Prayers for Labor Day

How will you celebrate this Labor Day?

Will you spend today putting away your white clothes and your sandals?  I will not.  I wear sandals year round, and I have one white skirt that I'll wear until October or November.  But I am old enough to remember a time when we were not allowed to wear white to church after Labor Day.  It was just not done in the traditional states of the U.S. South where I spent my childhood--even though the hot weather would continue well into September and October.  Back to school meant that feet went back into closed shoes--no more sandals.

Most of us will probably not participate in Labor rallies, picnics put on by our unions, or civil disobedience designed to bring more benefits to workers.

Sadly, for many of us, it's just a day off of work.

It's a good day to celebrate all of the work we do, the work for pay, the work that feeds our creative spirits, the volunteer work that bolsters the spirits of so many.  How can we honor the work that nourishes?  How can we devote more time to that kind of work?

A prayer for Labor Day:  Oh God of labor and rest, we pray today for all who work in various fields.  Let the work be nourishing.  Let the compensation be consistent and fair.  May all of our colleagues be easy to work beside.  We also pray for those with no jobs.  Let them find the work they need.  We pray for parents who toil without pay, and everyone else who works a similar job.  Mindful of your example, we also pray for rest on a regular basis.

Hull House and Communal Life

Today is the birthday of Jane Addams, creator of communal living environments extraordinaire. She created a communal house in England, before returning to the states to transform Chicago. Well, perhaps that's a stretch. But maybe not. Two thousand people each week used the social services and spaces (day care, library, meeting spaces) provided by Hull House. She was the first American woman to win the Nobel Peace Prize.

I've always been fascinated by communal living experiments, and have done some dabbling of my own; in the 90's, my spouse and I had 2 housemates, both good friends, and their pets. I continue to think about that experiment and ways it could be improved upon. At the same time, I've gone to monasteries, which have been doing communal living in successful ways for thousands of years.

I wonder if having a spiritual focus helps communal projects have longevity. If a community gathers together to pray regularly, perhaps it's harder to fight or carry a grudge.

I wonder if having an artistic focus helps communal projects have longevity. If a community supports artistic visions and enables people to live out those visions, will people be more committed?

I continue to have this dream of a huge piece of land where every resident would have his or her own cottage. There would be communal spaces, like a kitchen, a media center, a chapel, a library, a studio with art supplies of every kind. There would be hiking trails, a huge garden, and perhaps some small animals, like chickens and goats.

Could such a place be self-supporting? Perhaps by selling eggs, produce, goat cheese? Or by having visitors come for retreats? Is this just a crazy utopian dream?

My grandmother, who grew up on a farm that supported several generations, used to scoff at my ideas of returning to the land. She told me that I had no idea how hard it was. But I've always been attracted to the idea of being self-sufficient. My great-uncle (my grandmother's brother) always pointed out that the family had been well fed during the Great Depression, and able to feed others. They may have had to wear their shoes with the holes in the soles patched up, but they never went hungry.

Communal living continues to appeal to me, as does the idea of self-sufficiency. The idea of such a place also supporting people's spiritual and creative aspirations makes it an even sweeter dream.

Or perhaps I'd rather just have a sailboat.

A Meditation for Justice Sunday

My church will be celebrating Justice Sunday today, as we gear up for another year of working with BOLD Justice, working with county leaders to make our world more just.

The reading for Sunday, September 6, 2015:

Nehemiah 5:  1-13

Every year, when we have our Nehemiah action with BOLD Justice, I think about the book of Nehemiah, which is much less familiar to me than much of the Bible.  Our text today gives us a vision of justice restored.

Justice is different from charity.  Charity often fixes an immediate problem:  think of a food bank, for example, where a family gets several bags of food to tide them over.  Justice looks at the larger picture and ponders why we need food banks at all--where are the jobs that would allow people to earn enough to buy their own food?

Even if we aren't successful at creating change, God still calls on us to work for justice. 

Not to contribute to charity, although God mandates that too. But to work for justice.

In a book I cannot recommend highly enough, The Heart of Christianity, Marcus Borg explains the difference this way: "Charity means helping the victims. Justice asks, 'Why are there so many victims?' and then seeks to change the causes of victimization, that is, the way the system is structured. Justice is not about Caesar increasing his charitable giving or Pilate increasing his tithe. Justice is about social transformation. Taking the political vision of the Bible seriously means the practice of social transformation" (page 201).

He offers this comfort: "The world's need for systemic transformation is great, but it is important not to become passive or discouraged ('without heart') because the need is so great. None of us is called to be knowledgeable about all of it or capable of doing something about all of it " (page 204).

We are lucky to be part of a church that works for both justice and charity.  We are stronger in a group than we are alone.  Together we can help create a world where everyone has what they need.

We have been successful on many levels.  It's time to celebrate that success--and to continue the work.

Launch Into Labor Day

How shall we celebrate the end of summer?  A cook-out is always good:

Perhaps we should enjoy the fruits of summer before the gourds overtake the produce stands:

We have time to enjoy the hydrangeas and other summer flowers:

We could plan our autumn trips:

We could think longer term:  what shall we do in five years or ten?

We could think about a pilgrimage:

Or maybe just settle in with a shelf of books:

May our Labor Day week-ends be filled with only the labor that brings us joy.

When Our Values Clash with Our Job Duties

This morning, I am thinking of Kim Davis, the clerk in Kentucky who has not issued marriage licenses to anyone since the Supreme Court legalized same-sex marriage.  She claims that her Christian beliefs mean that she must refuse to issue marriage licenses to same-sex couples.

I've thought of my own work life, where I have been lucky that I have never been asked/ordered to do something that my moral compass would not allow me to do.  I know that if I refused for longer than a day or two, I'd be on the path to dismissal.  But since Kim Davis occupies an elected position, it's not as simple.

I'm seeing lots of Internet posts and Facebook links that express outrage.  I understand the outrage.  But I also think about the history of civil disobedience. 

I've been intrigued by a recent post that notes that Kim Davis has only been a born-again Christian for 4 years.   That fact explains the 4 marriages, which happened before her conversion.

I find it interesting that no pastor has come forward--where is her home pastor, her home church?  Maybe they have found a national spotlight too, but I haven't been plugged in enough to see it.

I see lots of ranting about hypocrisy (see the 4 marriages, above), but less sympathy.  My leftist friends might ask why we need sympathy.

In Kim Davis, I see a situation that might happen to any of us who have values that are at odds with a moment of history--and the less dramatic moments too.  In Kim Davis, I see a woman who is trying to figure out what to do when her values clash with what her job has become, and that's a situation that could happen to any of us.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, September 6, 2015:

First Reading: Isaiah 35:4-7a

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Proverbs 22:1-2, 8-9, 22-23

Psalm: Psalm 146

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 125

Second Reading: James 2:1-10 [11-13] 14-17

Gospel: Mark 7:24-37

Many people find this Gospel's depiction of Jesus disturbing, but I find it refreshing, even as it disturbs me. I grew up with an idea of an inclusive Jesus, a Jesus who came for all of us. The Jesus of my childhood was never angry (except perhaps for that incident in the temple), never irritable, never tired.

The Jesus of the Gospels isn't the Jesus of my childhood. If we read the Gospels carefully, we can see that the view of Jesus shifts as the community of faith continues to interpret the meaning of Jesus and to define what happened to Jesus and the first community of believers. Often we forget that the Gospels were written not by the first disciples (as I thought, when I was a child), but by people who came along later.

One early view of Jesus was an exclusive one, the one that says that Jesus came for the Jews. As the early Christian community expanded to include non-Jews, we can see chunks of the Gospels written with this development in mind. The story of Jesus and the Greek woman may be part of that mission.

Or perhaps we're seeing something more basic. I notice that a running theme in this Gospel is Jesus' attempts to get away, to move anonymously. It doesn't work. Everywhere he turns, there are the people who need him. We've all had those weeks at work or in our families where it seems that people need more and more of us and we can't get away from those incessant demands. We know how cranky that can make us. Maybe we're just seeing a Jesus who is tired and irritable. I like the idea of a snippy Jesus who can be reminded of his mission and who can soften his attitude. I like the idea that we can be occasionally cranky and not ruin our mission, just as Jesus was occasionally cranky, but managed to change our world so radically.

I also find the Greek woman to be refreshing. Here's a woman who fights for her daughter. Here's a woman who is told no, I didn't come for you--and she fights back. She presents a good argument, and it works.

I like the idea of a Jesus who can change his mind. I like the idea of a Jesus who listens to an outsider (a Greek, a woman) and becomes more inclusive.

Often the Gospel gives us a picture of Jesus who seems more divine than human. This Gospel shows me a refreshingly human Jesus, with traits (irritability, a desperate need for rest) that I recognize. I see a divine presence who might really understand me, since he's been under stress himself.

And this time, through this Gospel, I am happy to be reminded that a Divine answer of "no" may not be the final answer.

Filling the Beggar's Bowl

How shall we fill the beggar's bowl? 

What gifts have we to offer?

We may say our honeycombs are empty.  We may feel we have nothing to share.

But perhaps it's time to think differently.  Maybe our gift is steeped in time and tea and a good conversation:

Maybe we have books to share:

We can share the bounty found in nature:

We can lead the way through the labyrinth of life: