Here is an approximation of the homily that I gave this morning at St. James Langhorne Episcopal Church.
Proper 23 Year C
Jeremiah 29:1, 4-7; Psalm 66:1-11; 2 Timothy 2:8-15; Luke 17:11-19
...your faith has made you well. Luke 17:19b
So who are the Samaritans, and why should we care? And what does it mean that faith makes us well?
Samaria was the capital city of the ancient Israelites in the Northern Province. After the first exile, Samaria lost its central status. Samaria became a trade route. Multiple cultures traveled through, and these cultures influenced the theology and practice of the Jewish Samaritans. Over time, their faith evolved into something not quite Gentile but not quite Jewish, either. (Source: Oxford NRSV Study Bible, 2001 ed.)
Of course, one person's evolution is another person's apostasy. Jews, evidently, generally looked down upon the Samaritans. Mark's Gospel takes a dismissive attitude of the Sam-tans. In the Gospel according to John, the Samaritans who encounter Jesus just don't get him. (But then again, hardly anybody "gets it" in John.)
Luke, however, has a perspective unique in the canonical gospels. Several times, Luke uses the Samaritans as examples of true faith. The most famous instance happens in Chapter 10 in the Parable of the Good Samaritan. A man is injured by the roadside. One after another, the passers by ignore him. When the Samaritan sees him, he goes above & beyond to help. In contrast to the do-nothing pious members of the church, the Samaritan is the compassionate hero of the Parable.
In Luke 17:11-19, the Samaritan also plays a featured role. Note, by the way, that the story takes place in an undefined location, somewhere between Galilee and Judea. You might say that it occurs in a "middle" zone. Bearing that in mind, here's the story in brief: ten lepers approach Jesus asking for help. In scripture, "Lepers" is a broad term that includes anyone with a serious skin condition. Because of the Jewish preoccupation with cleanliness, lepers were frequently banished from the community and cannot return until so authorized by a rabbi. (Oxford)
Jesus instructions them to go to a rabbi, and they obey. Their encounter with the rabbi happens outside the text, but the result is that they are proclaimed clean. The presumption is that, now that they are healed, they can reenter the community. (Oxford) Among the ten, only the Samaritan returns to thank and praise Jesus. Jesus tells him to go about his business, closing with the enigmatic statement, "Your faith has made you well."
Returning to the original questions...for those of us who consider ourselves Episcopalians, I think that we are like the Samaritans. We, too, are Middle People - not Roman Catholic, not Protestant, not Evangelical - something in-between. We've heard criticism from both sides: our RC friends like to refer to themselves as the one true church and call us, ahem, Catholic Light. Incidentally, I've decided to embrace this label: I aspire to a faith that doesn't take itself too seriously, walks in the light, and is light enough to rise all the way to heaven. On the other side, our evangelical sisters & brothers ask, over and over, are you saved? I don't have a good comeback to this one; I just have to be content standing between the theological crossfire, not unlike those Samaritans.
What does it mean for Samaritans/Episcopalians that faith makes us well? There's the obvious cause-effect interpretation: asking for mercy + obeying Christ + thanking/praising Christ = healing. We Christians can't go wrong with such a formula. I suggest another implication - it's about the importance of community. Remember, as mentioned earlier, becoming "clean" ends the quarantine and reinstates a person into the Jewish/Jesus community.
In modern times, the community of the faithful assemble in a church. That church community can be local, regional, national, and/or international. For the moment, I want to focus on the parish level.
During the past few months, I've visited churches around the Diocese. Sadly, quite a few of them are struggling financially and attendance wise. There are many reasons for that, but I deeply believe that we can reverse that trend. Here's where we can learn from our evangelical friends: we need to make a more concerted effort to market ourselves. We have to tell our story. We have to be a little less gentile Anglican and a bit more evangelistic, proclaiming not just the Good News of Christ but the good news of belonging to a church family.
When I first began coming to St. James in 1999, I didn't know anyone. It took me years to develop the habit of attending weekly services, build friendships, and develop a comfort zone. It didn't come easily, because there was virtually no one of my age cohort present. Many times, I felt like an island representing an entire generation! By the grace of God and the kind people of St. James, I stuck it out.
One family that befriended me Dan Ahern & Kathy Coon, as well as their children Emily and Zachary. In 1999, they lost their home to Hurricane Floyd. They went through hell, but they persevered. Fast forward a few years to Easter 2006, I think. One of their parents - I don't remember who - had been on the prayer list for some time, battling an illness. That parent lost the battle and died about a week before Easter.
At the St. James Easter Vigil service, I sat a few rows behind Dan and Kathy. The first half of the service is solemn, taking place by candlelight. Then, there's a transition point when the somber mood of Lent/Holy Week ends, and we celebrate the resurrection. In that triumphant moment, I caught a glimpse of Dan and Kathy turning to look at each other. They smiled. It was only a flash, but I would swear that they exchanged sorrow, relief, joy, and a profound intimacy that only comes from years of sharing. Most of all, I saw new life. The suffering and defeat lifted; something new was born.
For me, their faces gave new meaning to the Resurrection. And it wouldn't have happened without spending time in that church, getting to know Kathy & Dan, learning their story, and worshipping with them at the Vigil. Had I not known them and known their story, I would have missed that flash of the Holy Spirit.
Christians have a duty to do compassionate works, especially to the stranger in need, as the Good Samaritan did. We must also proclaim the Good News, bearing witness to Jesus through word and example. In the modern world, attending Anglican/Episcopal worship services doesn't sell itself like it once did. The believers must be a little more outspoken about what liturgy means to us.
We should never let resurrection get old!
We have to get better at inviting others to participate in a faith community. We must find creative and compelling reasons to get folks out of bed on Sunday mornings. In short, we must tell our faith story. Such storytelling is not simply recalling the past life of Jesus; it is also a way to keep Jesus alive in the here in now. It is therefore an act of faith...the faith that will make us well.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Donovan Returns, and Why We Care So Much
Last week, the Philadelphia Phillies clinched the Division Title and home field throughout the postseason...hooray! The excitement brews in South Philadelphia with people wearing Phillies hats & jerseys everywhere you look - lately I've seen more Shane Victorino jerseys in S. Philly than Italian flags. And yet, listening to the sports talk radio and television shows, all you see and hear is that the Eagles host the Washington Redskins and our former QB Donovan McNabb. The amount of attention that the Return of Donovan story gets borders on obsession.
Why do we care? Why should I care? The answers have to do with the ancient human practice of telling stories. Camp fire tales are probably as old as human civilization itself. They are fun and dramatic ways in which communities recount great feats: slaying of beasts (think Beowulf), making long journeys over treacherous ground (such as the Exodus), just to name two. The stories embody and perpetuate what is important to that group. In the modern world of hard-core sports fans, the local team IS the camp fire story of that community.
I'm a fan of pro baseball and football. I love to see the strategies that coaches use and then see how they play out on the field. It's also fun to follow a team over the years and observe how it builds the franchise. By following a team season after season, you get to know the players & coaches, see them perform on the big stage, and develop an affinity for them. When the TV showed the locker-room celebration, I not only felt happy for them but felt like I was part of it. Of course, this feeling of the team as an extended family, this faux intimacy, is part of the illusion that the sports and entertainment industry cultivates intentionally.
As much as I enjoy sports, I have to admit that I spend more time following this stuff than I should. Overall, our entertainment-dominated media puts way too much emphasis on these games, especially in the Philly market. What is the big deal?
The answer, in part, involves identity. There is a natural human instinct for people to congregate and form groups. Sports is another reason for people to do what our sociological instincts want us to do: form communities with a distinctive identity. In this town, Eagle green and silver color our jerseys. We have our Eagles chant, our multi-million dollar stadium ("the Linc"), and long-standing rivalries with the Cowboys, Giants, and Redskins.
Sometimes, however, cogs get thrown into our elaborate group identities. Enter Donovan McNabb, second pick of the 1999 NFL draft. The man had a great career as an Eagle, a far better career than any other quarterback drafted that year AND better than the vox populi choice, Ricky Williams. The Eagles had multiple winning seasons with McNabb behind center, consistently reached the postseason, won a half-dozen playoff games, and reached one Super Bowl. But - and this is a big "but" - they never got there and won it all.
Donovan has his flaws. He can be frustratingly inaccurate, throwing balls at receivers' feet or into the deflecting hands of defensive lineman. McNabb has always been a streaky player, and when he's in a bad streak, his throws are painfully off target. He is not and has never been an ideal fit to run a West Coast, quick-release offense, a style that his Eagle coaches prefer. Besides the on-field deficiencies, his off-the-field interviews leave some people cold. He veers away from the tough-guy, buck-stops-here, win-at-all-costs cliches. Instead he'll make cryptic and somewhat aloof statements that, when dissected by the media, can be described as passive aggressive and unbecoming of a leader. And once again, perhaps the biggest indictment against him is that he has yet to win a Supe. These are legitimate criticisms.
However, these concerns are not the full story. Never getting into trouble with the law or with the team, McNabb was a model citizen in Philly. He didn't take himself too seriously and was known to joke around on the sidelines, even in the huddles during the game, keeping he and his teammates loose. Some people interpreted that as immaturity, but that explanation doesn't jibe with his body of accomplishments. The guy often played hurt, most famously one year in Arizona he played an entire second half with a broken bone. His work ethic and training regimen was widely recognized as exceptional. Can anybody seriously question his toughness or his commitment to performing at a high level?
I respect McNabb and rooted for him as an Eagle. At the same time, I'm glad the organization decided to trade him. It was best for everybody that he get a fresh start elsewhere.
All week long, McNabb's return to town has been the big sports story, even overshadowing our clinching baseball team.
So why is this so damn important to so many people?
McNabb has always been a controversial figure in this town. His erratic performance on the field and distant personality off the field are contributing factors. But I believe that the biggest reason people don't like him is that he did not suck up to the fans. He would not tell us, game after game, how we are the greatest fans in the history of the Milky Way Galaxy. He did not crave the limelight. He didn't become "one of us," brandishing a football in one hand and a cheese steak in the other. Instead, he simply did his job with 100% focus and determination, otherwise keeping to himself.
Supposedly, he is sensitive to criticism. That may be true, but my reaction is whopdie-freakin-do. Earth to fan base: the Eagles drafted him to play quarterback. He's not the Sergeant Major of the U.S. Army. He's allowed to have normal human emotions and express them publicly from time to time. His $100 million salary doesn't mean that he's no longer human. The man played his heart out, but for whatever reason, the team never won a championship with him. Surely that's not all his fault. Surely it's not because the man didn't prepare hard enough. We cannot seriously believe that if he spent more time buying us drinks at Chickie & Pete's that we would have gone all the way.
While I do not deny his desire to win, I suspect that he does not derive his sense of self from the outcome of a game. McNabb is a professional. His relationship with Philadelphia was professional. I can understand why fans don't love him and prefer a different QB... although the Kolb/Vick saga is another story for another time...but that is no reason to hate McNabb, no reason to act uncivilly towards him, and no reason to talk/write about his legacy ad nauseam. And it's certainly no reason to join the "Boo Donovan" parade scheduled before Sunday's game.
I think that the unspoken sin of McNabb is that, holding the most visible position in Philadelphia sports, he did not affirm our illusion that sports matter. Furthermore, we harbor an unreasonable and unprovable belief that McNabb - personally - never delivered us the title we deserve. He never wrote the final chapter in our community narrative: we are champions.
I can't help but wonder: is there another way that we can feel like champions? Must our sense of self derive from the blocking and tackling, the ups and downs of an NFL season? More pointedly, must we have enemies to boo, villains in the form of division rivals and former players?
The desire to love, to be loved, and to feel important - these are totally appropriate and natural. The enjoyment of sports, I think, is a healthy excuse to build camaraderie, especially in a blue-collar town like Philly. We love the visceral action that football provides. We love the excitement and the drama; I think it's fair to say that we need the story. We want to feel good about ourselves. We want to be part of something special.
You know where I'm going with this! ...As an aspiring minister, I have to wonder how else can we make meaning for ourselves. I wonder if a spiritual community can tap into these needs, and if so, how. Maybe the church can learn a lot about how to serve the people by listening to these sports dramas such as the McNabb controversy. If we (the church) listen and observe ourselves (the sports fans), apply our imaginations, and pray for the Holy Spirit, perhaps the church can grow its flock.
Perhaps we can find new ways to tell our story as disciples of Christ, and also make new stories as an energized community, living as Christ taught us.
The Lord be with you.
E-A-G-L-E-S, EAGLES!
And also with you.
A-L-S-O-WITH-YOU, ALSOWITHYOU!!!
Why do we care? Why should I care? The answers have to do with the ancient human practice of telling stories. Camp fire tales are probably as old as human civilization itself. They are fun and dramatic ways in which communities recount great feats: slaying of beasts (think Beowulf), making long journeys over treacherous ground (such as the Exodus), just to name two. The stories embody and perpetuate what is important to that group. In the modern world of hard-core sports fans, the local team IS the camp fire story of that community.
I'm a fan of pro baseball and football. I love to see the strategies that coaches use and then see how they play out on the field. It's also fun to follow a team over the years and observe how it builds the franchise. By following a team season after season, you get to know the players & coaches, see them perform on the big stage, and develop an affinity for them. When the TV showed the locker-room celebration, I not only felt happy for them but felt like I was part of it. Of course, this feeling of the team as an extended family, this faux intimacy, is part of the illusion that the sports and entertainment industry cultivates intentionally.
As much as I enjoy sports, I have to admit that I spend more time following this stuff than I should. Overall, our entertainment-dominated media puts way too much emphasis on these games, especially in the Philly market. What is the big deal?
The answer, in part, involves identity. There is a natural human instinct for people to congregate and form groups. Sports is another reason for people to do what our sociological instincts want us to do: form communities with a distinctive identity. In this town, Eagle green and silver color our jerseys. We have our Eagles chant, our multi-million dollar stadium ("the Linc"), and long-standing rivalries with the Cowboys, Giants, and Redskins.
Sometimes, however, cogs get thrown into our elaborate group identities. Enter Donovan McNabb, second pick of the 1999 NFL draft. The man had a great career as an Eagle, a far better career than any other quarterback drafted that year AND better than the vox populi choice, Ricky Williams. The Eagles had multiple winning seasons with McNabb behind center, consistently reached the postseason, won a half-dozen playoff games, and reached one Super Bowl. But - and this is a big "but" - they never got there and won it all.
Donovan has his flaws. He can be frustratingly inaccurate, throwing balls at receivers' feet or into the deflecting hands of defensive lineman. McNabb has always been a streaky player, and when he's in a bad streak, his throws are painfully off target. He is not and has never been an ideal fit to run a West Coast, quick-release offense, a style that his Eagle coaches prefer. Besides the on-field deficiencies, his off-the-field interviews leave some people cold. He veers away from the tough-guy, buck-stops-here, win-at-all-costs cliches. Instead he'll make cryptic and somewhat aloof statements that, when dissected by the media, can be described as passive aggressive and unbecoming of a leader. And once again, perhaps the biggest indictment against him is that he has yet to win a Supe. These are legitimate criticisms.
However, these concerns are not the full story. Never getting into trouble with the law or with the team, McNabb was a model citizen in Philly. He didn't take himself too seriously and was known to joke around on the sidelines, even in the huddles during the game, keeping he and his teammates loose. Some people interpreted that as immaturity, but that explanation doesn't jibe with his body of accomplishments. The guy often played hurt, most famously one year in Arizona he played an entire second half with a broken bone. His work ethic and training regimen was widely recognized as exceptional. Can anybody seriously question his toughness or his commitment to performing at a high level?
I respect McNabb and rooted for him as an Eagle. At the same time, I'm glad the organization decided to trade him. It was best for everybody that he get a fresh start elsewhere.
All week long, McNabb's return to town has been the big sports story, even overshadowing our clinching baseball team.
So why is this so damn important to so many people?
McNabb has always been a controversial figure in this town. His erratic performance on the field and distant personality off the field are contributing factors. But I believe that the biggest reason people don't like him is that he did not suck up to the fans. He would not tell us, game after game, how we are the greatest fans in the history of the Milky Way Galaxy. He did not crave the limelight. He didn't become "one of us," brandishing a football in one hand and a cheese steak in the other. Instead, he simply did his job with 100% focus and determination, otherwise keeping to himself.
Supposedly, he is sensitive to criticism. That may be true, but my reaction is whopdie-freakin-do. Earth to fan base: the Eagles drafted him to play quarterback. He's not the Sergeant Major of the U.S. Army. He's allowed to have normal human emotions and express them publicly from time to time. His $100 million salary doesn't mean that he's no longer human. The man played his heart out, but for whatever reason, the team never won a championship with him. Surely that's not all his fault. Surely it's not because the man didn't prepare hard enough. We cannot seriously believe that if he spent more time buying us drinks at Chickie & Pete's that we would have gone all the way.
While I do not deny his desire to win, I suspect that he does not derive his sense of self from the outcome of a game. McNabb is a professional. His relationship with Philadelphia was professional. I can understand why fans don't love him and prefer a different QB... although the Kolb/Vick saga is another story for another time...but that is no reason to hate McNabb, no reason to act uncivilly towards him, and no reason to talk/write about his legacy ad nauseam. And it's certainly no reason to join the "Boo Donovan" parade scheduled before Sunday's game.
I think that the unspoken sin of McNabb is that, holding the most visible position in Philadelphia sports, he did not affirm our illusion that sports matter. Furthermore, we harbor an unreasonable and unprovable belief that McNabb - personally - never delivered us the title we deserve. He never wrote the final chapter in our community narrative: we are champions.
I can't help but wonder: is there another way that we can feel like champions? Must our sense of self derive from the blocking and tackling, the ups and downs of an NFL season? More pointedly, must we have enemies to boo, villains in the form of division rivals and former players?
The desire to love, to be loved, and to feel important - these are totally appropriate and natural. The enjoyment of sports, I think, is a healthy excuse to build camaraderie, especially in a blue-collar town like Philly. We love the visceral action that football provides. We love the excitement and the drama; I think it's fair to say that we need the story. We want to feel good about ourselves. We want to be part of something special.
You know where I'm going with this! ...As an aspiring minister, I have to wonder how else can we make meaning for ourselves. I wonder if a spiritual community can tap into these needs, and if so, how. Maybe the church can learn a lot about how to serve the people by listening to these sports dramas such as the McNabb controversy. If we (the church) listen and observe ourselves (the sports fans), apply our imaginations, and pray for the Holy Spirit, perhaps the church can grow its flock.
Perhaps we can find new ways to tell our story as disciples of Christ, and also make new stories as an energized community, living as Christ taught us.
The Lord be with you.
E-A-G-L-E-S, EAGLES!
And also with you.
A-L-S-O-WITH-YOU, ALSOWITHYOU!!!
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Stranger in a Strange Land
Moses said, "I have been a stranger residing in a strange land."
Exodus 2:22b.
A stranger is just a friend I haven't met yet. -Will Rogers
Most of my life has been relatively safe and sheltered living in Bucks County, PA. The past three years, I spent most of my time as a student at the Episcopal Divinity School in Cambridge, Mass.
School is over and reality has returned. I decided that it's time to get an extended taste of urban life and experience God's people in a major city. Accordingly, this month I've traded gentile suburbia for the atty-tood of South Philadelphia.
My new pad is a row house not far from Broad Street, the Boulevard-y north-south road that runs through the heart of the city. The neighborhood is 99% Caucasian, Italian, Roman Catholic, and working class. Kids play on the sidewalk under the supervision of chatty moms and grandmas parked on their front steps. Some folks are friendly; others stick to their cliques and keep to themselves; still others give you the eye that says "you, you're a stranger."
They are correct: I am, indeed, an interloper. The only roots I have in this community are the friendships with my roommate and my roommate's dog. One never knows what the future will bring, but I don't expect to live here long term.
Their reaction reminds me of the stares that I get when I first enter a restaurant. You know the feeling? People look at me blankly for a moment and - I believe - their brains run through a series of questions: do I know this person? Do I find him attractive? Will he interfere with my dining experience, ie will he be loud and obnoxious? Is he dangerous, someone of whom I need to be wary?
Once these questions are answered a split-second later, the onlookers return their attention to their meals and conversations, and I (plus whomever accompanies me) blend into the ambiance.
There's nothing nefarious about this progression. It is a natural, momentary, and unconscious reaction. I do it, too. The point here is not that we should stop "checking out" whomever enters our field of vision. Ignoring folks is mildly rude at best and downright foolish at worst. Rather, the point is about awareness.
Being in a new environment makes me aware of my own reactions to "strangers." I would like to be more intentional about the expression on my face when I look upon someone for the first time. Am I making eye contact? Do I see people as strangers or possible friends? Am I at least hinting a smile or making some expression of welcome?
Am I watching out for the stranger in a strange land? Or for that matter, am I actively seeking to find Christ in all peoples?
I'm excited about the chance to live among strangers - and future friends - in South Philly. It's a long way from the bucolic hills of Central Bucks, but it's not far from God's people.
Exodus 2:22b.
A stranger is just a friend I haven't met yet. -Will Rogers
Most of my life has been relatively safe and sheltered living in Bucks County, PA. The past three years, I spent most of my time as a student at the Episcopal Divinity School in Cambridge, Mass.
School is over and reality has returned. I decided that it's time to get an extended taste of urban life and experience God's people in a major city. Accordingly, this month I've traded gentile suburbia for the atty-tood of South Philadelphia.
My new pad is a row house not far from Broad Street, the Boulevard-y north-south road that runs through the heart of the city. The neighborhood is 99% Caucasian, Italian, Roman Catholic, and working class. Kids play on the sidewalk under the supervision of chatty moms and grandmas parked on their front steps. Some folks are friendly; others stick to their cliques and keep to themselves; still others give you the eye that says "you, you're a stranger."
They are correct: I am, indeed, an interloper. The only roots I have in this community are the friendships with my roommate and my roommate's dog. One never knows what the future will bring, but I don't expect to live here long term.
Their reaction reminds me of the stares that I get when I first enter a restaurant. You know the feeling? People look at me blankly for a moment and - I believe - their brains run through a series of questions: do I know this person? Do I find him attractive? Will he interfere with my dining experience, ie will he be loud and obnoxious? Is he dangerous, someone of whom I need to be wary?
Once these questions are answered a split-second later, the onlookers return their attention to their meals and conversations, and I (plus whomever accompanies me) blend into the ambiance.
There's nothing nefarious about this progression. It is a natural, momentary, and unconscious reaction. I do it, too. The point here is not that we should stop "checking out" whomever enters our field of vision. Ignoring folks is mildly rude at best and downright foolish at worst. Rather, the point is about awareness.
Being in a new environment makes me aware of my own reactions to "strangers." I would like to be more intentional about the expression on my face when I look upon someone for the first time. Am I making eye contact? Do I see people as strangers or possible friends? Am I at least hinting a smile or making some expression of welcome?
Am I watching out for the stranger in a strange land? Or for that matter, am I actively seeking to find Christ in all peoples?
I'm excited about the chance to live among strangers - and future friends - in South Philly. It's a long way from the bucolic hills of Central Bucks, but it's not far from God's people.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Webs
Late August brings out the spiders. Drive across a bridge between PA and NJ at night, and you'll see more webs between the beams than stars in the sky. This arachnid handiwork is both wondrous and creepy - beautiful from a distance, but you wouldn't want to get stuck there.
Reflecting on these magnificent creations...and cheesy Biblical tie-ins...the following passage comes to mind:
"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." Matthew 5:30
What is the "right hand" for you? What self-created "webs" entangle you? How do we free ourselves from getting stuck?
One part of my life that sometimes bogs me down is conflict. Conflict is not in my comfort zone; instead, my default mode is harmony. I generally want to get along with people and want them to like me. Taken to an extreme, such tendencies can make me a "people pleaser;" the other side of that coin is "nice guy." Whether we say tomato or too-mah-toe, the point is that conflict often catches me off guard, and arguments tend to stay with me for a while.
As a result, I replay arguments in my head long after the fact. Of course, I perform far better on the home turf of my imagination where I make one irrefutable point after another; in other words, I win!
Certainly, the competitive drive is an instinct that promotes achievement, growth, and success. My theological, political, and economic philosophies all rest upon the inherent human desire for freedom and opportunity.
And yet, I've got to remind myself that, as a Christian, my mission in life is not to win arguments. My directive is to follow Christ. Among other things, that means keeping my ego in check.
I believe that my web is a focus on WINNING the conflict rather than WITNESSING for Christ within conflict.
Cutting off the sin of pride - that's not easy, especially for a privileged straight white male like me. It's going to take lots of practice with active, calm, open listening. Would love to hear how other people keep their egos in check.
To repeat earlier questions: What webs catch you? How do you sever the arm that got you there? How do you keep your pride behind Jesus rather than in front of him?
Reflecting on these magnificent creations...and cheesy Biblical tie-ins...the following passage comes to mind:
"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." Matthew 5:30
What is the "right hand" for you? What self-created "webs" entangle you? How do we free ourselves from getting stuck?
One part of my life that sometimes bogs me down is conflict. Conflict is not in my comfort zone; instead, my default mode is harmony. I generally want to get along with people and want them to like me. Taken to an extreme, such tendencies can make me a "people pleaser;" the other side of that coin is "nice guy." Whether we say tomato or too-mah-toe, the point is that conflict often catches me off guard, and arguments tend to stay with me for a while.
As a result, I replay arguments in my head long after the fact. Of course, I perform far better on the home turf of my imagination where I make one irrefutable point after another; in other words, I win!
Certainly, the competitive drive is an instinct that promotes achievement, growth, and success. My theological, political, and economic philosophies all rest upon the inherent human desire for freedom and opportunity.
And yet, I've got to remind myself that, as a Christian, my mission in life is not to win arguments. My directive is to follow Christ. Among other things, that means keeping my ego in check.
I believe that my web is a focus on WINNING the conflict rather than WITNESSING for Christ within conflict.
Cutting off the sin of pride - that's not easy, especially for a privileged straight white male like me. It's going to take lots of practice with active, calm, open listening. Would love to hear how other people keep their egos in check.
To repeat earlier questions: What webs catch you? How do you sever the arm that got you there? How do you keep your pride behind Jesus rather than in front of him?
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Do it now!
After a month-long blog hiatus (Blogaitus?), I'm feeling very "now."
"Now" occurs in time and space, the dimensions of a universe created by God.
We live and die in now.
This "now" will never happen again...unless you have a time machine, which is a whole other post.
I have some work that I've been putting off, and putting off, and putting off some more. But when I am still, I hear a voice in my head, a voice that has been forged by the advice, wisdom, training, and support of many good people over many years. None of us grow in a vacuum - we are molded by our environment. I have been fortunate enough to grow up in a loving family. In my schooling, from nursery to seminary, I've had excellent teachers across the board. They taught me to be responsible, make tough decisions, and trust the outcome. When I listen to this voice, I cannot escape one feeling, cannot deny the one powerful idea that rises to the top.
NOW.
If you're reading this, maybe you have something in your life that you have delayed, something you need to face but would rather not. Something that, when you drift off to sleep, bubbles in your subconscious and sours your dreams. My consolation is to assure you that you are not alone. I'm a procrastinator in recovery, and other people struggle with "P" as well.
My prayer is that God loves us, period. We can live into that love by trusting our capacity to face what we need to face. God will love us before, during, and afterwards. Once it's over, we'll feel a whole lot better.
El futuro es ahora.
The future is now.
Let's do it now!
"Now" occurs in time and space, the dimensions of a universe created by God.
We live and die in now.
This "now" will never happen again...unless you have a time machine, which is a whole other post.
I have some work that I've been putting off, and putting off, and putting off some more. But when I am still, I hear a voice in my head, a voice that has been forged by the advice, wisdom, training, and support of many good people over many years. None of us grow in a vacuum - we are molded by our environment. I have been fortunate enough to grow up in a loving family. In my schooling, from nursery to seminary, I've had excellent teachers across the board. They taught me to be responsible, make tough decisions, and trust the outcome. When I listen to this voice, I cannot escape one feeling, cannot deny the one powerful idea that rises to the top.
NOW.
If you're reading this, maybe you have something in your life that you have delayed, something you need to face but would rather not. Something that, when you drift off to sleep, bubbles in your subconscious and sours your dreams. My consolation is to assure you that you are not alone. I'm a procrastinator in recovery, and other people struggle with "P" as well.
My prayer is that God loves us, period. We can live into that love by trusting our capacity to face what we need to face. God will love us before, during, and afterwards. Once it's over, we'll feel a whole lot better.
El futuro es ahora.
The future is now.
Let's do it now!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Ordination of a Friend
Today, my good friend, the Rev. Stephanie Mitchell, was ordained to the Priesthood in the Diocese of Oklahoma in the Episcopal Church.
I had the honor of attending the ordination ceremony as well as her first presiding Sunday, both held at St. Luke's in Bartlesville, OK. As usual, Stephanie acquitted herself throughout the weekend with grace and good cheer. No doubt in my mind that Stephanie has the integrity, compassion, intelligence, poise, focus, and heartfelt spirituality to make an outstanding minister.
Her friendship is a profound blessing to me. God's speed, Rev. Mitchell!
I had the honor of attending the ordination ceremony as well as her first presiding Sunday, both held at St. Luke's in Bartlesville, OK. As usual, Stephanie acquitted herself throughout the weekend with grace and good cheer. No doubt in my mind that Stephanie has the integrity, compassion, intelligence, poise, focus, and heartfelt spirituality to make an outstanding minister.
Her friendship is a profound blessing to me. God's speed, Rev. Mitchell!
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
I Don't Believe in Rock Stars
Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, and rock stars... I don't believe in any of them.
Please understand that I'm using the term "rock stars" loosely. Granted, I am hardly a fan of popular music. My grandfather was a professional jazz drummer and my father's all-time favorite performer is Sinatra, so I guess it's in my blood to favor jazz & classical. However, I am not just talking about musicians; more broadly, I have an issue with personality cults.
Every human being who has ever lived has been just that - a human being. That means we are vulnerable. We have emotions. We are flesh and blood, and to dust we shall return. We use the potty, except perhaps for a stubborn four-year old nephew of mine. We are fallible and make mistakes. There are limits to what we know and what we can control.
We know this, and yet we as a society continue to demand a perfect front. We're so eager to find that perfection that we buy into those highly-polished images of performers, models, politicians, clergy, and anyone who frequents the media.
We need to remind ourselves that we've already had a messiah, one known by the initials JC.
Check out this excerpt from the insightful How to Love, the 2009 book by Gordon Livingtson, M.D. Here Livingston discusses narcissism:
Self-absorption linked to ambition describes the personality of many politicians. The higher the office, it seems, the more candidates are required to present themselves as paragons of wisdom and virtue. They become repositories of our best hopes that someone will emerge to take care of us, vanquish our enemies, and by their inspired leadership bring us together in a safe and happy world. To promise such a thing requires a self-confidence bordering on the delusional, which explains why the underlying narcissism of many of our political stars whom we reward with our votes and with whom we eventually become disillusioned when they fail to fulfill their exaggerated promises and our unrealistic hopes. (HTL, 11)
Having worked for a member of Congress for ten years (James Greenwood, PA-8), I have been on the periphery of important and powerful people. So I've seen a few behind-the-scene dynamics. I've learned that, contrary to the scandal and cynicism which pervades news coverage, many of our public servants are just that - public servants. Running for office requires lots of unglamorous hard work, as well as the courage to risk public rejection and failure. Some of our public officials truly have the integrity & conviction as advertised.
On the other hand, we are in no danger of a hypocrite shortage.
The point is that ALL of our public figures - entertainers, political leaders, reporters, and high-profile business people - are fallible human beings. They are not immortals whose mere presence should stir us into a frenzy. "Take up your cross and follow me" was an invitation to discipleship from a certain Rabbi. "Buy my CDs and follow me on tour" doesn't bear the same gravitas, nor does "Hit the campaign trail and I'll give you a government job."
Rock singers, U.S. Senators, Bishops; they have their message. The really good ones have really important messages that excite us. I'm all for inspiration. But let's not confuse the divinity of the message by deifying the messenger.
Let's save our passionate devotion for the real savior. For me, that savior is JC.
Julius Caesar? Jimmy Cagney? Jimminy Cricket? No, I'll go with Jesus the Christ.
Please understand that I'm using the term "rock stars" loosely. Granted, I am hardly a fan of popular music. My grandfather was a professional jazz drummer and my father's all-time favorite performer is Sinatra, so I guess it's in my blood to favor jazz & classical. However, I am not just talking about musicians; more broadly, I have an issue with personality cults.
Every human being who has ever lived has been just that - a human being. That means we are vulnerable. We have emotions. We are flesh and blood, and to dust we shall return. We use the potty, except perhaps for a stubborn four-year old nephew of mine. We are fallible and make mistakes. There are limits to what we know and what we can control.
We know this, and yet we as a society continue to demand a perfect front. We're so eager to find that perfection that we buy into those highly-polished images of performers, models, politicians, clergy, and anyone who frequents the media.
We need to remind ourselves that we've already had a messiah, one known by the initials JC.
Check out this excerpt from the insightful How to Love, the 2009 book by Gordon Livingtson, M.D. Here Livingston discusses narcissism:
Self-absorption linked to ambition describes the personality of many politicians. The higher the office, it seems, the more candidates are required to present themselves as paragons of wisdom and virtue. They become repositories of our best hopes that someone will emerge to take care of us, vanquish our enemies, and by their inspired leadership bring us together in a safe and happy world. To promise such a thing requires a self-confidence bordering on the delusional, which explains why the underlying narcissism of many of our political stars whom we reward with our votes and with whom we eventually become disillusioned when they fail to fulfill their exaggerated promises and our unrealistic hopes. (HTL, 11)
Having worked for a member of Congress for ten years (James Greenwood, PA-8), I have been on the periphery of important and powerful people. So I've seen a few behind-the-scene dynamics. I've learned that, contrary to the scandal and cynicism which pervades news coverage, many of our public servants are just that - public servants. Running for office requires lots of unglamorous hard work, as well as the courage to risk public rejection and failure. Some of our public officials truly have the integrity & conviction as advertised.
On the other hand, we are in no danger of a hypocrite shortage.
The point is that ALL of our public figures - entertainers, political leaders, reporters, and high-profile business people - are fallible human beings. They are not immortals whose mere presence should stir us into a frenzy. "Take up your cross and follow me" was an invitation to discipleship from a certain Rabbi. "Buy my CDs and follow me on tour" doesn't bear the same gravitas, nor does "Hit the campaign trail and I'll give you a government job."
Rock singers, U.S. Senators, Bishops; they have their message. The really good ones have really important messages that excite us. I'm all for inspiration. But let's not confuse the divinity of the message by deifying the messenger.
Let's save our passionate devotion for the real savior. For me, that savior is JC.
Julius Caesar? Jimmy Cagney? Jimminy Cricket? No, I'll go with Jesus the Christ.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Adventures in Wineberry Country
Yesterday morning, driving home after breakfast with a friend, I pulled over to the side of the road where I live. Hundreds of wineberry bushes were overflowing with deep-red berries. The dark color means that they are ripe, and they don't last once they get to that stage.
Got out of the car and eagerly picked the ones with the boldest color. Not only do they easily fall off the branch, they practically melt in my hand. The area is low ground, close to the Delaware River, and gets lots of sun, and I wonder if that makes a good formula for a bountiful crop.
After gathering a handful of these slightly-gooey things, I hear an unfamiliar KGKGKGGEEER, GEEEERKRGK sound coming from the ground. I'm pretty sure that it's a bird, but I don't see anything. I stop for a moment, nothing happens, and I continue. Taking a few steps to my right a bit further into the woods, I hear KIIIKGKGKGRK!! a little closer this time.
You can tell that I've watched too much TV this hot summer, because my imagination immediately takes me to the scene in "Jurassic Park" when the guy who played Newman on Seinfeld meets a dino-lizard whose innocent chirping quickly turns into man-eating growls. I started to backpedal, "Uh, no reason to get greedy here," and went back to the car.
No idea what creature produced that noise. Like I said, it was most likely a bird, and I didn't want to risk accidentally stepping on a nest. Plus, I'd rather not answer such questions via leg bite, thank you very much.
Got about 50 this time, and I'm gradually stockpiling enough to make jam.
Got out of the car and eagerly picked the ones with the boldest color. Not only do they easily fall off the branch, they practically melt in my hand. The area is low ground, close to the Delaware River, and gets lots of sun, and I wonder if that makes a good formula for a bountiful crop.
After gathering a handful of these slightly-gooey things, I hear an unfamiliar KGKGKGGEEER, GEEEERKRGK sound coming from the ground. I'm pretty sure that it's a bird, but I don't see anything. I stop for a moment, nothing happens, and I continue. Taking a few steps to my right a bit further into the woods, I hear KIIIKGKGKGRK!! a little closer this time.
You can tell that I've watched too much TV this hot summer, because my imagination immediately takes me to the scene in "Jurassic Park" when the guy who played Newman on Seinfeld meets a dino-lizard whose innocent chirping quickly turns into man-eating growls. I started to backpedal, "Uh, no reason to get greedy here," and went back to the car.
No idea what creature produced that noise. Like I said, it was most likely a bird, and I didn't want to risk accidentally stepping on a nest. Plus, I'd rather not answer such questions via leg bite, thank you very much.
Got about 50 this time, and I'm gradually stockpiling enough to make jam.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
It's Hot
The past few weeks have been, to quote an overplayed wedding song, Hot Hot Hot. However, my policy about weather complaints is the Eighth Amendment Standard: I try to reserve griping for "cruel and unusual" weather patterns.
For instance, ice storms that create dangerous driving conditions are cruel. Excessive rainfall that results in destructive floods - ditto. The same goes for draughts which kill plant life and set the stage for brush fires. Those are "cruel" weather patterns which deserve complaints.
"Unusual" means stuff out of place or season. Ninety-degree temps belong in mid-July Pennsylvania, so the present conditions don't satisfy my groan criteria. Reaching the 90s in April, however - which has mysteriously occurred the past two springs - is not supposed to happen. April means the return of baseball, flower buds, and moderate weather, not heat waves.
So yes, it's very very hot out there. Abiding by the 8th Amendment policy, though, I have no complaints. I'm just thankful that I have a roof overhead and a cool place in which to blog.
For instance, ice storms that create dangerous driving conditions are cruel. Excessive rainfall that results in destructive floods - ditto. The same goes for draughts which kill plant life and set the stage for brush fires. Those are "cruel" weather patterns which deserve complaints.
"Unusual" means stuff out of place or season. Ninety-degree temps belong in mid-July Pennsylvania, so the present conditions don't satisfy my groan criteria. Reaching the 90s in April, however - which has mysteriously occurred the past two springs - is not supposed to happen. April means the return of baseball, flower buds, and moderate weather, not heat waves.
So yes, it's very very hot out there. Abiding by the 8th Amendment policy, though, I have no complaints. I'm just thankful that I have a roof overhead and a cool place in which to blog.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Relationship with God
Relationships - romantic, familial, political - have always been a favorite topic of mine. Many of my personal rel-ships need work, and I hope to attend to them in the months ahead. That said, there's one 'ship that especially beckons: my relationship with God.
For most of my life, I have been suspicious of phrases like "relationship with God." What does that mean, exactly? How can I relate to an invisible and eternal being? What I am supposed to do? How does one tell the difference between a "real" divine encounters and the projection of deified fantasies into an imaginary relationship?
Well, thank goodness we have blogs to answer such questions once and for all!! Kidding aside, these profound questions warrant (and have inspired) volumes and volumes of writings. Today I'm only going to do the two-minute drill and will save the dissertation for another time. Here is my three-step process for boosting one's relationship with The Godster.
The Image of God: When someone reads or hears the word "GOD," it triggers an image in that person's mind. What is that image for you? For most of my life, I thought of a white man, white robe, white beard, sitting on a throne in a cloud. This is God as Zeus which goes all the way back to the Hellenistic influences on early Christianity. Somewhat ironically, the image was further solidified in the 1950s when Charlton Heston played Moses in the film remake of "The Ten Commandments." Although this heroic father imagery has its place in the Christian canon, it can lead to problems if left unexamined.
First, Zeus and Moses have a law-or-bust preoccupation. That can lead to (what I believe is) a misleading interpretation of God as harsh judge whose biggest concern is that his subjects obey his rules. Second, the image is far too limiting; it's hard for me to accept that the creator of the WHOLE ENTIRE UNIVERSE looks like a retired English Professor in a bathrobe. Third, the image sets off the patriarchy alarms like crazy. In light of male power dominance throughout Western history, it's too convenient to simply think of God as a male, not to mention a straight, able-bodied white guy.
To counteract such unconscious programming, I'm trying to play with different divine imagery, things as big as the nighttime sky to as small as microscopic cells. After all, the God that I worship inhabits such places large and small.
If this topic interests you, check out the 1997 book The God We Never Knew: Beyond Dogmatic Religion to a More Contemporary Faith by Marcus Borg. It's a thoughtful and challenging exploration of how our images of God unconsciously play a big role in our formation.
Talking to God - There are many ways to communicate with God, but the most critical and (for me) underutilized form is prayer. One type is intercessory prayer, ie praying on behalf of others. For instance: Oh God, please help my dad while he rehabs from his recent knee replacement surgery. Then there's meditation prayer, they type where I stop listening to the white noise streaming through my brain and just be still. Stillness and quiet are openings for the Holy Spirit.
Meditation is not the same as black magic; it's not invoking power to do your will. Instead, it means coming into harmony with God's creation around us, deepening our attentiveness and awareness to the soft, still voice of God. Mysteriously, unpredictably, and graciously, prayer "works."
Do Something - Think about God, talk to God, and then act on that. Do something consistent with what you believe God is and what you have heard God say to you. Let your image of God inspire you in your human relationships.
I'm not sure what that "doing" will entail for me, at least not in the short term, but I'll continue to do steps 1 and 2 in the meantime. Certainly, time with Scripture provides many examples of Godly relationships, from the ancient Israelites to the early followers of Jesus. To answer a question I posed earlier, Scripture is one resource that can help us discern the difference between our will and the will of God.
What images for God do you find helpful? What is your favorite way to communication with God? How do those two answers inform the choices you make in daily life?
For most of my life, I have been suspicious of phrases like "relationship with God." What does that mean, exactly? How can I relate to an invisible and eternal being? What I am supposed to do? How does one tell the difference between a "real" divine encounters and the projection of deified fantasies into an imaginary relationship?
Well, thank goodness we have blogs to answer such questions once and for all!! Kidding aside, these profound questions warrant (and have inspired) volumes and volumes of writings. Today I'm only going to do the two-minute drill and will save the dissertation for another time. Here is my three-step process for boosting one's relationship with The Godster.
The Image of God: When someone reads or hears the word "GOD," it triggers an image in that person's mind. What is that image for you? For most of my life, I thought of a white man, white robe, white beard, sitting on a throne in a cloud. This is God as Zeus which goes all the way back to the Hellenistic influences on early Christianity. Somewhat ironically, the image was further solidified in the 1950s when Charlton Heston played Moses in the film remake of "The Ten Commandments." Although this heroic father imagery has its place in the Christian canon, it can lead to problems if left unexamined.
First, Zeus and Moses have a law-or-bust preoccupation. That can lead to (what I believe is) a misleading interpretation of God as harsh judge whose biggest concern is that his subjects obey his rules. Second, the image is far too limiting; it's hard for me to accept that the creator of the WHOLE ENTIRE UNIVERSE looks like a retired English Professor in a bathrobe. Third, the image sets off the patriarchy alarms like crazy. In light of male power dominance throughout Western history, it's too convenient to simply think of God as a male, not to mention a straight, able-bodied white guy.
To counteract such unconscious programming, I'm trying to play with different divine imagery, things as big as the nighttime sky to as small as microscopic cells. After all, the God that I worship inhabits such places large and small.
If this topic interests you, check out the 1997 book The God We Never Knew: Beyond Dogmatic Religion to a More Contemporary Faith by Marcus Borg. It's a thoughtful and challenging exploration of how our images of God unconsciously play a big role in our formation.
Talking to God - There are many ways to communicate with God, but the most critical and (for me) underutilized form is prayer. One type is intercessory prayer, ie praying on behalf of others. For instance: Oh God, please help my dad while he rehabs from his recent knee replacement surgery. Then there's meditation prayer, they type where I stop listening to the white noise streaming through my brain and just be still. Stillness and quiet are openings for the Holy Spirit.
Meditation is not the same as black magic; it's not invoking power to do your will. Instead, it means coming into harmony with God's creation around us, deepening our attentiveness and awareness to the soft, still voice of God. Mysteriously, unpredictably, and graciously, prayer "works."
Do Something - Think about God, talk to God, and then act on that. Do something consistent with what you believe God is and what you have heard God say to you. Let your image of God inspire you in your human relationships.
I'm not sure what that "doing" will entail for me, at least not in the short term, but I'll continue to do steps 1 and 2 in the meantime. Certainly, time with Scripture provides many examples of Godly relationships, from the ancient Israelites to the early followers of Jesus. To answer a question I posed earlier, Scripture is one resource that can help us discern the difference between our will and the will of God.
What images for God do you find helpful? What is your favorite way to communication with God? How do those two answers inform the choices you make in daily life?
Monday, July 5, 2010
(Independence) Day in the Life
This year I celebrated Independence Day with three red-white-and-blue activities: morning church, evening family picnic, and afternoon rubus phoenicolasius.
Began the day attending Holy Eucharist at my home parish, St. James Langhorne. Great to see friends I hadn't seen in six months. Rev. Barbara Kelley gave an informative homily/history lesson - without notes, no less! - reminding us that the balance of church and state has been a long-standing issue in the Church of England, not to mention its ensuing mutations (ie the Episcopal Church).
At night, I gathered with my family for a 4th picnic. My bro-in-law used the grill, but nobody wanted to stay outside very long because it was 999 degrees out there. So we enjoyed burgers & mom's premier potato salad in the comforts of my sister's air-conditioned dining room. Nice to have low-key family time.
In between these social outings, I picked Wineberries, aka rubus phoenicolasius. Evidently, these plants are indigenous to Asia. Explorers brought them to Western Europe and then to North America for decoration. They escaped, multiplied, and have found a home for themselves in Southeastern Pennsylvania, including my 'rents property north of New Hope. Although somewhat tart, Wineberries are delicious when ripe and easy to pick.
There's a catch to berry-ing, however. Central Bucks has been a hot zone for Lyme Disease, an ailment that can be transmitted via tick bite. Yuck. Spend any time in the deep woods around here, and it's amazing how quickly the ticks find you. (Insert favorite joke about ex-partners, telemarketers, lawyers, etc.) It's laughable that picking little berries in the woods is a dangerous enterprise, but such is life East of Edensville.
My mom, sister and I used to pick berries when sis & I were youngsters. Lots of fun memories doing that, in part because the Wineberries ripen in early July, aka the beginning of summer vacation. This year, for some reason, I'm feeling my age and wanted to refresh a childhood joy. So I got it into my head that I wasn't letting any teeny-tiny punk interfere with my walk down memory-berried lane.
As a precaution, I dressed like a character from Michael Crichton's The Andromeda Strain: long white pants, white socks rolled over the pant legs, white tee shirt, and white baseball cap. With this all-white getup, I could either hunt for berries or do a morning power walk at a shopping mall.
The sun was out, scorching everything in its view. I didn't linger outside too long, maybe twenty minutes. Those minutes yielded about two cups worth - not bad for a first day of picking. Since they are just starting to ripen, I left quite a few small ones on the bushes.
As soon as I walked back into my parents' house, I barely had time to show off my harvest when Hawkeye Mom spotted... guess what? Yep, a creepy crawly on my shirt. She removed him/her promptly, and she/he was last seen "white water rafting" towards the septic tank. Life in the country has its hazards.
It's a blessing to have the time and freedom to enjoy the simple pleasures of life: good liturgy among friends, good food among family, and time amidst God's creation. Can't help but wonder, though: why didn't Noah throw those two ticks overboard?
Began the day attending Holy Eucharist at my home parish, St. James Langhorne. Great to see friends I hadn't seen in six months. Rev. Barbara Kelley gave an informative homily/history lesson - without notes, no less! - reminding us that the balance of church and state has been a long-standing issue in the Church of England, not to mention its ensuing mutations (ie the Episcopal Church).
At night, I gathered with my family for a 4th picnic. My bro-in-law used the grill, but nobody wanted to stay outside very long because it was 999 degrees out there. So we enjoyed burgers & mom's premier potato salad in the comforts of my sister's air-conditioned dining room. Nice to have low-key family time.
In between these social outings, I picked Wineberries, aka rubus phoenicolasius. Evidently, these plants are indigenous to Asia. Explorers brought them to Western Europe and then to North America for decoration. They escaped, multiplied, and have found a home for themselves in Southeastern Pennsylvania, including my 'rents property north of New Hope. Although somewhat tart, Wineberries are delicious when ripe and easy to pick.
There's a catch to berry-ing, however. Central Bucks has been a hot zone for Lyme Disease, an ailment that can be transmitted via tick bite. Yuck. Spend any time in the deep woods around here, and it's amazing how quickly the ticks find you. (Insert favorite joke about ex-partners, telemarketers, lawyers, etc.) It's laughable that picking little berries in the woods is a dangerous enterprise, but such is life East of Edensville.
My mom, sister and I used to pick berries when sis & I were youngsters. Lots of fun memories doing that, in part because the Wineberries ripen in early July, aka the beginning of summer vacation. This year, for some reason, I'm feeling my age and wanted to refresh a childhood joy. So I got it into my head that I wasn't letting any teeny-tiny punk interfere with my walk down memory-berried lane.
As a precaution, I dressed like a character from Michael Crichton's The Andromeda Strain: long white pants, white socks rolled over the pant legs, white tee shirt, and white baseball cap. With this all-white getup, I could either hunt for berries or do a morning power walk at a shopping mall.
The sun was out, scorching everything in its view. I didn't linger outside too long, maybe twenty minutes. Those minutes yielded about two cups worth - not bad for a first day of picking. Since they are just starting to ripen, I left quite a few small ones on the bushes.
As soon as I walked back into my parents' house, I barely had time to show off my harvest when Hawkeye Mom spotted... guess what? Yep, a creepy crawly on my shirt. She removed him/her promptly, and she/he was last seen "white water rafting" towards the septic tank. Life in the country has its hazards.
It's a blessing to have the time and freedom to enjoy the simple pleasures of life: good liturgy among friends, good food among family, and time amidst God's creation. Can't help but wonder, though: why didn't Noah throw those two ticks overboard?
Monday, June 28, 2010
Kalickiwat!
We live in a technological era which erodes privacy; welcome to 2010. I aid and abet this tendency whenever I gawk at Youtube candid footage or read blogs that could be more discreet.
Lately, I've been fighting the urge to vent my spleen about private business between me and someone else, someone who matters.
Venting, aka letting off steam, is a healthful practice. It helps release tension, lessening the chance that anxiety will be internalized. I've got some steam that I'd like to vent, but in the interest of discretion - changing the names to protect the innocent - I'm going to blow smoke instead of steam. IOW, I'm not going to tell the story explicitly in blogdom.
Instead, I'll tell it in code. NUBBU....nubbu po lij tvedc'k wwwwuqu. Scxeedde wheet VOU lonner tash bonna wox rioghan, rioghan. Dasai immo hoffa po qui meekloem, zep utre dueckso. Zoc zoc liitosh t'kao, reiquovon kliedsah oc trvest! Kalickiwat, tosha me wadate, kalickiwat!!
Before the Mensa Minds dig out their decoder rings, they should know that my rant is not really "code" but is more appropriately classified as "gibberish." There's no secret message, no revelation about Al Gore's libido, no juicy gossip to be found. It's just a lot of smoke and steam.
So there you have it: a privacy-protecting rant. I'm feeling better already. Kalickiwat.
Lately, I've been fighting the urge to vent my spleen about private business between me and someone else, someone who matters.
Venting, aka letting off steam, is a healthful practice. It helps release tension, lessening the chance that anxiety will be internalized. I've got some steam that I'd like to vent, but in the interest of discretion - changing the names to protect the innocent - I'm going to blow smoke instead of steam. IOW, I'm not going to tell the story explicitly in blogdom.
Instead, I'll tell it in code. NUBBU....nubbu po lij tvedc'k wwwwuqu. Scxeedde wheet VOU lonner tash bonna wox rioghan, rioghan. Dasai immo hoffa po qui meekloem, zep utre dueckso. Zoc zoc liitosh t'kao, reiquovon kliedsah oc trvest! Kalickiwat, tosha me wadate, kalickiwat!!
Before the Mensa Minds dig out their decoder rings, they should know that my rant is not really "code" but is more appropriately classified as "gibberish." There's no secret message, no revelation about Al Gore's libido, no juicy gossip to be found. It's just a lot of smoke and steam.
So there you have it: a privacy-protecting rant. I'm feeling better already. Kalickiwat.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Fantasy Baseball
As I type and as you read, we are co-creating electronic footprints. Somewhere it is being recorded that you, the reader, have pulled up my blog site; it is also noted that I am creating this log.
Some entity - NASA, Microsoft, extra-terrestrial life - may choose to review my e-footprints. They can examine phone records, noting who I talked to and for how long. (Two-plus years of long-distance relationships will give them plenty of material.) They will see my purchasing history. They can note what web sites I frequented and how often I checked e-mail.
They will also discover that I'm a pretty darn good Fantasy Baseball general manager.
In 2002, a group of fellow Notre Dame alums assembled a ten-player league through the Yahoo web site. My friend Lance, a baseball fanatic, invited me to join. He made me an offer that I couldn't refuse. I had no idea what I was doing, but I stumbled along and learned on the job. The records from year one have not survived, but I'm pretty sure that my team struggled.
Check out the run that followed:
2002 - ? place, did not make playoffs
2003 - 1st-place finish in the regular season, 3rd in postseason (bye, loss, win)
2004 - 2nd in reg season, 1st in postseason (bye, win, win)
2005 - 7th place, did not make the playoffs
2006 - 2nd reg season, 1st post (bye, win, win)
2007 - 4th reg season, 2nd post (win, win, lost Championship in tiebreaker)
2008 - 2nd reg season, 1st post (bye, win, win)
2009 - 1st reg season, 3rd post (bye, loss, win)
2010 - 2nd in the standings, only one game behind the first-place team (as of week 12 in the 22-week season)
Team names: "Time On My Hands" (2002-05), "Bristol Babylonians" (2006-07), and "Cambridge Prophets" (2008-present).
In eight years, I have won 3 championships, 1 second-place finish, and 2 third-place finishes. I have finished in the top 3 in six of the last seven seasons.
My postseason record is 10-3.
Let's hope that my skill/good luck in fantasy b-ball carries over into some real-life skill. For instance, it would be nice to be good at pastoral ministry, homiletics, automobile maintenance, home repair, being a loyal friend, finding a mate, getting things done on time, financial management, fighting for social justice... it's a long list.
Play ball!
Some entity - NASA, Microsoft, extra-terrestrial life - may choose to review my e-footprints. They can examine phone records, noting who I talked to and for how long. (Two-plus years of long-distance relationships will give them plenty of material.) They will see my purchasing history. They can note what web sites I frequented and how often I checked e-mail.
They will also discover that I'm a pretty darn good Fantasy Baseball general manager.
In 2002, a group of fellow Notre Dame alums assembled a ten-player league through the Yahoo web site. My friend Lance, a baseball fanatic, invited me to join. He made me an offer that I couldn't refuse. I had no idea what I was doing, but I stumbled along and learned on the job. The records from year one have not survived, but I'm pretty sure that my team struggled.
Check out the run that followed:
2002 - ? place, did not make playoffs
2003 - 1st-place finish in the regular season, 3rd in postseason (bye, loss, win)
2004 - 2nd in reg season, 1st in postseason (bye, win, win)
2005 - 7th place, did not make the playoffs
2006 - 2nd reg season, 1st post (bye, win, win)
2007 - 4th reg season, 2nd post (win, win, lost Championship in tiebreaker)
2008 - 2nd reg season, 1st post (bye, win, win)
2009 - 1st reg season, 3rd post (bye, loss, win)
2010 - 2nd in the standings, only one game behind the first-place team (as of week 12 in the 22-week season)
Team names: "Time On My Hands" (2002-05), "Bristol Babylonians" (2006-07), and "Cambridge Prophets" (2008-present).
In eight years, I have won 3 championships, 1 second-place finish, and 2 third-place finishes. I have finished in the top 3 in six of the last seven seasons.
My postseason record is 10-3.
Let's hope that my skill/good luck in fantasy b-ball carries over into some real-life skill. For instance, it would be nice to be good at pastoral ministry, homiletics, automobile maintenance, home repair, being a loyal friend, finding a mate, getting things done on time, financial management, fighting for social justice... it's a long list.
Play ball!
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Prophets Authentic and Otherwise
In the Episcopal Church, today celebrates the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist.
Cue non-Episcopal audience reaction: z-z-z-z-z-z....
Well, John the Baptist has significance, even today. His greatest claim to fame, as told in the four Christian canonical gospels, is that he baptized Jesus of Nazareth. His infancy narrative is told only in Luke, and it serves as a companion story to the Nativity of Jesus.
In all four gospels, John goes out of his way to proclaim that Jesus is the true prophet. Many biblical scholars think that John was, like Jesus, a charismatic preacher who attracted a following. In the years following the execution of John and Jesus, the surviving movements might have competed against each other, both thinking that their leader was The True Prophet.
It is possible that John did, in fact, defer to Jesus. There is also the possibility that his character is just written that way; the gospel writers wanted to sublimate John to the Man from Nazareth. Hence, we get John's not-worthy-to-untie-his-sandals comments. In other words, the gospel authors wanted to distinguish between A prophet and THE prophet.
How do we recognize authentic prophets? For that matter, how do we reconcile matters when authentic prophets rival each other?
Leaving this question open, I'll close by recommending a short story. Check out T.C. Boyle's "The Silence," a fictional send-up of New Age pretensions. Boyle shows what happens when Present Moment People on a desert retreat encounter morally-neutral representatives of the animal kingdom. I found the story in the Atlantic magazine 2010 Fiction issue. For your convenience, the on-line link is listed.
Choose your prophets carefully!
http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2010/08/the-silence/8040/
Cue non-Episcopal audience reaction: z-z-z-z-z-z....
Well, John the Baptist has significance, even today. His greatest claim to fame, as told in the four Christian canonical gospels, is that he baptized Jesus of Nazareth. His infancy narrative is told only in Luke, and it serves as a companion story to the Nativity of Jesus.
In all four gospels, John goes out of his way to proclaim that Jesus is the true prophet. Many biblical scholars think that John was, like Jesus, a charismatic preacher who attracted a following. In the years following the execution of John and Jesus, the surviving movements might have competed against each other, both thinking that their leader was The True Prophet.
It is possible that John did, in fact, defer to Jesus. There is also the possibility that his character is just written that way; the gospel writers wanted to sublimate John to the Man from Nazareth. Hence, we get John's not-worthy-to-untie-his-sandals comments. In other words, the gospel authors wanted to distinguish between A prophet and THE prophet.
How do we recognize authentic prophets? For that matter, how do we reconcile matters when authentic prophets rival each other?
Leaving this question open, I'll close by recommending a short story. Check out T.C. Boyle's "The Silence," a fictional send-up of New Age pretensions. Boyle shows what happens when Present Moment People on a desert retreat encounter morally-neutral representatives of the animal kingdom. I found the story in the Atlantic magazine 2010 Fiction issue. For your convenience, the on-line link is listed.
Choose your prophets carefully!
http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2010/08/the-silence/8040/
Saturday, June 19, 2010
EDS Highlights
This is my last night as a resident/student in Cambridge, MA. Yesterday was my last time as an MDiv classroom student (even though I graduated in May...I'll spare you the administrative details). Endings are a good time for reflection, and I've been thinking about the highlights of my two-year, ten-month tenure at the Episcopal Divinity School.
Matriculation, 2007 - This was the official welcome ceremony for new students. It is based on a medieval tradition which has been explained to me five times now but still eludes my comprehension. Nonetheless, the service is basically a reverse graduation ceremony, enfolding us into the scholastic and seminary community. Best of all was the surprise at ceremony's end which I won't give away here. I'll simply describe it as act of humility and radical welcome that I've grown to expect from EDS and the Episcopal Church.
Matriculation, January 2010 - Served as a torchbearer on the Day of Epiphany. Beginning with the lighting of my candle, this day ignited (pardon the pun) a light in my life that shined all the way to Pentecost.
Homiletics - I have three favorite sermon moments:
(1) Rt. Rev. Steven Charleston, President & Dean of EDS during my first year, gave two of the best sermons I have experienced anywhere. In the first few weeks, he challenged us to remember that we are not called to be popular but to stand against oppression and to follow Christ. Bishop Charleston told us, in that moment, to let go of the anxieties, the wounds, the troubles that prevent us from doing so...right...now. Blogging won't give justice to that moment, but trust me when I say that he had our attention. Many of his responded to the immediacy of his challenge.
(2)November 5, 2009 - My first and only EDS sermon. What an honor to preach in the chapel space occupied by so many saints past and present. It was a gift to contribute after listening to so many other sermons. My criticism of flip-flops, however, got me in trouble with one or two flop-wearing 'mates. Gotta expect resistance when rebuking sacred cows!
(3) Liberation Preaching - My most formative EDS class of all time, Fredrica Thompsett's course uncovered three of my gifts: a passion for preaching, the ability to focus a message into a five-minute sermon, and the fortitude to preach without notes. This outstanding class has transformed my ministry, no kidding. (P.S. Honorable mention for best course goes to the Gospel of John taught by Prof. Larry Wills in the Fall of 2008. Mind-blowing philosophical stuff.)
Blue Christmas service, December '07 - EDS chapel hosted an evening worship dedicated to anger, sadness, and other emotions which fly under the holiday season radar. Feeling not-so-merry after a messy breakup, I needed a place to shed tears, light candles, and voice my rage. Grieving among friends in the chapel made my struggle a sacred healing experience.
Group Spiritual Direction - My spiritual posse for three years, this group kept me sane and tought me how to listen and love. Lead by the Rev. Katherine Stiles, "my spiritual bishop," our unnamed group had some rotating members during the first 1.5 years, but in January '09 the group settled into the composition it held through graduation. We shared countless moments of grace and mutuality, but the one that comes to mind is the Poinsettia story (to be told another time).
Speeches:
(1a)Harvey H. Guthrie speech - Dr. Guthrie, EDS Dean Emeritus, gave the keynote address at the St. John's Dinner on October 24, 2008. He offered a fascinating perspective about our fast-changing world and how EDS is right on its vanguard. "What is going on, I believe, is a theological sea change...in the long run, the Reformation and the Enlightenment will pale in significance...."
http://www.eds.edu/CURRENT/PDF/Sermons/GuthrieSJS08.pdf
(1b)Richard Rohr, O.F.M. - Had the pleasure of meeting spiritual guru Rohr when he delivered the Kellogg Lectures on campus in May of 2009. Great teacher, kind man, and author of the most profound lecture I've ever heard on campus.
Installation of Rev. Katherine Ragsdale - Had the honor of carrying an EDS banner in the march to the installation of our new president. Viva la presidente!
Episcopal Seminarian Leadership Conference - Classmate Amanda Akes and I conspired to bring our fellow seminarians to Cambridge for this annual conference. We busted our rear ends to make it happen. The community embraced the idea; we had help across the spectrum of Board President Brett Donham to part-time commuter students. Thanks to such broad and enthusiastic participation, our guests gave EDS rave reviews. Seldom have I been so proud of my seminary family.
Both/And Talent Shows 2009 & 2010 - Every community should have a talent show once at least every two years. Such performances reveal our hidden selves, create bonds within the community, and are fun in unpredictable ways.
In 2009, Hilary Greer stole the show as St. Hildegaard, answering the phones at the gates of Heaven while St. Peter took a sick day. In real life, she was a day-of replacement for the actor who was supposed to play Peter!
As for 2010, here's my favorite moment: Randy Callender, host and graduating senior, delivers opening monologue about how he eagerly awaits his freedom from grad school obligations. EDS Development Director William Vaughan walks on stage to recruit Randy as a "Friend of the Program" donor.
William: "What shall I put you down for?"
Randy (in a Scrooge-like role): "Nothing!"
William: "So you wish to remain anonymous?"
These memories keep my soul healthy. Months & years later, I can't help but chuckle out loud. :-)
Graduation 2010 - By no means was this assured. I had to work hard to graduate, especially during the spring semester and particularly the last five weeks when I turned into a desk-bound hermit. Pride, pride, pride not just for myself but for my deserving comrades. It sure felt good to wear that black robe shoulder-to-shoulder with my sisters and brothers!
This is just a sampling of the blessings I experienced on my seminary's campus. Would love to stay and create more memories...
...but when it's time, it's time. Sniff.
Goodbye, EDS, for now!
No, William, I don't wish to be anonymous.
Matriculation, 2007 - This was the official welcome ceremony for new students. It is based on a medieval tradition which has been explained to me five times now but still eludes my comprehension. Nonetheless, the service is basically a reverse graduation ceremony, enfolding us into the scholastic and seminary community. Best of all was the surprise at ceremony's end which I won't give away here. I'll simply describe it as act of humility and radical welcome that I've grown to expect from EDS and the Episcopal Church.
Matriculation, January 2010 - Served as a torchbearer on the Day of Epiphany. Beginning with the lighting of my candle, this day ignited (pardon the pun) a light in my life that shined all the way to Pentecost.
Homiletics - I have three favorite sermon moments:
(1) Rt. Rev. Steven Charleston, President & Dean of EDS during my first year, gave two of the best sermons I have experienced anywhere. In the first few weeks, he challenged us to remember that we are not called to be popular but to stand against oppression and to follow Christ. Bishop Charleston told us, in that moment, to let go of the anxieties, the wounds, the troubles that prevent us from doing so...right...now. Blogging won't give justice to that moment, but trust me when I say that he had our attention. Many of his responded to the immediacy of his challenge.
(2)November 5, 2009 - My first and only EDS sermon. What an honor to preach in the chapel space occupied by so many saints past and present. It was a gift to contribute after listening to so many other sermons. My criticism of flip-flops, however, got me in trouble with one or two flop-wearing 'mates. Gotta expect resistance when rebuking sacred cows!
(3) Liberation Preaching - My most formative EDS class of all time, Fredrica Thompsett's course uncovered three of my gifts: a passion for preaching, the ability to focus a message into a five-minute sermon, and the fortitude to preach without notes. This outstanding class has transformed my ministry, no kidding. (P.S. Honorable mention for best course goes to the Gospel of John taught by Prof. Larry Wills in the Fall of 2008. Mind-blowing philosophical stuff.)
Blue Christmas service, December '07 - EDS chapel hosted an evening worship dedicated to anger, sadness, and other emotions which fly under the holiday season radar. Feeling not-so-merry after a messy breakup, I needed a place to shed tears, light candles, and voice my rage. Grieving among friends in the chapel made my struggle a sacred healing experience.
Group Spiritual Direction - My spiritual posse for three years, this group kept me sane and tought me how to listen and love. Lead by the Rev. Katherine Stiles, "my spiritual bishop," our unnamed group had some rotating members during the first 1.5 years, but in January '09 the group settled into the composition it held through graduation. We shared countless moments of grace and mutuality, but the one that comes to mind is the Poinsettia story (to be told another time).
Speeches:
(1a)Harvey H. Guthrie speech - Dr. Guthrie, EDS Dean Emeritus, gave the keynote address at the St. John's Dinner on October 24, 2008. He offered a fascinating perspective about our fast-changing world and how EDS is right on its vanguard. "What is going on, I believe, is a theological sea change...in the long run, the Reformation and the Enlightenment will pale in significance...."
http://www.eds.edu/CURRENT/PDF/Sermons/GuthrieSJS08.pdf
(1b)Richard Rohr, O.F.M. - Had the pleasure of meeting spiritual guru Rohr when he delivered the Kellogg Lectures on campus in May of 2009. Great teacher, kind man, and author of the most profound lecture I've ever heard on campus.
Installation of Rev. Katherine Ragsdale - Had the honor of carrying an EDS banner in the march to the installation of our new president. Viva la presidente!
Episcopal Seminarian Leadership Conference - Classmate Amanda Akes and I conspired to bring our fellow seminarians to Cambridge for this annual conference. We busted our rear ends to make it happen. The community embraced the idea; we had help across the spectrum of Board President Brett Donham to part-time commuter students. Thanks to such broad and enthusiastic participation, our guests gave EDS rave reviews. Seldom have I been so proud of my seminary family.
Both/And Talent Shows 2009 & 2010 - Every community should have a talent show once at least every two years. Such performances reveal our hidden selves, create bonds within the community, and are fun in unpredictable ways.
In 2009, Hilary Greer stole the show as St. Hildegaard, answering the phones at the gates of Heaven while St. Peter took a sick day. In real life, she was a day-of replacement for the actor who was supposed to play Peter!
As for 2010, here's my favorite moment: Randy Callender, host and graduating senior, delivers opening monologue about how he eagerly awaits his freedom from grad school obligations. EDS Development Director William Vaughan walks on stage to recruit Randy as a "Friend of the Program" donor.
William: "What shall I put you down for?"
Randy (in a Scrooge-like role): "Nothing!"
William: "So you wish to remain anonymous?"
These memories keep my soul healthy. Months & years later, I can't help but chuckle out loud. :-)
Graduation 2010 - By no means was this assured. I had to work hard to graduate, especially during the spring semester and particularly the last five weeks when I turned into a desk-bound hermit. Pride, pride, pride not just for myself but for my deserving comrades. It sure felt good to wear that black robe shoulder-to-shoulder with my sisters and brothers!
This is just a sampling of the blessings I experienced on my seminary's campus. Would love to stay and create more memories...
...but when it's time, it's time. Sniff.
Goodbye, EDS, for now!
No, William, I don't wish to be anonymous.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Hello, Goodbyes
Monday began my last week on campus at the Episcopal Divinity School and final week of classes for my Master of Divinity degree. I'm trying my best to soak in every moment, take lots of pictures, and appreciate the amazing people who surround me.
Of course, the encore victory lap includes another round of goodbyes after a bye-full month of May. In the last 48 hours, three close friends have said their farewells of sorts, and more await.
This is sacred and bittersweet space.
Of course, the encore victory lap includes another round of goodbyes after a bye-full month of May. In the last 48 hours, three close friends have said their farewells of sorts, and more await.
This is sacred and bittersweet space.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Jude, Part Deux
Reflecting on Judas warrants a few important caveats.
First and foremost, render judgment with great humility. We almost never have all the facts. (That's why, by the way, I'm dying to read a substantial novel later this summer, because fiction is the one arena where we do have complete information.)
Betrayals trigger strong feelings and quick judgments. In my case, I thought that I understood Jude's motivation. Then I asked questions and watched the truth unfold like May flowers. Petal by petal, reality came into focus. Once I had a fuller picture, Jude's action didn't seem quite so hurtful. Sometimes he isn't as bad as his reputation insists.
Second, having an Iscariot in one's life does not make one Jesus. I am not Christ! (At least not more than anyone else.) I am no martyr, just a lifetime subscriber to "Human Race" magazine.
Third, it's important to check, double-check, and triple-check one's information. The great 20th-century philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein remarked how humanity has an infinite capacity for self-deception. People have rationalized their actions ever since God confronted Adam & Eve about the missing apple. Thus, in my quest for understanding, it's helpful to have a support network of advisers to keep me honest. It's too tempting to bend the data into the picture I want to see.
If nothing else, meditating on Iscariot makes me appreciate the value of friendship. Good friends are absolutely essential. We need their help navigating through the wilderness east of Eden.
First and foremost, render judgment with great humility. We almost never have all the facts. (That's why, by the way, I'm dying to read a substantial novel later this summer, because fiction is the one arena where we do have complete information.)
Betrayals trigger strong feelings and quick judgments. In my case, I thought that I understood Jude's motivation. Then I asked questions and watched the truth unfold like May flowers. Petal by petal, reality came into focus. Once I had a fuller picture, Jude's action didn't seem quite so hurtful. Sometimes he isn't as bad as his reputation insists.
Second, having an Iscariot in one's life does not make one Jesus. I am not Christ! (At least not more than anyone else.) I am no martyr, just a lifetime subscriber to "Human Race" magazine.
Third, it's important to check, double-check, and triple-check one's information. The great 20th-century philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein remarked how humanity has an infinite capacity for self-deception. People have rationalized their actions ever since God confronted Adam & Eve about the missing apple. Thus, in my quest for understanding, it's helpful to have a support network of advisers to keep me honest. It's too tempting to bend the data into the picture I want to see.
If nothing else, meditating on Iscariot makes me appreciate the value of friendship. Good friends are absolutely essential. We need their help navigating through the wilderness east of Eden.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Judas, My Friend
Judas Iscariot lives on. I know him and love him. So what do we do now?
As every Christian knows, Judas was the disciple who betrayed Jesus of Nazareth to his enemies. The Gospel of Matthew reports that Judas sold him out for 30 silver pieces (Matt 26:15, 27:3). The other canonical gospels report only that Judas received "some money" (Mark 14:11, Luke 22:5); John does not even mention a motivation. Nevertheless, in all four scenarios, Judas is portrayed as making the gravest of mistakes. None of them give much insight into why he turned on Jesus or what, exactly, he later regretted.
I find myself wondering about a parallel-universe scenario. Suppose, for the moment, that Jesus did NOT die on the cross after the trail adjudicated by Pontius Pilate. Imagine that Pilate stuck to his guns, the unruly crowd grew bored, and everyone went their separate ways. As a result, Judas also survives, because there is no murder on his conscience.
With Jesus and Judas reunited, what happens next? Would Judas try to reclaim his place among The Twelve? Would Jesus encourage him to return, or would he revoke his membership card?
This is not just a hypothetical question. Everyone one of us will be betrayed at some point - every single one. It's a reality of the human condition. And it begs an important Q: what do WE do when someone Iscariot-izes us? I'm far from a definitive answer, but I have reflections to share.
Based on the recorded teachings and behavior of Jesus, I'm going out on a limb to say that we should still love the traitor. Jesus probably remembered why he loved and trusted Disciple Iscariot in the first place. Jesus didn't forget that Judas, in his moments of weakness, did not forfeit his status as God's sacred creation. Jesus did not let the "shadow side" (to use a Jungian term) of Judas trigger his own shadow. Rather than answering eye for eye, sin for sin, he let go of whatever was bothering Judas (impatience, jealousy, greed, rage... or perhaps he was bipolar without the benefits of meds?).
At the same time, love & forgiveness are compatible with an essential concept in justice and reconciliation: accountability. Jesus did not come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it (Matt 5:17b). Even though we have Christ and other religious figures to inspire us, we still need to have rules and guidelines about how to treat each other. So I'm guessing that Judas would be O-U-T as a trusted disciple.
I would also speculate that Jesus would not replace Judas among the Twelve, at least not at first. Emotionally centered man that he is, Jesus would give the Eleven time to vent, grieve, and adjust. (On the subject of loss, a wise person once told me that "women grieve and men replace." Perhaps we dudes should give ourselves permission to feel our losses and not plug emotional holes so quickly.)
In sum, my Judas tonic is threefold: process all of one's feelings, especially the unpleasant ones; keep our eyes on the ball, reminding ourselves of the second great commandment to love our neighbor (Mark 28:31); and hold people accountable, especially ourselves.
The subject of self accountability brings me to the Rule of Rotating Biblical Characters. At different points in our lives, we all find ourselves in the roles of different scripture characters. Sometimes we are Mary, humbled and overwhelmed by God's blessings; sometimes we are Jacob, causing all kinds of chaos; and then we have those Iscariot moments. Our misdeeds almost never reach the Judas level, but we do betray trust in many forms and degrees of severity. I, for one, have betrayed the trust of good people more often than I want to admit.
You see, I know Judas because I am Judas. He is me, and he is also my brother. We broke bread at the same table. We shared laughter and tears. We talked books, history, religion, family, the meaning of existence. We sang, prayed, and worshiped together. Literally and figuratively, we embraced. And then came that betrayal thing.
Yes, Judas lives, and I believe he will always be part of this earthly world. With Judas inside me and beside me, I'm trying to live into the Christian hope: no matter what betrayals befall us, no matter what acts of mistrust that we commit, the commandment to love stands below, beside, above, and through us all.
I conclude with a message to Jude, my friend. Even though your seat at Table Twelve is empty, remember that I love you. And when I am grieving, feel free to remind me that Jesus loves us both.
As every Christian knows, Judas was the disciple who betrayed Jesus of Nazareth to his enemies. The Gospel of Matthew reports that Judas sold him out for 30 silver pieces (Matt 26:15, 27:3). The other canonical gospels report only that Judas received "some money" (Mark 14:11, Luke 22:5); John does not even mention a motivation. Nevertheless, in all four scenarios, Judas is portrayed as making the gravest of mistakes. None of them give much insight into why he turned on Jesus or what, exactly, he later regretted.
I find myself wondering about a parallel-universe scenario. Suppose, for the moment, that Jesus did NOT die on the cross after the trail adjudicated by Pontius Pilate. Imagine that Pilate stuck to his guns, the unruly crowd grew bored, and everyone went their separate ways. As a result, Judas also survives, because there is no murder on his conscience.
With Jesus and Judas reunited, what happens next? Would Judas try to reclaim his place among The Twelve? Would Jesus encourage him to return, or would he revoke his membership card?
This is not just a hypothetical question. Everyone one of us will be betrayed at some point - every single one. It's a reality of the human condition. And it begs an important Q: what do WE do when someone Iscariot-izes us? I'm far from a definitive answer, but I have reflections to share.
Based on the recorded teachings and behavior of Jesus, I'm going out on a limb to say that we should still love the traitor. Jesus probably remembered why he loved and trusted Disciple Iscariot in the first place. Jesus didn't forget that Judas, in his moments of weakness, did not forfeit his status as God's sacred creation. Jesus did not let the "shadow side" (to use a Jungian term) of Judas trigger his own shadow. Rather than answering eye for eye, sin for sin, he let go of whatever was bothering Judas (impatience, jealousy, greed, rage... or perhaps he was bipolar without the benefits of meds?).
At the same time, love & forgiveness are compatible with an essential concept in justice and reconciliation: accountability. Jesus did not come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it (Matt 5:17b). Even though we have Christ and other religious figures to inspire us, we still need to have rules and guidelines about how to treat each other. So I'm guessing that Judas would be O-U-T as a trusted disciple.
I would also speculate that Jesus would not replace Judas among the Twelve, at least not at first. Emotionally centered man that he is, Jesus would give the Eleven time to vent, grieve, and adjust. (On the subject of loss, a wise person once told me that "women grieve and men replace." Perhaps we dudes should give ourselves permission to feel our losses and not plug emotional holes so quickly.)
In sum, my Judas tonic is threefold: process all of one's feelings, especially the unpleasant ones; keep our eyes on the ball, reminding ourselves of the second great commandment to love our neighbor (Mark 28:31); and hold people accountable, especially ourselves.
The subject of self accountability brings me to the Rule of Rotating Biblical Characters. At different points in our lives, we all find ourselves in the roles of different scripture characters. Sometimes we are Mary, humbled and overwhelmed by God's blessings; sometimes we are Jacob, causing all kinds of chaos; and then we have those Iscariot moments. Our misdeeds almost never reach the Judas level, but we do betray trust in many forms and degrees of severity. I, for one, have betrayed the trust of good people more often than I want to admit.
You see, I know Judas because I am Judas. He is me, and he is also my brother. We broke bread at the same table. We shared laughter and tears. We talked books, history, religion, family, the meaning of existence. We sang, prayed, and worshiped together. Literally and figuratively, we embraced. And then came that betrayal thing.
Yes, Judas lives, and I believe he will always be part of this earthly world. With Judas inside me and beside me, I'm trying to live into the Christian hope: no matter what betrayals befall us, no matter what acts of mistrust that we commit, the commandment to love stands below, beside, above, and through us all.
I conclude with a message to Jude, my friend. Even though your seat at Table Twelve is empty, remember that I love you. And when I am grieving, feel free to remind me that Jesus loves us both.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Packin' & Preachin'
I'm getting ready to move the bulk of my things back to the Philly area. While packing my stuff, the most heavy being an absurd quantity of books, I accepted an offer to preach this Sunday at St. George St. Barnabas Church, Philadelphia. This service is the annual youth-focused service, but of course all are welcome.
St. George St. Barnabas Episcopal Church
520 South 61st Street
Philadelphia, PA 19143
Phone: 215-747-2605
Sunday, May 30, 10 a.m. Holy Eucharist
St. George St. Barnabas Episcopal Church
520 South 61st Street
Philadelphia, PA 19143
Phone: 215-747-2605
Sunday, May 30, 10 a.m. Holy Eucharist
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Graduating
Today, I had the honor of walking with my classmates in the 2010 Graduation ceremony at the Episcopal Divinity School. It has been a glorious, blessed, wonderful day. Surrounded by so many friends (old and new) and so much love, one thought keeps creeping forward: to those whom much is given, much is expected.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Graduation Week
This marks graduation week for the Episcopal Divinity School Class of 2010. There's a lot to experience and process during these bittersweet days. The serious reflection...or shall I say blog-flection... probably won't happen until it's over. In the meantime, I'm trying to live in the moment and soak up the capper to my rocky, provocative, challenging, affirming, and inspiring three years at EDS.
As the end approaches, I'm very aware of how many people I have to thank. I wouldn't be who I am or where I am without the profound love and support from my family, my friends, home parish of St. James Langhorne in PA, the Diocese of Pennsylvania, the EDS community, and of course, the guidance of the Holy Spirit. I tip my cap and gown to you all.
Blessed be!
As the end approaches, I'm very aware of how many people I have to thank. I wouldn't be who I am or where I am without the profound love and support from my family, my friends, home parish of St. James Langhorne in PA, the Diocese of Pennsylvania, the EDS community, and of course, the guidance of the Holy Spirit. I tip my cap and gown to you all.
Blessed be!
Saturday, May 15, 2010
"Nice weather we're having"
Do you like talking about the weather?
In the fall of 2008, EDS had a visiting "proctor" scholar from Canada named Wayne. Very smart man, tough, and an activist who was serious about making a difference. Wayne didn't suffer fools gladly, though. He had many pet peeves, but one I especially remember is that he loathed talking about the weather. He told me that he "absolutely refused" to participate in weather-centered chit-chat because it crowds out more worthy and interesting topics.
Ever since he told me his policy, I've noticed how often weather talk permeates daily conversation, especially my own. I contribute to this cultural phenomenon because I talk weather all the time without even thinking about it. Gotta love the box-in-a-box reality that, at this very moment, I'm writing about talking about the weather. (Under Wayne's Rules, am I considered a double offender?)
Like my Canadian friend, I also grow weary of superficial conversation. There are too many important issues that we face as a global community. You know the list: poverty, gangs, the economy, health, etc. (Ironically, one of the headliners on that list is climate change...a topic for future posts.)
At the same time, I've learned in seminary - especially working as a chaplain intern - that so-called "small talk" can lead to "big talk." Meeting someone for the first time, you have no idea their values, temperament, and sensitivities. Before diving in and doing the social justice backstroke, some of us prefer to stick our toe into the water. After all, not everyone has Wayne's self confidence or command of the issues. Weather is a safe topic and therefore a polite conversation starter, an entry point of engagement. Once common ground has been established, then a path has begun which can lead to more important matters.
Like other EDS proctor scholars, Wayne only studied here one semester. I still miss him on occasion, especially his keen intellect and vigorous commitment to social justice. I hope he is continuing to wield his formidable talents for worthy causes. And I must admit: if he was here in Cambridge, I would greet him with "Hey Wayne, isn't this a beautiful day?"
In the fall of 2008, EDS had a visiting "proctor" scholar from Canada named Wayne. Very smart man, tough, and an activist who was serious about making a difference. Wayne didn't suffer fools gladly, though. He had many pet peeves, but one I especially remember is that he loathed talking about the weather. He told me that he "absolutely refused" to participate in weather-centered chit-chat because it crowds out more worthy and interesting topics.
Ever since he told me his policy, I've noticed how often weather talk permeates daily conversation, especially my own. I contribute to this cultural phenomenon because I talk weather all the time without even thinking about it. Gotta love the box-in-a-box reality that, at this very moment, I'm writing about talking about the weather. (Under Wayne's Rules, am I considered a double offender?)
Like my Canadian friend, I also grow weary of superficial conversation. There are too many important issues that we face as a global community. You know the list: poverty, gangs, the economy, health, etc. (Ironically, one of the headliners on that list is climate change...a topic for future posts.)
At the same time, I've learned in seminary - especially working as a chaplain intern - that so-called "small talk" can lead to "big talk." Meeting someone for the first time, you have no idea their values, temperament, and sensitivities. Before diving in and doing the social justice backstroke, some of us prefer to stick our toe into the water. After all, not everyone has Wayne's self confidence or command of the issues. Weather is a safe topic and therefore a polite conversation starter, an entry point of engagement. Once common ground has been established, then a path has begun which can lead to more important matters.
Like other EDS proctor scholars, Wayne only studied here one semester. I still miss him on occasion, especially his keen intellect and vigorous commitment to social justice. I hope he is continuing to wield his formidable talents for worthy causes. And I must admit: if he was here in Cambridge, I would greet him with "Hey Wayne, isn't this a beautiful day?"
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Synchronicity?
Have you ever had a mystical experience? How do you reconcile it with your religion and/or rational thought process?
I have been part of nine or ten religious retreats since college. About half of those retreats featured an experience that could be interpreted as a message from a higher power.
About four years ago during a solitary outdoor meditation at Holy Cross, the words "I AM WITH YOU" emerged clearly in my head; at that exact moment, a whirlpool of leaves arose before me while the trees nodded approvingly. Stunned by this bizarre moment, I laughed out loud and dared God to do it again; almost immediately, a single leaf popped up from the swirl and tumbled in my direction.
Today I returned from a three-day, two-night stay along the coast of Maine. In respect for the privacy of my spiritual sisters, I'm going to omit details. But I will share that there were many little moments which C. G. Jung called Synchronicity which means "meaningful coincidences." Synchronicity describes coincides that are really, really incredible. Science cannot prove any causal relationship as to why the events happen simultaneously, but the coincidence is too striking, too significant, and too mysterious to be dismissed.
I could make a long list, but I want to keep them between the group. I will share one Hollywood moment, though. To give some context, keep in mind that our Spiritual Direction group has meet for three years. We have shared countless emotions, thoughts, and spiritual insights throughout these years. This retreat is something of a crowning event, a chance to celebrate and begin to say goodbye. On the last night, we gathered around a campfire along the bay waters, offering prayers for quite a long time. The sharing concluded with a short service. Finally, our Spiritual Director rang the "singing bell" (an ancient Buddhist practice, apparently) with conviction. The moment the "DING!" sounded, a shooting star flashed across the night sky.
Exchanging my Mystical Mask for Cynical Spectacles, I can think of a number of explanations:
(1) In my frailty, I cannot accept the finality of death and refuse to acknowledge the inevitability of non-existence. Therefore, as a coping mechanism, my mind creates a narrative of mystical beings, affirming my naive hope in a divine afterlife.
(2) Judgment was impaired by booze, drugs, sleep deprivation, wearing the wrong eyeglass prescription, or some combination thereof. (None of these apply, BTW.)
(3) Reading religious & spiritual material in seminary predisposes my brain to observe normal, random events in nature and reinterpret them into God's-winking-at-me moments.
(4) Temporary insanity.
(5) Permanent insanity.
Believing in "signs" is not foolproof. Without question, #1-5 happen in the real world. I would also say that every person can make mistakes, and it's possible for even the most enlightened among us to misinterpret what we experience. If we do decide to believe in "meaningful coincidences," then, what are the options for reconciling them with a Judeo-Christian belief system?
A. God as the clockmaker: God creates the clock and winds it up, but what happens after that depends on the parts. IOW, this is the Deism perspective.
B. God as the micro manager: God's finger pushes the hour hand and the second hand forward every second - Calvinism.
C. God as the clockmaker who exerts divine influence infrequently and anonymously, but God is ALWAYS present. I think this represents most mainline religious views, ie Anglican, Roman Catholic, Lutheran, etc.
The extremes of A and B would be easy. In "A," a Christian could be rational and say, I don't believe in this superstitious nonsense, there's a psycho-scientific explanation. With "B," God/Jesus gets credit for every cool thing that ever happens. Found a ten-dollar bill on the ground? Hey, thank Jesus for snatching it from another person's pocket - that bill was meant for you... for your next trip to the convenience store. Praise Him!
No, I'm somewhere on the "C" spectrum. I really hope that I'm not ego-centric enough to think that shooting stars are text messages from God addressed to me and my four friends. I do believe, however, that we are part of something larger than ourselves. We have a rightful place on planet earth, a wondrous creation whose plant and animal life cannot be fully controlled or understood. When I accept the mystery, life becomes a magical, spirit-filled adventure, and God is a loving and ever-present companion along that journey.
The time with my group feels like sacred adventure, and I hope that their individual journeys continue to be magical.
I have been part of nine or ten religious retreats since college. About half of those retreats featured an experience that could be interpreted as a message from a higher power.
About four years ago during a solitary outdoor meditation at Holy Cross, the words "I AM WITH YOU" emerged clearly in my head; at that exact moment, a whirlpool of leaves arose before me while the trees nodded approvingly. Stunned by this bizarre moment, I laughed out loud and dared God to do it again; almost immediately, a single leaf popped up from the swirl and tumbled in my direction.
Today I returned from a three-day, two-night stay along the coast of Maine. In respect for the privacy of my spiritual sisters, I'm going to omit details. But I will share that there were many little moments which C. G. Jung called Synchronicity which means "meaningful coincidences." Synchronicity describes coincides that are really, really incredible. Science cannot prove any causal relationship as to why the events happen simultaneously, but the coincidence is too striking, too significant, and too mysterious to be dismissed.
I could make a long list, but I want to keep them between the group. I will share one Hollywood moment, though. To give some context, keep in mind that our Spiritual Direction group has meet for three years. We have shared countless emotions, thoughts, and spiritual insights throughout these years. This retreat is something of a crowning event, a chance to celebrate and begin to say goodbye. On the last night, we gathered around a campfire along the bay waters, offering prayers for quite a long time. The sharing concluded with a short service. Finally, our Spiritual Director rang the "singing bell" (an ancient Buddhist practice, apparently) with conviction. The moment the "DING!" sounded, a shooting star flashed across the night sky.
Exchanging my Mystical Mask for Cynical Spectacles, I can think of a number of explanations:
(1) In my frailty, I cannot accept the finality of death and refuse to acknowledge the inevitability of non-existence. Therefore, as a coping mechanism, my mind creates a narrative of mystical beings, affirming my naive hope in a divine afterlife.
(2) Judgment was impaired by booze, drugs, sleep deprivation, wearing the wrong eyeglass prescription, or some combination thereof. (None of these apply, BTW.)
(3) Reading religious & spiritual material in seminary predisposes my brain to observe normal, random events in nature and reinterpret them into God's-winking-at-me moments.
(4) Temporary insanity.
(5) Permanent insanity.
Believing in "signs" is not foolproof. Without question, #1-5 happen in the real world. I would also say that every person can make mistakes, and it's possible for even the most enlightened among us to misinterpret what we experience. If we do decide to believe in "meaningful coincidences," then, what are the options for reconciling them with a Judeo-Christian belief system?
A. God as the clockmaker: God creates the clock and winds it up, but what happens after that depends on the parts. IOW, this is the Deism perspective.
B. God as the micro manager: God's finger pushes the hour hand and the second hand forward every second - Calvinism.
C. God as the clockmaker who exerts divine influence infrequently and anonymously, but God is ALWAYS present. I think this represents most mainline religious views, ie Anglican, Roman Catholic, Lutheran, etc.
The extremes of A and B would be easy. In "A," a Christian could be rational and say, I don't believe in this superstitious nonsense, there's a psycho-scientific explanation. With "B," God/Jesus gets credit for every cool thing that ever happens. Found a ten-dollar bill on the ground? Hey, thank Jesus for snatching it from another person's pocket - that bill was meant for you... for your next trip to the convenience store. Praise Him!
No, I'm somewhere on the "C" spectrum. I really hope that I'm not ego-centric enough to think that shooting stars are text messages from God addressed to me and my four friends. I do believe, however, that we are part of something larger than ourselves. We have a rightful place on planet earth, a wondrous creation whose plant and animal life cannot be fully controlled or understood. When I accept the mystery, life becomes a magical, spirit-filled adventure, and God is a loving and ever-present companion along that journey.
The time with my group feels like sacred adventure, and I hope that their individual journeys continue to be magical.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Retreating
Tomorrow I'm leaving for a three-day, two-night retreat with my spiritual direction group. The five of us will be in a place in Maine. Half of the retreat will be spent in "the great silence," meaning that we do not speak. The group will be deprived of my usual witty remarks...bless them for their sacrifices.
The only other place where I have done a silent retreat has been the Holy Cross retreat center along the Hudson River in New York state. The first time I heard of this about ten years ago, it struck me as bizarre. But once I got used to it, it became PDC (pretty damn cool). The silence forced me to discover that my reflex is to FILL the silence - with conversation, with music, with TV, whatever. I don't take enough time to appreciate those quiet moments, those chances to let my brain rest from auditory stimuli.
Walter Lippmann once said, "Many a time I have wanted to stop talking and find out what I really believe." Taking Lippmann a step further, a quiet surrounding can open the door to insight; sometimes ideas and revelations can bubble to the surface of our consciousness if we allow them. And taking yet another step, perhaps quieting ourselves makes room for the small still voice of God.
The next time you find yourself in quiet, notice if you try to fill that absence of sound. For a little while, try to sit with that silence, viewing it not as the absence of sound but the PRESENCE of something else. In the words of the Psalmist: "Be still, and know that I am God." (Psalm 46:10)
The only other place where I have done a silent retreat has been the Holy Cross retreat center along the Hudson River in New York state. The first time I heard of this about ten years ago, it struck me as bizarre. But once I got used to it, it became PDC (pretty damn cool). The silence forced me to discover that my reflex is to FILL the silence - with conversation, with music, with TV, whatever. I don't take enough time to appreciate those quiet moments, those chances to let my brain rest from auditory stimuli.
Walter Lippmann once said, "Many a time I have wanted to stop talking and find out what I really believe." Taking Lippmann a step further, a quiet surrounding can open the door to insight; sometimes ideas and revelations can bubble to the surface of our consciousness if we allow them. And taking yet another step, perhaps quieting ourselves makes room for the small still voice of God.
The next time you find yourself in quiet, notice if you try to fill that absence of sound. For a little while, try to sit with that silence, viewing it not as the absence of sound but the PRESENCE of something else. In the words of the Psalmist: "Be still, and know that I am God." (Psalm 46:10)
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Soaps are no joke
You are like sands in the hourglass, all my young and restless children. Though you are bold and beautiful, be careful out there; wouldn't want to see you in the hospital, generally.
Soap operas are a global phenomenon. Check out the article by Drake Bennett that ran in last Sunday's Boston Globe: http://www.boston.com/bostonglobe/ideas/articles/2010/05/02/how_soap_operas_could_save_the_world/
The article makes the case that soaps operas influence social values more than you might expect. Soaps often weave important sociological issues in their story lines, issues such as health tips, women's rights, how many children a family decides to have. Bennett reports that worldwide studies reveal how these programs impact viewers' ideas and behaviors.
In Rwanda, for instance, the program "New Dawn" is a soap created and broadcast by a non-governmental organization. The show features a Romeo-and-Juliet romance between members of rival clans. A study found that "New Dawn" has not, unfortunately, changed viewers' ideas about mass violence, but it has made Rwandans more open to the idea of inter-group marriage.
From Rwanda to Pennsylvania... when I worked in a community-building project in Bucks County a few years ago, one of the neighborhood leaders was a woman I'll call M. She is a revered elder, a community den mother who gives tirelessly to help her neighbors, especially the children. M has a quiet, saintly aura about her. She will do anything for you... except between 3 and 4 pm weekdays, the time when "her stories" are on TV. Community planning meetings would get scheduled around this sacred hour... no joke.
I have to admit that I was baffled to such devotion to a soap opera. But the truth is that I'm no different. After all, sports are soap operas on a field of play. Why do I monitor the Phillies score every day with the intensity of a husband checking on his wife in labor? For that matter, why do I get hooked by "Star Trek" shows, especially the series that have a continuing story line (especially "Deep Space Nine" and "Enterprise")?
The reason, I think, is that I crave the drama. We all yearn for excitement, especially if our daily lives are full of the safe and the routine. And I'll admit, I've borrowed a few Trek quotes in my time, as the writers frequently borrow from Shakespeare and other timeless sages. Likewise, sports can spotlight virtues such as teamwork and confidence in adverse situations, just like soaps can encourage folks to get a breast exam or check themselves for testicular cancer.
The only difference is that some of us play out our info-tainment fantasies on a baseball diamond or a warp-speed starship, while others would rather turn with the world under a guiding light.
Soap operas are a global phenomenon. Check out the article by Drake Bennett that ran in last Sunday's Boston Globe: http://www.boston.com/bostonglobe/ideas/articles/2010/05/02/how_soap_operas_could_save_the_world/
The article makes the case that soaps operas influence social values more than you might expect. Soaps often weave important sociological issues in their story lines, issues such as health tips, women's rights, how many children a family decides to have. Bennett reports that worldwide studies reveal how these programs impact viewers' ideas and behaviors.
In Rwanda, for instance, the program "New Dawn" is a soap created and broadcast by a non-governmental organization. The show features a Romeo-and-Juliet romance between members of rival clans. A study found that "New Dawn" has not, unfortunately, changed viewers' ideas about mass violence, but it has made Rwandans more open to the idea of inter-group marriage.
From Rwanda to Pennsylvania... when I worked in a community-building project in Bucks County a few years ago, one of the neighborhood leaders was a woman I'll call M. She is a revered elder, a community den mother who gives tirelessly to help her neighbors, especially the children. M has a quiet, saintly aura about her. She will do anything for you... except between 3 and 4 pm weekdays, the time when "her stories" are on TV. Community planning meetings would get scheduled around this sacred hour... no joke.
I have to admit that I was baffled to such devotion to a soap opera. But the truth is that I'm no different. After all, sports are soap operas on a field of play. Why do I monitor the Phillies score every day with the intensity of a husband checking on his wife in labor? For that matter, why do I get hooked by "Star Trek" shows, especially the series that have a continuing story line (especially "Deep Space Nine" and "Enterprise")?
The reason, I think, is that I crave the drama. We all yearn for excitement, especially if our daily lives are full of the safe and the routine. And I'll admit, I've borrowed a few Trek quotes in my time, as the writers frequently borrow from Shakespeare and other timeless sages. Likewise, sports can spotlight virtues such as teamwork and confidence in adverse situations, just like soaps can encourage folks to get a breast exam or check themselves for testicular cancer.
The only difference is that some of us play out our info-tainment fantasies on a baseball diamond or a warp-speed starship, while others would rather turn with the world under a guiding light.
Friday, April 30, 2010
The contrast of my world and the prison system
This morning I took a break from writing to get a haircut. Since the St. Michael's confirmation class gets confirmed on Saturday and I preach on Sunday, I need to look more like a seminarian and less like Sasquatch.
Thus, I left the apartment, walked up Oxford Street, hung a left at Sacramento, proceeded onto Mass Ave and, eventually, the barber shop. The sunlight felt strong, but the cool breeze kept the temperature pleasant. Flowers bloom everywhere, most of which I cannot identify.
The route takes me past the Baldwin Elementary School. Kids fill the small playground with laughter and excitement as though they could smell summer vacation (or the weekend, for that matter). Further up Sacramento opposite the school is a community garden. Surrounded by short fence, the garden looks crowded yet busting with a variety of plant life.
Even though I've lived here since September, I never adopted the neighborhood as my own. Such is the life of a residential graduate student planning to leave in June. The gift, though, is that these last weeks have a special feel to them. I'm appreciating these little Cambridge discoveries, knowing that I won't have much longer to enjoy them here.
How fortunate I am to have freedom to explore a side street normally off my radar. How blessed I am to have two legs which carry me from place to place. How wonderful it is to see a vibrant community in the freshness of spring and Eastertide.
...And, what a contrast this moment is to the life of the approximately 2.5 million inmates in American prisons. The fences, the recess on a blacktopped-enclosed space, my freedom to maneuver... all these reminded me what I have learned this semester in the "Prison Abolition" course taught at EDS by Rev. Canon Ed Rodman.
In short, the prison situation is a revolving-door mess. We are putting more and more people behind bars, disproportionately people of color, especially young African American males. When they are released - as 98% are, eventually - ex-offenders come out more hardened than "rehabilitated." They often lack the support needed to reenter the community: job skills, mentors, mental health counseling, access to living-wage employment, just to name a few. Too frequently, they wind up violating their probation and returning to jail either because of a minor offense or because they returned to crime.
A few years ago I worked with a federal Weed and Seed site in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. The idea was to work comprehensively with an at-risk neighborhood to reduce crime. One of the initiatives included a reentry program for ex-offenders. It was a challenge getting consistent participation. At that time, I simply had no idea how overwhelming and interconnected the problem is. Unfortunately, our prison system has become part of the problem.
The core text for the class has been When the Prisoners Ran Walpole: A True Story in the Movement for Prison Abolition by Jamie Bissonette. The book chronicles how a coalition of prisoners, concerned citizens, and progressive government officials worked together in the early 1970s to make Walpole a more effective (and more humane) facility. Ultimately, though, racial tensions and resistance from the guards collapsed the experiment.
One of the reformers was John O. Boone, the Commissioner of Corrections for the state of Massachusetts during the early 70s. In 2002, he spoke at the Critical Resistance conference to a group of younger people about reform. When they asked him how they could engage with guards to improve the system, he gave the following reply:
I think you all have a lot of energy and a lot of good ideas but I don't think you should be talking about reform. You can't reform this corrupt system. It is rotten to the core. Abolishment is the only course of action. And don't say it can't be done. I have seen a lot of abolishment in my lifetime. I only wish I was as young as you. (Bissonette, page 50) Obviously, almost everyone wants safe streets, a fair system of law and order, and crime deterrence policies that do more good than harm. I haven't done enough research to advocate specific public policy changes. I'm not sure if I agree with Boone's shocking declaration, or if such a radical step is even possible. For now, I am as grateful to have my eyes opened to the Prison Industrial Complex, almost as grateful as I am for walks in the springtime.
Thus, I left the apartment, walked up Oxford Street, hung a left at Sacramento, proceeded onto Mass Ave and, eventually, the barber shop. The sunlight felt strong, but the cool breeze kept the temperature pleasant. Flowers bloom everywhere, most of which I cannot identify.
The route takes me past the Baldwin Elementary School. Kids fill the small playground with laughter and excitement as though they could smell summer vacation (or the weekend, for that matter). Further up Sacramento opposite the school is a community garden. Surrounded by short fence, the garden looks crowded yet busting with a variety of plant life.
Even though I've lived here since September, I never adopted the neighborhood as my own. Such is the life of a residential graduate student planning to leave in June. The gift, though, is that these last weeks have a special feel to them. I'm appreciating these little Cambridge discoveries, knowing that I won't have much longer to enjoy them here.
How fortunate I am to have freedom to explore a side street normally off my radar. How blessed I am to have two legs which carry me from place to place. How wonderful it is to see a vibrant community in the freshness of spring and Eastertide.
...And, what a contrast this moment is to the life of the approximately 2.5 million inmates in American prisons. The fences, the recess on a blacktopped-enclosed space, my freedom to maneuver... all these reminded me what I have learned this semester in the "Prison Abolition" course taught at EDS by Rev. Canon Ed Rodman.
In short, the prison situation is a revolving-door mess. We are putting more and more people behind bars, disproportionately people of color, especially young African American males. When they are released - as 98% are, eventually - ex-offenders come out more hardened than "rehabilitated." They often lack the support needed to reenter the community: job skills, mentors, mental health counseling, access to living-wage employment, just to name a few. Too frequently, they wind up violating their probation and returning to jail either because of a minor offense or because they returned to crime.
A few years ago I worked with a federal Weed and Seed site in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. The idea was to work comprehensively with an at-risk neighborhood to reduce crime. One of the initiatives included a reentry program for ex-offenders. It was a challenge getting consistent participation. At that time, I simply had no idea how overwhelming and interconnected the problem is. Unfortunately, our prison system has become part of the problem.
The core text for the class has been When the Prisoners Ran Walpole: A True Story in the Movement for Prison Abolition by Jamie Bissonette. The book chronicles how a coalition of prisoners, concerned citizens, and progressive government officials worked together in the early 1970s to make Walpole a more effective (and more humane) facility. Ultimately, though, racial tensions and resistance from the guards collapsed the experiment.
One of the reformers was John O. Boone, the Commissioner of Corrections for the state of Massachusetts during the early 70s. In 2002, he spoke at the Critical Resistance conference to a group of younger people about reform. When they asked him how they could engage with guards to improve the system, he gave the following reply:
I think you all have a lot of energy and a lot of good ideas but I don't think you should be talking about reform. You can't reform this corrupt system. It is rotten to the core. Abolishment is the only course of action. And don't say it can't be done. I have seen a lot of abolishment in my lifetime. I only wish I was as young as you. (Bissonette, page 50) Obviously, almost everyone wants safe streets, a fair system of law and order, and crime deterrence policies that do more good than harm. I haven't done enough research to advocate specific public policy changes. I'm not sure if I agree with Boone's shocking declaration, or if such a radical step is even possible. For now, I am as grateful to have my eyes opened to the Prison Industrial Complex, almost as grateful as I am for walks in the springtime.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
The Goodbye Season
May and June is the Season of Goodbye.
My mom taught in the local public school system for 29 years. I'm a college graduate and coming to the end of my third year of seminary and working towards a masters degree. Rarely does a year go by when I don't know someone who is graduating from somewhere. Thus, the academic calendar greatly impacts how I mark time. Perhaps that explains my feeling that May and June have more goodbyes than any other two months of the year.
The last Episcopal Divinity School class of the semester happens in two days. For some of my classmates, this means the last class, ever. (Not me, though: I'm doing an encore by taking two courses in June.) Meanwhile, this is my last week at St. Michael's Episcopal Church, Milton, MA. In a mere nine months, St. Mike's has become a beloved community, a place of comfort and challenge, and an important part of my formation to parish ministry. There are so many "mini" communities in a parish, and so many that I have immensely enjoyed at St. Mike's, that the farewells must be spread over several weeks. The same at EDS - there are so many relationships and subgroups within the wider EDS family that need hugs and acknowledgment.
Alexander Graham Bell once said, "When one door closes another door opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the ones which open for us." In one sense, Bell is right that dwelling on the past can prevent us from fully experiencing the present. One might say that Goodbyes are Hellos looking backwards.
At the same time, I admit to feeling the lure of that closing-door trap. Did I appreciate being surrounding by fantastic people at EDS and St. Michael's? Did I have the conversations I needed to have? Did I take an active interest in the lives of the people around me, or was I too preoccupied with the to-do list? Am I really facing the reality that some of these wonderful folks I will never see again, and most of the other relationships will change once I leave?
These are scary and important questions. For now, I don't have the luxury of time to reflect - I've got papers to write so that I can graduate. That said, within my constraints, I hope to follow the advice of my seminary colleague Stephanie and say "good goodbyes" these next few months. Loss is hard. Saying goodbye to friends, acknowledging the loss of their company, is hard. The one farewell I eagerly await comes on July 1, when I can say bye to the Goodbye Season.
My mom taught in the local public school system for 29 years. I'm a college graduate and coming to the end of my third year of seminary and working towards a masters degree. Rarely does a year go by when I don't know someone who is graduating from somewhere. Thus, the academic calendar greatly impacts how I mark time. Perhaps that explains my feeling that May and June have more goodbyes than any other two months of the year.
The last Episcopal Divinity School class of the semester happens in two days. For some of my classmates, this means the last class, ever. (Not me, though: I'm doing an encore by taking two courses in June.) Meanwhile, this is my last week at St. Michael's Episcopal Church, Milton, MA. In a mere nine months, St. Mike's has become a beloved community, a place of comfort and challenge, and an important part of my formation to parish ministry. There are so many "mini" communities in a parish, and so many that I have immensely enjoyed at St. Mike's, that the farewells must be spread over several weeks. The same at EDS - there are so many relationships and subgroups within the wider EDS family that need hugs and acknowledgment.
Alexander Graham Bell once said, "When one door closes another door opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the ones which open for us." In one sense, Bell is right that dwelling on the past can prevent us from fully experiencing the present. One might say that Goodbyes are Hellos looking backwards.
At the same time, I admit to feeling the lure of that closing-door trap. Did I appreciate being surrounding by fantastic people at EDS and St. Michael's? Did I have the conversations I needed to have? Did I take an active interest in the lives of the people around me, or was I too preoccupied with the to-do list? Am I really facing the reality that some of these wonderful folks I will never see again, and most of the other relationships will change once I leave?
These are scary and important questions. For now, I don't have the luxury of time to reflect - I've got papers to write so that I can graduate. That said, within my constraints, I hope to follow the advice of my seminary colleague Stephanie and say "good goodbyes" these next few months. Loss is hard. Saying goodbye to friends, acknowledging the loss of their company, is hard. The one farewell I eagerly await comes on July 1, when I can say bye to the Goodbye Season.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Sleep as spiritual practice
I am becoming increasingly convinced that sleep should be considered a “spiritual practice.”
The Judeo-Christian tradition has long embraced the concept of Sabbath. The first Sabbath comes as early as the dawn of creation: “So God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it, because on it God rested from all the work that he had done in creation.” (Genesis 2:3) The practice of Sabbath day becomes codified in the Ten Commandments: “Remember the Sabbath day, and keep it holy,” (Exodus 20:8) and “Observe the Sabbath day and keep it holy, as the LORD your God commanded you.” (Deuteronomy 5:12) Sabbath days, according to the Old Testament, served two purposes: they set aside a day to worship God (Ex 31:13-17) and rest for people, including slaves and cattle (Deut 5:14).1
Sleep, of course, is a form of rest. It’s a bit of a stretch to consider sleep as worship, although long sermons have been known to induce a snooze or two. I wonder what would happen, though, if we changed our paradigm of sleep. What if we approached sleeping as if we were entering church? Or to be more specific, what if we saw sleep as entering sacred space?
Returning to Biblical tradition, there are numerous examples of God speaking to the people through dreams. In Genesis alone, we have Jacob’s ladder to heaven (chapter 28), Joseph’s dreams of power (37), and Pharaoh asking Joseph to interpret his dreams. (40)2 Our faith stories tell us that dreams can carry divine messages.
Beyond the mythology, we know that dreams in REM sleep serve a healthful purpose. In our unconscious world, memories and emotions play out in the tableau of dreams. Although there is much we do not understand about the unconscious, some neuroscientists believe that dreams serve to cleanse our memories. Negative emotions associated with our conscious thoughts and memories are separated and subsequently get “washed away” during dreams, keeping us from becoming overwhelmed by bad memories. This theory would partially explain and affirm the credo that time heals all wounds. In any event, we know that dreams are necessary for mental health.3
Dreams are not the only health benefit of sleep. Our bodies have an incredible capacity for self-healing while we are in such a low-power state. Sleep has also been described as “the great leveler.”4 Everyone rich and poor, young and old requires time in this state of inactivity and vulnerability.
Unfortunately, 21st century upper-middle class American culture brings a fast pace and high expectation for lots of “doing.” It’s common for people to squeeze more “doing” in their days, cut into sleep time, and then compensate the next morning with caffeine. Children are not immune: when the instant messaging craze hit a few years ago, high school students reported getting less sleep, presumably because they were up later to message their friends.5 Christians are particularly vulnerable to sleep cutbacks. We pride ourselves on sacrifice and mission, so it’s easy to get caught up in our work at the expense of rest.
Christians would be wise to heed the words of one youth group member: “Nothing essential stops when I sleep.”6 Making time for quality sleep is self care, as it stabilizes our mental and emotional health. Sleep gives our bodies a chance to heal. In our dreams, we open ourselves to the possibility of revelation, perhaps even from the divine. We enter a vulnerable state, one that points to our dependence on God.
Sleep is a spiritual practice. Good night.
1 Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, F.L. Cross, ed., 3rd ed, Oxford University Press, 1997. 2 Rodger Kamenetz, The History of Last Night’s Dream: Discovering the Hidden Path to the Soul (New York: Harper, 2007). 3 Paul Martin, Counting Sheep: the Science and Pleasures of Sleep and Dreams (New York: St. Marin’s, 2004). 4 Ibid. 5 Peggy Kendall, Rewired: Youth Ministry in an Age of IM and MySpace (Valley Forge, PA: Judson Press, 2007), page 17-18. 6 Mark Oestreicher, Youth Ministry 3.0: A Manifesto (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2008), page 114.
The Judeo-Christian tradition has long embraced the concept of Sabbath. The first Sabbath comes as early as the dawn of creation: “So God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it, because on it God rested from all the work that he had done in creation.” (Genesis 2:3) The practice of Sabbath day becomes codified in the Ten Commandments: “Remember the Sabbath day, and keep it holy,” (Exodus 20:8) and “Observe the Sabbath day and keep it holy, as the LORD your God commanded you.” (Deuteronomy 5:12) Sabbath days, according to the Old Testament, served two purposes: they set aside a day to worship God (Ex 31:13-17) and rest for people, including slaves and cattle (Deut 5:14).1
Sleep, of course, is a form of rest. It’s a bit of a stretch to consider sleep as worship, although long sermons have been known to induce a snooze or two. I wonder what would happen, though, if we changed our paradigm of sleep. What if we approached sleeping as if we were entering church? Or to be more specific, what if we saw sleep as entering sacred space?
Returning to Biblical tradition, there are numerous examples of God speaking to the people through dreams. In Genesis alone, we have Jacob’s ladder to heaven (chapter 28), Joseph’s dreams of power (37), and Pharaoh asking Joseph to interpret his dreams. (40)2 Our faith stories tell us that dreams can carry divine messages.
Beyond the mythology, we know that dreams in REM sleep serve a healthful purpose. In our unconscious world, memories and emotions play out in the tableau of dreams. Although there is much we do not understand about the unconscious, some neuroscientists believe that dreams serve to cleanse our memories. Negative emotions associated with our conscious thoughts and memories are separated and subsequently get “washed away” during dreams, keeping us from becoming overwhelmed by bad memories. This theory would partially explain and affirm the credo that time heals all wounds. In any event, we know that dreams are necessary for mental health.3
Dreams are not the only health benefit of sleep. Our bodies have an incredible capacity for self-healing while we are in such a low-power state. Sleep has also been described as “the great leveler.”4 Everyone rich and poor, young and old requires time in this state of inactivity and vulnerability.
Unfortunately, 21st century upper-middle class American culture brings a fast pace and high expectation for lots of “doing.” It’s common for people to squeeze more “doing” in their days, cut into sleep time, and then compensate the next morning with caffeine. Children are not immune: when the instant messaging craze hit a few years ago, high school students reported getting less sleep, presumably because they were up later to message their friends.5 Christians are particularly vulnerable to sleep cutbacks. We pride ourselves on sacrifice and mission, so it’s easy to get caught up in our work at the expense of rest.
Christians would be wise to heed the words of one youth group member: “Nothing essential stops when I sleep.”6 Making time for quality sleep is self care, as it stabilizes our mental and emotional health. Sleep gives our bodies a chance to heal. In our dreams, we open ourselves to the possibility of revelation, perhaps even from the divine. We enter a vulnerable state, one that points to our dependence on God.
Sleep is a spiritual practice. Good night.
1 Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, F.L. Cross, ed., 3rd ed, Oxford University Press, 1997. 2 Rodger Kamenetz, The History of Last Night’s Dream: Discovering the Hidden Path to the Soul (New York: Harper, 2007). 3 Paul Martin, Counting Sheep: the Science and Pleasures of Sleep and Dreams (New York: St. Marin’s, 2004). 4 Ibid. 5 Peggy Kendall, Rewired: Youth Ministry in an Age of IM and MySpace (Valley Forge, PA: Judson Press, 2007), page 17-18. 6 Mark Oestreicher, Youth Ministry 3.0: A Manifesto (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2008), page 114.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Way to Live
This semester at EDS, readings have run the gamut of St. Paul to F.D. Morris to prison abolitionists. When I have needed a downshift from such dense material, I would read a chapter of WAY TO LIVE: CHRISTIAN PRACTICES FOR TEENS edited by Dorothy C. Bass and Don C. Richter. It has been like munching on fine chocolates in between servings of vegetables.
WAY TO LIVE contains twenty essays about topics that challenge teenagers in their daily lives such as time, friendship, music, justice, choices, and prayer. Published in 2002, the book was assembled through the Valparaiso Project on the Education and Formation of People in Faith. Each chapter has a different author or authors, and these writers include a diverse group of Christians voices. We hear from students and teachers, children and parents, women and men, and a half-dozen Christian denominations.
Each chapter focuses on one theme. For instance, the fifth chapter is entitled "Food". It begins with a quote from an 18 year-old who thinks of each meal as a "gift from God". Then we get a brief assortment of statements that kids are likely to hear about food, such as "Remember the food pyramid!" Having begun with familiar contexts, the writers invite us into some basic theological themes related to food. For instance, we are reminded that a meal is a gift from God which calls for our expression of gratitude (such as saying grace). From there, we discover that food connects us to so many other people, as it comes to us through a train of human labor from the field to the kitchen. It ties us to those who brought it to us, just as it can connect us to those at the table. Thus, food can be an object of welcome, a rallying point that brings people together. We then consider how feasting and fasting can bring us closer to God. Finally, the chapter concludes with some reflections about sharing a meal with Christ.
I like how the author invites the reader into the chapter by beginning with familiar contexts and moving into deeper theological territory. We get a nice balance of contemporary social matters, scriptural references, theological insights, and suggested action items. Not only did I like the writing, but I also appreciate the ample photos and illustrations which liven up the text. Many of these illustrations are generalized, iconic figures which gives WAY TO LIVE a timeless feel.
Although I've not read every word, I have yet to find a chapter I don't like. The editors appear to have made a conscious choice not to select authors who are too preachy or dogmatic. WAY embraces a pretty mainstream theology, I think. Kudos also for the efforts to spotlight gender bias by using inclusive versions of the Psalms (in the chapter on grieving, for example).
As much as I enjoyed this book, I do have a few reservations. WAY cries for a revised edition, as there is almost no mention of the technology that has permeated youth culture in the last few years. Thus, we have little discussion of cell phones, text messages, Facebook, and so forth. The illustrations may be timeless, but the writing could use some tech-aware updating.
I also have to wonder who will read this book and when. Junior and senior high school students could be asked to read a chapter a week, since the chapters tend to run a managable 15-20 pages. But school years are so demanding between academics and after-school sport & music practice time, so I'm not sure when kids will have the time or patience to digest this material. Maybe a devout few will experience WAY like I did: a candy snack in between rigorous studies.
With the caveat that the book needs to be supplemented with a few tech-savvy lessons, WAY TO LIVE is a reader-friendly, theologically-sound resource for people of all ages who want to bring Christ into their daily lives.
WAY TO LIVE contains twenty essays about topics that challenge teenagers in their daily lives such as time, friendship, music, justice, choices, and prayer. Published in 2002, the book was assembled through the Valparaiso Project on the Education and Formation of People in Faith. Each chapter has a different author or authors, and these writers include a diverse group of Christians voices. We hear from students and teachers, children and parents, women and men, and a half-dozen Christian denominations.
Each chapter focuses on one theme. For instance, the fifth chapter is entitled "Food". It begins with a quote from an 18 year-old who thinks of each meal as a "gift from God". Then we get a brief assortment of statements that kids are likely to hear about food, such as "Remember the food pyramid!" Having begun with familiar contexts, the writers invite us into some basic theological themes related to food. For instance, we are reminded that a meal is a gift from God which calls for our expression of gratitude (such as saying grace). From there, we discover that food connects us to so many other people, as it comes to us through a train of human labor from the field to the kitchen. It ties us to those who brought it to us, just as it can connect us to those at the table. Thus, food can be an object of welcome, a rallying point that brings people together. We then consider how feasting and fasting can bring us closer to God. Finally, the chapter concludes with some reflections about sharing a meal with Christ.
I like how the author invites the reader into the chapter by beginning with familiar contexts and moving into deeper theological territory. We get a nice balance of contemporary social matters, scriptural references, theological insights, and suggested action items. Not only did I like the writing, but I also appreciate the ample photos and illustrations which liven up the text. Many of these illustrations are generalized, iconic figures which gives WAY TO LIVE a timeless feel.
Although I've not read every word, I have yet to find a chapter I don't like. The editors appear to have made a conscious choice not to select authors who are too preachy or dogmatic. WAY embraces a pretty mainstream theology, I think. Kudos also for the efforts to spotlight gender bias by using inclusive versions of the Psalms (in the chapter on grieving, for example).
As much as I enjoyed this book, I do have a few reservations. WAY cries for a revised edition, as there is almost no mention of the technology that has permeated youth culture in the last few years. Thus, we have little discussion of cell phones, text messages, Facebook, and so forth. The illustrations may be timeless, but the writing could use some tech-aware updating.
I also have to wonder who will read this book and when. Junior and senior high school students could be asked to read a chapter a week, since the chapters tend to run a managable 15-20 pages. But school years are so demanding between academics and after-school sport & music practice time, so I'm not sure when kids will have the time or patience to digest this material. Maybe a devout few will experience WAY like I did: a candy snack in between rigorous studies.
With the caveat that the book needs to be supplemented with a few tech-savvy lessons, WAY TO LIVE is a reader-friendly, theologically-sound resource for people of all ages who want to bring Christ into their daily lives.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Club music: Where is God in this?
Can someone explain club music to me?
I am a seminarian at the Episcopal Divinity School in Cambridge, Mass. Last Friday, EDS hosted its annual talent show known as the “Both/And Show.” I wrote several skits, performed in two of them, and worked stage crew most of the night. Several days of hard work paid off – the show was loads of fun. One of many highlights happened during the last act. My classmate John Higginbotham sang an incredible, opera-caliber rendition of “Some Enchanted Evening.” John dedicated it to his wife in the audience, and it was magnificent.
An hour later, I found myself among a small herd of students for the post-production celebration. I’m not much for the night life, but I wanted to celebrate the hard work. More importantly, the social time with my close friends is becoming scarce. Graduation Day arrives in two months, and then it’s adios, muchachos.
I am a seminarian at the Episcopal Divinity School in Cambridge, Mass. Last Friday, EDS hosted its annual talent show known as the “Both/And Show.” I wrote several skits, performed in two of them, and worked stage crew most of the night. Several days of hard work paid off – the show was loads of fun. One of many highlights happened during the last act. My classmate John Higginbotham sang an incredible, opera-caliber rendition of “Some Enchanted Evening.” John dedicated it to his wife in the audience, and it was magnificent.
An hour later, I found myself among a small herd of students for the post-production celebration. I’m not much for the night life, but I wanted to celebrate the hard work. More importantly, the social time with my close friends is becoming scarce. Graduation Day arrives in two months, and then it’s adios, muchachos.
We frequented bar/club establishment in Harvard Square. We were treated well and got our own area to eat and dance, which was a plus. The evening, however, raised questions for me.
After we had drinks and snacks, most of our gang started dancing. Bye-bye Rogers and Hammerstein, hello loud techno-dance music. The place packed and hard to hear. The drinks were expensive. And the lyrics of the music...well, they fell on the vulgar side of the fence.
There’s no denying that the Jesus of the New Testament stories valued fellowship. He was known to enjoy wine and parties among friends. I’m glad I went out and shared time with some of my favorite people. I believe that Christ was among us that night, just as he was during John’s magnificent solo. And I’m wondering about those club lyrics, the loud music, the ensuing gyrations, and the money we spent on it all. Why do we revel in such activities? What do those lyrics say about the people who create and sell them? What do they reveal to us? What do they reveal ABOUT us? And where is God in this?
I welcome the insights and reflections of others.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Beginnings
This is my first blog since first year of seminary. Fell off the wagon, but now I'm making a class-mandated return!
Perhaps the timing is appropriate, since today is sunny and sixty degrees in Cambridge. The first time a college town hits 60, the students are suddenly transformed into beach bums. There are an epidemic of shorts, sleeveless shirts, tank tops, and shirtless basketball players. I guess these undergrads are not nearly as behind in their schoolwork as I am!
In any case, the title is from John 8:32, one of my favorite scripture passages. Truth brings insight, power, accountability, stability, healing, transformation, and possibility. It is an inherently hopeful concept.
Amen?
Perhaps the timing is appropriate, since today is sunny and sixty degrees in Cambridge. The first time a college town hits 60, the students are suddenly transformed into beach bums. There are an epidemic of shorts, sleeveless shirts, tank tops, and shirtless basketball players. I guess these undergrads are not nearly as behind in their schoolwork as I am!
In any case, the title is from John 8:32, one of my favorite scripture passages. Truth brings insight, power, accountability, stability, healing, transformation, and possibility. It is an inherently hopeful concept.
Amen?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)