unraveling mysteries

Welcome to the Gray

2014-02-16T10:54:00.001-08:00

Jesus continues his lesson to the disciples in this sermon on the mount. We first encountered the Beatitudes, the blessings of God. Then last week discussed how Jesus’ viewed himself as a fulfillment of the Jewish Law Code, Torah. Today we see a new rhetorical tactic. Jesus quotes the Judaic Law, then he offers a new interpretation. “You have heard it said that way...but I say to you this...” Let us hear now what Jesus has to say.

Matthew 5:21-37

"You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, 'You shall not murder'; and 'whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.' But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, 'You fool,' you will be liable to the hell of fire.

So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift. Come to terms quickly with your accuser while you are on the way to court with him, or your accuser may hand you over to the judge, and the judge to the guard, and you will be thrown into prison. Truly I tell you, you will never get out until you have paid the last penny.

"You have heard that it was said, 'You shall not commit adultery.' But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart. If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to go into hell.

"It was also said, 'Whoever divorces his wife, let him give her a certificate of divorce.' But I say to you that anyone who divorces his wife, except on the ground of unchastity, causes her to commit adultery; and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery.

"Again, you have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, 'You shall not swear falsely, but carry out the vows you have made to the Holy One.' But I say to you, Do not swear at all, either by heaven, for it is the throne of God, or by the earth, for it is his footstool, or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great Ruler. And do not swear by your head, for you cannot make one hair white or black. Let your word be 'Yes, Yes' or 'No, No'; anything more than this comes from the evil one.

Teach us to choose blessing
and life rather than death, O God,
so that we may walk blamelessly,
seeking you
through reconciliation with all of your children. Amen.

___________________________
Men, how many of you have had your wife ask while looking in the mirror, “Does this dress make me look fat?” By the sound of the laughter I suspect that most of you have enough wisdom to answer regardless of what you really think, “Of course not, Honey! I don’t know what you’re talking about! You’re gorgeous.” Women, how many of us have asked our husbands questions with impossible answers?

Or how about this one, your grandchild offers you a self portrait that looks more like someone threw-up finger paint. How do you respond? “Wow! What a fabulous artist you are. Thank you so much.”

So what about these little white lies? Are they wrong? One of the Ten Commandments is, “Thou shall not lie.” Yet all of us are guilty of this simple excursion away from God’s code of ethics. Is this wrong?

When Moses descended from Mt. Sinai with the Ten Commandments, he carried on the tablets general dictates about behavior. Keeping Sabbath, Preserving Life, and Honoring God formed the crux of these new rules.

The Israelites were just freed from slavery under the Egyptian Pharaoh, and they needed practical guidance during their desert wanderings to the Promise Land. This law code was offered in a particular context for a specific people group.

Fast forward a few hundred years and we arrive at our Gospel Lesson today. Jesus continues his Sermon on the Mount, having just told his disciples that he is the fulfillment of the Law—not the end of it. Naturally, he begins to reinterpret the well-known commandments, explaining this idea of fulfillment.So he touches on a few hot topics: murder, sex, divorce, and swearing/taking oaths.

You have heard it said, “Thou shall not murder. But I say to you, why would you ever allow your anger to get to that point in the first place?” How can sacrifices in the temple be authentic, if they are offered with hard hearts? How could the ancient Israelites testify to God’s goodness when their inner conflict trumps that of Rome’s? Jesus is drawing a familiar but antiquated law into his first-century context. Instead of the law generally stating “do not murder.” Jesus moves into the crux of the matter. Deal with your anger. Do not let arguments and grudges fester. Ask for and offer forgiveness. Then murder won’t be an issue.

Then he tackles adultery, lust and divorce. “You have heard it said, ‘Thou shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you, betrayal is more than sex and secrets.” Again, we see him turning to something that every Jew on the hillside that day would have understood. It was not about jabbing out one’s eye or literally cutting off a hand because we might sin with it. Instead, Jesus redefines what it means to lust or express infidelity. Jesus radically brings concern of women into this conversation. We tend to lose this in our own contemporary context where women are clearly apart of the adultery and lust conversation. Further, “You’ve heard it said ‘“Whoever divorces his wife let him give her a certificate, but I say, don’t divorce unless there is infidelity.” In the first century men could divorce their wives without cause or reason. They received a certificate so that they were not wrongly murdered for adultery, but they lived the rest of their lives without care. Jesus was saying, “Stop leaving women by the roadside when they no longer suit your needs.” He did not want men to cast aside their “property” of wives without regard with their well-being.

So often the Jewish people in the New Testament get a bad reputation in light of situations like this. We tend to view their religion as rigid and uncompromising, as if it was a black-and-white approach to otherwise complex life scenarios. A harsh mix of dogmatic rules and inconvenient lifestyle practices. But I think we miss a really important part of Jesus with this mindset. On the contrary, Jesus’ fulfillment of the Law brings it back to life for his followers. Jesus keeps it relevant. He considers the cultural setting of his followers, and he helps them make sense of something ancient. In other words, Jesus reminds the disciples that the Law is about life. Torah was given to the Israelites for protection and connection with a life-giving God.

Through the fulfillment of Jesus, the Jewish people were reminded of this truth. The Ten commandments are not meant to answer every question we have today in twenty-first century America. If we turn with legality to a law code that was composed for a specific people group thousands of years ago, we get into trouble with major misunderstandings. The same is true even if we rely on Jesus’ new interpretation in the first-century.

You have heard it said, “Thou shall not lie.” But I say to you, “Men, choose life! Tell your wife that indeed, she is thin and beautiful. Grandparents give life to your grandkids! Praising those abstract portraits. Choose life! Choose it for yourself and your marriage and your family.”

When Jesus shows us how he fulfills the law, he gives us permission to understand the work of God in our cultural and timeframe. So, it is not about Jesus teaching things that are wrong, nor does it mean we have to understand Jesus literally. Jesus welcomes us to the gray areas of life, and says, “Even here, you can experience abundant life under the reign of God.” Jesus gives us room to discover liberation in the limbo of everyday.

So as we get caught in situations where these is no clear right or wrong, consider what is best for preserving relationship with the people we serve and love. Instead of approaching conflict with uncompromising certainty, is it not gentler and more productive to consider the deeper causes of the conflict? We must ask, “What gives life?” If there is no guidebook for how to navigate a certain scenario we might ask of our options, “What gives life?”

Let’s consider two situations in our culture today. Divorce is quite common. 50% of all marriages end in divorce, right? Does this mean that we are outside of the covenant of God’s law? Well, if we take Jesus literally, it does. But we are rejecting that interpretation, remember? Otherwise we would all be without our eye and hand and on our way to a burning hell for calling a friend foolish. However, if we follow Jesus’ example, we can discuss divorce with a modern perspective.

We have under our belts the nineteenth amendment, the women’s liberation movement of the 1970’s, and continued breaks in the corporate glass ceiling. Women no longer need protection as a divorced person because they are no longer a piece of their husband’s property. Though divorce still has a negative connotation, it does not need to. Of course it is devastating and heartbreaking when relationships fail. And there are ongoing negative impacts of broken marriages that children must unfairly endure. On the other hand, when an abusive marriage further destroys the spouses, or when children are caught in ongoing verbal cross-fire between their parents the family does well to ask, “What gives life?” And if there is more abundance outside of the marriage, then perhaps divorce is the best option. Not the perfect one, but the most life-giving in that particular place at that particular time. Do you see how Jesus sets us free to respond to life in ways that enhance it rather than bind it up with rules?

Where else do we need to confess that life is not a black-and-white representation of good or bad, right or wrong? In what areas of gray, can we experience growth and choose life while still serving the law of God? How about church? There is no right or wrong way to do and be church. How we act as church on Taylor Blvd. in South Louisville can and should be quite different than how surfing wine drinkers in Northern California might experience church. If Jesus were sitting here with us today, how might he expand the Ten Commandments even further to empower our church to choose life. How can Lynnhurst church offer life to her community? How do we express our faithfulness as a contemporary church? There are lots of ways...but perhaps that is another sermon for another time. I invite you to think on this more.

Ultimately, we have a choice. Just as the Deuteronomy Lesson we heard today also indicates. We can choose life or death. We can choose to cling tightly to an ancient law code–either Moses’ or Jesus’ —that ultimately will result in death for us contemporary followers. Or we can choose life. We can find ways to imagine God’s law in the context of our community. We can continue enlarging the reign and love of God for all people. It might get murky at times, and it does not erase the pain or trauma of no clear solution. But in the end, the Law and love of God always gives life. Lynnhurst, let us together choose life!

Salt | Light | Law

2014-02-16T10:51:00.000-08:00

Message Version.

Matthew 5:13-20
13 “Let me tell you why you are here. You’re here to be salt-seasoning that brings out the God-flavors of this earth. If you lose your saltiness, how will people taste godliness? You’ve lost your usefulness and will end up in the garbage.

14-16 “Here’s another way to put it: You’re here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We’re going public with this, as public as a city on a hill. If I make you light-bearers, you don’t think I’m going to hide you under a bucket, do you? I’m putting you on a light stand. Now that I’ve put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand—shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you’ll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven.

17-18 “Don’t suppose for a minute that I have come to demolish the Scriptures—either God’s Law or the Prophets. I’m not here to demolish but to complete. I am going to put it all together, pull it all together in a vast panorama. God’s Law is more real and lasting than the stars in the sky and the ground at your feet. Long after stars burn out and earth wears out, God’s Law will be alive and working.

19-20 “Trivialize even the smallest item in God’s Law and you will only have trivialized yourself. But take it seriously, show the way for others, and you will find honor in the kingdom. Unless you do far better than the Pharisees in the matters of right living, you won’t know the first thing about entering the kingdom.

____________________________

What does godliness taste like? That’s what I thought while I was mulling through this passage this week. I had a delicious lunch with some friends at a Cuban restaurant. Does God taste like fried plantains? I also cooked this really delicious vegan meal a few nights ago with beautifully green broccoli, fluffy couscous, and roasted squash. Does God taste like fresh vegetables and wholesome grains? “Let me tell you why you are here,” Matthew says, “To be salt-seasoning that brings out the God-flavors of this earth.”

Another way to think about it, we are hear to bring out the God-colors in the world. To be light. All the time we say and sing that Jesus is the light of the world. But here it says that we are the light of the world. Do you reflect the colors of God? I don’t know about you, but in this bleak white winter blanket that is freezing our ground, I miss the summer and spring and fall God-colors. But that is outside. and our food. what about in here? in us?

What does God taste like and look like--in us as individuals created in God’s image, but also as a people committed to following God’s law? Tastiness and light. What do we make of this?

Then we have this whole third section that points us to Judaic Law, the Torah. The Torah is the first five books of the Bible, say them with me if you can: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy. If you did it in order you get extra points. Jesus makes clear here, He is not interested in starting a new religion.

Jesus is Jewish. Matthew, the author of this book, is an incredibly devout Jew. Neither Matthew or his understanding of Jesus lead them to a new Law. Jesus was not to destroy Torah. He loved it. It was his history. His identity. His understanding of God and how he related to God. And yet, he knew that all Jews were waiting on something, or someone, the Messiah, to set them free.

So here Jesus is. The embodiment of everything that a devout Jew holds near, telling people that they are the salt of the earth and the light of the world. In other words, anyone can be salty or well lit.

Do you realize that Jesus was not trying to start a new religion. It it unfortunate that everything Jewish in our Bibles is on the left “The Old Testament,” and everything Christian is on the right, “The New Testament”.

We approach it as Jewish vs. Jesus. Or Jewish then Jesus. But Matthew and Jesus saw it differently. Jesus was the fulfillment of Torah.

He wanted to complete Torah, not replace it. He was here to lead the most righteous, devout group of people Palestine had ever seen. They were going to transform the world.

This is important for us today. As we sit here in a church on Taylor Blvd. on the Southside of Louisville, Kentucky in the United States two thousand years after the fact. It is important for two reasons. First, we are the Gentiles that were eventually included in this new religion. As the Jesus movement grew and as Jewish disciples, especially Peter and Paul and Barnabas, as they debated about whether or not the new converts needed to follow Torah, they eventually found ways to include those outside the Jewish faith. So, it is a gift that we are said to be salty and lighted too.

Do you consider yourselves as well lit as Jesus? Paul tells us that our bodies are temples. Jesus says later that God is the vine and we are the branches...entangled together in profound ways. These are tangible images that point to mystical concepts. I’ll talk more about this in a minute.

But I said understanding that JEsus was not trying to start a new religion is important for two reasons. When Jesus fulfills the Torah, the Judaic Law, I believe he says, “individual piety is no longer enough. Now that I am here and helping you to see God more closely, it is time that your beliefs inform your actions.” Ethics are as important as doctrine. To be salty, to shine on a hill is to live like God would live. To help others taste godliness and see God-colors, the people who know this taste and light must live in ways that perpetuate it.

This is probably not the first time you are going to hear me talk about this. Yesterday I attended an all-day retreat at the Passionist Earth and Spirit Center. I am in a class with several others who want to learn the discipline of meditation. As we experimented with the early stages of trying to tame the mind through stillness and quiet, our teacher, a long-time meditator and Catholic priest, said something that made my inner light shine.

In an effort to encourage our novice attempts to still the mind, he affirmed that it is natural for the mind to wander. “Focus on your breathing,” he says. Let the thoughts come and then just as quickly let them go and refocus on your breath. “The goal of meditation is not to be a good meditator. The goal is to be a good person.” As we practiced turning our attention inward, to the center of the body, the abdomen rising and falling with each breath, we ended each session with the sound of the gong three times. The first time is to recenter one’s self and remember our breath in case the mind had wandered. The second gong tells you to focus on just one relationship. One person to whom you wish peace and wholeness or forgiveness or warmth. One person who needs compassion or joy. Then as the third gong reverberates you slowly open your eyes, ending the session.

Meditation is not about stillness and quiet for the sake of stillness and quiet. It is about tapping in to the light of God that burns within each us. When we train ourselves to recognize it and make room for it, we are able to live like Jesus was teaching in this sermon. Jesus is saying, “Being salty is not just about preserving good things like Torah. Shining bright is not just about light. It’s about being a good person and sharing those gifts with others. This is the fulfillment of God’s law.”

When the taste and colors of God shine from our being, our actions and thoughts align more fully with God’s compassion for the world. Jesus is completing the Law each time we let our light shine. Jesus embodies this saltiness and light as he teaches about the Law.

And because this light is in each of us, the Law continues to find completeness when we stop living for ourselves and start offering compassion. Compassion is certainly a color of God.

Let’s think for a moment ways that we can be salty and light-bearing. Like our Godspell song sang this morning, “The tallest candlestick ain’t much good without a wick.” How might we live as people whose wicks are burning brightly?

Well, first, we need to be aware of where the light of God needs to shine. Of where there are people groups who do not know anything about the salty characteristics of God’s flavor. In the headlines this week there has been the Keystone Pipeline XL debate along with stories about the poor villages surrounding Sochi, Russia. Victims of the 50 Billion dollar expansion as construction waste is dumped on their land in the middle of the night.

The ways we destruct the earth, are ways for how we destruct ourselves, depleting our salt levels and placing bushels over our lights. The toxic chemicals we dump into our rivers and atmosphere, we eventually ingest back into our own bodies. They are chemicals that breed cancer, promote infertility, and murk our lungs so that chronic conditions like asthma are said to be normal.

When we are looking for the taste and light of God, is this all there is to find? Also in the news this week we see people trying to help others shine. You see, we must advocate for salt and light in places that are bland and dark. I see people like Nicholas Kristof working to do this. He is a journalist devoted to the education and liberation of women across the globe. He published Dylan Farrow’s letter about the sexual abuse she sustained from her adopted father, Woody Allen. The allegations are rampant about how Farrow’s famous mother Mia Farrow convinced her of this untruth and planted lies in her young mind about what she remembers as a seven-year-old girl. To the opposite, Allen has put forth his own statement of innocence. Regardless of who or what we believe, the fact remains that worldwide millions of women are subjected to rape and domestic violence and other forms of abuse because they live in patriarchal societies. And when the abuse is reported, words like “allegation” precede any statement about what happened. alleged abuse. alleged rape. alleged affair. Women are subjected and demonized because they are not understood as light-bearing children of God. It is alleged.

Not so with Jesus. Jesus invites us with this message about salt and light and law to join his mission. We are to protect those caught in systems where God’s light does not shine. And what happens when we do this? What happens when we allow people into our homes who need a place to sleep and two months turns in to two years? What happens when we go out of our way to be sustainable during fellowship hour? What happens when we send care packages to a US platoon? What happens when we lobby state and federal legislators for bills that protect the marginalized people in our country? What happens when we rally on behalf of those whose wicks have been cut off?

When we wake-up to our own light, our own connectedness to God and God’s Law, we do not need to hold so tightly to our grudges. We are able to let go of hurts. Our own temptations fade as we realize more fully that the kingdom of heaven is inside each of us. Our pride dismantles and grace abounds as he realize the light burns fuller when we uncover the light in others.

Those of us who freely recognize our light, are able to help others trapped under systemic bushels of tyranny. This is experiencing the totality of God’s Law.

Jesus knew this, and he wanted his followers to understand it. It is why he said he is here to fulfill or complete the Law. He showed everyone exactly how to live from the light within rather than the ego that thinks only of self and pleasure. The passage ends with the statement that unless we do far better than the Pharisees, we won’t know the first thing about living in the kingdom of heaven. This is not to put down his religious elders. In fact, the Pharisees upheld every letter of the Law.

They tithed, they were circumcised, they kept kosher, and they obeyed all orders about cleanliness, ritual, and other literal expressions of God’s protection. With this statement, Jesus does not condemn the Pharisees. Instead, he broadens the parameters of God’s Law. To be more righteous than those who are already the most righteous means tapping in to the liberation inside.

It means waking up to the trauma and destruction happening in our world and responding in ways that show light. Jesus challenges us to accept that God’s light is not relegated to the pious elite.

The Law, in light of Jesus, means that everyone can taste God’s love because everyone shines with God’s colors. We do not need to relegate our differences to the left or right side of holy books as much as we do not need to manage the differences in our beliefs from one church to another. Under the complete Law of God we are able to celebrate that we are all citizens together in the eclectic, expansive, but oh so near, kingdom of heaven.

Lynnhurst, taste and see that God is real. The kingdom of heaven shines from the core of your being. Jesus said so, himself, “See, the kingdom of heaven is near.” So effectuate change that others must know what Godliness tastes like and just how brightly God shines. So let your light shine. Amen.

You're So Lucky

2014-02-16T10:48:00.003-08:00

We arrive at a new stop on our lectionary journey today, and we will stay here for the remainder of Epiphany. The baptized Jesus now has a band of followers—men and women who have left their fishing nets and cooking duties to follow this new prophet they call Rabbi.

Like any good teacher, the master begins to share information with the students. Unlike our professors today who stand behind a lectern and rely on a microphone and effective audio visual presentations, Jesus assumes a place of honor by seating himself on a mountaintop. Then he begins teaching a new way of life. Our lesson today is Matthew’s first recorded words of Jesus’ ministry. This is where it all begins:

Hear now a reading from the Gospel of Matthew. Listen. Listen for the Word of God.

Matthew 5:1-12

When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:

‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
‘Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
‘Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
‘Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

‘Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
‘Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
‘Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
‘Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

‘Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely^* on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

Bless the reading of this word, O God. That in its hearing we might know you more fully and discover the mysteries of life. Amen.

_______________________________________

The mountain that held Jesus and his followers wasn’t really a mountain. It’s a hill today, called the Mount of the Beatitudes, named for this teaching. It’s a beautiful coastal place overlooking the Sea of Galilee (abt. 64 sq. ft), which is just a bit smaller than Lake Cumberland (abt. 100 sq. ft). The point is that we should imagine something a bit more quaint. Someplace, not huge, but comfortable with lots of locals. More than this, it is a spot where the Roman officials would have also been milling about, hearing these radical words. You see, Jesus’ first sermon put the political authorities on edge.

In this Sermon on the Mount, we see Jesus map out his vision for life. It is a vision that contradicts Rome’s ideas of luxury. Jesus preaches humility and acceptance, no matter who you are or where you come from or how you earn money. You know when the contralto soprano screams out the highest pitch note she can muster from deep within her core...and then the mirror shatters? Jesus shatters the predominant culture with this sermon. But unlike the broken mirror, Jesus reveals a much clearer picture, reflecting a better world.

I have a younger brother by about two years. Our elementary school mainstreamed children with disabilities. This means we were learning our multiplication tables alongside peers with learning disabilities and helping our down syndrome friends with the skills of reading. My brother loved this aspect of his education. A young couple in our church, during this same time, excitedly announced their pregnancy, and the church journeyed with them through the nine months.

It was not until their healthy daughter was born that they learned that she was down syndrome. When my nine-year-old brother learned of this surprise, he spontaneously shouted, “Oh my gosh! She’s so lucky!” He meant the mother. The mother is so lucky! When our mom probed him about this exclamation, he said with such innocence, “Because they are the nicest people in my school.”

We might chuckle at this tale as I remember my parents and their friends smiling then, appreciating my brother’s naivete while knowing more fully the complexities of life with a disabled child. The adults understood how this young mother’s original ideas of parenthood may have been shattered. (Though, this woman is one of the most loving, outstanding mothers I know.) On the other hand, I imagine Jesus smiling and shouting just as triumphantly as an innocent nine-year-old, a little boy who is in touch enough with the outcast friends around him to know that they are the nicest people in the school.

Now let us widen our lens. Many of us listened to our President deliver his State of the Union address this past week. I always struggle with this particular speech, no matter the president. One administration simply cannot accomplish all that is laid out for our union. It is overwhelming. One commentator in the NY Times explained why the White House must take such an all-inclusive approach to this speech. If Barack Obama were to focus on just one issue and explain how he and Congress plan to tackle this issue to the point of success, the country would wake up the next morning, ready to deal with that issue. This is not good, according to the commentator because, instead, it is better for the American people to wake up the next morning thinking, “Wow, the President has a lot of good ideas.” And, theoretically, this is what the State of the Union does.

I wonder what the disciples woke up thinking the morning after Jesus’ State of the Union address. Did they think, “Jesus had a lot of good ideas?” Or did they think, “This guy is going to get us killed if he keeps saying these things in public?” Or were they confused thinking, “This sermon is not in line with Judaic Law?” What would we think after hearing this message on blessing? What would the US Congress think? What would the UN think? What would international diplomats think if the President of the United States, who stands behind the podium in his custom fit navy blue suit and perfectly cinched silk necktie quoted Jesus: “Blessed are the poor. Blessed are the peacemakers. Blessed are the merciful.” This surely wouldn’t make for very effective foreign policy. ...Or would it?

Does this put into perspective how Jesus shattered everyone’s ideals about what makes life blessed? Jesus says we do not need to worry about climbing to the top of the food chain anymore. Jesus does not care if we are the statistician instead of the starting point guard. Jesus blesses those whom society casts aside. Jesus does not side with those in power. Jesus picks the person who is always picked last. Jesus comforts the woman caught in adultery and sets free the prisoners. The Beatitudes allow us to disregard everything that makes for racism, sexism, and fear in order to work against those powers of evil.

The Beatitudes say we have the promise that one day soon all of our pains will make sense. This is what we do when we are in the midst of struggle. We find ways to make sense out of the trauma and tragedy. We want an explanation. So Jesus explains, “Blessed are you because you get to know God in ways that are so much deeper than those without need.” Let me say that again.

If you are a victim or marginalized or forgotten, Jesus blesses you. Then the church advocates for you to be released from that victimization, marginalization, or neglect. You receive the blessing from Jesus because in your greatest moment of need, you have a connection to God that others who are not victimized, marginalized, or forgotten will never understand. This is why you are lucky. The Beatitudes challenged us to accept the outsider as the insider. And this is the power of church! Church embodies this blessing and transforms it into freedom when she is taking Jesus seriously.

The Beatitudes allow us to tell ourselves it will be okay. By shattering the ideal, Jesus is saying, “that’s not what makes life worth living.” It allows the young mother with an unexpected surprise to navigate life with new expectations for her child. It allows American citizens to hope in something beyond a superpower nation. And it allows third-world refugees to hope in salvation from a living hell. After all, Jesus told us last week, “The kingdom of heaven is near.”

Congress and their partisan politics will not have the last word— the kingdom of heaven is near. Unjust economic policies that cut-out the middle class will not have the last word—the kingdom of heaven is near. More than the media telling us what we need to buy, more than all of the ways we devalue ourselves because we are not sexy enough, Jesus says, “You are so lucky!” You are lucky because you know a God who knows your name, who loves you, who welcomes you with open arms into a kingdom of new life. The kingdom of heaven.

Friends, we are all so lucky, even when, especially when life says we are unlucky. This is why we continue in our work together, bringing the kingdom of heaven to this earth, now, in the way that Jesus taught us. That others might understand this shattered blessing. Blessed are all of you. Rejoice and be glad because your reward is great! Amen.

Preparing for Something New: Kingdom Living

2014-01-27T10:23:00.001-08:00

Matthew 4:12-23

(Had I know this congregation was so full of expert fishermen I may have recruited some additional help on this sermon. Soon enough I’m going to know all of your secrets and employ those gifts more!)

It is a precarious thing to respond to the call of God. Once upon a time a baby girl was born to nominal Christian parents in Brooklyn, New York at the turn of the twentieth century. As she matured, her avid reading and skillful writing landed her a job with a premier newspaper company. She busied herself with social projects, writing about class warfare, international revolutions and other intellectual pursuits. By her mid-twenties she lived a comfortable life on the beach in Staten Island with her successful, educated partner. When a series of spiritual awakenings prompted her to respond, Dorothy Day could not ignore the call of God on her life. I want to tell you a little bit more about her.

Dorothy Day ca. 1970's

The decision to baptize her newborn daughter into the Catholic Church sparked a break with the child’s father. Later her own conversion to Catholicism, and finally the arrival of the Great Depression inspired in Day a burden to respond. Using her gifts of writing and a new friendship with a Frenchman, Peter Maurin, she learned Catholic ideas about social justice and working with the poor. Day published her first issue of the Catholic Worker in 1933. It is still in circulation today. Obviously she did not know then what we know now about the fantastic movement this began.

As the publication grew throughout the 1930‘s, by hosting prestigious writers like Thomas Merton, what began as a writing project evolved into a literal “house of hospitality.” A place for impoverished people to receive shelter, food, clothing and other basic needs. Day and the workers at the house required no fee and no religious expression of those who came in need. Day’s commitment to pacifism, Christian doctrine that all are created equally in the image of God, and the eradication of poverty around the world, houses of hospitality are an international phenomenon. Dorothy Day passed away in 1980 after a lifetime of social work and civil disobedience.

by Nicholas Brian Tsai

Dorothy Day responded to the voice that said, “Follow me and I will make you fishers of people.” Now she is being considered for sainthood in the Catholic Church. She offers this in her biography, “The greatest challenge of the day is: how to bring about a revolution of the heart, a revolution which has to start with each one of us!”

This woman, one of my favorites, was unassuming when she responded to the call of God on her life. She did not have grandiose plans for fame or success. She only did what she knew best--she wrote. Then she welcomed the poor. Then she preached nonviolence. Then she argued for fairer policies. Then she died a hero with her movement still going beyond her. She was one simple woman who took seriously the message of Jesus.

She represents for us Jesus’ invitation that he offered to Andrew and Peter, James and John, and then others. Follow me. I know you also have your own mentors in the faith that have readily understood the message of Jesus and followed him to radical places. They heard the call to follow. Perhaps you have stories of your own adventures with leaving the comforts of what you know, or good work like fishing, to be bold in your devotion to Jesus. As we consider this invitation to follow Jesus this morning, let’s explore for a moment what leaving our nets on the shore might entail.

Jesus proclaims, “Repent for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” I often wonder what this means. Did Jesus see himself as the kingdom of heaven? Is this why anyone, women and men, rich and poor, religious and not, can/should follow him? The kingdom of heaven is for all people. The teachings and love of Jesus are for all people.

Or did Jesus see himself as a sort of traffic sign with an arrow pointing the way to the kingdom. In this way, perhaps it is more a place of ecstasy and perfection, and less of an idea or inner longing. A place where God’s rule considers economic policies that do not favor a few and where decent work is available for all who are able to contribute their gifts and interests. There are no systemic cycles of poverty and neglect in this kingdom of heaven. Is this what Jesus means?

Regardless of what we do not know about the kingdom of heaven, what we do know, is that it is near. The kingdom of heaven is near. And we know that the kingdom is about good news. Good news for those who are marginalized and alone. The kingdom of heaven brings healing and security. When we look up from our fishing nets or our computer screens, or the shores of our beach homes like Dorothy Day, and we hear the voice of Jesus inviting us to follow him, we find ourselves walking away from the familiar into unchartered territory. Follow me, Jesus says.

Consider how quickly Andrew and the others left their fishing supplies without any hesitation. What did Andrew’s father say when he returned home at the end of the day with no fish? I imagine Andrew explaining the urgency he felt in his heart as Jesus invited him to leave the nets and fish for people. Can you picture Andrew’s dad losing his temper? Perhaps he said, “Well, son, that’s just perfect. You meet some traveling prophet and think he holds the secrets to the kingdom of heaven and meanwhile we all go hungry because there aren’t any fish in your nets! The nets you left on the shore beside our boat!”

Have any of you participated in a similar scenario when responding to the pulsing presence of God in your life? It is radical to hear the voice of God. And it is not easy to position ourselves toward the kingdom of heaven. It is inconvenient, and it might separate us from people who we thought were with us. Follow me, Jesus says. Repent for the kingdom of heaven is near.

It might be tempting to hear Jesus’ call here in simpler terms. Some Christians say we are called to right belief. Or church membership. Others would say service. Dietrich Bonhoeffer said that the call to “follow me” is a call “to absolute discipleship.” I think he’s right. Jesus does not mince his words, and he expects everything from his followers. It’s why the rich young ruler had to sell everything and give it to the poor. It’s why the woman at the well was told to “go and sin no more.” Life with Jesus is a no holes barred way of living and yet it is for all of us.

This is where the beauty of community is heightened. We are in-between the peaks of Christmas and Easter; so, we are in a time where daily life with Jesus might feel weary or even confusing. No bright stars. No doves this week. No earthquakes or crosses. Just us, living life as a church community wondering what’s next in the midst of the ordinary. Just a voice reverberating in us that invites us to participate in the kingdom of heaven. We are called to help Jesus bring healing and good news. Do you hear the voice? Or do you hear stories about people like Dorothy Day, or Martin Luther King, Jr. (who we celebrated this week) or Mother Theresa and think, “Good for them! I’m glad God is not asking that of me.”

I wish discernment was an easier thing. I bet Dorothy Day went to bed many nights confused about how to move forward as she waited on a sign for the best way to respond to the poor. We have many resources that show us how civil rights leaders struggled with how to continue their fight for equality. Mother threresa revealed her ongoing doubts about the existence of God in her journals. Today we see policy makers fighting uphill battles with ongoing cuts to important programs like food subsidy. Do they wonder if their work is in vain? Churches struggle for young members. Do they wonder what it’s all for? The task of interpreting the call of God on our lives can be murky, especially in a world as inundated with as much advertising and busyness and noise as ours.

Are we sure it’s God who is the one calling? How can we be certain that the next step is the right one? There is a famous statement made by an early church preacher and author. It is a prayer, “Our hearts are restless until they rest in you, God.” And for this reason alone, it is worth our effort to hear God and to move into the kingdom of heaven. We are aimless without God. So we must leave our nets to follow.

Are you wondering what’s next for you, Lynnhurst? Where will God move? To what is God calling you? Who is God calling to serve as your next pastor? When you dream of the future of this congregation is there an excitement about the possibilities? Are you eager to join God in the work of proclaiming the good news of the kingdom of heaven? What nets must you leave behind in order to experience the good news of healing and redemption? From what must we repent to see and feel and live in the kingdom of heaven more fully?

I close with this quick story. The first time I ever traveled on a country road wasn’t until college actually. We were driving through rural Alabama, navigating around cotton and soy bean fields as we yielded to the narrow bends of the two lane road. Tyler grew up in this particular area and knows the roads like the back of his hands. We were coasting along on cruise control, lost in our conversation and enjoying the scenery. When suddenly a pick-up truck with a trailer lost control. The trailer detached and sped across the road, thankfully missing our car but landing in a ditch. Obviously we stopped and Tyler helped the drive gather his thoughts and deal with the situation.

It’s a simple metaphor but I think it makes sense. When we are comfortable at church and cruising along with our programs and lifelong friendships, life is fun and good. The scenery is pleasant and the conversation expectedly easy. And yet, there might be oversized needs in the world that quickly or unexpectedly interrupt us and pass by us, nearly threatening to rock everything that is stable. We risk missing the kingdom of heaven because we don’t want to hit the brakes or change our pace. We may not want to lay down our nets. But to ignore the call of God on our lives is to live with unrest. To not push through and discern the course of action we must take as Jesus leads, is to miss the chance to bring healing and good news to another friend in need. I believe that when we respond, there will always be a way to promote justice and love and peace. Even when there are not enough resources, or when we lack funding or energy even. Jesus teaches us how to gather as a community. He, who makes a way when there is no way. Dorothy Day also said, “If I accomplished anything in my life, it is because I wasn’t embarrassed to talk about God.”

God loves us so much. God loves us so much that God invites us to share in the kingdom of heaven. I love you too. And I think whatever it is that is waking us up, and prompting us to lay down our nets and see the needs crossing or showing us the issues swirling in front of us, when we are able to change course and heed the call to follow Jesus, we enrich this church and the community around it. Amen.

Preparing for Something New: A Name

2014-01-21T10:02:00.001-08:00

This is the second Sunday of epiphany. Let’s remember the path we follow with our biblical story. First the wise men traveled from the East to see the small infant in his mother’s arms. Their lives were changed and they returned home on a new path. Last week John the Baptist met Jesus when he requested baptism. He was anointed for ministry when the dove of peace and justice descended from heaven. This week, we read John’s version of the baptism then Jesus attracts some followers.

John 1:29-42

The next day he saw Jesus coming towards him and declared, ‘Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! This is he of whom I said, “After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.” I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel.’ And John testified, ‘I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, “He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.” And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God.’^*

The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, ‘Look, here is the Lamb of God!’ The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, ‘What are you looking for?’ They said to him, ‘Rabbi’ (which translated means Teacher), ‘where are you staying?’ He said to them, ‘Come and see.’ They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon. One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, ‘We have found the Messiah’ (which is translated Anointed). He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, ‘You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas (which is translated Peter).

Bless the hearing of these words O God. That what is ordinary might transform in your presence to something extraordinary. Something that might just change our lives and inspire us to change the world. Amen.
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America met Rob Ford this past year. Do you remember Toronto’s headline-making mayor? He burst onto the public media scene, quickly becoming comedic obsession for the writers at SNL and the Daily Show as reports about his illegal behaviors while mayor mounted. Illicit engagements with women, then binging on mass amounts of alcohol, then drug use. Society watched as this man’s reputation fell to shambles. I wonder if our media-frenzied attention to this man’s downfall, like with other celebrities caught in public scandal, mimics the crowd’s fascination with battle and death at the ancient Roman Coliseum. But in the case of Ford, unlike a slain gladiator, Ford tried to make amends before the end of the year in the presence of the pastor and congregation at West Toronto Church of God. Standing at the front of the church, he resigned to stop smoking crack and consuming alcohol. In fact he named this confession for us. It was his “come to Jesus moment!”

Well known atheist and satyr reporter Bill Mahr had this to say in response,

Jesus must admit that anytime anybody ever comes to him is after they’ve totally screwed up. [The audience laughs.] To save time, Jesus must change his message to, “Hi this is Jesus, if you were caught smoking crack press one, drunk driving, press two, sexual harassment three. For all those scandals please stay on the line.”

Well, as you can imagine, the audience fell into uproarious laughter. And though it’s fairly irreverent, it is funny. Laughing is fine. But Mahr misses a crucial point. Arguably, he misses the point of the entire Gospel with this joke. We do not see anywhere in scripture Jesus redirecting an addict or a slut or a depressed person to voice mail, or whatever the ancient equivalent. In fact, Mahr had the first part of his joke absolutely right. We do all royally mess up, and when we realize our need for confession, we have our own come-to-Jesus-moments. Don’t we? We could easily remain here the rest of the day if we were all going to share our “Come to Jesus Moments.” Fortunately, the Gospel is so much than calling in to Jesus all of our misdemeanors. We come to Jesus for reasons in addition to our need for forgiveness.

The wise men traveled from the Orient to see a king, and because their astrology signs were not aligned correctly due to the mysterious super-bright star in the West. John the Baptist was timid about his initial encounter with Jesus, not because of his sin, but due to feelings of unworthiness. He was humbled by Jesus’ request for baptism. In our story today, we see people already transfixed by this street walking, water dripping, preaching prophet who seemed to move about in the city wherever he pleased, saying whatever came to mind. Just one day after his baptism, according to John here, John the Baptist sees Jesus walking down the road and claims, “Look! Here is the Lamb of God!” And it was enough to spark an entirely new social movement, a revolution.

For the five years that I lived in Los Angeles, I never saw a celebrity. I can’t believe it. In fact, I’m convinced now that I probably did see at least one and just didn’t recognize them without all the glam. On the other hand, a friend of mine frequented a tucked-away and delicious Mexican eatery along the Pacific Coast Highway where he saw Minnie Driver, Martin Scorcese, Woody Allen and other A-listers pull in for a salty Margarita. My friend is too unassuming to point a finger as he yells out “Look! Paris Hilton!” “Look! Beyonce and Jay Z!”

At which point every non-celebrity would turn to look. That’s what we do. We look! We look at these mega-rich characters as if they are paragons of wealth and success and fame. Sure, as Christians we know there is more to life than oversized designer handbags and privet jets and exclusive golf club memberships. But when we see it in person, the wealth intimidates us as our lustful gazes continue. Is it because we hope these icons will show us the way to our own success? Is it that they manifest the American Dream--showing up with just $100 in their pocket and now $50,000,000 later they’re on top of the world? Maybe, but I think we look to celebrities for deeper reasons. We long for Beyonce to end racism for good. We expect Leonardo DiCaprio to star in a movie that will expose the evils corporate wealth to end corporate rule. We feel betrayed when our political candidate votes array from campaign propaganda. We are frustrated when yet another financial giant is caught in fraud. We are angry when racism persists.

I wonder what the first-century Jewish people were hoping for when they obeyed John’s cry and followed his pointing finger to see the Lamb of God walking down the street.

You see, as the ancient Jewish people needed saving. They did not have freedom of religion or freedom of speech. They lived in subservience to the empire, careful not to interrupt the movement of political officials. They waited on their Messiah to rescuing them. The Messiah that was predicted to them by the prophets of the Old Testament. And if they were going to conquer Rome, combat the corporate giants if you will, they knew they needed a strong warrior. One who would rescue them by force and defiance.

If whatever name John the Baptist called out to highlight Jesus on the road that day, “Lamb of God” is not what the Israelites had in mind.
A lamb is not at the top of the food chain.
A lamb does not snarl at its predators.
A lamb does not charge forth with aggression and terror.
A lamb does not throw spears at men in armor.
A lamb does not threaten to overpower the king.
No, the Israelites were waiting on the “Lion of Judah!”
They were waiting on God as the sword that symbolized military rule like in the book of Hosea.
They were waiting on the next monarchy rule after Kings David and Solomon.
They were waiting to re-establish their own empire and dominion.

Lamb of God?

The first nickname given to the Messiah, reflects a docile, baby animal.

What could this mean? Perhaps this name points to the development of the world’s first grassroots movement. We meet a person who invites us to ‘Come to Jesus’ moments. Jesus, the Lamb of God, does not say, “If you’re sick with cancer press 1. If you’ve lost your job press 2. If your divorce causes sadness press 3. No, when we follow John’s voice and look to the Lamb of God, we hear words that transform us.

Jesus says, “Come and See.” You do not need to abolish sin or darkness or spitefulnes from your life to come to Jesus. Nor do you need to be rich and residing in a mansion in Malibu. You do not even need to pass a drug screening. “Come and see,” Jesus says. We do not need to be dressed up or well kemp. We do not need to be skinny or not afraid. We do not need to happy or popular, healthy or strong. We need only to look and hear the invitation, “Come and see.”

To Andrew and his friend Jesus says, “Come and see what life is really all about.” And so they went.

The men spent the entire afternoon with this Lamb figure. I suspect they asked questions and conversed throughout the evening while munching on hummus and figs. So transfixed were they by this new celebrity that the next day, they brought Simon along with them. And oh wow did he ever have a “come to Jesus” moment. The Lamb of God boldly said to Simon, “You are to be called Cephas.” Scripture tells us it means Peter or rock. The Lamb of God just changed the man’s name. No longer is Peter known as “Simon, son of John,” but now he is “Peter the Rock,” the foundation on which the Jewish followers who look to Jesus will birth a new religious movement.

Are you catching how all of this relates? These “Preparing for Something New” sermons? Each encounter with Jesus sparks something new. So I say to you this morning Lynnhurst, “Come and see! Come and see what happens when we follow Jesus.” Where will we go?

In first-century Palestine Jesus went to homes of sinners and saints alike. He spoke with outcasts, and he touched bleeding women. Jesus did not just push boundaries with his name Lamb of God, he turned the entire city of Jerusalem on its head.

Where is Jesus going today? Are we willing to follow this Lamb of God? This non-militant, peace-mongering, hippie? I wonder if Jesus would be in our churches today. I definitely think he would take us all to a Beyonce concert. I have no doubt he sits with us at our Al-anon and Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. How about in the nursing homes with those who are neglected or abused? “Come and see,” he says. I think Jesus might buy a house in a trailer park that the city wants to condemn. Or maybe he is still on the move, like in the Bible, depending on us to welcome him into our homes.

When we “come to Jesus” it stops being about us. We might even get a new name. (I wish we were like the Catholics and offered baptism names. There is real power in the idea of claiming a new identity as we remember our baptism, like we spoke of last week. But I digress.) When we come and see Jesus, the simple patterns of our life stop repeating themselves. Our identity reshapes itself into a people who follow the Lamb of God.

Wether one commits to following the star and finding a different path home, or seeing a dove that brings forgiveness, when we commit to following the Lamb, we embrace something new. New directions bring new decisions and dimensions to ministry. Are we prepared for this, ready to push against the status quo. Are we ready to turn our community on its head in the name of Jesus, Lamb of God? Friends, we must band together to continue in our fight for justice, for those who are still searching for a lion or a gun or their next hit of heroine. There is no right or wrong way to “come to Jesus.” We must only simply come. “Come and see,” says the Lamb of God. Amen.

Roe v. Wade Celebration

2014-01-14T10:05:00.000-08:00

Roe v. Wade Celebration flyer

I really adore this flyer. Some friends and I are going to this event to support KRCRC, Clinic Escorts, Planned Parenthood and the other organizations at the bottom of the flyer. Message me on Facebook if you'd like to join us, especially you Women's Center folk! I love cheap beer for a good cause. And if there is ever a time we need to support reproductive justice organizations, tis now!

Preparing for Something New: Baptism

2014-01-13T10:49:00.000-08:00

Matthew 3:13-17
Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

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We stick slogans and names on our car bumpers. We wear our sport team’s paraphernalia. We poke pins into our lapels. Some of you pay close attention to the labels on your clothing and automobiles, carefully noting the country of origin, designer, or lack of label. Many of us also read the consumer information about our food, noting the presence of genetically modified organisms or if there are any cross contaminants like nuts or dairy. Smokers are particular about their brand of cigarettes and hipsters frequent only certain movie theaters. Some of you hang patriotic or holiday flags outside your home. Perhaps you wear a cross around your neck or share political rants on Facebook. And then there are a few of us who go the more permanent route by marking our bodies with tattoos and piercings.

Who are we? Who do other people know us to be? Our identity is robust. Our identity is a web-like formation that affirms our choices and goals in life. Often we are careful and intentional about how we reveal parts of our identity to our friends, coworkers, families, and acquaintances. They each might know different parts of us. This is a normal part of psychological development. So in this way we market ourselves to each other and to our society. Why do we do this? How is it that you know so much about me now because I let you know that I prefer local, organic food; I bleed blue; Diet Pepsi is never okay when I ask for Diet Coke, Mac is always better than Microsoft, and my Myers Briggs temprement is INFP? But even these outer labels only tell so much, don’t they? Maya Angelou’s mark of character is how one reacts to an unexpected rain storm, tangled Christmas lights, and rush hour traffic.

We long to be known and understood. We fall in love with people who appreciate the parts of us that others may not fully understand. We don’t have to filter our identity quite as much with those who live in our close circles. As our identity testifies to our deeper values, an important question rises to the surface. With each choice that we make in revealing ourselves to other people, what are we marketing? What ideas and ideals about life do we promote with each bumper sticker, jewelry selection, and item purchased? As Christians who gather in a sanctuary most Sunday mornings in the calendar year, how does our identity reflect our beliefs and concerns about the world?

Let’s consider the Bible story for moment. Matthew tells us that Jesus approaches John the Baptist. Jesus asks John to dip him into the waters of the Jordan River. Why? John was baptizing followers with water for the forgiveness of sin. Jesus needed no forgiveness. So John was probably aghast when the Saving One, Jesus, approaches him for this ritual cleansing.

Jesus wants to participate in the act of baptism. Essentially, Jesus wants to identify publicly with God by saying, “As I move beneath the surface of the water, I duck into the grace of God. It is God whom we follow. So let me show you how to receive God’s mysterious love.” Despite his confusion, John baptizes the One who needs no cleansing. After Jesus rises from the water God sends down a dove.

It was just last week that we read about the star identifying newborn Jesus. Today we read about a dove identifying adult prophet Jesus, God’s child, with whom God is well-pleased. The dove, also a contemporary, international symbol of peace, symbolizes that Jesus will embark on a journey of justice. With this new identity as God’s beloved, Jesus spends the remainder of his life living into and out of this identity. We do well to follow this step of obedience.

Wouldn’t it be amusing if we all identified by our baptism ritual? It would be cool too. What if we walked around introducing ourselves with handshakes and the words, “Lauren Jones Mayfield, fresh water immersion, indoor church baptistry.” As my new friend extends her hand with the reply, “Jane Doe, salt water sprinkling, Atlantic Ocean.” We don’t do this as a matter of fact, because it is weird. And yet, this image mimics well our theology of baptism. Our baptism is a corporate confession of our dependence on God. Through the symbol of getting wet by baptismal waters, we receive God’s grace.

In the UCC tradition, when a new sister or brother is baptized into the family of God, the congregation participates in the liturgy with a corporate response. You, the congregation, promise to join in the covenant. I love this. It is like the congregation is saying to the baptismal candidate and to one another, “Remember your baptism.” We say this any time we are in a season of renewal, in fact, not just on Baptism Sunday. “Remember your baptism!”

It’s like we are saying, “Remember what to do in case of a fire.”

Grab the extinguisher,

get out of the house,

ring the alarm.

Stand in line quietly (if you’re in elementary school.)

Or it’s like saying to the couple on their fiftieth wedding anniversary, “Remember your wedding vows.” Remember your love and commitment.

Really, it’s like we are saying,

“Remember to whom you belong.”

“Remember whose you are.”

“Remember what’s important in your life as you are a member in the family of God.”

Baptism is an identity marker. And it’s one part of our identity that we do not need to earn. God is the one who shares grace with us. The active work of being faithful follows our baptism, or precedes our baptism even, but during the event itself, it was we who are still and God who moves. Isn’t that beautiful?

I suspect it is why John the Baptist was caught so off guard when Jesus approached him. He knew he was unworthy to untie the sandals on Jesus’ feet. And yet, here is the man whose birth was made known by a brilliant star in the night sky, whose teachings are already making a name for himself, who is supposedly the new king of Israel, wanting to be baptized? Through his baptism, Jesus identifies himself as a child of God. Through our baptisms, we proclaim that are we God’s children. And when we remember our baptisms, we recall that we value the people and the ideas that God values.

Sojourners recently published an article written by pastor in Texas. Evan Dovile is also a regular blogger and guest contributor to many Christian online networks. The article title is “14 Things the Church Needs to do in 2014.” Have you seen this already? He writes in the opening paragraph that “New Years resolutions are supposed to give us tangible goals to better ourselves for the year to come.” I wonder if for our purposes here we might think of our church’s new year resolution as the call to remember our baptisms. Let me explain.

The entire list of fourteen tasks for the church is pretty excellent in my opinion. But it’s not an easy list; that is certain. Instead of reading all 14, I’m going to walk us through two or three of them. The second job Rev. Dovile suggests for the 2014 church calls us to honestly answer the question, “”Why in the world would anyone want to come to this church?” Wow. Consider all the churches in Louisville. (There are over 600 churches in this city.) Now consider just how many churches you drive by on your way here to this one. (I counted approximately nine on my drive this morning.) And now expand this to consider it from the perspective of people who are busy with life, tired from work, who enjoy sitting with the Sunday morning newspaper at a favorite coffee shop, or might use this time to run errands for the week ahead, or to workout with a local running group. With so many options for Sunday morning worship, and with the bad rap that religion gets from right wing conservatives, and too many other obligations fighting for our attention, what is that Lynnhust United Church of Christ offers to this community in such a way that to not attend church on Sunday morning is to miss a blessing from God?

This is a really hard question to ask, Church; and maybe even a harder one to answer honestly. According to the article, it is questions like this that force us to examine our ministry, our outlook, and our mission. And yet, when we are able to approach the possibilities, and when we can fully respond with exciting confidence to this answer, when we can say, “These are precisely the reasons someone would want to come to this church...reason A, B, C, and D....” then we experience and remember our baptism!

What if all of us were excited enough and empowered enough to say, “Billy would want to come to this church because we remember our baptism!”

You see, when we really remember our baptism, who knows what might happen.

We might see the power of salvation and redemption loosed.

We might see doves descending from heaven.

We might see an increase in attendance, Then again, maybe not because maybe we might see that that isn’t what’s necessarily going to carry us into the next century.

We might hear the voice of God gazing upon faithful stewards saying, “Look at my children with whom I am well pleased.”

We might discover that our purpose in life is not to sit on pews but to change the world.

We might learn, Lynnhurst, new secrets and joys of abundant living that are so effectual and powerful that we cannot not come to this church. This church that makes the world a better place for all of God’s children.

So I say to you this morning, “Let us answer this question: why would anyone want to come to this church. Let us remember our baptism.”

As your designated pastor for the next six months, I really want to help you think through your answers to this question.

Another one of Dovile’s things for the church to do in 2014 comes in at number 13 on his list. It is this: “Stop targeting ‘young people’ (especially if you aren’t going to do what it takes to keep them.” Yikes! And yet, I couldn’t agree more. Listen to what he writes. It’s so spot on. “Young people aren’t lazier than the previous generation and it’s not the IPhone’s, MTV’s, or the devil’s fault that they aren’t attending church. Listen to this extended quote from him,

There is this unwritten understanding that ‘we want people to come and experience the Jesus we know even if it doesn’t speak to them.’ This is another door slammed in the face of the next generation. The younger generations do not want to join committees or organizations; they want to join causes...this is a shift the church must recognize. The church has lost its particularity in society. Why go to church if it means serving on a committee when you can make just as much of a difference with CASA or United Way or Habitat for Humanity? Churches that have a cause to unite others with ministries they are passionate about will generally have the younger generation more invested.

What do you think when you hear that? How does that feel? Does it resonate? Is this idea of church-as-a-cause a foreign concept, or one that makes you think, “Duh! Church should be a cause to make a difference”? Either way, it leads right in to his closing point, number 14—promote justice!

As I see it, these three points are entirely related and useful to us. Understanding what is particular about Lynnhurst Church, knowing our cause, our mission in this community, then unfurling it in ways that bring justice can spark a social revival here in South Louisville. When we remember our baptism we remember that we are God’s children working together to bring forgiveness and reconciliation.

Let’s quickly speak to at least two reasons people might want to attend Lynnhurst. Your work with South Louisville Community Ministries. This is fabulous. You support an organization whose sole purpose is to increase the dignity of life for members of this region through various services offered in an interfaith, ecumenical context. This is that justice peace. This is worth celebrating.

Another reason I think people may want to attend this church is because you get what it means to be a family. You welcome others into your family with open arms. Many of you have attended this church since childhood, while some of you are relatively new; yet, all of you treat one another with respect. Many fellow ministers in Louisville, when they learn of my move here have said things like, “Take care of those people! That’s my home church and they are amazing and precious.” In a world where people struggle with intense feelings of isolation, loneliness, and abandonment, feeling like they are not worthy of community, Lynnhurst you have a unique gift to offer...the loving arms of hospitality and warmth of presence. This is a gift, and it is real here. I see that dove hovering around in this way.

And what else? What are the other reasons that people in this world, this city, would want to attend this church?

When we remember our baptism we remember that we don’t have to market ourselves to a new generation with expensive campaigns and sleek strategizing. We simply have to do the particular work to which God calls us. The gospel is for all generations—young and middle-aged and elderly. I believe that when the Church is busy enacting gospel principles in her community, people see things changing, and they want to participate. We just have to be the church, working with the world to let people know that they, too, are beloved children of God. When we remember our baptism and then find the strength to come together in this community to make the world a better place, the dove of peace finds new places to descend with her justice.

Remember your baptism, Lynnhurst! And together let’s discover God’s redemption and vision for 2014. Amen.

2014-01-09T11:59:00.001-08:00

How many times can I say "Yes!" to this and this??!!

Designated What?

2014-01-08T10:53:00.000-08:00

So I've got a new gig. Finally…finally exploring a new role in church leadership--designated pastor. Wondering about the possibility of ordained, vocational, pastoral ministry since I was thirteen, and believe it or not, just a month before my 33rd birthday, twenty years later, I have the opportunity to pastor a really lovely community here in Louisville. Ordination draws nigh. Preaching every Sunday is quickly changing the pace and focus of my weekdays, and visiting the elderly in their homes, nursing facilities, and hospital beds forms the bulk of my non-sunday work. What a gift this is. I am quite thrilled actually and am already so thankful to this congregation.

I'm going to post my sermons on here for a little while. I'm following the RCL for the most part (even those it's entirely patriarchal and heteronormative). We'll see how I do at keeping up with this posting idea. The sermons are quite particular for this congregation, and I frequently ad lib in the pulpit- moment. But enough with the caveats, right?

Sermon No. 1:

Preparing for Something New: Epiphany

Tomorrow, January 6th is the feast of Epiphany. The day that the famous wise men reach the new born baby Jesus to celebrate that he is the new king. Because it is when they offer their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, tomorrow is a day when many Christians around the world give gifts. Armenian Christians actually mark tomorrow as their actual Christmas celebration, not Dec. 25th.

But for us, Epiphany marks the end of the Christmas Season. It does not end, in fact on New Year’s Eve, like culture tries to dictate. This is a way that we act differently than the stores would have us act. Christmas, in fact, is not over yet!..not until tomorrow anyway.

Have you ever wondered why this moment is called “Epiphany?” Wouldn’t it make more sense to call it “Three Kings Day” or “Visit New Baby Day?” Or perhaps you have a better title?

To make sense of this day and to understand why we celebrate it, I think first we need to understand what an epiphany is. Is this language that you use often? For some of us it is. I bet many of you have had an epiphany or two. So what is it?

An epiphany is an event or person that shows us the deeper meaning of life. We might hear God speak to us in an epiphany through a friend or a dream. We might be carrying in a bag of groceries from the car when something inspires a new understanding about that problem at work. When I am working on a sermon I don’t feel like it has completely come together like I want until I have that “epiphany” moment. For those of us who are intuitive and pay attention to the nuances of the world, the idea of epiphany might make more sense than it does to those of you who are hard-wired for the facts.

This is where our Biblical story today can really speak to all of our different personality types. The wise men in the East were mystical characters. They were astronomers looking for meaning in the night sky stars. They paid attention to the patterns of healing and miracle. They valued a good spiritual epiphany. So we can imagine that when they saw this super nova of a star in the Western sky they wanted to travel and see why it was there. However, even they were mystified by its presence. Here is this magnificent GPS star-light system guiding them to the new born baby... but first the wise men followed it to Jerusalem. Jesus is not in Jerusalem is he? Where is he? Bethlehem.

But who is in Jerusalem? Herod. Who is Herod? ...(Did you know you were going to get a quiz today?) The Israelite King. He would have known well the Hebrew prophecies about a baby who will be born in Bethlehem, the land of Judah. The prophecies that foretell the birth of a new shepherd to the Israelite people. So when these wandering wise men, who were not Jewish, who were not from Israel, but far East, these men who were pagans, when these mystics met Herod because they were following a Star in the night sky, and when the pagan, wandering, Eastern wise men asked Herod, “Where is this child born king of the Jews?” Herod’s hackles popped out on his neck. Don’t you think?

Herod thought, “I’m the king!” And he was. In his fear, Herod assembled the religious leaders to help him understand what the wise men were after. They wanted to see the Messiah. The anointed one. The one who will save the people. Herod wonders if it could really be true? Is this the baby of whom the Scriptures speak?

As the scribes and priests pointed out to Herod in the Scriptures, the wise men had not misspoken after all. There really was a new king. And the star marked the place of his birth.

Whether or not we are mystics, monks or nuns who live in an abbey of prayer, and whether or not we are busy with work and running errands and paying the bills, God understands that we need help experiencing our own epiphanies. That’s why God gave the wise men and the shepherds a star to follow.

The star lighted the path to Jesus. So what’s our star? Where do we look when we need more light on our path?

When the wise men finally arrive and see Mary holding the infant, the text tells us they were overwhelmed with joy! They immediately worshipped him, forgetting about their gifts for a moment, all they could do was worship. It’s not the star that is the epiphany, but the child. When they see Jesus everything changes. The light shines brighter. What was once an external star transforms to an internal light. When the wise men met Jesus they discovered that internal power of revelation. It is the same power that we know because we follow Jesus.

When their visit with the royal family concluded, the pagan wise men were warned in a dream not to return to Herod who was waiting on them. So they went home by another road. Yet they returned home a changed people. They had seen the light of Jesus. No longer needing the light to shine from the stars in the sky, their epiphany let them see the light inside them that was salvation from a new born baby. This is the zinger.

These pagan, star-following, Eastern mystics were the first people to experience the saving grace of Jesus. From the beginning, even before he could do anything but sleep and cry, Jesus welcomed everyone into his royal family regardless of race or creed or color.

Imagine a giant axis, like a globe. Everything around the center of the axis is moving. In our story we see the wise men moving from the East to the West. We see King Herod manipulating things and people to secure his leadership. We see the star moving in the sky to highlight the right spot. Everything is moving forward constantly. In our own lives this movement might overwhelm us at times.

For me I see this movement most at about 5pm when my three children are hungry, the older two have homework, Tyler is tired from having taught classes all day, we need to fix dinner, complete our nighttime routine of baths and toothbrushing, clean-up the kitchen after dinner, and this doesn’t include an unexpected news like someone might need 30 cupcakes for a school project the next day. Everything orbits threatening to lose control. Perhaps you are thinking of your own lives orbiting. Do you know chaos right now?

And yet...right at the center of it all, both in our story and in our lives is this image of a small baby resting in his mother’s arms in an obscure Bethlehem village. Everything in motion, rotating around the axis, and the child is the one, unmovable, fixed point. The light of the child is the epiphany that saves all of us from the mayhem of life.

My most recent epiphany involves you as a congregation. I want you to know this. My life was moving on a really exciting journey. We had just moved here to Louisville from New York City for both Tyler and I to begin working at Louisville Seminary. All last year, I was the chapel coordinator helping students plan the weekly chapel services and it was great part-time work while Taft was an infant. Then last semester the Women’s Center on the Seminary campus was looking for a new part-time director. “This is great,” I thought. “I can direct the Women’s Center and coordinate the chapel while I finish my ordination requirements.” And this is exactly how the movement of life progressed.

I was meeting fantastic people in the broader Louisville community through the Women’s Center job. People who are running non-profit ministries to stop violence against women, to house shelters for families, and many other worthy missions that I highly value. But then I received a phone call from my pastor at St. Andrew United Church of Christ asking if I would ever be interested in offering pulpit supply around town. “Sure!” I said. I love to lead worship. After I joined you in September, and then gathered with the designated pastor search committee, and accepted this position to serve as your designated pastor, I had an epiphany!

Three kids + three jobs = one insane woman. Who needs a star to see that? Not me! The light of Jesus was going to go out faster than a match in a wind storm if I didn’t resign from one of my campus jobs. After just a few months at the Women’s Center, I decided to journey with God here to Lynnhurst. It was a deliberate decision when I considered my own calling to pastor. That inner revelation, the epiphany of my call and interests as I considered Jesus points here. And I am so thankful!

And so you see, the epiphany doesn’t need to be a lightening bolt, or a overwhelmingly bright star, or anything else jolting, but when you realize that the epiphany comes because you celebrate the birth of a new infant king, everything else changes. Everything moving around the axis of life might stop for minute while you worship and remember the point of life. And then it moves again, and you move forward with it trusting that Jesus is indeed the anointed one.

So where are you Lynnhurst Church on this road to epiphany? You have recently said good-bye to a well-loved pastor. You have been busy the last few months “stepping up to the plate” filling in the gaps with your strong lay-leadership. You have welcomed my family and me for the next six months. What is next?

There is no bright star in the sky anymore making clear the way. I imagine it kind of like driving down a country road when the GPS on the windshield doesn’t recognize the road. So it has your car image in the middle of a giant field, or a river. You have experienced this GPS confusion, right? You look lost on the GPS monitor. And while you wait on the satellite to catch up, you keep moving forward, trusting that you are still on the right road. It’s right there, under your moving car, but you cannot see where the road leads.

Let’s wait for your next epiphany together. I will do all that I can to help us together follow the light of Jesus. It is a light that will not blow out. Or lead you off the grid. Though, the inner revelation of this church might challenge and provoke us as we consider the new roads we must walk. Just as the kings returned by a different path, so too, might the path for Lynnhurst evolve to us in divine dreams to new places. Together we can prepare for something new. Something that when it comes, you will know that it is right. The world will stop moving for a moment so that we can bow down and honor the Holy One who guides us along the journey. How exciting to be traveling this road together. Amen.

Kristof at Church

2012-05-08T07:15:00.001-07:00

When I saw the video that Nicholas Kristof posted on Facebook yesterday I was shocked that the link carried me to a set housing Kristof and Senior Pastor Bill Hybels on Willow Creek's main stage. (bizarre that I highlighted their 'sanctuary' in just my last post.)

It also comes on the cusp of this article, an anthropologist arguing that if liberal politicians would simply tweak some of their language they would in little time with minimal effort win over a large chunk of evangelical voters. My husband, brother, and I have been in an e-conversation about whether or not one can differentiate fundamentalists from evangelicals in this context. However, I bring it up to say that the Kristof video is a fascinating experiment in liberals and conservatives mixing company, and doing so well.

I see Nicholas Kristof as a modern day prophet. His work, in the company of his wife Sheryl WuDunn, on gendercide, sex trafficking, and female empowerment in the developing world inspires even the most cynical. He speaks for the marginalized by sharing the story of the individual with the masses to effectuate a response among the privileged, and he does so by derailing the (ab)use(s) of poverty porn; he upholds the struggling women and girls with dignity and awe... And a difference he makes.

Bill Hybels sits beside him in the video clip with a beautiful tan that I assume he picked up while sailing on his yacht. Despite my ambivalence about megachurch efforts to seek social justice causes (who knew that some of them are trying to now), Hybels warrants more respect from me than any other evangelical pastor because he makes so much effort to grow alongside his congregation. He does not claim a monopoly on (conservative) theology; he does not participate in trendy/swanky/hipster-y culture topics that circulate regularly in evangelical subculture (consider Rob Bell, Mark Driscoll, and that dork in TX who are all obsessed with sex these days). I see Hybels as more concerned with following God and winning lost souls to Christ in ways that are relevant and transformative for suburban chicago-ites. He's less concerned with being cool. He tries really hard to be a good, authentic evangelical. It just so happens that it has also made him a lot of money, and pretty cool in his circles, in the meantime.

Hybels reads Half the Sky, and it's clear by the time he gets to the second question in this video interview with Kristof that his world is turned upside-down. Hybels cannot finish articulating many of his initial questions. (I've never heard Hybels say, "uh..." when public speaking.) He doesn't know where to go with all the dramatic facts about gendercide and prostitution and plights of women in a global context. The viewer sees him repositioning his body several times during the interview as if to speak on behalf of the thousands of followers in the congregation, "we are all uncomfortable with this. We don't talk about things like this in here. This isn't the individualized, hyper-pious, feel-good mantra we are used too...but keep talking, because we need to know and respond to this. Educate us, Kristof." And in his generous, unassuming, incredibly kind way, Kristof fields the questions, engages the congregation, and puts Bill at ease. I find it astounding and worth emulating. Not that I wanted Kirstof to bury Hybels or Willow Creek for just now waking up to these "liberal" issues, we just don't ever see these groups in dialogue because it is so uncomfortable. I was nervous at several points in the interview, and Kristof kept putting me at ease too with his graciousness and authenticity. Neither leader was trying to be someone other than who they were, and it worked.

Hybels' honesty, Kristof's generosity and intellect, tempered by a setting that is willing to be uncomfortable for the sake of their gospel is moving. The first time I watched the video I was annoyed with Hybel's naiveté. (Because I already have this all figured out, right?) The second time I was overcome with emotion at his earnestness to grapple with such realities. Issues that even many liberals cannot acknowledge. The third time I watched it I cried with Hybels at the end when he asked Kristof why he does this work and Kristof responded about the Polish nun in Congo.

It starts small for Kristof. It's the grain of yeast and the mustard seed. It's telling the story of one woman in one country. It's reaching out to one church in one suburb. It's writing one op-ed for the Times in an effort to conjure up a response. And it's all so damn honest and humble. Kristof speaks, and writes for that matter, with no pretense. I want to be best friends with him and his family. I want to drink wine with them at the dinner table during transformative conversations that run late in the night. I want to travel to Cambodia with them. I want to learn from them and work with them. I want to know the women that he knows. And since I must do so indirectly through his work and vicariously through other higher profile people (like Bill Hybels even), I'll take what I can get. I can't believe I'm saying this, "Thanks Willow."

I won't even get in to how Kristof is a contemporary, married, privileged, educated, white, male redeeming so much for me by way of each category I just plugged him in to. So thank you, Kristof, for living from your heart and sharing it in ways that minister with peace.

Disclaimer: as tech savvy as mega-churches are, it's unfortunate that I cannot embed the video. I am not sure how long it will be accessible on Willow's website. And no, I did not watch the other videos in their current series on Hope. --Don't want to ruin a good thing, know what I'm sayin'?

Culture—Popped and Bought and Sought

2012-05-04T08:21:00.001-07:00

There are so many points on which I'm a die-hard Anabaptist: Discipleship, Community, Pacifism, and radical-Reformation stuff to name a few of the biggies.

One way I do not do so well keeping in step with especially my Mennonite brothers and sisters is the whole counter-cultural thing. Theologically I totally get it and even uphold it to an extent. The notion that we are citizens of another kingdom, an eternal kingdom with no end, ruled by principles and ideas not-of-this-world. The whole 'aliens passing through' thing.

On the other hand, I reject this...at least I think I do.

Practically speaking, pop-culture fascinates me. Trends, celebrity, fandom, music, film, fashion—I find all of it intriguing and worth celebrating from an artistic vantage, definitely worth noting from a philosophical one.

So I find myself ~~sub~~consciously looking for theologians who will help me articulate the balance of recognizing that capitalistic consumerism is no more my savior than is a complete Amish rejection. Enter Kathryn Lofton and her work Oprah: The Gospel of an Icon. This interview is dated now, but the end of it points to something I value: Lofton's desires to explore how the American Dream is possibly corrupt. Duh, I mean, Yes! And yet we continue subscribing to the money mongering game of capitalism hoping (amidst our disdain for the rich) that the next time we play we will be the lucky ones who get rich quick.

Anyway, Lofton begins that for Oprah there is a symphonic way that consumption and religion are not in opposition to one another but in collaboration. She notes that in the past, American religious scholars have sought to untangle these ideas revealing their own ideas of what's sacred vs. profane. She gives us three principles for religion and culture:

1) religion in pop-culture. The crucifix in a pop music video.
2) pop culture in religion. The use of blogs by believers.
3) pop culture as religion. Fandom.

This is why Madonna was so offensive in the '80's (religion in pop culture) and mega-church malls were so annoying in the '90's (pop culture in religion), Lofton expains. The former is profane, the latter, crass commercialization of the sacred.

Like a Virgin

Willow Creek: my favorite megachurch

This is the part I underlined: If only we didn't imagine culture and religion as neatly divided, we may be less surprised by their ceaseless commingling. There have, as it turns out, always been pigeon sellers, in every temple.

Icon B

Icon A

I don't think the pigeon sellers in the temple bit is a copout. I constantly hear conservatives misquoting John's Jesus, "the poor will always be among you," in an effort to ignore the poor's plight—certainly not Lofton's point. This pigeon reference is not about ignoring the capitalistic ventures to continue engaging in consumeristic behaviors under the guise of generous gift-giving (ala Oprah), but instead, a finger pointing to the reality that the lines between American religion (especially Protestantism) and (pop)cultural memes are blurry at best. (If Niebuhr could have admitted this a half-century ago would contemporary Christians embrace culture differently today?)

And yet, neither does this merger, or blurring, or commingled reality of culture and religion (or whatever you want to label it) excuse those of us who seek value and meaning outside of American consumer culture, those of us who seek fandom in areas outside of pop culture but who also do not forbid pop culture (point #3, culture as religion). As a thirty-something, white, American, female, who rejects the promises of the American dream and who upholds the promise of the Beatitudes, how do I situate myself (and my parenting for that matter) in a way that neither over-values the accumulation of shit (i.e. material goods that pass away) nor under-values the call to be other-worldly, placing one's hope and esteem in a transcendent reality that stretches beyond the cosmos (figuratively speaking of course)? How do I do this?

Is it enough to reject Oprah's and TD Jakes' prosperity gospel?
Is it enough that I still use the first generation iPad (even though I also have an iPod, iPhone, Macbook Pro, and an old cracked-LCD Macbook)?
Is it enough when planning worship or imagining a new liturgical ritual that might appeal to the millennial generation that it embraces social justice concerns like not using an American mega-bank for our checking and savings accounts?

Don't answer. In my questioning I want to embrace the ambiguity. And realize further that the non-ubiquitous characteristics that I named at the start (the other core tenants of anabaptist belief) certainly supplement my efforts, or the efforts of the faith community, to live in culture, embrace culture, and push against culture when it needs redirecting. Right? Oprah's product is a practice, and her practice is her product. This is simplistic, bad theology. I will not be self-transformed by Oprah's or America's or Dr. Phil's or Nate Berkus' or Suzie Orman's product, but by the renewing of my mind (when I'm wearing my new dress from Anthropologie--kidding).

There will be more from me on this...I'm only through the first three chapters of Lofton and Oprah.

Paradox: Time or Space

2012-04-27T18:15:00.001-07:00

Just recently have I allowed Abraham Joshua Heschel into my reading repertoire. Perhaps I did not know of his works earlier because of evangelicalism. Perhaps I did not read him when I first began learning of him because of a complacency in my own shallow knowledge of Holy Land disputes. Perhaps there are other reasons that don't really matter. But a few weeks ago while I was unable to lay down Israel: An Echo of Eternity, I found myself processing much of the philosophical and theological genius therein.

This work he wrote in the immediate aftermath of the Six Day War, and in the introduction his daughter confesses that so much of his intensity and sheer (arguably blind) devotion to his subject matter—Israel—may have been tempered by a later awareness of the condition of the Palestinian people had he not died prematurely. But this isn't really the focus of my thoughts anyway...too involved, intense, and polarizing for this simple blog.

Early in his argument, Heschel drops this bomb of genius, "To ignore the paradox is to miss the truth." He offers the example of a brief quote from Solomon's inaugural speech for the temple in 1 Kings, "The Lord dwells in thick darkness." A beautiful statement in an of itself, is it not? Heschel marks that although the Shekinah is everywhere, the experience of it is always somewhere because humanity always lives at a particular place. Here's an extended quote:

Living truth is the blending of the universal and the individual, of idea and understanding, of distance and intimacy, the ineffable and the expressible, the timeless and the temporal, body and soul, time and space. Even those who believe that God is everywhere set aside a place for a sanctuary. For the sacred to be sensed at all moments everywhere, it must also at this moment be somewhere.

A few pages later, the point strikes me vividly. It's a point that I, and my fellow post modern Christians, value beyond that of our former generations. It's a point that I beat loudly on a drum myself but received in a new pattern of reverberations at this hearing: "God is no less here than there. It is the sacred moment in which God's presence is disclosed. We meet God in time rather than in space, in moments of faith rather than in a piece of space."

I'm not enough of a scholar to fully unpack this. And I totally take his ideas out of the context of Jerusalem and apply them to contemporary church. Plus, as I consider further the idea of God-in-time before God-in-space, I must celebrate the gift of such awareness.

For those of us who find suspect ideas of anything absolute, especially truth(!), how freeing to think that more than some rational, modern, industrial approach to God's presence marking a place holy or not, God created not the temple first, but the Sabbath. Time. Moments to participate in the divine no matter the space. What a fabulous deconstruction of sacred and holy. (Reminds me of Jesus healing on the Sabbath.)

Here comes a gross over-simplification of such a beautiful idea, and yet, it's this practical situation that brings Heschel to life for me...

I think this is why I struggle so desperately to care about the missing sterling silver, custom-made, totally gorgeous, and yet stolen/missing/neglected communion ware that is so holy and sacred to my current church. I wish I had a photo of one of the goblets; they are amazing. And without taking time to describe the detail with which they were designed and the money they represent, I will say that the team of congregants responsible for their care offer no hesitation in defending their sacredness. To not handle these worship supplies with the utmost reverence and gentility is to defame all that the church represents. No hyperbole intended!

As worship director I continually had to negotiate a balance between the volunteers who so highly value these elements and the building services individuals who actually cleaned them as they would any other dirty cup of juice. As the volunteers themselves struggled to articulate what it is they actually ascribed to these pieces of shaped silver, I found myself fully able to empathize with their concern over something so special to the life of their church. On the other hand, I was/am wholly unable to understand the theological errors in such thinking. Had they known of my irreverence for such ~~pieces of worship~~, errrr, expensive cups competing with God in stature, our relationship may have been marred—the concern for this part of worship undoubtedly this intense. How does such mis-shaped thinking originate?

I think one way is by limiting God to a certain space. In this case, communion is only special, i.e. sacred, if served
with the pristinely polished, silver cups. (Nevermind the fact that they make the juice taste like metal.) with the 'right' liturgy.
with the elements of the meal resting atop a meticulously ironed brocade cloth.
with the ministers seated in sturdy throne-like chairs in front of them.
and I could go on describing the ritual.
a ritual that in my opinion, which I never shared out of respect for those with whom I partook of the meal, is boring, out-of-context, and way too long.

So much so, that God-in-time collapses for me during this liturgical element that ought to be so central to the life of the church. (Here's where I get really honest) the elements of this ritual where I find God most manifest (the communal aspect, the humility, the simplicity and ordinariness of the act, etc.) are absent because of the damn silver. As I find myself longing to see/taste/hear/feel/sense God move, instead, all I hear is the clanking of the cups on the trays.

To ignore the paradox is to miss the truth, Heschel reminds me.

The paradox, especially one of faith, is uncomfortable and takes much effort to appropriate! But upon such integration sets free the believer to grapple with and explore more deeply the transcendent mystery of God. We are free to value the silver cups for the beauty of their design, celebrate the blacksmith artist who crafted them, and yes, collectively mourn the fact that tourists steal them because they are just that cool. But we are not limited in our divine encounters during a holy meal of remembrance and grace. The point is not lost if we allow ourselves the tension of paradox. We can remember that it's not the cup we honor but a carpenter servant who most likely offered the wine in some type of generously used, bacteria-infested, wooden goblet. The point is that we honor the carpenter.

So if the sacred is not partial to the secular, nor is it distinct from the secular but everywhere holy, then I want to embrace the totality of that Presence so fully that I do not miss it for fear of it seeming too misplaced.

At the end of his book, Heschel nearly comes full circle with this statement,

Are customs and ceremonies, are services and sermons, an adequate antidote to the massive dehumanization, to the emerging monsters of absurdity?...Ritual, loyalty, theology, remain deficient unless there is an ongoing responsiveness to the outbursts of immediate history, our own situations.

Being alive means being exposed to contradictions and defiance, facing challenge and disappointment. Religion may die when its truth becomes trite—its poetry a conceit, its observance inane. Truth becomes half-truth; worship, comfort; belief, vapid...To have faith is to be in labor.

And as a woman who types this while seven months pregnant, anticipating the arduous, joy-infused road to and of labor, all I can say is, "holy fuck." I'm alive! I'm in the middle of a really intense situation, and the church's rituals are dying. They labor not on the things of God but the accoutrements of this world. And the paradox is forgotten... the truth is being made trite...

(Congratulations if you bothered reading all of this rambling!)

I was surprised

2012-04-17T07:28:00.001-07:00

The Christian Century recently featured an article on new ways of doing church outside the confines of denominationalism and traditional ordination requirements for their clergy. Duh.

Sometimes I wonder about these mainliners and their disconnect with culture—stuff Evangelicals have been in-tune with since their inception—things like technology, modes of churching, trendy ideas about theology. In part it's their theology that limits their interaction with culture, right? On the other hand, it's one of the reasons so many of their churches are flailing. Surely we can update ritual and liturgy without the end goal being to bring more people to 'salvation.'

Regardless, this issue of the CC annoyed me for a few reasons. One of the ideas featured in the article was a young person barista-ing at Starbucks as a way to meet new people and hopefully invite them to Bible Study. Really? This is as far as we have come in our ways of re-branding church? I find this insulting to the regulars of said coffee shop and completely arrogant on the part of said barista. What happened to serving coffee just to serve coffee? Why do the motives have to be so calculated and manipulative? ...how...how...well, how Evangelical. Why must church center on bringing people in? And if that's the goal (which I'm not favoring), then why can't you be direct about it? Why use Starbucks? And like I said, realize that this is not a new tactic. My funda-gelical childhood church used Krispy Kreme donuts fifteen years ago.

Secondly, the conversation about ordination was intriguing. Many of the leaders of new church movements are young, not yet ordained, but serving in leadership that traditionally requires such credentials and set-apart-ness. The holy collars themselves are blessed, aren't they? As the denominations themselves are struggling to remain vibrant and relevant (mainline and evangelical ones), they are now forced into re-evaluative roles regarding the legitimacy of such 'unorthodox' leadership. I'm glad they are finally asking these questions, again, even if they are about thirty years behind culture. Who knows what will come of it.

In the meantime, I'm beginning yet my second job in ministry (this August) that would normally desire one who is ordained, but because so many (out of the church) care less about parish life and ordination these days, I am the hire regardless, I suppose. Pickin's are slim. That's not forced humility. That's a statement about how I find it weird that they are so okay with the fact that I'm not licensed or ordained. The first draft of the press release listed me as Rev. I actually want to be ordained but can't make it happen (been working on it for about five years now) because of all the ridiculous stuff one has to do in addition to the degree. Where is the balance? Why are the reins held so tenaciously by those in power?

Your churches are dying people! You have young people with new ideas, and you won't let them in because they ain't allowed to wear the stole yet, and they can't wear the stole yet because you worship your rules and regulations. Stop putting the protocols before the relationships.

Alas, the church continues to miss the point. What's new? Perhaps my surprise at how those of us mainliners who still care about the future of the church cannot critically engage her more. So I leave half-empty/half-filled (still depressing either way) worship services wondering how much longer the numbers will dwindle and how many more churches-turned-condominiums New England and New York will see in the next thirty years.

I'll have an iced grande decaf light mocha, hold the inauthentic community bible study. Thanks.

That Bitch is Gettin' Ripped Off

2012-03-20T07:53:00.003-07:00

I had a few classroom experiences in seminary that will stick with me through the remainder of my life. This is one of them that I've been processing again in light of a homeless person I worshiped with at work.

I like the Message version of Luke 21's opening verses,

Just then he looked up ask saw the rich people dropping offerings in the collection plate. Then he saw a poor widow put in two pennies. He said, "The plain truth is that this widow has given by far the largest offering today. All these others made offerings that they'll never miss; she gave extravagantly what she couldn't' afford--she gave her all!"

I was raised by my preachers and Sunday School teachers to extol this poor woman for her generosity and sincerity, her willingness to give-up something comfortable to show her devotion to God. Is this not what Jesus is doing in highlighting her deeds? hmmm...maybe...

My wealth and poverty professor told a story of reading this passage with a group of homeless people one evening in an intimate and urban discussion group. Prepared to offer an eloquent diatribe on the woman's gift, one of the more unkempt men in the group blurted out before my prof could begin, "That bitch is getting' ripped off!"

I absolutely think he's right. The text doesn't tell us what she was going to use the money for instead of offering it to the collection, but we can safely assume she wasn't saving for a new luxury car. She was poor and socially isolated. Probably eating a little less bread that evening as a result of her gift. Is that really what God requires of us? To go hungry or neglect our immediate needs in our devotion? She lived in a culture that devalued women, especially widows, and the religious establishment should have served as a place of refuge and acceptance. A place where she not only encountered dignity and respect, but charity and support. Is this not what God wishes for the disenfranchised--to find a home among those who have the means to offer support from communal a system of acceptance and value?

The pericope directly preceding this parable goes a bit like this,

With everybody listening, Jesus spoke to his disciples, "Watch out for the religion scholars. They love to walk around in academic gowns, preen in the radiance of public flattery, bask in prominent positions, sit at the head table at every church function. And all the time they are exploiting the weak and helpless. The longer their prayers, the worse they get. But they'll pay for it in the end.

The pericope directly after the widow parable begins with this,

One day people were standing around talking about the Temple, remarking how beautiful it was, the splendor of its stonework and memorial gifts. Jesus said, "All this you're admiring so much--the time is coming when every stone in that building will end up in a heap of rubble.

Okay, so we know in the latter part that Luke is predicting the death of Christ. But I think the point in the former pericope remains in the second as well, what or who are we worshiping? Are we serving our rituals? Our buildings? Our charismatic leaders? Our hope in sounding good, reliance on big words, and our fancy worship services? Awesome that the poor widow enters into the middle of this discussion and is arguably ripped off by all those who say they actually worship the Creator but miss the significance of Jesus' teaching here. And that even today with all of our scholarly approaches to our sacred texts, it isn't until we read and interact with the marginalized people themselves that we see a new point to this story--we continually miss the point of what it means to be a faith community.

Here is my struggle today:
These pictures show Riverside's front doors and outer entryways on Riverside Drive. Check out the detail in the chiseled limestone. They are stunningly gorgeous. The stone carvers were hired intentionally by Rockefeller because they were an impoverished immigrant family from Italy at the turn of the twentieth century.

I'm not going to walk you through the who's who of the stone carvings beyond saying they represent inclusivity and progressive Christianity. You can see a small line of urban towers in the first pic that represents both Jerusalem and New York. One of my Riverside books highlights that "the building is dedicated to a living ministry and to the glory of God."

However, the large wooden doors, that I am very thankful are kept ajar during the day, are dry rotting. So, if for no other reason, should we spend thousands of dollars maintaining the building given the good she represents, who she stands for, and the artists who created her? Or is the $800,000(!!!) that has been budgeted for 2012 to restore the exterior wooden doors serving something or someone other than God and God's people?

I have no idea.

Fast forward to just a few weeks ago. During our Wednesday evening gospel service the homeless who regularly hang out in the building often attend this service for the community and soup supper. As we were short on ushers one particular evening I was carrying the collection plate from person-to-person. My homeless friend I mentioned at the start of the entry dropped a single quarter into the plate this night. It clinked as it hit the side of the plate. $.25. That's all. That's all that was had. I saw the person digging deep into a pocket for it. I had to pause with the plate for a moment while the paper wrapped around it was removed. The lump in my gut lurched up into my throat. I was glad for the opportunity to remove myself from the service to drop the collected offerings into the counting bag and then into the safe with the escorting help of a security guard. (Yes, we take our offerings very seriously.) The quarter was the only coin, most of the other spontaneous donations were 10's and 20's. This particular individual has been living in the church hallway for several weeks.

All I can think, "That bitch is gettin' ripped off."

P.S. In know way am I accusing Riverside of not caring about her community. I just wonder where we are to draw the line that demarcates the love for our buildings and art more than the needs of God's people. Damn these issues of the heart.

I need to see this soon

2012-03-13T13:17:00.000-07:00

So, I'm addicted to Smash. I watched the first two episodes at the proper air date and time then fell away (I won't blame it on my ridiculous and immature addiction to the Bachelor on ABC that airs the same night...shhhhh, no one knows I watch this stupid throw-back to patriotism and female objectification). Then I had the proverbial D.C. too late in the day; that mixed with a good couch-nap left me awake most of the night wondering how I was going to survive the clock change as well. What better time for a Hulu Smash marathon?

Watching the latest three episodes in immediate succession only confirmed something I've known since high school: it's a good thing I can't sing on pitch or I would be trying to make it in musical theatre. The ads on hulu are beyond redundant. But the one for Once--A New Musical intrigued me. I started reading about it and finally downloaded the album today.

Love. It.

Here is a screen shot of my favorite page from the booklet. (Why can't I copy a photo of it?)

Okay, so you can't really see it, much less read the font. It's a bit by the author about creating the workshop in the basement of a Boston church. Without yet having seen the show it seems like a fascinating mix of pomo-culture with a timeless tune of love and passion. Each character plays their own instrument, making him/her indispensable.

The whole is not only the sum of its parts, but the whole is better than the individual parts. She writes, "The alchemy of different instruments, different voices can hit the air and become something gorgeous." I hope they've succeeded.

The Times reviewer isn't overly generous, but I still think I'm going to love it. I already know I love it that they kept the original Falling Slowly as heard in the movie and winner of Academy Award for best song. Click here to hear it. Anyway, can't wait to see it.

Women Warriors, Feminine Fabulous

2012-03-09T11:31:00.000-08:00

I read Sheryl WuDunn and Nicholas Kristof's book, Half the Sky when flying to South Africa a few years ago, right after the book hit the shelves in '09 actually. Traveling to Cape Town with family and a few others to engage in some humanitarian efforts proved amazing minus the African-based, Tennessee-sponsored organization we traveled through, which was ridiculously conservative on all fronts. (Just to be an ass I donned my Barak Obama t-shirt more than once while there, and it had the desired effect.) Before I share how the book came to life for me, I want to say that I despise poverty porn--you know, the images and videos we see on melodramatic commercials that make us feel guilty for the money haphazardly spent on the six pack of beer in our fridge. Half the Sky transcends this category by introducing us to women in intimate ways of discovery and vulnerability.

The township we gathered in, Overcome Heights, portrays a huge irony even in its name. The refugees dwelling in the corrugated tin shacks on the southern peninsula sand dunes of Cape Town were not empowered to overcome anything in their lives. I found the half-rotten wooden sign holding the name offensive. We were inviting the inhabitants to TB testing, along with other general medical tests like blood pressure checks. A group of women who lived in the township met us each morning to walk us through the narrow outdoor corridors and into the bowels of poverty and destitution to invite their neighbors to the testing site.

It's also worth saying that I think slum tourism is despicable. If you google "Cape Town Township" an option to further your search automatically pops up as "Township Tourism." This multiplies rubber-knecking interstate car-wreck voyeurism to levels of obscenity. I get angry sometimes at the NYC tour buses driving through Harlem. Standing on the Amsterdam Ave. sidewalk waiting for my daughter's school bus to drop her off on the corner of a giant subsidized housing complex while tourists snap photos can easily leave me irate on our walk home. All this to say, I'm not posting any pictures of the people I met, except this one of a boy playing at the bus stop.

I saw a woman who had been burned by acid. She didn't want to meet us. But I felt like I already knew her thanks to WuDunn and Kristof.

Marsha, our guide and mother of two toddlers who also lived with her mother introduced us to a good friend. This girlfriend, err, nineteen-year-old woman, had three children under five living in one room with cardboard box flooring to keep the sand at bay. Of course she was prostituting herself to feed her growing family. Where did the kids go while she was working? She did not want us to stay long. We moved on after a quick greeting. A piece of my heart still sits on the cardboard in that room not knowing how to respond or speak. But again, I thank WuDunn and Kristof for giving me permission to meet her.

Most transformative for me, aside from the trail of unchaperoned kids under age 5 that walked with us throughout each day (because I passed out Smarties and stickers), happened unexpectedly for all of us, including Marsha.

A woman running a daycare about a mile deep into the township where the crime rates escalate through the tops of the dunes in the darkness of night, and the women succumb to terrors that police cannot reach.

The subtitle of the pulitzer prize winning book is "Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide."

The men of the township (on the whole) spend their days smoking at the corner, playing barefoot soccer in the nearby glass-infested field, or simply absent from the routines of fetching water from the central spicket, chasing the children to school, or working themselves. This woman called to us as we passed by unaware because the children saw my candy donations and were anxious to greet us. Turning at the sound, we stood stunned as we saw this woman's space. Filled with at least ten children, she had one stuffed Barney animal, a plastic walker with no batteries, and one pillow on the floor for reading time. (I'm not sure what she read to them.) She had a daily routine taped to the wall including snack-time, hand-washing, and nap. Otherwise, the children played in the sand, I guess. Once my Smartie supply was drained we inquired of her ongoing needs and promised to get her some of the monetary goods she requested. I had brought a shopping bag of infant shoes my own kids had grown out of. I felt stupid handing them to her. "Here," I thought, "I hope these help. I'm sorry I'm such a rich stupid fucker that I buy new shoes for my kids every few months."

She spoke to us of her own misery in watching these young toddlers walk the alleys alone while their mothers were forced to leave them for work, usually as housekeepers in the affluent white neighborhood across town. The mothers paid the woman about $1 per week to watch their children. The mothers were able then to provide food for dinner and snacks for the day with their income (notice I didn't say lunch). And the mother of the daycare could do the same for her own children.

Here is the other side of the city.

THIS is what I understand Half the Sky to embrace, promote, and hep us understand.

Last moment of sharing: While we were waiting in another crowded slum hallway embedded in the shiny tin, standing sticky and ashy in the hot sun, I asked Marsha what it feels like to meet with various groups of white people each month, show them her territory of life, receive their pity, to have them return about their business after a good self-pat-on-the-back at the end of the week. I asked if she was ever angered by it or frustrated by the injustice of white supremacy, corrupt governments building a state-of-the-art World Cup soccer stadium while forgetting its people in Cape Town, etc. She looked directly into my eyes for an extended moment before answering.

She thoughtfully responded, "When you are a mother trying to protect your kids from the horrors of night, and you are working to bring home a simple loaf of bread for the dinner table each night, you will take whatever help you can get. It doesn't matter what color their skin is or how long they stay."

Not much left to say after that.

I will never understand. And I won't ever be able to do enough to fix the atrocities of Overcome Heights.

I'm learning though, that I can be angry on Marsha's behalf, and on behalf of the woman running the daycare, and on behalf of the women cleaning the houses of South African wine-makers, and on behalf of those forced into prostitution and rape, and on behalf of all who are named in works like Half the Sky.

And I'm s...l...o...w...l...y... very, very slowly, coming to a point in my own spirituality that allows me to say that my anger does not need to manifest as guilt or pity. It can activate into something stronger, more productive, more sustaining and life giving.

March is Women's History Month. Yesterday, the 8th, was International Women's Day. There are lots of organizations, especially those focusing on women, like CARE who are celebrating this month with all sorts of education and awareness bits. But I wonder, do you know about Kiva? Kiva began a few years ago by a young American woman and her husband (I actually took classes with her brother in seminary), and the success of the non-profit has sky-rocketed since. It's micro-lending to specific women across the world of developing countries. You pick which women from the website you want to support as they begin their business ventures. Once your loan is repaid (you choose the amount) you can re-lend to another woman. This month, new users get a free $25 loan to start their involvement. So go start one, please. Thank you.

That''s the point of all this. Just to share my love of Kiva. Sorry it took me so long to get here.

One last thing, it is going to be the women who change the world and eradicate poverty. Each chapter in the WuDunn/Kristof book begins with an awesome quote. I like best the one commencing chapter 2, a sentence from Florence of Arabia: "Women might just have something to contribute to civilization other than their vaginas."

Can Someone Please Help Me Understand This?

2012-03-08T16:44:00.002-08:00

I mean, I'm all about women's liberation and love a good celebration of the capabilities of the female body. And I do love the iconic Demi Moore pose (way back in 1991). Although I do wonder what her son has to say about it now. But come on, Jessica Simpson, really? Claudia, Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, and now Jessica Simpson? Really? For me this crosses from let's-acknowledge-the-beauty-of-a-woman right into how-can-I-skankify-something-as-fantastic-as-pregnancy...Oh, I know, let's put a giant yellow ring right on top of my nipple! I'm feeling a little embarrassed for her. Plus could they have touched up her arms and hips anymore? Please, I'm serious, help me understand! I'm open to a new perspective. On behalf of American hoochies, I apologize, Demi.

Space | Place | Haste

2012-03-07T10:59:00.000-08:00

First: Haste
Do you ever want to tell people to freakin' slow down?

Warning: this post is really random and covers about six topics.

I think this idea alone significantly spurs on my love for the elderly. Perhaps I've written on here before of my devotion to old-man-professors. (My husband will be one soon enough after all.) I completed my entire undergrad degree under the tutelage of an 80-year-old spiritual genius who swam in the school pool every morning at 5am. My favorite professors in seminary were the soft-spoken grandpas. My favorite congregants in the church are the cranky and authoritative, but supremely loving senior women. I preached a sermon once at PMC and the opening line was "Old people rock my world."--it was a very young congregation. With life comes experience comes wisdom comes a level of self-security that the rest of us only dream of. Maybe this is one reason, aside from the brittle bones, that you rarely need to tell a senior citizen to slow down. If we are not going to take the time to listen, then the loss is ours. I want NYC to get this holy concept.

Enter The Riverside Church.

I won't take time speaking of its architectural splendor, Rockefeller's endowment, her majestic organ and carillon, nor do I plan to take up your time with stories of limestone carvings that can bring tears to your eyes, a golden Jesus suspended from the ceiling, and the pulpiteers who positioned it on the ecclesial map of churches to follow. It's all on the website anyway. The parts of this community that I most love and adore are the elderly members doing their best to keep it alive.

As I just begin to process the sixteen months of my employment in this community (I wrote that cover letter after all so many months ago), and as I view the stained glass of the Nave first thing from my bedroom windows every morning, I am struck time and again at the amount of space the building itself covers on Manhattan Island.

Second: Space
Remember there is no room on Manhattan, at least not unless you have a small (or gigantic) fortune to actually afford housing here. Most of Manhattan-ites live in nooks so small, in buildings so high it leaves the rest of the country stunned dizzy. Side note: We managed to find one small cranny of Central Park where if you situate your eyes at a specific perspective during the proper time of blossoming Spring with your body half-reclined into a contortion underneath a willow tree, there are not any skyscrapers in view. It's actually quite astounding for the fraction of a second that you can hold the twisted pose. Compare this to the view from the top of 30 Rock. (I refuse to pay the fee to elevate up to the peak of the Empire State Building.) The buildings that stand so majestic, threatening to pierce the sky, even a tree cannot block from view, from below they quickly shrink from the peak of one still taller. Yet, from the top of 30 Rock one can view in the northwesterly direction the spires of the Riverside tower as it borders the Hudson River. Something so triumphant and erect looks small and fragile. We lose this perspective in the haste of our daily living here in NYC. Everything around us becomes bigger than life--I wonder if because our time and space is so minimal.

One more bus to catch, subway doors to hold ajar, taxis to hail, groceries to manhandle for three more blocks, kids to bark across the avenue, complete strangers offering advice on how to parent, wind whipping your scarf in ways that blind you...the exhilaration and energy bustling in the streets literally never stops. I love it. But the rushing gets tiresome. The crowds overwhelming. The difficulty of running errands difficult to negotiate. So much so, that one easily loses perspective on the ways the rest of the world meanders about. It often makes me want to recreate the Ferris Bueller Sears Tower scene with forehead pressed against a glass panel a mile up in the sky to silence the busyness below into ant-like maneuvers of survival. That's what the top of 30 Rock does. You can only escape life-of-crazy by going up.

Until you meet the senior citizen residents of Manhattan.

Moving up the crowded sidewalks of Broadway with a walker immediately slows your world down to normalcy. Crossing a mega-avenue with a shuffling friend in icy weather creates more time to see all that I miss when chasing the kids on their scooters. Understanding the time that elapses between destination points when entering a crowded bus with a wheelchair only occurs to me when I'm inconvenienced by it as a fellow rider. Noticing the mundane of life sometimes feels next to impossible here. And yet, I claim that the simplicity of life is where I see God. No wonder I have missed this while living here, yes God and simplicity. My friends at Riverside have unknowingly done well to keep this alive for me on our lunch outings and through conversations about the trials of urban dwelling for those who are differently abled, but unable to leave the island.

Can one still find enough space and
can one slow down their haste enough to
create a sacred place in such a frenetic race

Third: Place
Wendell Berry is my brother's guru. (This and this are two blogs he started and maintains. That's him playing cricket with his King's College team in London on the second link.) Berry along with other great writers like Richard Rohr and Tich Nhat Hanh speak to the imperative of having a place--a home. In a reflection on the genius of Berry, after having spent an intimate Sunday afternoon with Wendell and his wife, Tonya, in the kitchen of their Kentucky farm home talking coal and other lofty agrarian topics, my brother writes the following,

We had been standing on the porch for several moments noticing the sheep on the southwest side of the house. We also noticed the vertical climb from the riverbank one must make to arrive on the porch...The aesthetics of the place reminded me of him, harangued, but in a good way. Everything here had a purpose and had been used and lived in. I aspire to live in my place as well as the Berry family appeared to live in theirs...When I put questions on the table I was consistently baffled by how smoothly he picked them up and dealt with them. We were sitting with a master of conversation. The work necessary for being as such had been done in the quiet of his own home and fields. It would be silly to try and name-drop and click through power point slides in his presence. Your only option is to be honest and thoughtful and, well, honest. As we sat in his kitchen for those several hours there was probably more silence than talking. It was ok to be quiet here. So often, there is nothing to say and yet we blandish each other with worthless chatter about how impressive we are.

(Mr. Berry on his farm, Lanes Landing)

Might we all be so able and ready to create a place for people that welcomes silence, entertains new friends, and creatively speaks to the mystery of God at work. To think so deeply, live so consciously, and welcome so graciously proves daunting when we cannot slow down or find enough space to be ourselves, much less know ourselves. Unhurried living that celebrates community when it seems as if the space for such does not exist. As Berry taught this to Kyle, this is what the strident and savvy NY women at Riverside have helped me to learn and embrace. I'm convinced this is where God lives in Manhattan. Even if there is not enough space, God's place resides anyway. I'm glad to have met her here in this way of still, lingering lunch dates, intentional conversation, and ardent spirituality. What a surprise.

Don't Wanna be an American Idiot

2012-03-06T10:45:00.001-08:00

Soon after we left LA and arrived in NYC I sat in the balcony of the St. James Theatre trying to contain my weeping as I watched American Idiot.

The expression of anger and indignation resonated so powerfully within my core that while we were eating at Sardi's afterward (a hilariously dated and overpriced restaurant down the street) I could only identify with the depressed, couch-dwelling character of the show (stage right throughout).

(I couldn't find a video of the entire opening number, "American Idiot;" so if you have one send it my way.)

The jolting onset of intense media action,
jarring electric sound, and
head-banging choreography awoke in me this intense rage
against the Man.
against war.
against chaos and disaster.

...arguably themes of the show and album.

And yet, like Rent will always reveal for me, the community that was broken and re-created from the shambles of atrocity and terror shows a depth originating from no kind of kindness--it's one that only stems from piecing together what's left after a bomb erupts and shatters the foundations of our lives.

This clip is annoying in the transitions but does well to throw you through the moods of the show.

They sing, "welcome to a new kind of tension...where everything is meant to be okay."

Is it...going to be okay?

I don't think so.

Hence the new tension of which they sing.

Living as it is okay or is going to be okay and denying the hurts and addictions of life. We who love this musical reject this notion and therefore resent this tension.

My last few entries of 2010 on this site hint at my emotional upheaval and confusion with everything I thought to be so certain. Taking too literally (and personally for that matter) foundations and ideas like Romans 8:28, "And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God and who are called according to God's purpose." Not that it's complete bullshit, but more like, let's keep things like this in context, right? And this idea too--keeping scripture and other writings in their proper genre and contextual paradigms--is a simple approach for mainliners but a theological breech for evangelicals. (I'm getting lost on a tangent.)

Getting back to the point: I value naming the tension, especially when it's a really profound one like seeking life in a world where everything is alright. First of all, how boring. Second of all, how dysfunctional!

Instead, let us break through to a new tension, one that's more honest and life-giving. I want to live not in the aforementioned tension of naiveté and ignorance of pain. Nor do I claim a tension of healthy lifestyles and extreme greed (as promoted by the American media, and highlighted in the musical) while ignoring the needs of the world's poor. Instead I claim a tension that flows from concepts like loving in the midst of hate. Not an eye for an eye, but loving the enemy.

So as I reflect back on my posts of 2010, on articles that have infiltrated The New York Times in the last forty-eight months, along with the overarching condition of humanity (here's where I get all existential) I wonder what empowers us to embrace the tension of living fully and with hope, particularly in the reality that things are not okay, and maybe won't ever be in this lifetime.

Chatting with some friends during dinner last weekend, in regards to their ongoing work with the urban poor population and efforts to eradicate the situation entirely I asked what keeps hope in their future alive. I want to know where they go for restoration. Similarly, a dear friend who works at Bread for the World, an anti-hunger organization, expressed a relief from the rigors of fighting an uphill battle through religion. An elderly African American lady who worked as narcotics rehab officer during the 1970's in NYC spoke to me of her faith providing sustenance. Something to still believe in at the end of the day. I agree, and yet, I still wonder--

How do we hope (through the power of Jesus, or our higher power, or the prospect of Enlightenment, or whatever fills this blank in your sentence)...how do we hope for things to be made well while maintaining integrity and awareness to the realities of life?

Did Neitzche simply name what the rest of us fear, "Religion is an opiate for the masses"? Do we hope in the intervention of a Higher Power so we can get some rest at night, in tandem with the prescribed Ambien? Or does God really reach out in saving acts of grace? If God exists to love and be loved as love, a love so bold and refreshing that all fear is truly cast out, where do I find this? What does this mean? I want proof.

My previous answers to this are what crashed when I wasn't looking.

And full circle back to the music of Green Day, it's worth getting angry about the ways American youth are jolted around in a schizophrenic quest for peace. Our institutions of family and church (to keep the list short) fail us. Yet, I wonder if when redefined and re-imagined in our current cultural mix-up, might these be a few places to hope freely in and work for a radical world where things will be just that...okay. Talk about a new kind of tension.

I don't want to be an American idiot. But I wouldn't mind being an idiot for something that authentically lives the realities of hope and love amidst trauma and loss. Let's just be honest about it. It's unpredictable.

Will Someone Please Look?

2012-03-06T07:51:00.000-08:00

I have no posts during 2011. Not only was blogging absent from daily ventures, so was staying in touch with friends (not that you friends need reminding of my negligence). I also took a sabbatical from several of my other nerdy hobbies, as well as remained obsessive about things like running and Diet Coke. People, I was a working girl. In addition to working, I was recovering from new wounds of disillusionment, depression, and disbelief. Life the past eighteen+ months has concentrated on (re)integrating lauren--a process also known as individuation. It's a trail that most embark upon in their late adolescence. So...I was about a decade behind. Despite my developmental delay, I return to this venue of self-expression having 1) grown-up a bit, 2) embraced many thrilling life experiences of transformation, and 3) discovered that much of what is already revealed here regarding things Church, divine, and my hopes therein still propel me into each new day.

As this is my first week not working (I did just resign from my job), I find my mind buzzing in excitement with the projects ahead of me. Currently, I have the opportunity to assist a dear friend and mentor in publishing a book of prayers she has written during last ten years in her work as a minister and pastoral therapist in NYC. (I don't get prayer, and I often wonder to whom we actually pray; so, this interaction is no coincidence.) Second, little mayfield no. 3 will be here the first week of July. I honestly do not understand how these pregnancies keep happening (well, I do, but you know what I mean). Third, we are moving to Louisville, KY the first week of August...really need for the baby to come on time.

Ordination and Call to Ministry
Prayer
Institutional Church/Mega Church
Mainline Protestants
Racial, economic, and sexual diversity in the Church
Parenting two toddlers in NYC
Touring NYC
Churching in NYC
Working in NYC
literally living where we work
Therapy and Psychiatry
Old Friends who persist when I fail
New Friends who inspire when I deflate
Hymnody and Worship
Customs vs. Traditions
Cathedral or Local--are they mutually exclusive?
Sheepishly trying my pen at a bit of poetry
Technology
and
Mental Illness
Broken Relationships, Failed Marriages
Mistresses
Redemption
Justification vs. Sanctification (oh, I'm so die-hard Anabaptist on this)
United Church of Christ: theology and polity
Office Decorating
An open door policy
and my favorite love...Pastoral Care.

Lots to talk about. I welcome you to the conversation, and I look forward to reconnecting with my other favorite cyber-writers and -readers; I hope to get a blog roll in the margin sooner than later. I've missed you.

Transition

2010-08-27T09:50:00.000-07:00

This could end up a dangerous posting since I've just sat down to my two hours of free time while the kids sleep, and I don't have any real agenda with my thoughts right now. And I don't feel like doing laundry or writing a cover letter. (Any shout-outs on those options?) Tyler and I engaged in a fairly heated dialogue this morning about transition, expectations, and family. Yeah, I know--he was about two hours late getting to his office, the kids were desperate for some attention, and I am still not dressed for the day. So what! I'm such a fan of putting the relationship first. And Livia had a fabulous time clomping around the house in my sequin heels during the parental distraction. Our neighbors below already resent us, I'm sure.

Anyway, here's what I finally and triumphantly laid down for him while simultaneously throwing my hands from the football touchdown cheer to the exasperated side dangle, "I suck at transition!" In more words or less. It's so hard and exhausting for us introverts. Does it have to be?

Tyler grooves on it almost (therein destructing my introversion theory), which perhaps only makes my inability to warmly embrace it fester. In a nutshell: I miss In-n-Out, and PMC. I miss my friends from California, Connecticut, Alabama, and Kentucky (even though they, too have all moved elsewhere). I miss the neighbors that I know, the routines that were in place, and more generally, the ease of familiarity. Not necessarily in that order. (wink.)

I hate to admit it, but I'm a relatively unmotivated person when pursuing my dreams because I find the initiation process daunting and myself too insignificant. (Go ahead, I'll pause for you to get some tissues.) Let's be honest, it's so much simpler to bash and rest in cynicism than it is to continually balance out on that damn limb, risking rejection (for various reasons), or worse yet, failure, or even worse, the reality that we aren't really perfect (Insert stunned gasp here). So that when the assertions of trying new things for just one more day feel totally insurmountable, I resign myself to actually rest in the ambiguity of new places, relax about the fact that our latte factor is zilch so the sheer ubiquity of Starbucks has still gone untouched, and well, fuck taking the stroller down the subway stairwells by myself--kids you're learning to walk! Hear me roar! And yet, and still, once more, I simply and pathetically arise to one more inevitable new day and once again find it time to analyze and reassess what it is I'm actually trying to accomplish.

Right now, I have no clue. Which then finding myself in a circular, yet completely circuitous route, not unlike the book, "If you give a mouse a cookie," I can only conclude with the harsh reality, I suck at transition. (And unfortunately, this isn't anything a cold glass of milk and a crisp straw is going to cure.)

Oh when will I be discovered and my natural talent demanded by others?

Here ends the pity party.

Come Holy Spirit, Come.
Come winds of peace, Come.
Aright this course within me.

Creator of goodness and ultimate guru of complete health,
dharma,
karma,
and sanctuary, I am your Bodhisattva.
Teach me your stillness.

May your comfort call us to action
Your tenderness to wholeness
Your discipline to an end of suffering
Your compassion to a cessation of selfishness.

Then we can freely set-forth through dangerous waters
Seeking that which demands us to relinquish hesitation,
yet embrace frustration,
so that fresh elixirs brewed in your laboratory of love,
might be consumed by willing and thirsty souls who,
in their new strength,
will bring change.

Transition us from a place of woundedness and isolation
to safety and completion,
from a place of misunderstanding and vehemence
to grace and acceptance
from a place of sarcastically jovial, dysfunctional jokes
to inspired flames of justice and service.

We are your servants. May we never grow full of your mercy while you bless us to bless.

54 Pi Rent Obscure

2010-08-14T20:51:00.000-07:00

Four points of interest whirling in my brain right now preventing sleep, well, and the diet coke that was addictively consumed too late in the day.

I read a few weeks ago for the first time recently Life of Pi.
I am currently reading, and nearly finished with Jude the Obscure.
I watched (admittedly) with both of children four times last week Rent, the movie.
I watched this evening with Tyler, Mike Myers' 1998 film, 54.

They are all merging in ways that represent where I want to be, how I want to live, and the types of relationships I hope to maintain.

The last twelve months of my life have turned me upside down. So I pierced the inner cartilage of my ear and am seriously considering a highly visible tattoo on my right forearm. (Who says rebellion only happens when we're teenagers?) But more significantly, the disillusionment I am undergoing with all things God, no religious, and (ok fine) yes, God, leave me exhausted and well, depressed. Enter Life of Pi.

Holy Cow this book is amazing.
Fact vs. Narrative.
Modernity vs. Postmodernity.
Concrete data vs. Experiential reality.
etc...

Pi says this early on his own narrative:
"What of God?"..."An intellect confounded yet a trusting sense of presence and of ultimate purpose. I can well imagine an atheist's last words: 'White, White! L-L-Love! My God!"--and the deathbed leap of faith. Whereas the agnostic, if he stays true to his reasonable self, if he stays beholden to dry, yeastless factuality, might try to explain the warm light bathing him by saying, "Possibly a f-f-failing of oxygenation of the b-b-brain," and, to the very end, lack imagination and miss the better story."

Stunning. How does one articulate so fully with mere words such a colossal theodicy? This is a hermeneutic I've been struggling to find since I audited my first grad class at Yale Divinity. Which is the better perspective--dry yeastless factuality that always makes sense, sees death as only a cessation of oxygen? Or is it the story, albeit embellished, but the lens full of adventure, love, and mystery? Damn you modernity for convincing us that we have to have this God thing so well figured out. Thank you Yann Martel for reminding me that the story is what fulfills us. How, then, even when our rafts are lost at sea, our food rations growing sparse, hungry tigers lurk beneath us in the life boat, all amidst the threatening silence of God do we still reject dry, yeastless factuality as the only spectacle with which to see? I want, even in the mystical silence of hurt and trauma to claim the unintelligible, imaginative, sustaining, and intellectually confounding presence of a god. or of grace. or of peace. not of having answers or certitude. but of a comforting presence inspite of life's shipwrecking storms.

Rent. What a musical. What a show. (I was lucky enough to see one of its last Broadway performances a few years ago.) What a message to try and capture on film. While I don't love the story rearrangement in the film, it's hard not to adore anything that is going to promote Tay Diggs' gleaming whites while he is, (steal my heart away) singing no less! (Breathe, Lauren.) Every time I hear or watch or see this I can't help but walk away from it thinking, "This is it. Community. Pure and simple." --when in actuality community is messy, controversial, and a sum of broken parts trying to make a whole. Confused sexuality, homosexuality, heterosexuality awry with AIDS, "lezzies, dykes, cross-dressers too," so the lyrics go...
drugs, depression, unmet dreams, destroyed dreams, fear of dreaming for more, betrayal, fear, and yet, the tenderness of acceptance that only comes when we allow ourselves to be so brutally vulnerable and honest. It's the community in which I want to live.

Liv asked me if Maureen and Joanne are married because they love each other like I love daddy. I responded yes, of course. And she did not think another thing of it. Nevermind that it's two women. She also is convinced that Angel is an actual female. Sometimes we have to watch twice her first appearance in the film as "she" Angel. It mesmerizes both my kids, the entire film does. And well, perhaps for me the show culminates prematurely with their gathering on the F train to sing about escaping the hardships of urban dwelling with the dream of opening up a restaurant in Santa Fe. So much more to say on this, but I'll leave it at that. I want to live such a fantastically honest, real, uncompromising, and supportive existence in equally close proximity to my own friends.

Studio 54 offered to me the competing end of the spectrum. Here the drugs, sex, rock and roll (does disco count?), dancing, and money arrested community. Brokenness lead to no community or wholeness in this film. A place built to host the never ending party, Studio 54 entertained every Hollywood A-lister in New York City. Andy Warhol (whom you know I adore), Truman Capote, models galore, even California's govenator, 'course he wasn't governor then. How ironic then that those at the party are so isolated from one another. How willing we are to buy into the illusion that we can cover our hurts and despair by cranking the music a little louder, staying out a little later, and topping off our glass of champagne just one more time. (At least, this is part of what I keep coming back to in my reflections on Steve, the owner's life. He died at 45, went to jail for tax evasion, and was a closeted homosexual. All so tragic.) His own party was an effort to ignore the narrative that was being written around him. Or was it an attempt to rewrite one with more pizazz? I don't know.

I go back to Pi's wonderings here. At what point do we give way to our realities and chuckle with maybe a healthy dose of cynicism and say, well, death is what happens when you smoke, drink, and drug too much. Isn't that the dry, yeastless factuality? What makes the story so interesting (to me right now) is the possibilities of something better...a place in Santa Fe. A place where the opportunity to party is still present and even enjoyed, but it's something new that can be experienced with people you love. Even when your girlfriend commits suicide and informs you that you have AIDS in a note, you can still creatively join together in a fusion of something more. God, still, is silent, but the story writes on.

And finally Jude, the Obscure. The title makes it for me. He wants to be special, arrive in his beloved city of Christminster to dwell and stimulate his mind with fellow learned men. But the obscurity of his story off-sets the reader from ever fully falling in love with this character. Just as his old professor mistakenly bought a piano and was forced to drudge the thing around with him, even though he can't even really play the dumb thing, Jude married the wrong fling and his dreams of education and later clericalism suffer and ultimately die. He deems himself too unprivileged to stay in Christminster after one too many rejection letters from his favored institutions, and he flees his studies of the divine when the temptation to love his married cousin grow too fevered and lustrous. His nomadic quests for meaning and fulfillment only leave him evermore resentful of his absent wife and personal disillusionment. For Jude, God's silence serves as a trap, from which he cannot escape. His obscurity and normalcy trap him into an entirely different cynicism. One that he vowed never to cover up again with strong drink or other "blasphemous ways."

All this to say...
I need a drink and a smoke! (haha, I crack myself up.) I think I'm going to go to church tomorrow at Broadway UCC. (We'll see, I haven't made it there yet.) But I need people right now to gather 'round me and by the sheer power of example shove me back into the narrative. Living out of cynicism leaves me angry, discontent, and honestly, wanting another glass of wine when I've finished the first few. What about a narrative that is not about getting it right or missing the mark? It's not a narrative about whether or not what the Bible says really happened.It's not about what works for me should work for you. Instead, it's a story about inspiration, love, and life. It's definitely the pieces that keep things interesting, keep us from getting lost in our own despair, and like Pi and the cast of Rent, remind us of what life is really all about-- It's a narrative where marriages are broken, cancer cells continue to grow, and lay-offs persist. Yet, these facts aren't all there is to it. There is a tiger in the boat. An island covered in deadly algae, and a Mexican infirmary just when Pi needs it the most. A narrative that saves Mimi that night Roger finds her in the park, and enables the rest of the cast to celebrate Angel's vision of peace while they mourn his loss.

Final thought. It's not lost on me that all of these works are incredibly dated by today's cultural milieu. Rent came out in the mid '90's. Studio 54 was an entire generation before me. Thomas Hardy wrote Jude the Obscure a gazillion years ago, and Yann Martel is a product of the '60's. These stories are dated, yet timeless. I love the puzzle of finding my own piece in their retellings.

I also need to start meditation on a regular basis. I f I can, I'd love to do this in a buddhist community. We'll see where and how that chapter follows church tomorrow. Peace. I want to stand on this stage and measure my life by the love I give and receive. That's one helluva story.

What goes around comes around

2010-07-13T12:28:00.000-07:00

Whenever I take the time to reread some of my earlier posts on here I am always amazed at how when I am a few months removed from their original publication date (because I am a slacker at staying disciplined with my writing), the earlier thoughts seem more like prophetic predictions rather than a rambling. I almost say out loud, "Yes! That's so true! I had no idea I have been feeling this way for so long." Or instead, I think, "You're just figuring this out? You said the same thing like two years ago."

The bit that just knocked me over with accuracy this time is the comment from an April posting where I casually said that I'm done with church. I said it in the April post more as a demonstrative, provocative thought that challenges even me, but stands actually, I guess now, as an inner leaning. I still struggle to readily confess it. (I'm not being very clear right now.) But today, July 13th, 2010, I really mean it, I think. (At least let me still claim somewhat of a modifier, errr, reluctance in naming it.) I am done with church!

It feels bogus.
It feels insincere.
It seems to be more a place of hurt and isolation rather than healing and wholeness.
I struggle to find community within its walls.
I hate the male leaders behind the pulpits of power and prestige
I hate what conservatives have made the cross mean to people in other traditions, or in no tradition.
(I also think it should be illegal for crosses to be suspended over an interstate or erected in ridiculously oversized proportions!)
What are considered to be stunning and beautiful cathedrals represent to me only modernity/analytical approaches to apologetics/rational and intellectual descriptions that erase the mysteries of faith, men on power trips, and quests for more status, money, baptisms, staff, volunteers, etc. all in the name of Jesus.
I am royally pissed by all of it today.

In case you couldn't read that into the above gerunds.

I'm ticked because for the last few years I've been longing to engage in urban ministry. To find space creatively where there is not enough to go around. To promote greener ways of living with rooftop gardens, shopping locally (easy enough in the city with local farmer's markets--no Target in Manhattan), among other things. Here I am living in Morningside Heights, Manhattan. An area that bridges everything I oppose--the divide between rich and poor. It falls between the limits of the Upper West Side where many of the creme de la creme of NYC reside and the boarders of Harlem, one of the countries largest ghettos. Liv plays soccer on one of the Cloister's lawns--a beautiful area owned by the Metropolitan Museum of Art that lies even farther north of Harlem and Washington Heights. To get there, we pass through a social justice nightmares. Hundreds of high rises that are subsidized and I imagined to be rat and insect infested beyond recourse. Plus, I live on the same property/block as one of the most gorgeous and emphatic churches in the country. This church was built by Rockefeller at the turn of the century intentionally in Morningside Heights to bridge this economic and racial divide in the city. The steeple stands several stories high so that it can be seen still in the every growing NYC skyline. It has a lovely social ministry to the people of the area who are in need. (Or at least that's what I hear and have read about earlier times in the history of the church). I literally see the gorgeous stained glass windows that line the aisles of the sanctuary from my bedroom window first thing every morning.

This church is hiring a minister right now. The cover letter sat on my desk for WEEKS. Finally I had a huge meltdown with Tyler about it a few days ago b/c I need a job and we need some money. (Sallie Mae is on a manhunt for me!)

Here it is. My dream practically being served to me on a silver platter.
New York City
Riverside Church
Morningside Heights
Urban Ministry

And yet...
And yet I'm too angry.

I can't apply, and I won't apply. I refuse to contribute to the institutionalization of the family of God. (So there, says the four year-old inside of me.)

When I look at the towering steeple all I can think of is that line from Shrek when Shrek and Donkey encounter Lord Farquard's gigantic castle. The Lord is a dwarf standing only 2.5 feet tall when at attention. Shrek sarcastically mutters to donkey, "Think he's trying to compensate for anything?"

So now, I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with all this finally admitted anger, hurt, and frustration. I have never felt so cynical before about anything, much less, one of my greatest loves--the church. Can it still find ways to be the people of God?

If so, then why the fuck are there so many highrises of poverty just blocks away this famous institution? Did I mention that is famous for defending civil rights in the '60's, laying the foundation of American homiletics in the '20's and '30's, and finding a way to merge races in their own pews in the '70's and '80's. Why are there still so many tires floating in the Hudson river near the church's property? Why does the subway leave her underground tunnel to face the light of day on a rusted bridge just two blocks north of said steeple? (How kind of those engineers to leave the exhaust and pollution from the train in the air for the poor people instead of building them a tunnel through their city blocks.)

Okay, I'm shutting up now. I'm ticked. I'm tired of the bullshit of just talking about social justice in the church and then nothing ever really gets accomplished because the rich white people are too busy laying out and itemizing all of their principles and beliefs and ideals instead of going to fish some tires out of the river. And if there are people fishing tires out of the river, where the hell are they? I want to help.

The End.

A Beautiful Example of

2010-04-27T12:00:00.000-07:00

why I am completely done with white men in positions of power! His arrogance and lackadaisical concern for Jennifer's emotions are profound. But even more, I'm not sure if I'm more sad because of evangelical, fundamental, so-certain-truth-seeking-God-is-only-a-He-with-His-Word-as-a-weapon-to-destruct pastors like this Bob dude in San Diego or because even after coming out and admitting her new found happiness with her lesbian partner, Jennifer Knapp is still insecure in it, cannot say whether or not she is choosing this lifestyle, and sees Scripture as binding. I want to shake both of them while emphatically yelling, "Be set free from your religion!" (That's the pacifist and gentle, attentive listener in me speaking.) ">

I am very proud to say though, that I saw her perform at Lilith Fair way back in the '90's while I was still in high school. woot.

P.S. I think perhaps it should be illegal for any pastor, especially if they are white males to have a website where the domain URL address is your full name. It literally makes me want to hyperventilate in anger. Just can't handle the egoism.

P.P.S. I remember as a teenager wailing the lyrics to this song in the privacy of my empty house. And I still know the words too clearly. The message is so mixed up, individualistic, and fundmantalist. But oh, I love her voice and her!

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Unravel this Mystery for Me

2010-04-21T15:51:00.000-07:00

The ability that all of us humans carry to inflict hurt and pain on one another leaves me indignant sometimes, and at others, I just feel like rolling my eyes as I lament, "Get over it! We're all abusers." The fact of the matter is that we are abusers. We all long to be known and feel threatened when we are not. We put ourselves out there in relationship with our humans and if our needs are not met, or our insecurities feel unmatched, or our vulnerabilities dominated then we protect ourselves by throwing down our attacker. Sometimes we do it on purpose, like middle school girls jockeying for the proverbial top rung on the social networking ladder. Other times, and probably more commonly, we hurt the people we love without realizing it.

An overly aggressive word to our spouse in a heated argument,
the inability to accept a friend's dysfunctional state,
or belittling the person whose stereotypes and assumptions do not match our own.

Yet, it's all on a spectrum isn't it? Some people hurt more than others, and others seem to never hurt at all. However, I'm talking about those of us who live supposedly "normal" lives as we walk around with our issues and struggle with how best to give and receive love inspite of them, but also giving and receiving pain in the meantime because of them.

This makes me sad. It leaves me feeling cynical and violated. I feel naive and foolish for thinking that love is a mystery that conquers all fears. Doesn't true love trump the desire to hurt, even when we might feel over-exposed?

Buddhism has four central tenants--the Noble Truths as they have come to be called:
1. Suffering comes up in everyone's life.
2. This suffering is caused by craving.
3. We can stop suffering by stopping craving.
4. To stop craving, follow Buddha's path (basically and in a Christian lens, follow the Golden Rule and seek spiritual experiences through meditation).

Christianity claims that God is love and perfect love casts out fear.
Hmmmmm....

And God is a relational God, isn't that what the Trinity is about? Paul Knitter writes that the most "fundamental, deepest truth Christians can speak of God is that God is the source and power of relationships." In God we live, move, and have our being. We exist through relationships that center on knowing, loving, and giving since that's how God exists. It's about community. Where is God in our readiness to abuse?

I abstractly believe Paul when he wrote that there is one God above all things, through all things, and in all things. God promises never to leave or forsake God's created people. So in loving our friends, we are engaging in the work of God and living God's life (another point Knitter makes).

...And yet...

And yet we still crave and consequently suffer as well. Cravings so deep that Buddha says we are willing to suffer as we hope for their fulfillment. Or we're even willing to cause others to suffer.

The duality that ensues from this has let me down. Perhaps we should thank modernity for the duality. I like that Buddha teaches that instead of some Transcendent Other, or as Paul Tillich said a "Ground of Being," God can be viewed as the "Ground of Interbeing" (ala Knitter). In other words, God needs us as much as we need God.

Before you label me a heretic, hang with me. I'm trying to make room for evil, I think. Abuse is evil. People intentionally or unintentionally hurting other people seems evil.

Tracing back to Buddha, he says that wisdom comes when we are awakened to the reality that everything is interrelated. But you can not achieve this enlightened, wise perspective without compassion. We are all interconnected with one another; we cannot see both sides of the coin and pick just one and claim enlightenment. Either we care about our neighbor as much as our self, and vice versa, or we are not wise. Again, it's essentially the Golden Rule.

Knitter explains that "One's self becomes one's self-power. One's self-power becomes an expression of Other Power, as a wave is the expression of the Ocean...There is no individual self that can be neatly identified and that acts by itself. There is just interconnection, InterBeing, InterBeings. Lyotard, much later, said that no man is an island. Thomas Merton titled one his genius works this.

So, we are a confluence of good and evil in this sense. No one is 100% abuser or 100% abusee. No on is all perpetrator or all victim.

And as a Christian, I want to say through the teachings of Jesus and by the power of the Spirit we are able to experience a sense of groundedness that yields inner peace, as well as a sense of connectedness/InterBeing that produces compassion for others. When we are living our insecurities, fears, and therefore hurts, and we malign other beings with whom we are innerconnected, we are not at peace with ourselves and lacking wisdom. We are living out of our selfish cravings and therefore suffering with a lack of peace. In this sense, we are abusers.

The ways in which we live are the ways in which we meet the Creator God, or fail to meet the Creator God.

So that, the more I give and love and create and celebrate with and for other people whom I both love and do not even know, I more fully experience the utter mysterious presence of God at work in the world and in all people. It's not through the abuse that God is most manifest, but in the healing and wholeness that can still come in the aftermath of such destruction.

And in this way, God needs us. God needs us to respond abuses on a personal and global level so that God can be made manifest in the wake of evil!

(Sorry if this post makes no sense at all. I'm in process here...)