allows us to abdicate some responsibility. But as we read the Gospel with adult understanding, it's clear that God gives us a lot of power and responsibility. How will we use that power?

This parable teaches us that we're to cry out for justice day and night. If you're having trouble praying, turn your attention towards the people who are suffering in this world. Pray for Darfur. Pray for the people, whomever they might be this week, who are suffering from a natural disaster. Pray for those throughout the world who are thrown in jail to rot. Pray for the poor, beleaguered planet as it swelters beneath a merciless sun.

If the stones can cry out for justice (a line from a different Gospel), so can you. And you can take comfort from the fact that God cries out for justice right along beside you.

Grief and Gratitude on Columbus Day

Even though yesterday was the official holiday, today is the real anniversary of Christopher Columbus stumbling across the "new world" as he searched for a shorter trade route to Asia. For most cities, gone are the days when we'd mark this holiday with parades and time off. Those of us who grew up in the 70's and later have likely rethought this holiday.

What marked an exciting opportunity for overcrowded Europeans in the time of Columbus began a time of unspeakable slaughter and loss for the inhabitants of the Americas, many of whom have never recovered or who disappeared completely.

As Christians, how do we approach this holiday? We could remember that day in 1492 as the beginning of a time of enormous religious expansion, first for the Catholics and later for Protestants, many of whom needed a place to escape religious persecution. We could feel sorrow at the religious persecution of the Natives and of various other minority groups--or we could celebrate the religious diversity and tolerance that somehow survived our best efforts to kill it.

We could celebrate the ways that various cultures were enriched. Look at the European cuisine before the time of Columbus, and let yourself feel enormous gratitude for the vegetables that came from the Americas. Look at the cultures that existed in the Americas before the Europeans arrived and let yourself marvel at the ways in which technology enables the building of cities.

Or maybe we want to leave humans out of the picture and once again marvel at this amazing planet which is our home, at its diversity of land, water, and weather, at the currents that swirl through the oceans and the air, at the abundance of natural resources just waiting for us to stumble over them on our quest for something different.