Flannel Christian

Mary Daly Dies

2010-01-28T16:13:00.000-08:00

Radical feminist theologian Mary Daly has died. An appreciation in the independent Catholic paper National Catholic Reporter calls her "a mother of modern feminist theology." What does radical feminist theology sound like? National Catholic Reporter shares an excerpt from a piece Daly wrote for the New Yorker: "Ever since childhood, I have been honing my skills for living the life of a radical feminist pirate and cultivating the courage to win. The word ‘sin’ is derived from the Indo-European root ‘es-,’ meaning ‘to be.’ When I discovered this etymology, I intuitively understood that for a woman trapped in patriarchy, which is the religion of the entire planet, ‘to be’ in the fullest sense is ‘to sin.’" That's classic Daly.

The above is excerpted from an article at the UTNE Reader. To read the rest of the article: http://www.utne.com/Spirituality/Mary-Daly-Radical-Feminist-Theologian-Dies-6291.aspx

Thanks to blogger Jon for sending this along!

Christian Peacemaking Workshop

2010-01-22T18:54:00.000-08:00

What is Christian Peacemaking?

Holy Cross Lutheran in Bellevue invites you to a round table discussion, "What is Christian Peacemaking?" on Saturday, January 30th from 8 - 10 a.m. at Holy Cross Lutheran, 4315 129th Pl SE, Bellevue.

Based on materials produced and distributed by the Lutheran Peace Fellowship, the discussion will expose and examine the various myths and stereotypes regarding peacemaking. By doing so, this session will help participants respond to the gift and call of Jesus' way of shalom. Glen Gersmehl, national coordinator of Lutheran Peace Fellowship will facilitate the discussion.

The Lutheran Peace Fellowship is a community of Christians across the U.S. and around the globe responding to the gospel call to be peacemakers and justice seekers. Based in Seattle since 1994, it offers workshops and forums, support for fellowship, brochures and other materials, and support for education and dialogue on issues of war and peace, justice and non-violence. For more information on the Lutheran Peace Fellowship, visit their website at www.lutheranpeace.org.

This roundtable is one of a series of discussions hosted and facilitated by Holy Cross Lutheran of Bellevue. For more information, call 425.746.4848.

VERY Ancient Hebrew Text Discovered

2010-01-18T21:22:00.001-08:00

The article's title is: "Bible Possibly Written Centuries Earlier, Text Suggests" - and, well, the text doesn't suggest that, actually. The text is apparently from the 10th century BCE, and bears some striking resemblance to several Biblical scriptures. This is earlier than any extant Hebrew writing discovered to date.

The article claims that scholars think Hebrew writing didn't exist before the 6th century, which isn't true. Scholars believe the Hebrew Bible as we have it now was formed more or less in the 6th century, but drawn from and made with already-existing writings under extensive editorial revision. The discovery of the text is definitive proof that Hebrew writing existed centuries earlier, something that couldn't have been proven before - so there is something new. But hardly as revolutionary as the title makes it out to be. It also corroborates what scholars have long believed: that strands of what we inherited as the Hebrew Bible are in fact very ancient and had been in circulation long before the final composition of the definitive texts of the 6th century BCE.

Thanks to blogger Jon for sending this my way!

Christmas Truce in Seattle

2009-11-14T17:49:00.000-08:00

Being back in Seattle, I thought I might start organizing peace and justice concerts and events again - my little votes for a more assertive peace church personality for my local congregation (and denomination). I was playing songs for my daughter about the incredible "Christmas Truce" on the Western Front of World War I in 1914, when I realized that this year is the 95th anniversary of that belief-defying night.

On Christmas Eve, 1914, soldiers on both sides along the trenches from Flanders to the Swiss Frontier spontaneously and almost universally negotiated with each other an informal "truce" for the night. In the night, soldiers from both sides came out from their trenches and met each other in No Man's Land, exchanged greetings, cigarettes, and trinkets. Carols were sung, improvised Christmas Trees decorated, contraband liquor shared. The next morning, the truce miraculously held, and each side gathered the dead from the battlefield and buried them together side-by-side. In many places, the truce lasted past New Year's Eve, by when of course Generals and Colonels had heard about this treasonous truce negotiated without their consent - and were taking steps to stop it (replacing and moving regiments about that had participated in the truce so that they were facing troops along the trenches that they hadn't met and comisserated with over the holidays). And WWI went on. But not without a profound note of the possibility of Peace being heard across a continent mobilized for war.

I am organizing a celebration of the 95th anniversary of this momentous event, and it seems the stars are aligned, because so much is coming into place so quickly. West Seattle Neighbors for Peace and Justice is on board for helping with promotion and logistics. The Seattle Labor Chorus has eagerly agreed to participate. The Seattle Peace Chorus is considering amending their already-busy holiday schedule to include the event. I have a readers theater piece about the event almost fully cast with fine readers. I have a sound system lined up to use. Organizations and other local events are very cooperative in advertizing and promoting the celebration. People are coming out of the woodwork to help. And just today I received a cd of a singer who performs one of the best songs about the 1914 truce - and he wants to play at the event.

I am giddy with excitement and amazed that this event is coming together with so little time to be put together. Somebody must want us to celebrate peace, I tell ya!

The event, if you'd like to come, will be at the Highland Park Community of Christ (8611 11th Ave SW, Seattle), at 7PM, December 24th (Christmas Eve). It will tell the story of the Christmas Truce in narrative, letters, songs and images from the period. There will be an opportunity for other local peace and justice organizations to set up tables for people to look at and learn more about them. There will be no charge for the event.

I'll try to post updates as the event develops. Needless to say, I am thrilled to death about this, and can't wait until Christmas Eve! :-)

Back in the Saddle Again

2009-09-22T20:01:00.000-07:00

Well, that didn't take long...

Our old home church in Highland Park was short a "guest minister" for this coming Sunday, so they scraped the bottom of the barrel and asked me.

Ridin' the range once more

That's right, fans, I will be preaching this Sunday, in West Seattle. The theme: Speak Boldly. Oh yes... yes, I will.

Totin' my old .44

The Old Testament has 44 books in it (well, almost). The scripture for this Sunday? The story of Esther, a daring heroine who saves the Jewish people from disaster in Persia!

Where you sleep out every night, and the only law is right

Esther is practically a Marxist dramedy (seriously!). It is one of the only books in the Bible not to mention God at all (really!). It is fraught with tension, irony and humor (no, really!). The collaborationist bourgeoisie get their comeuppance (well, they get hanged), and the ruling class is a pawn of their own vanity and the conspiracies of capitalist climbers, and in the end the workers come out on top (well, they survive at least).

Back in the saddle again.

Yeehaw! That's right, folks, the greatest show on earth is BACK! (And, besides the Puyallup Fair, I'm preaching, too!)

Seriously, if you have any inkling, you're more than invited (I mistyped "incited" just now... hmmm) to come.

Show starts at 11AM at 8611 11th Avenue SW, Seattle WA 98106.

And who knows, afterward lunch buffet at Maharaja?!

Percy Bysshe Shelley died this day in 1822

2009-07-08T10:35:00.000-07:00

Rise like Lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number -
Shake your chains to earth like dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you -
Ye are many - they are few.

Read about his life and work here.

American Pastor Welcomes Guns in Church

2009-06-28T14:14:00.000-07:00

"I think when people first learned about this invitation to wear guns to church, many people were deeply troubled," said Terry Taylor, one of the organizers. "The idea of wearing guns to churches or any sacred space I think many people find deeply troubling."

And, um, no one thought to ask why? If they did, it wasn't mentioned in the article.
At what point does "selling out" just not begin to cover the issues?
Even more troubling: this pastor draws 150 people a week to his services.

Baby Grow Day

2009-06-14T06:02:00.000-07:00

Helping someone do nothing has never been so much work.

Eva, my six-week-old daughter, has been having a rough day. Perhaps she's entering a growth spurt, perhaps she's overwhelmed with all the new things she's learning, perhaps she's just cranky. She won't sleep or stay awake. I check her diaper; that's not the problem. She won't stand to be put down, but doesn't seem to be satisfied with being held or rocked. She's just fussy - no matter what, just fussy.

It is all I can do to soothe her for a little while, in between outbursts of crying or squirming. If I can manage to keep her asleep for an hour or two, that is an accomplishment. It seems like I'm trying to help her do nothing.

Except that I realize that she's never really doing nothing. Even at rest, asleep and still, she is growing - working harder at these semmingly simple things than I do at some of my hardest work. By helping her be still for a while, it lets her body and her mind catch up to each other, lets her wrap her head around things. It isn't when she's active, but when she is at rest that she is growing.

Perhaps there's a lesson in this for me: we often help each other grow most when helping each other do nothing in particular at all. At surprising moments when we're working on other things, or when we're in one way or another asleep, quiet and unconscious, disparate parts of ourselves are working to catch up with each other, to make sense of the world as we're encountering it. Perhaps, as a parent, friend, teacher or minister, sometimes the best thing we can do is just help each other to step back, take a break.

Even now, in the time it has taken me to finish writing this, Eva has woken up from a nap, and given us her first smiles of the day. We have our baby back: the miracle of taking a little time out.

Vaderkracht

2009-06-05T04:16:00.001-07:00

I’ve heard it called simply “father strength,” that inexplicable strength of fathers. Something happens when men become fathers – they can do anything – lift heavy boxes, turn stubborn screws, open sealed jars, hike miles and miles without getting tired. Every father I have met is like this somehow – a Superman in Clark Kent clothing. Fathers just always seem to be strong.

It isn’t an obvious strength – fathers don’t generally have bulging muscles, and they seldom make sport of lifting large weights short distances. Fathers don’t generally “work out” in that way (who has the time?!). Fathers can’t lift a thousand pounds over their head for an instant, but they can lift 30 pounds for hours on end. Fathers can’t move a bulldozer across a stadium, but they can rock a child to sleep and walk in circles for an entire night. Look at their forearms – even long after their children have grown. You might not see it at first, but fathers are surprisingly strong.

Now that I am a young father, I can understand a little better where this comes from. I’m not a sporty guy, generally, but in this first month of child-rearing I’ve had a demanding workout every day: mostly short, small repetitive movements maintained for an hour or two; long walks down short hallways and around livingrooms; a short break and then back at it – carting, carrying, soothing, entertaining, enjoying my baby and all the paraphernalia babies seem to require. The muscles in my shoulders and back ache, but I only notice it after I’ve put her down – when my daughter is in my arms I am hardly aware of any pain or discomfort. It makes sense to me, going through this now, how fathers can be so strong: a few years of this kind of training and you really can do anything.

This strength that lasts for a lifetime is built by the daily exercise of caring for a child. The act of caring builds muscles. Fatherstrength, when you think about it, is really love. It is the result of loving, and the ability to love. It is love embodied, and as such, acts like opening jars and repairing bicycle tires and lifting groceries and moving furniture are acts of love. We fathers are able to do them so well because we’ve loved.

Fatherstrength as love also changes what it means to be “strong.” Fatherstrength is not the ability to bend other people to one’s will. It isn’t the ability to withstand pain. It isn’t the glorification of independence. In fact, it is the opposite of these things: bending oneself to the needs of another, opening oneself to the sufferings and cares of another, being gloriously and intimately connected and bound to another.

For the first six weeks after a child is born, scientists tell us, the level of testosterone in the father drops dramatically, allowing/encouraging the father to bond with the child to a level it might not have been biologically able to otherwise. It is almost as if the whole of nature was telling us what is most important, what is a more profound source of strength, what is the ground of care. How the father’s body knows to respond to the birth of a child is a mystery. Fatherstrength may be surprising, but it is surely the most natural thing in the world.

Seattle's Labor History

2009-04-15T23:41:00.000-07:00

Part of my heart still resides in Seattle, and many of my loyalties still with the labor movement. And in the wake of the closure of the generaly-labor-friendly newspaper in Seattle, my respect for the local alternative culture magazine has risen. So when a friend and nominal anarchist (and, it must be said, a punk rock afficionado and the happy-hour activity coordinator for our circle of friends - yes, we have one) sent me a link to this article in The Stranger, I remembered a little of why I am on this journey in the first place. Thanks, Nic.
The State of Our Unions: A Look at Seattle's Deep, Bloody Labor History - and Its Uncertain Future. (http://www.thestranger.com/seattle/the-state-of-four-unions/Content?oid=1393334)

The End of Christian America?

2009-04-08T07:28:00.001-07:00

We can only hope.

A terribly sinful friend, who is surely lost to the eternal fires of hell, sent me an interesting link today. http://www.newsweek.com/id/192583?GT1=43002 A Newsweek article about what it means that 10% fewer Americans identify themselves as Christians than 20 years ago. Interesting.

And, as for Jon, my wayward, doomed friend... thanks for the link!

Palmzondag 2009

2009-04-04T06:56:00.001-07:00

Mijn Predikatie voor de Gemeente Rotterdam

Hij kwam in een optocht terecht. Overal waren er mensen die juichten, zongen, gilden, marcheerden – sommigen hielden zelfs boomtakken omhoog. Pelgrims, koopmannen, vrienden, families, vreemdelingen, dieren voor transport en offers. Kan je de drukke straat zien? Kan je het geluid horen – muziek en conversaties en beesten, schreeuwen en lachen en verwarring? Kan je de hitte van de zon aan je armen voelen? Kan je het stof in de lucht ruiken – kamelen en hun mest, oud zweet van jou of van diegene naast je? Kan je het allemaal in je mond proeven – zo dik in de lucht dat je niet weet of het je doet stikken of dat je het uit wilt spuwen? En overal om je heen zijn er mensen in beweging – een enorme massa die naar de heilige stad gaat.

En daar in het midden zat hij op een ezel, de enige stilte in de storm van chaos en verwachting. Het zou helemaal gek lijken.

Later zou Johannes de evangelieschrijver zeggen dat die boomtakken palmtakken waren, omdat het die tijd van het feest van tabernakelen was, en mensen gewoonlijk feesten in kleine veldhutten die van palmtakken gemaakt waren. Matteüs, Lukas en Johannes allemaal voorstelden ze dat de massa van pelgrims en plattelanders daar voor Jezus waren. Dat die mensen Jezus als hun redder zagen, de Messias – zelfs als ze de verkeerde soort Messias verwachteden. En wij – Christenen – houden van dit beeld: hier is ons koning, met de intocht die hij verdient. Misschien denken wij dat het een beetje zoals het de dag van Sinterklaas is – onze intocht van de goede heiligman – duizenden krioelende kinderen in de straat, iedereen zingt liedjes van vreugde, en dat de heiligman langzaam door de straten gaat om elk kind en ouder te ontmoeten. Zelfs Beatrix komt om de sint te begroeten. Dat zou het zijn – de intocht van Christus.

Maar vandaag lezen wij niet van Lukas of Johannes, maar van Markus – en Markus verteld en andere verhaal. Misschien is het niet de verhaal dat wij verwachten.

Laat ons vanaf het begin beginnen. Jezus heeft twee van zijn leerlingen vooruit gestuurd, om een ezel naar hem te brengen. Hoe zouden ze het uitleggen dat ze niet betalen voor de ezel? Ze zouden alleen zegen de Heer heeft het nodig.

Een klein vraag – wie is de Heer? Is de Heer God? Misschien. Is de Heer Jezus? Waarschijnlijk denken we automatische zo – maar Markus noemt Jezus in zijn evangelie nooit “de Heer”. (Misschien is het nu de enige keer, natuurlijk, maar het is niet zo duidelijk dat wij dat hier zo zeker kunnen zegen.) Misschien is het een woordspeling, omdat in het Grieks het woord kurios ook “de eigenaar” kan betekenen. Misschien hebben die mensen op straat het niet goed begrepen! Ze dachten dat de eigenaar de ezel nodig had! En de leerlingen hebben van het misverstand voordeel gehad.

Maar er is nog een mogelijkheid. Misschien had Jezus alles al geregeld met de eigenaar van de ezel. Misschien waren er al mensen in Jeruzalem die Jezus kenden en hem wilden ondersteunen. Misschien was er al een ondergronds netwerk van mensen die wachten op een moment om Jezus te helpen. Misschien wisten de leerlingen zelfs niet hoeveel mensen of wie hen wilden helpen, wie aldoor de heilige geest voorbereidt waren.

In dit verhaal, zouden wij ons met de eigenaar identificeren; de stille maar essentiële karakter van de onbekende ezelmeester als onszelf zien? Zijn wij een deel van een ondergronds ondersteuningsnetwerk, altijd zoeken we mogelijkheden om de Geest te helpen, altijd voorbereid Jezus binnen onze stad te brengen?

In de middeleeuwen kreeg een andere karakter van de verhaal veel attentie. In de middeleeuwen was de ezel de focus van het verhaal – en de ezel was in tekeningen en gedichten herinnerd. In deze tijd dachten de mensen de ezel symbool stond voor gewone mensen, gemiddelde Christenen – rekruteerde tot dienst zonder toekomstplannen of kennis wat of waroom. De Heer heeft ons nodig, dachten de middeleeuwse mensen, we weten niet wanneer of voor wat, maar we zijn geroepend. Wij moeten Jezus’ persoon binnen de wereld houden. Wij, nederig en stoom, doen onze best. Wat voor een symbool. Zoveel over een ezel naar gedacht, waarover alleen in een paar verse is gesproken. Misschien is dat ook wat – we spelen een kleine rol in het verhaal van Jezus, een kort moment, maar belangrijk.

Daar zit Jezus op een ezel, en iedereen om hem heen zingt en juicht. Wat zeggen ze? “Hosanna! Gezegend hij die komt in de naam van de Heer. Gezegend het komende koninkrijk van onze vader David. Hosanna in de hemel!” Het is geen wonder dat Matteüs, Lukas en Johannes dachten de mensen juichten voor Jezus. Natuurlijk! Is het niet duidelijk? Voor wat anders konen ze juichten? (Aha… zelfs wanneer we Markus lezen, horen we de andere evangeliën! Laat ons naar Markus luisteren zoals hij bedoelde te spreken.)

De mensen zijn op de weg naar Jeruzalem. De feesttijd van tabernakels en Pascha nadert – ‘n heel grote feesttijd, wanneer duizenden mensen naar Jeruzalem komen om offers te brengen, hun geschiedenis te vieren, en ook – weten de Romeinen wel – te genieten van hun nationale trots. Pelgrims komen vanuit heel Israel, en ze zingen allemaal dezelfde liederen – ’n series van liederen vanuit de psalmen en profeten. Van heel ver beginnen ze dezelfde liederen te zingen, en wanneer ze Jeruzalem naderen zijn er meer liederen voor elk deel van de weg – zodat iedereen dezelfde woorden zingen. De eenheid van de volk begint veer weg in zang. Dit lied dat Markus schreef was voor het laatste stuk van de weg. Mensen zingen dit lied als ze in de buurt van Jeruzalem komen – het was echt de intocht van het volk!

Elk jaar zongen ze dezelfde liederen, honderden jaren voor Christus en tientallen jaren na hem. Zongen ze over hun hoop, hun redder, hun Heer, de koninkrijk van David. Ze zongen “Hosanna!” Hosanna is ’n Hebreeuwse woord dat “redt ons” betekend.
“Redt ons nu,” zingen ze. Voor Markus is hierin ’n sterke ironie. Overal om Jezus heen zijn er mensen die zingen “redt ons,” en willen het koninkrijk van God zien. Overal om Jezus heen zijn er mensen die hopen op ’n nieuwe wereld, ’n antwoord tegen de pijn en lijden in de wereld, ’n nieuwe Heer die hun nog een kans geeft de wil van God te doen. Om hem heen zijn duizenden mensen – voor hem, achter hem, naast hem – verenigd in zang en devotie. Maar niemand van hen weet dat hun antwoord met hen meerijdt, binnen hun kring.

Ze zingen en aanbidden het beste dat ze kennen, doen het beste dat ze weten, maar zien niet dat hun dromen en hopen naast hen loopt. Ze zingen de juiste lieden, bidden de goede gebeden, maken foutloze offers, maar ze missen het punt als ze niet weten wie in hun midden rijdt. Voor Markus is dit een suprême toneel van ironie. Hun liederen zijn juist maar ze weten het niet. Hun gebeden zijn beantwoordt, en zij zingen over het antwoord, maar zien het niet. Het koninkrijk is gekomen, maar het is net begonnen.

Kan het dat ook wij het punt missen? Is het mogelijk dat wij ons best doen maar de ironie missen? Of zijn we gelijk als de ezel, Jezus onwetende houden voor de wereld? Of zouden we zoals de leerlingen, die naar het komende dorp gingen om daar het werk van de Geest te zoeken, meer mensen zoeken om de Heer te dienen?

Maar te vaak verwachten wij Jezus zoals Sinterklaas komt, en zoals een Koning of General het regelt. Wij houden ons palmtakken om hoog en juichen. (En zo snel vergeten we het lijden dat komt.)

Jezus kwam niet om te beginnen met alles te regelen. We moeten ons herinneren wat er vervolgens gebeurde. Avondmaal herinnert ons – zijn laatste avondmaal, zijn lijden en kruisiging. Te vaak willen we naar de overwinning gaan – van de intocht onmiddellijk naar het paaswonder – van overwinning naar overwinning te springen. We willen niet aan het lijden denken, over het angstgevoel, de onzekerheid.

Maar Jezus, het middelpunt van alles dat zou gebeuren, deed het wat kalmer aan, en nam de tijd voor een maaltijd met zijn broers en zusters. Hij gaaf hen wat stille tijd om over de komende dingen na te denken. Zeker te zijn dat wij niks zouden missen. Avondmaal is voor ons ’n gift van Jezus.

Jezus zal sterven, nog en nog eens. Maar onze hoop en geloof hoeft ook niet op het kruis te sterven. Jezus’ leven en werk gaat verder. En als wij leerlingen zijn, aantwoorden wij op Jezus’ roeping; of zijn we een deel van ’n ondergrond die wacht om liefde in de harten van mensen te slaan; of zijn we een ezel die Jezus naar onze stad brengt, de vraag voor ons is als wij wel of niet deelnemen aan dit grote werk. Jezus offerde persoonlijk zijn leven voor jou. Kan jij er aan deel nemen?

(Hartstikke bedanken naar Geesje voor haar hulp met het Nederlands.)

Dutch Frankness

2009-02-21T05:35:00.000-08:00

I found this posted in a Dutch home recently. Seriously - in their downstairs bathroom.

It reads:

After you make a large delivery, kindly look to see if you left any tell-tale signs (literally "tracks", as in railroad tracks), and kindly clean them up. It makes it so much nicer for the next person.

Ah, Dutch candor. Sometimes, I just have to smile. And, of course, catch a snapshot on my phone. :-) I suppose it must be said that this family has three young adult sons, so that might have something to do with it.

Easter Bullettin Inserts

2009-02-21T02:43:00.000-08:00

Now available from the Peace Support Network!

Easter Bulletin Inserts - Six weeks of inter-generational, print-ready bulletin inserts are now available here - http://www.peacesupportnetwork.org/papers4.cfm Tell the story of Jesus' ministry while promoting peace and justice. Please download and use these wonderful resources in your services. (Thank you to volunteer Marge Nelson for creating these positive resources which follow the World Church weekly themes, beginning March 1.)

Armstrong's The Bible: A Biography

2009-02-03T22:48:00.000-08:00

Author Karen Armstrong has always seemed very fair, even generous, in her presentation of multiple, contrasting viewpoints. The Bible, in this same sense, does not disappoint.

In fact, if anything, the underlying agenda of Armstong's greater body of work in comparative religion and religious histories comes shining through in this book. Armstong in her books goes to great lengths to see the best in all viewpoints, to recognize integrity, honesty and context in every perspective - even ones she (or her readers) might disagree with - and treating ones with which her readers might agree with no less integrity or greater respect. Having read several of Armstrong's books, I think an "agenda" can be discerned: Armstrong believes that if we understand each other fairly and listen to each other generously, we can get along marvelously, and that even the most difficult questions and disagreements can be opportunities for growing in love with each other.

Armstrong says almost as much herself in the Epilogue of The Bible: "If we truly want to undertand the other, we have to assume that he or she is speaking the truth."

That being said, The Bible is an good overview of Biblical history. It moves through history at a lightning pace, hardly stopping for breath. It is a surprisingly quick read (I picked it up at an airport and read it in a weekend), and all the major Biblical historical periods, figures and movements are explained clearly and consisely. Almost too consisely at times - I wonder how much readers will get out of certain parts of it, who aren't already familiar with the material from previous study. But in this kind of introductory book covering nearly six-thousand years of ver diverse and intricate history, some summaries must be made.

Armstrong does a good job of lifting up major figures and important events in the life of the Bible, and I have always appreciated her ability to fairly capture a perspective on its own terms and yet also offer helpful, insightful commentary for the interested present-day reader. Her writing is very readable, and this text would be well suited for personal or group reading - especially among lay persons and others who might not have much scholarly experience with Biblical studies. The book would also be good for a group of mixed-level readers, as there are more than enough strings to follow if one is inspired to know more, but additional reading isn't necessary for enjoying the book and finding it useful.

I think the book would be particularly helpful for USAmerican readers, who are often caught in cultural, religio-political spasms without an appreciation of the historical place or forces at play. One unstated motive for Armstrong's biography (one in a series of "books that changed the world" from Grove Press) may be to combat the cultural phenomenon of seeing the Bible as one book that is claiming to be scientifically correct. The Bible by its very subject matter reveals the history of the Bible - its composition, interpretation, perception and use - to be incredibly varied.

The way the Bible is sometimes perceived and described in today's culture wars is not the way the Bible has always been seen, and isn't in keeping with the intentions of the narrative, its writers, or use throughout the centuries. The book, in lifting up how every age reads and presents the Bible according to its own expectations, shows that even today's post-Enlightenment orthodoxy of fact-as-truth is a lens through which we see the Bible, not as the Bible actually is. Our "scientific" expectations ask the wrong questions, set up the wrong expectations of the Bible. It's no wonder the Bible is so disappointing under these conditions! Armstrong doesn't shrink from the difficult or contradictory parts of the Bible - in fact, at times they provide the greatest impetus for commentary and creativity.

The Bible, as history, does what history at its best often does: it opens up possibilities for the future. It reminds us of the incredible variety of perspectives and convictions, offers us forgotten insights, remembers lessons learned, points out what we might otherwise overlook. In so doing, The Bible is a story of humanity, at once a history of Western civilization and the story of multiple parallel and layered understandings of what it means to be most fully human and in relationship to the Divine.

While not a scholarly book, The Bible is a book with breadth and insight, compassion and information, history and wonder. I came away from reading it feeling a deeper appreciation for the Bible as a tool in and reflection of our cultural circumstances. And for the many lessons, observations and stories peppered throughout the text, it is certainly worth the reading. But I think reading The Bible is most valuable as an example of that kind of work Armstrong would have us all do more of: applying the principle of charity toward others. In the words of linguist Donald Davidson (whom Armstrong quotes in the Epilogue):

Making sense of the utterance and behavior of others, even their most aberrant behaviors, requires you to find a great deal of truth and reason in them.

Armstrong deals charitably with all of us, and so does us a great service, enabling us to deal charitably with others - even our varied enemies.

New Rorty Biography

2009-01-29T11:58:00.000-08:00

We ought to see him [Rorty] "not as a being spinning out ideas on the basis of a transhistorically rational consideration of their objective merits or as someone pushed this way and that by his personality or character, but as a social actor embedded over time in a variety of institutional settings. . . . [W]hat is true of Rorty in this regard is true of all other intellectuals: they are persons no less impinged upon by social mechanisms and processes than any other."

It seems a little weird that Gross would bother to point this out.

A new philosophical bigoraphy of Richard Rorty, one of my all-time favorite philosophers, has been written - and is given an engrossing review. At some point, after my seminary reading blows over, I'll want to read this. In the meantime, this review (and the reviews of any of my readers!) will have to do.

(Thanks to blogger Jon for the heads-up!)

Currently Listening: Ray of Light

2009-01-29T10:40:00.000-08:00

Famous faces, far off places, trinkets I can buy
No handsome stranger, heady danger, drug that I can try
No ferris wheel, no heart to steal, no laughter in the dark
No one-night-stand, no far off land, no fire that I can spark

The face of you, my substitute for love
My substitute for love
Should I wait for you, my substitute for love
My substitute for love

(You see)

And now I find
I've changed my mind

This is my religion
(from "Drowned World/Substitute for Love")

So, am I totally behind the curve here? I've just "discovered" Madonna's Ray of Light as a work of Christian devotion, and some great meditation music.

You only see what your eyes want to see
How can life be what you want it to be
You're frozen... when your heart's not open

You're so consumed with how much you get
You waste your time with hate and regret
You're broken... when your heart's not open
(from "Frozen")

I must own that I've always been sort of down on Madonna, thinking "pop" music largely beneath my enlightened, spiritual, erudite tastes. But I'm slowly discovering the wealth of insight I've been cutting myself off from.

So, for what it's worth, Madonna - if you ever read my blog - I'm sorry. I underestimated you. And good work here. Not just because it's "Christian" (because it isn't at all Christiany or self-important like that), not just because it is great meditation music (you could also dance to most of it, I suppose), but because you surprised me, and it takes a lot to get through my pride to genuinely surprise me. Thanks.

Grace in the Face - A Confession

2009-01-29T10:24:00.000-08:00

By Flannel Christian

We are going to have a baby, my wife and I. A few months ago, though, I wasn’t sure I wanted one. There were lots of reasons, of course – I like my free time, I like the money I don’t have to spend on a baby, I don’t like dirty diapers, and so on. There were deeper reasons, too. Perhaps part of the reason I have been hesitant to have children is because I don’t want to fail – especially at something so important.

Having a child is an enormous responsibility, even when you’re ready for one. I don’t feel ready: I don’t know enough good stories and songs, I haven’t read the latest books on discipline and encouragement, I don’t know if I will have enough time from my job to spend with my family. When I was ten years younger, I felt more or less emotionally prepared for raising children – but perhaps I know myself better now. I know my faults, the things I don’t know, my personal weaknesses; and I know a little more now how difficult it really is to raise a healthy, dynamic, bold, caring child. At the very time in my life when I feel least prepared to raise a child right, that’s when I find myself becoming a parent.

Now I have no choice: I will have a child – and I will surely fail. I will not be the perfect parent. I will not do everything right. (And, surely, my child will not be perfect herself.) This little life will depend on me, and I will let it down. I will not always be there at the right time, or say the right thing, or be able to solve the problem. And, probably, it will love me anyway, even though I won’t entirely deserve it.

That is really the kicker – it will love me, even though I don’t deserve it. That thought kills me. In addition to me failing as a parent, heaping coals upon my head, it will probably love me as if I never failed at all. It won’t even think about the possibility (probability… certainty) of me failing again in the future. With the love of the innocent, it will probably forgive me even before I’ve done wrong.

This is what grace is to me – being loved despite my failings, being hoped in and relied on despite the certainty that I will fail again, being forgiven even before I do wrong. The grace of God is a lovely idea, and as long as it remains God’s grace, I can handle the concept. But having a child, and being forced every day to face my unpreparedness, and being loved in the face of it all, having that forgiveness right at hand, seems too much to bear.

My guilt and disappointment in myself is so much a part of me, I can’t imagine it going away, having to give it up. To tell the truth, I don’t feel like I deserve to give them up, to be free from my sins.

But at the same time, I don’t want to pass on to my child this burden of mine, pass on the weight of my sins. If I am going to be even the best parent I can be (far from perfect), I will have to let my child love me, and perhaps even accept some forgiveness. I have to be the best parent I can be, despite whatever failings I had yesterday, despite whatever failings await me tomorrow. To some degree, I have to set aside my sins, love myself as if I had never sinned, love myself as if I were capable of never sinning again.

Perhaps having a child will help me learn to forgive myself for failing as a parent. And that may start me forgiving myself for failing at most things. And who knows where this path of grace will lead.

Deliver us from amnesia

2009-01-19T08:59:00.000-08:00

God of peace,
God of justice,
God of freedom,

We give thanks for your cadences of peace, justice, and freedom,
Cadences that have surged through the lives
of Martin,
and Ralph,
and Rosa,
and John,
and Fred,
and Hosea,
and Jesse,
and Andy,
and all that nameless mass of risk-takers who have been
obedient to your promises
and susceptible to your dreams.

Deliver us from amnesia
concerning their courage in the face of violence,
their peace-making against hate,
and their hunger for you in a devouring economy.

Deliver us from amnesia:
turn our memory into hope,
turn our gratitude into energy,
turn our well-being into impatience.

That these same cadences of your will may pulse even among us.
Amen.

-Walter Brueggemann
prayer after Martin Luther King Day, 1999

Finally!

2008-12-23T02:40:00.000-08:00

I have my driver's license!

After nearly a year in residence in the Netherlands...

After nearly six months of not being allowed to drive...

After four attempts at the Theory Exam (one of the most difficult in the world)...

After six lessons for the Practical Exam...

After doing my Practical Exam in Dutch (and holding a conversation while driving)...

After the rigormarole of Dutch beauracracy...

I received my Dutch driver's license.

Finally!

It has been a long time coming - long awaited by both me and my co-workers (who were forced to chaffeur me around in the meantime). I am now free to drive in the Netherlands.

When I passed the Theory Exam (unexpectedly, as I'm convinced it is pure chance and luck that determines who - if anyone - passes), those of us who passed nearly cried with joy. I'm still a little stunned that it ever happened. The practical exam was interesting - the examiner spent most of the time chatting with me about my church and job, just giving me a few instructions here and there ("turn left here" or "take me to the airport"). But I have been prevented from driving for so long, that I'm a little nervous driving now - so, in fact, I'm a worse driver after this process.

But at least it is over.

This was the last, final step of my more-or-less complete administrative resettlement in the Netherlands. The only thing remaining is my first year of income tax to be paid... next year. But otherwise, I'm an official and complete resident of the Netherlands. I'm European.

Just in time, too. Perhaps a year for all this to happen isn't such a bad timeline. But, man, it sucked not being able to drive my own errands.

The silver lining to this story? Christie and I learned by heart all the best bike routes for virtually all our needs within about a five kilometer radius. Now, a bike tour from our home to the city center is part of our repertoire we can offer to visitors. And taking a seven-kilometer round-trip walk for a few trifles seems like nothing out of the ordinary.

Perhaps there's something to not-driving after all.

Ah, who am I kidding? I'd rather drive.

Pics from Brest, France

2008-10-22T08:22:00.000-07:00

I visited the French minister and his wife at their home in Brest, France - and they showed me Finistere, Brittany - the "end of the earth." I have to say that I am now in love with Brittany: the scenery, the climate, the pace of life, the architecture, the ancient celtic influence, the ruins and midieval structures at every turn. Beautiful. Just beautiful.

It was also lovely to get to spend some time with Thierry and Amelie - my brother and sister in the faith. And they were exceptionally generous hosts.

Here are just a few pics from the weekend - and if we had time, there's a story to every one of them. Perhaps next time we find ourselves over a cup of coffee. :-)

Country First?

2008-09-10T22:56:00.000-07:00

One of the benefits of having moved to Europe has been the convenience of limited exposure to U.S. politics. In fact, during both the Democratic and Republican Conventions I was in Russia, which afforded me only snippets amid other international news. But what I saw horrified me.

So far, I have not mentioned politics this electoral season - partly because I haven't been posting much at all, and partly because I have enjoyed being apart from the morass of voices and images that bombard Americans during electoral cycles. But there is something I feel I must say.

Presidential hopeful John McCain's choice of slogan, "Country First", virtually prohibits any support by Christians, and is in fact an anti-Christian phrase.

The whole point in the followers of Jesus using the phrase "Jesus is Lord" is to contrast themselves with the politics of the Roman Empire, where Cesar is Lord and Savior. In Empire, the Empire is what saves. In Empire, "peace" is achieved by domination, violent suppression of any resistance, and control (and upward movement) of wealth.

With John McCain raising the banner of "Country First", Christians are given a choice - nation first or Jesus first. Even for non-Christians, I can imagine there being a great many ideas, principles or values that would come before "nationstate": human rights, abolishing poverty, eliminating hunger, healthcare for everyone in the world, love, genuine peace, and so on. But for Christians, the issue is particularly pointed because of our history with power.

At the Republican Convention, one crowd-member who got the thumbs up from McCain was holding a sign that read: Peace Through Strength. Obviously, this person wasn't a Christian, but McCain claims to be a Christian. What church is McCain attending - what gospels is McCain reading - that do not contrast the peace brought by a suffering, sacrificing messiah on the one hand with the violent, double-speak politics of empires on the other. "Peace Through Strength" is a phrase Christians shoud react to in horror. Jesus is a model of strength through weakness, of self-sacrifice. The New Testament is an inversion of the military-messiah into a spiritual and peaceful one - the radical and surprising choice of vulnerability, love and creative resistance over security, power over others and domination. "Peace Through Strength" is antithetical to Christian values, to the Christian tradition, and strikes violently at the very heart of Jesus' life, message and meaning.

It is a fundamental element of Christianity - often lost in the overwhelming rhetoric and noise of our secular, capitalist, military-industrial culture - that we are given a choice whom we will serve. The choice is cast in different ways at different times, but they all have the same bottom line: Jesus' way or the way of Domination, Jesus or Empire, Jesus or some other entity that offers a different set of values, priorities and strategies. It is no different for American Christians now.

Now, in all honesty, I don't think McCain is an anti-Christ, or that he realizes what he is doing, or that he is intentionally peddling an anti-Christian message. He is a pawn of Empire, too, willing to do whatever he can to get more power. And he is using the slogan in a way that seems softer, warmer, than it might otherwise be seem in more clear circumstances. McCain and the Republicans want "Country First" to mean "thinking about others before yourself" - which is a noble sentiment as far as it goes. But the problem is - as it always is with allegiances - the slogan wants to enlist people's support under this warm and fuzzy pretext of caring about other people, but once they are on board with the slogan "Country First" will take them far from "caring". Appealing to nationalism only serves to remove people's ability to make decisions for themselves, remove their own value system with one that serves the empire's interests. What I am saying is that "Country First as Caring for Others" is a lullaby lie, meant to put you to into moral slumber. Rather than clarifying and proclaiming people's values, the phrase is meant to subvert and subject people's values to those of the Nation-state, to those in power, to the mechanisms of Empire.

I'm not advocating in this post voting for Obama. This isn't a partisan attack. My concern here is that we who would be followers of Jesus are aware of the profound choices being asked of us. "Country First" is no innocuous political phrase. "Peace Through Strength" is no simple proclamation of American sentiment. We are being handed opportunities to abandon our commitments to Jesus, wrapped in the American flag and to the sound of parading bands and applause.

Let us pause and consider what Jesus would want us to think or choose in these instances. Let us ask who's values are we being asked to uphold and make our own. Let us ask what else might be more important, what else might come before country, first.

My Ancestor Was Here

2008-06-24T01:08:00.000-07:00

While cleaning out the attic here at my new residence, I must sift through layers of junk and treasure left behind by so many previous residents. The other day, I came across a pile of old books - bound periodicals of church history from the turn of the 20th century.

Thumbing through the 1910 volume, I saw a familiar name: Joseph Burton - my great-great-great-uncle. It was a biography of Captain Burton (he was a merchant ship captain) written by his wife, Emma. Surprised to see my own relations mentioned, I started to read, following the serialized biography into the 1911 volume.

Being a merchant sea man from Nova Scotia and New England, it isn't surprising that Joseph sailed all over the Atlantic - from Europe to the Caribbean and all along the Eastern United States. What was surprising - at least to see it in print - was the brief reference to Joseph making a trip to Amsterdam in 1867. Then, not too much later, another trip from the US to Rotterdam. My great-great-great-uncle was in Rotterdam more than a hundred years ago.

This was, of course, before he had joined the church, and some thirty years before he would captain the missionary boat Evanelia from California to the Society Islands. But still, to have such a random and concrete connection with Rotterdam - to imagine my great-great-grandfather walking the downtown streets (or approximately, since the whole of downtown R'dam was destroyed in World War II) - touches me deeply.

I am, truly, just following in others' footsteps.

(The painting above is something of the scene Joseph Burton might have seen approaching Rotterdam. Johan Barthold Jongkind, The Schie Near Rotterdam, 1867.)

Why Religion At All?

2008-06-17T02:43:00.000-07:00

I was having a discussion with a friend recently - a friend who has been reading a lot of books in the "New Atheism" movement. (I don't know why they call it "New Atheism" - except that perhaps it's a new movement, a resurgence or renaissance.) And perhaps it's the fact that we share so many sympathies on the subject that I found it difficult to answer her questions the way she seemed to want me to. None of my answers were apparently getting at her fundamental question. So she sent me away from the discussion with something to think about: why have religion at all? Wouldn't our efforts and energies be more constructively placed elsewhere?

It got me to thinking.

Even if we take the most natualistic definition or description of "God" - God being the experience of neurons firing in our heads and our brains being bathed with certain chemicals as a result (as some recent articles have suggested, our brains might be hard-wired to come up with the idea of God) - that doesn't mean that the experience isn't valid or even helpful. It is much the same thing as love - our brains doing certain things with certain data, causing emotional and intellectual reactions, moving us to do (or avoid doing) certain things. Even knowing this, the most convinced neuroscientist doesn't give up on Love.

But the question is not about "God" - whatever that is or how it is experienced. The question is about religion: is it necessary or helpful for people to become the best they can be - as individuals and as a communal whole.

Obviously, this critique (in part) is reacting to the enormous and horrific narrow-mindedness of various fundamentalisms and the religiously-infused history of the 20th century. The Holocaust was committed by Christians as Christians, capitalizing on centuries of Christian anti-semitism. World War I saw every country - on each side - declaring God on their side, with the attendant implicit divine blessing on unthinkable death and destruction. The New Atheist critique is also laying claim to the Human Rights culture that has been growing since the 18th century and has oftentimes been explicitly beyond religious distinctions in its call for fair treatment of all people. (Curiously, the New Atheists don't lay much blame for the horrors of the past at the feet of nationalism, capitalism, imperialism or colonialism. But that might just be too broad a front to engage the world on. And, it must be said, the New Atheists are English-speakers from the Northern Hemisphere, whose nations and cultures are steeped in capitalist rhetoric of "freedom" being equated with "buying power.")

I will have to save a larger discussion of this for another post - or perhaps a book - but I do believe that American Christianity deserves this New Atheist critique. Religion in the Western world (Christianity, Islam and Judaism) has been astoundingly complicit in (if not outrightly encouraging) nationalism, prejudice and violence. We have directed enormous resources at our own comfort while neglecting (if not capitalizing) on the suffering of others - most horrifically when our comfort comes at the expense of others. New Atheism raises some profound and legitimate questions that Christians (my community) should take seriously - searching inside and among ourselves for a Christ-like response rather than reacting in fear and offense, and continuing to ignore the fundamental premise of their complaint. (Recognizing that the Christ-like response might be to change the way we are acting, speaking or thinking.) With American Christianity the way it is, I can't blame anyone for wanting to be an atheist. The questions resonates inside me deeply: why be religious at all?

To begin an answer, let me start with the analogy I mentioned earlier: love. Is it necessary for love (both the neurological "happening" and the experience of love in people's lives) that we have ritualized behaviors and communal expectations? Of course not. People can feel love without dating or marriage, monogamy or... whatever. I must admit that my partner and I decided to get married (almost five years ago now) without knowing precisely why - but that I have found our marriage to be profoundly moving and formative for me. I have been made a better person by my marriage in ways I never imagined or was aware of - and part of that was, honestly, giving myself over to the convention of the ritual relationship, and exploring my new personhood within it. But my partner and I certainly don't begrudge any of our friends or family who don't get married, who only date or live together, or have even decided against romantic relationships for the present. We also don't begrudge our friends and family who have gotten married - and for most, marriage has served them well, while others not quite as well. I can imagine a person who has neither the need for nor would be helped by "marriage" or even monogamy - who can have healthy, honest, full relationships with people in ways that I am unaware or incapable of. My way of being in relationship is not the only right way. I don't think for a moment that "marriage" is necessary for love, or for a person to fully actualize themselves, or to grow in compassion toward others, or for a thousand other virtues that flower from healthy intimate relationships.

Is it necessary for people to participate in an organized religion in order to find fulfillment and become healthy individuals? Of course not. I can imagine someone being healthy and dynamic, self-aware and challenged, compassionate and sensing a call to profound generosity and vulnerability, without being taught or encouraged to within a ritualized framework. Those people, I would probably find enviable.

I am not nearly so strong, creative, self-aware or self-challenging. To be honest, if it were up to me, I would probably spend most of my existence comfortably within my own prejudices, feeling a sense of distant concern for the poorer situation of others but that's about it, and would likely find my own righteous indignation adequate for sustaining my views about myself and my world. I would likely be quite comfortable not holding myself within a community that demands critical introspection, not being held accountable by a community, or wrestling with a tradition and the inheritance of millions of lives before mine. I feel like a pretty ritualistic person, so I'd probably come up with my own significant ritual acts - but there would be little basis for me to share these with others or invite their participation in them with me. But, if I didn't have religion in general - and progressive, peace-church Christianity in particular - I just wouldn't have the personal hutzpah or gumption to really set myself to work on these tasks. And I'd be a worse person for it.

In the end, I'd have to say that religion isn't necessary for a full and happy life. I'm just saying I couldn't do it. By being a participant (and now a minister) in a Christian community, I am opened up to challenges and ways of being that I don't think I would have were I not here. (I also think most everyone could benefit from being in a union. And, really, I probably begrudge people not being union more than I begrudge anyone being irreligious.) I also wonder if people who haven't been brought up in a religious community - or who's experiences have been markedly different than mine, even - can't know what they're missing.

I've been both religious and secular in my life, been both theist and atheist, and I like myself better as a minister in this particular Christian peace church. It isn't that I just "feel better" - sometimes being a Christian fills me with profound sadness and awareness of suffering, and being a Christian also denies me easy answers to many of life's truly difficult questions. I am constantly pushed outside my prejudices and self-centered thinking. I am pulled to engage with, feel for, and perhaps even love people that I don't like, don't care being around, and disagree with. (I don't always do very well at this, it must be said. But forgiveness and grace are also Christian tenets.)

I don't like it when religions - Christianity in particular (since it is my larger community - teach prejudice and superiority. When someone is religious, or admits to a belief in God (not necessarily the same thing), one thing that can signify is that they are confessing they don't know everything, that there is more that they are subject to than they can know or explain, but that they feel it nonetheless. To use the word "God" can oftentimes do one of two things: it can open people up or close them off, it can say 'I am seeking the truth' or it can say 'I have the truth,' it can mean 'I am open to connection and genuine growth' or it can mean 'I am right and if you don't agree with me then you are at best misguided and at worst evil.' I cannot express strongly enough my disdain for religion that does the latter - and I assume it is to this variety that the New Atheism is responding. And there's plenty of that kind of religion around - it seems they own most of the television channels and radio stations, have the biggest churches and promote retrograde politics. I wish the New Atheists good luck in their quest to break the hold of this kind of religion on people's minds and hearts.

But there is also the kind of religion that opens people up, that seeks to love and grow, and seeks to change the world not to be more like 'us', but to be more like a generous, just and loving God would want it to be. And there as many different kinds of being faithful to that kind of God as there are ways of loving. Religion isn't necessary for that to happen. But for some of us it really, really helps. For me, it is indispensible.

Trinity Sunday

2008-05-18T07:10:00.001-07:00

Today is the Sunday when Christians generally comment on or spend time with the doctrine of the Trinity - perhaps the most obscure, mysterious, incohate, and among the most meaningful elements of the Christian tradition.

But let's not take ourselves too seriously.

So, here's a joke from yesterdays Kansas City Star:

Jesus said, "Who do people say that I am?" His disciples replied, "Some say that you are John the Baptist returned from the dead; others say Elijah or another of the propehts."

Jesus replied, "But who do you say that I am?"

Peter answered and said, "Thou art the Logos, existing in the Father as his rationality and then, by an act of his will, being generated, in consideration of the various functions by which God is related to his creation, but only because Scripture speaks of a Father, a Son and a Holy Spirit, each member of the Trinity being coequal with every other member and each acting inseparably with and interpenetrating every other member, with only an economic subordination within God, but causing no division which would make the substance no longer simple."

And Jesus replied, saying, "What?"

McDonalds - Dutch Style

2008-04-21T07:46:00.000-07:00

Ok. I finally did it. I could only last so long. I'm only human, after all.

I went to McDonald's this morning. We were running errands; I hadn't had breakfast yet; I was jonesing for a McGriddle... whatever. I went to McDonald's, ok? And McDonald's are the same everywhere, right? Wrong.

First of all, this place had only one front door. The side I was on wasn't it. So I just guessed and went to my left. Wrong choice. Three sides later, I got in. Perhaps they were testing me. Do you really want to come here?

At the counter I looked for their breakfast menu. I don't know why - I always get the same thing. But I couldn't find it... which worried me.

"Do you have a breakfast menu?"

"Yes, we do. Would you like it?"

"Sure."

"That'll be 4.75 euros."

It took me a while to figure it out, but apparently McDonald's in the Netherlands only has one item (a meal, or "menu" in Dutch) on their breakfast line-up. ONE ITEM!

The good part is that the one meal option they have includes a bacon, egg & cheese McMuffin AND a croissant (with jam & butter) AND a coffee AND an orange juice. That's like TWO meals in the States! And for 4.75 in local silver. That's literally pocket-change here. (The Euro coinage goes up to two-euros.)

Forgive me for saying this in a post about McDonalds in the Netherlands, but...

I love this country. *sniff*

Remembering Resistance

2008-04-08T02:07:00.000-07:00

By Flannel Christian

While visiting congregations in Germany, my partner Christie and I stumbled upon a surprising memorial. We were walking around a medieval cathedral in Braunschweig and on the ground lay a stone marking the spot where a memorial briefly stood. The stone read: “Here stood from 1 September 1994 until 1 January 1995 a memorial to military deserters. After twice being vandalized, it was on New Year’s Day stolen altogether.” It was the first time I had ever seen a memorial for a memorial, and I realized how difficult it is to remember unpopular ideas sometimes.

Not only is a monument to deserters rare (I had never heard of one before!), and not only was this monument attacked three times in four months, but the entire monument was stolen altogether! Who steals a whole monument? Someone who desperately wants us not to remember – someone who wants us to forget. Without the memory of those who went before us, we are more likely to just go with the crowd, obey orders, buy into popular ideas, and not question the powers and principalities of this world.

As Christians, we cannot afford to forget.

At every turn – from the television to history books to parades on holidays to international politics – war and violence are lifted up and praised as the ultimate good, the ultimate sacrifice, the ultimate service one can do for one’s country or family or community.

But where are the stories of those who refused to fight? Where are the stories of those who were so horrified by war that they chose not to follow the crowd? Where are memorials to their sacrifices, their courage, their vision? Where are the histories of the deserters, stories of their bravery, songs about their commitment, recognition for their service to humankind? In a world governed by governments that rely on the projection of power – either economic or military – we rarely hear the stories of those who resist the drums of war. They are erased from our collective memory – no mention in history books, no discussion in current policy, no news headlines, no memorials. We are not allowed to remember them or their sacrifice.

The ironic thing is, that is the same thing the Roman Empire thought it was doing by crucifying Jesus – making him a common criminal, anonymous, unremarkable, erased from our collective memory. I can only begin to imagine what it must have been like for the first few generations after Jesus died – the government refused to acknowledge Jesus’ sacrifice, let alone his resurrection, following a resister – let alone worshipping him – must have seemed close to treason. And then, just as now in many of our governments, treason toward the state comes with deadly consequences.

The absence of the Braunschweig memorial echoes the symbolism of the cross: a negative symbol redeemed. The cross and the missing monument at first seem to declare defeat and negation, but the cross was adopted by the early Christians as the very sign of Jesus’ victory and love for the world. The cross symbolizes both Jesus’ victory and our awareness of the brutality and power that Jesus was up against. Placing a memorial to the stolen memorial in Braunschweig is a sign of the refusal to forget – and also a sign of awareness of the powerful reactionary forces of patriotism, militarism, and violence. We know what we’re up against in our countries – just as Jesus and Paul knew what they were up against under Rome.

We worship a God and man that declares that all people are of inestimable worth, and that since we are all equally loved by God we should love each other just as dearly – regardless of citizenship, race, or language. Jesus died because he resisted the social, political and economic machine of oppression in his country and culture – a machine that declared some people more important or more holy than others. Jesus defied the expectations of his culture, his nation, even his own followers, and bravely and actively loved people that the crowds around him saw as unloveable.

Surely, those who deserted from the German army (or any army) in World War II (or any war) did so for many reasons. But it seems reasonable that most of them (if not all of them) felt that what their nation and culture and crowds were saying and doing was wrong. No one is of less worth than another – everyone is equally loved by God, and ought to be loved by those who follow God.

War and imperialism and greed and a thousand other vices are fed by the idea that “we” are better than “them.” Both the deserters and Jesus confessed with their lives that that idea is not true. But disagreeing with this idea is sometimes a very difficult, unpopular, dangerous statement to make.

It is easier for us to stand strong if we remember that we are not alone in resisting the urge to elevate ourselves above others – others have gone before us: Jesus and Paul, Peter and Mary, and the almost-forgotten wartime deserters. Stand as a living memorial to the missing memorial; live and love as a living sacrifice; be a symbol of Christ and the cross in the world.

(A version of this article will be published in the June editions of the church magazines in Germany and the Netherlands.)

New Favorite Matches

2008-03-18T01:18:00.000-07:00

Ummm... well, that's interesting! :-)

God & Monster Trucks

2008-02-26T00:37:00.000-08:00

An Olympian minister visits a Monster Truck Rally... and even likes it a little.
http://www.theolympian.com/living/story/361096.html

The Island Church

2008-02-19T22:57:00.001-08:00

The church and parsonage building where I live in Rotterdam is - like every place in the Netherlands - virtually surrounded by water. There are canals on almost all sides, and not your rinky-dink trenches, mind you, but full on Venetian canals. Access to the church can only be had by walking one narrow strip of land.

Can you start to see the problem?

The Netherlands is already secular enough to make it difficult for anyone to want to come to even the nationally-supported Dutch Reformed Church, let alone a strange and foreign import church from America. But in addition to that, you can't actually get to the church except across an out-of-the-way spit of land.

Now, you could say that this is a metaphor for walking the narrow road that scripture mentions. But this is church, not heaven, we're talking about. As far as the church was concerned, Jesus seemed much more interested in gathering all kinds of people in, and that would require a pretty broad road, or at least multiple points of access.

Frankly speaking, the church can't afford to be inaccessible. It has enough going against it these days that it shouldn't be getting in its own way. The geographic placement of the building actually works against the church's mission to be in the world and converting the nations.

Now, I sympathize with the saints in Rotterdam. They inherited the building from their forebears. They didn't build it. Even their forebears didn't build, truth be told - the denomination leadership decided to build a European HQ, and they chose the design. The building is perfect for the 50's theology and self-image of the church then - "we are the true church; if you want to know the truth, you have to come to us. Our doors are open (over here)." It isn't so good for our 21st century ecumenical sensibilities. But it is the building we have.

It isn't so different a problem than has much of mainline Christianity these days.

How does one minister from an island? You go off-island. But what do you do with all the infrastructure anchored in the old space? Is it best to simply abandon the accomplishments, efforts and resources of previous generations just because they are inconvenient for us?

How can we get off-island - both literally and metaphorically - and build transformative relationships that could bring people into a transforming community. I think the key is to think of church differently.

Church isn't where the frontline ministry takes place anymore. The primary location of transformative ministry is in personal relationships - friendships, family ties, pastoral relationships, and even professional interactions. The actual church building and weekly (?) church service is for energizing and guiding the faith journeys of people during the week in their relationships.

Perhaps we shouldn't be measuring congregations by how many people are in attendance on a Sunday, but by how many people are being touched in transformative relationship throughout the week, directed by those who are in Sunday services. At the same time, however, attendance at church is an indicator of whether or not you are offering something that people need.

I guess, in the end, the island church has to offer something so much better than the world around it and competing interests, that people consider the extra effort worth it.

Pics from Dokkum, Netherlands

2008-02-09T08:44:00.000-08:00

Christie and I visited Dokkum - a small city in Friesland, the Northern part of the Netherlands. It is the location of the matyrdom of St. Boniface, who famously lifted his Bible as his only defense against the axe-blows of his enemies. The museum and chapel was closed for the winter, but the city was adorable regardless.

We also toured some of "Terpeland" - where the centers of villages (usually where the churches were) were raised onto little hills ("terps") where people could flee the floods resulting from high-tides and winter storms in the days before dikes.

And finally, we visited a random memorial - a monument on the site of the first Mormon baptisms in the Netherlands, back in 1869. By funny coincidence, not five kilometers from this little monument is the largest congregation of Community of Christ in the whole Netherlands. Coincidence, or conspiracy?! (*cue dramatic music*)

All in all, a wonderful day, and a much needed break from Seminary paper writing. Many thanks to our hosts, Kees & Lukke! Enjoy the slideshow!

My Latest Favorite Thing

2008-02-07T04:02:00.000-08:00

About Our European Flat:
The radiator in the bathroom is designed to be a towel-warmer and dryer. You hang several towels over it at a time, even.

You can also lean against it for a quick back-warm-job. Ahhhh.

Ok, I know this is a lame post to make after a week of no word about our move. Forgive me. Here's the skinny: we arrived a week ago in the Netherlands and set to work legally registering our presence (beauracracy is the true international language). We also started arranging our new apartment (or "flat" as they call it on this side of the pond). Right now, the Europe Church office is still in our livingroom (we're living in what used to be the Europe Church HQ), but I hope to soon be able to move the stuff down to the actual "office" across the hall so we can start distinguishing between work and home life (always a problem with church work).

But all in all, we're LOVING it here. The work is a bit stressful, and living out of a suitcase and trying to do your job on the run is a pain. But for all the stress and trouble, we haven't doubted our decision to come and start this new life and step into this new ministry. The neighborhood is as cute as we remembered it from our visit in November - and we're now able to have short, halting conversations with the natives (if we can keep them from replying in English, that is).

And just to make sure we know why we're here - surprise! - we're preaching this weekend. Christie is the "PJ" (preach jockey) for a Solid Rock Cafe tomorrow night. I'm speaking at church this Sunday. I'm tempted to at least introduce myself in Dutch. We'll see.

It is strange to be an immigrant worker. Even with all the support and relative guarantees I enjoy here, there is still so much uncertainty. I can't imagine what it must be like for an undocumented worker in the States, facing so much legal and cultural persecution. My heart goes out to them even more, now. (And perhaps those xenophobic white Americans ought to try living abroad for a while, to give them some perspective!) :-)

At any rate, while I miss the USAmerican Northwest, I'm excited to be here in the European Northwest. From Seattle to Rotterdam... at least the weather's not a big change. Hey... is that sunshine out there? Ach, must've been my imagination.

Peace and Blessings, everyone! (I'll try to make a more insightful observation soon.) :-)

Oftentimes, Christians Deserve the Leaders They Get

2008-02-07T01:46:00.000-08:00

Eight years ago, when George W. Bush declared that Jesus was his favorite philosopher, suppose someone had asked a follow-up question.

"Mr. Bush, Jesus invited his followers to love their enemies and to turn the other cheek. How will that guide your foreign policy, especially in the event, say, of an attack on the United States?"

Or: "Gov. Bush, your favorite philosopher expressed concern for the tiniest sparrow. How will that sentiment be reflected in your administration's environmental policies?"

Or: "Jesus called his followers to care for 'the least of these.' How does that teaching inform your views on tax policy or welfare reform?"

Read the whole article here.

Priests and Workers Cry "Nun Intimidation!"

2008-01-28T10:53:00.000-08:00

From the SanFrancisco Gate

Labor organizing can be tense under the best of circumstances, but in bucolic Sonoma County, one such effort has escalated to a theological debate of sorts, pitting Catholic nuns against their ecclesiastic brethren in a dispute involving labor rights, the church's social teachings and a multibillion-dollar business.

On one side are the Sisters of St. Joseph of Orange, who operate Santa Rosa Memorial Hospital as part of the $3.35 billion St. Joseph Healthcare System, a business that supports their order. On the other are local priests, labor leaders and hospital employees who have accused management of creating an atmosphere of intimidation.

The tension has escalated in recent months, which have been punctuated by marches, vigils and meetings.

Read the whole article

Moving Day

2008-01-28T08:57:00.000-08:00

The professional packers and movers have arrived and set to work. Our home and lives, already boxed and stacked in a garage, are being carefully and efficiently unpacked, inventoried, repacked, and stored for a journey across land and sea.

Something about moving makes stages of life stark, divisions bold, it raises seams in the patchwork. It also forces the question.

With every box moved - every crafted piece of ourselves possessed by and entrusted to another - I am asked over and over again: am I really doing this? Am I ready? What is happening to me?

I would be such a bad Buddhist, with such attachment to things. It is funny how much we identify our own personhood and identity with objects. (Of course, this might make me a poor Christian, too, if one takes Luke 18:18-30 seriously.)

I may be making too existentialist a point of this. It may just be the rising anxiety of change, of shift, of newness and unknowing. That strange brew of fear and eagerness, foreboding and adventure, wanting to hold back and the ardent desire to just get going already.

And to add to all the other complexities, Seattle woke up this morning under a blanket of snow. Anyone familiar with the peoples of the Puget Sound will remember that a half-centimeter of crystaline precipitation is enough to shut the region down. There is no infrastructure to clear or handle snow, and there is apparently no widespread sense of how to drive in even the smallest amount of it. And I'm located on the top of a kind of hill.

So our departure is covered with a film of newness, cleanliness, and is made a bit slippery. We have to watch our footing around here - and, I suppose, accept the possibility of falling a few times on our way. Such is life. Not just the life of a minister or a disciple; just life in general. After all, ministers are people, too; and disciples. Life is uncertain and slippery for all of us.

And, I think, we're all probably moving, too, one way or another.

2008-01-15T16:08:00.000-08:00

January 8, 37

It is cold. We're all hungry, dirty, embarrassed and poor. Frankly, I'm close to being done with all this. It's either feast or famine with this guy - crowds one day, empty graveyards the next; miracles and praise one day, getting run out of town on a rail the next. What kind of messiah is this? What kind of resistance movement, or holiness movement, or... anything, are we starting here?

I've spent too many nights away from my wife, my children haven't had a father or food for two years now... and if this is all for naught... I can't do this anymore.

I am beginning to hate him. I can't rely on him to lead or even to give us direction, let alone food or shelter or an occasional bath! Hell, I'd be able to forgive failure if we had something we were definitely working for, if we had a concrete vision. But all we've been doing is wandering around - sometimes moving people, sometimes not, but not gaining any momentum or gathering any forces, not organizing or mobilizing people. We're no closer to seeing Zion freed than when we started - and I'm sick of it.

But I'm still here.

Why?

Honestly, I don't know. I'd hate to say it was just habit now; or that I can't face my family or friends again after having run out on them and abandoned them for two years now. But is that all? Is that all?

It may be feast or famine, but the feasts are so good - at times it seems that people around him could do anything. We really could change the world! Even if that doesn't hold - there's something there. Something I can't so easily leave - even if I don't always believe.

Written recently as an exercise in Seminary.

Quote of the Week

2008-01-05T13:26:00.000-08:00

Henri Bergson, a French philosopher in the early 1900's, wrote with such force and poetic style that in 1928 he was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature. In 1939 he was so reknowned and respected that the occupying Nazi army exempted him from restrictions placed on other Jews. A few weeks before his death, despite the exemption offered him, at the age of eighty-one he left his sickbed to stand in a queue in order to register as a Jew and so shame the German-inspired Vichy government that had barred Jews from holding educational posts in France. And he renounced all the honors whose retention might have been taken for his approval of the government. He made his position clear in a passage in his will:

My reflections have led me closer and closer to Catholicism, in which I see the fulfillment of Judaism. I would have become a convert, had I not forseen for years a formidable wave of anti-Semitism about to break upon the world. I wanted to remain among those who tomorrow were to be prosecuted.

(Taken from The Seekers, by Daniel J. Boorstin.)

Upcoming Local Young Adult Event

2008-01-04T10:45:00.000-08:00

The Young Adults of Puget Sound (YAPS) will be co-hosting a young adult activity with the Vancouver congregation Jan. 12-13. The activity will include a trip to the UBC Museum of Anthropology (small fee) on the afternoon of the 12th, and then a spaghetti dinner, games & karaoke that evening at the church. Please attend as many or as few of these activities as you like, but let us know if you plan on coming for dinner.

On the 13th, the visiting young adults will be in charge of the regular morning service, to be followed with a potluck lunch. The potluck will be a chance to show our appreciation for the service offered by this group. All young adults are invited to the activities on the 12th, and all are invited to attend the service & potluck on the 13th.

Contact Sean Langdon (seanmlangdon@hotmail.com) or Shannon McAdam (shannonmcadam@shaw.ca) for more information, or to rsvp for the activities on the 12th (we need to know how much spaghetti to make).

Last Gig in Seattle (for a while)

2007-12-09T10:26:00.000-08:00

I'll be preaching next weekend in West Seattle - my last preaching gig stateside for who-knows-how-long. Come see the blowout sermon!

A going-away reception will be held afterwards (from 1-4PM) complete with cake from the El Salvadorean Bakery (yummm!).

December 16, at 10:30AM, at the Highland Park congregation (8611 11th SW), right next to Highland Park Elementary School and Playfield.

The theme is "Leap for Joy." How can you leap for joy knowing this is my last sermon in the States for (perhaps) years? Come and find out! :-)

bound to the city

2007-12-01T17:59:00.000-08:00

A brief reflection inspired by John Caputo's On Religion.

In the radical Yes to possibility is the implicit sacrifice of status quo, of normal, predictable existence. When we open ourselves to the possibility of love, when we make ourselves culnerable so as to live the Yes, we are taking a risk, making ourselves uncomfortable, binding ourselves to the passion of God - a passion which, at least in the Christian tradition, leads to The Passion, namely a hill, a cross, a conviction, a crucifixion. The Yes is a path so uncertain that we risk nothing less than everything. Any "religion" that demands anything less than everything ought to arouse suspicion. "We are supposed to be crucified to the world" says John Caputo in On Religion (54). This is a path where victory is always ironic, triumph always suspect.

Here, at the end of Christendom, we who find ourselves in the so-called "mainline" churches are discovering anew what the cruciform path looks like. Could it be that from the belief of victory through death, we too, in our triumphant religion, have inevitably reached the point where we must allow Christianity itself to be crucified as/with Christ? Ought the task of churches really be "survival" or "growth"? I would argue that a posture of openness to possibility, embodied in and through radical hospitality, is our proper work in the world - not survival or growth. We must allow ourselves to be humbled, levelled, bound by the love of God.

The city is perhaps one of the best examples of where radical hospitality is most needed and where it is put to the greatest test. There is no more important place for "religion without religion" (Derrida), for religion without the dogmatics, victory cries and dominations. Today we are called to do theology - and likely implicit, not explicit theology - in all of the places where justice must be enacted in the city, where devoted service is needed.

"Mission" as Neo-Colonialism?

2007-11-16T06:51:00.000-08:00

I spent the last two and-a-half weeks in Europe, meeting most of my staff and co-workers and beginning to become acquainted with some of the local lay leaders of our church across Europe. It was a tremendous tour, and a lot could be said about it. But there's one thing in particular... (of course).

My denomination is just starting to talk about "mission" - and has even re-named regional administrative units "Mission Centers." But the "Europe Mission Center" has consistently declined using that term in reference to itself, preferring simply "the Europe church." You see, Europe has had enough of "mission-talk."

Europe is made of of former-Empires: the Netherlands, France, Germany, Spain, Hungary, Russia, and so on. To their credit, when they look at their histories, even discussion of their respective "Golden Ages" (when they were at the peak of their imperial expanse) is trimmed with shame at the arrogance of imperialism and colonialism, embarrassment for their exploitation and oppression of other peoples, and a self-consciousness about even historical talk of military, racial or ideological superiority. To the European Christians in our church, "mission" sounds too much like a re-birth of this ancient vice.

Mission and missionaries are language that harkens to a period in Christianity (specifically European and American Christianity) where "civilization" and "European-style Christianity" were considered the same - and the spread of "our culture" went hand in hand with the gospel and the sword. Religious conversion (or corraling) was most often the first step in economic expansion, likely in the form of exploitation of labor and resources, if not outright slavery. Mission was the destruction of native sensibilities and structures, and the imposition (forced, if not voluntary) of North-Atlantic norms.

Now, don't get me wrong, there's something powerful about contemporary "missional" Christians attempting a redemption of that term - actually turning it on its head, meaning to serve those disadvantaged and oppressed, and taking place largely outside of official organizational structures. There is something powerful about converting the tools of the oppressor into ones that serve liberation. But there is also danger there that, in our eagerness, we might overlook.

Remember that even those most colonial of missionaries likely thought of themselves as serving the people they met. Civilization and the gospel, after all, were in the best interests of everyone - from the perspective of the missionary. The question we are now able to ask about that time period is did those missionaries (and armies and businesses that followed) have the right to determine what was in the best interest of another people? And is it any surprise that they determined that their own way of thinking and acting, their own values, were the superior ones that needed to be brought to those poor heathens, by carrot or stick or lash? It is easy for us to point to those years and those motives and eye them with suspicion. But are we so able to look at ourselves with the same critical eye?

Consider this. "Mission" talk has taken hold first and foremost in the United States in the last five years or so. This is at the same time that the United States has been talking about itself as an empire, even considering itself (favorably in some cases, unfavorably in others) the new Roman Empire. Is there something in imperial politics that draws the church along? Or is it simply a matter of people talking who hold both discipleship and citizenship?

Have we North American Christians unwittingly embraced a revised ("kinder, gentler") imperial theology? Are we assuming that our values are the values that should be universalized and normative? (Don't we think that, surely, the world would be better if it adopted our way of thinking?) We may not be as culturally imperialistic as our forebears, but that is something to watch out for. And could it serve as a distraction from prophetic discipleship to focus on patchwork social justice without working toward a larger, revolutionary system?

I'm just throwing these ideas out there. Honestly, I'm a missional Christian. I'm just starting this discussion in my head. So I'm less prepared than many to identify the imperialistic qualities of my theology. Perhaps in this way I actually do need Christians and people of other faith persuasions to push back against me. Perhaps, for my own sake, those whom I would convert must first convert me.

That seems to me the only way out. But again, I may be narrow-minded here.

December Scriptures: Not Your Usual Christmas Story

2007-11-16T06:36:00.000-08:00

"In North America, December marks the start of our annual frenzy of conspicuous consumption, and churches often counter the market’s hijacking of our feast day with poor substitutes: charity and triumphalism.

"The scripture passages for these weeks do not support our holiday evasions. While sometimes hopeful, the verses are neither cozy nor celebratory. Certainly we find stories of Jesus’ birth, but they come amid news of prisons, lions, vipers, swords, armor, and genocide. The lections’ strongest themes are of justice, violence, and the role of prophets.

"Over five Sundays the lectionary takes us through seven books spanning eight centuries, and we engage with some of the best-loved passages in scripture: “A shoot shall come up from the stump of Jesse” (Isaiah 11:1); “a little child shall lead them” (Isaiah 11:6); “the voice of one crying out in the wilderness” (Matthew 3:3); and “my soul magnifies the Lord” (Luke 1:47). The dominant texts are Isaiah, the book from the Hebrew Bible most quoted in the Greek Testament, and the gospel of Matthew, the book in the Greek Testament that draws most often from the Hebrew Bible. In a complex interplay, the texts read each other, we read the texts, and the texts read us and our times.

Read the whole article and commentary
for each Sunday's scriptures online at Sojourners.

"religious people"

2007-11-10T21:37:00.000-08:00

I forgot to post last week, but hopefully this will be an entertaining enough post to make-up for that. - Shannon

So I've been thinking lately about what it means to be a "religious" person. I decided, sort of on a whim, to put up a profile on the lavalife and "plenty of fish" dating sites. Mainly I did it in order to try and meet some potential dates, since the pools I normally swim in are a little on the thin side when it comes to potential mates. What I have learnt from this online dating experience so far is various and entertaining, but I want to just reflect on one aspect: the "religion" drop-down field.

Now, there are various ways by which one might classify oneself on social networking sites (I'm speaking broadly here of not just dating sites but other networking sites like MySpace and Facebook): by which schools one has attended, by profession, by location, by interests, by tastes (in music, film, tv, books), but by far, for me, the most fascinating category is that of "religion".

Let's start out by saying this: I think I definitely have to call myself a religious person. I figure since I am actually an ordained minister in a church, there is really no way of pretending that I don't find some value in organized religion or identify somehow with organized religion. But here's the funny thing, when I signed-up for lavalife, I was reluctant to choose a religious affiliation from the drop-down box provided on my profile page. Weird, eh?

I think partly the problem is that if I choose one from the box, the closest one is 'christian - other', which just seems to be strange. Why can't they just put 'christian' and leave it at that? Or just put 'religious', and if someone wants to know more, they can ask. The 'non-religious' field-choosers don't have to specify what type of non-religious person they are, so why the pigeon-holing of us religious types? And then what about hybrid types? Yes, I'm christian, but I come from a strange little denomination, and I find value in the teachings of Buddhism, and I really enjoy the way the Hare Krishna folks worship, and I really love the traditions and practicality of Judaism, and I also find just being in the outdoors to be a profoundly religious experience, and not just in a Christian 'creation spirituality' kind of way. So what am I? What drop-down menu selection ought I to choose?

I like the fact that Facebook, instead of having a drop-down box where you must select from a list, instead just has a field where you can fill-in whatever you'd like, I think that is a little bit better for being able to specifically articulate what one believes in such a personal area, and for the longest time on there I have been "Christian, Process Theology, Community of Christ".

But on the dating sites the choices are limited, so I picked "other". Not "christian - other", just "other".

And I had a couple of messages. Two of which asked what kind of grad student I am. Hm. Now there's another good question. So I told them I studied theology, and in relation to this bit of information they both asked "so, are you a religious person?" Yes, I am a religious person, but - and this is the key part - I really wanted to say "but I'm not THAT, kind of 'religious' person". I'm not the shove-it-down-your-throat type of religious person, I'm not the you're-going-to-hell type of religious person, I'm not the let's-pray-together-on-our-first-date type of religious person.

And so after those two awkward questions, which I pretty much just avoided answering, I changed my profile. I selected "christian - other", in order to avoid that question in the future. And yet I'm not necessarily even particularly comfortable with that, because I don't want to get messages from, get this, THAT kind of "religious person". And I am also afraid that someone might avoid even sending me a message, out of fear that I am one of THOSE kinds of religious people!

Perhaps I am over-thinking this and really I'm just not ready for the world of online dating sites....

But because of this little identity drama I have been reflecting on what it means to be a religious person. Is it merely because I have a card in my wallet that says I'm an ordained minister? Is it because my name is in a computer database at church headquarters on the list of "members"? Is it because I have studied theology? Is it because I go to church every Sunday? I ask these questions because there are plenty of religious people who do all of those things and are also judgemental, self-absorbed, destructive, unloving, and I don't think any of those latter qualities are marks of a truly "religious" person.

I'm reading a little book right now called On Religion by John D. Caputo, and he has some very interesting things to say about what religion and religious people ought to be about. He says things like "religion is for lovers" and says that religion is not such a singular thing as it is often made out to be, but is instead a bunch of ways people have come up with to love God. And "anyone worth their salt" says Caputo, ought to love God.

There are points that I don't meet Caputo on precisely, but much of his general thesis appeals to me, namely that the focus of anything we want to call "religion" ought to be love. And not just love of self or friends, but love of God, the world, and everyone.

And so on Facebook, the one place where I can freely say what I wish about what I believe, I now say this:

I think anyone "worth their salt" can see these religious views in me once they get to know me, and I think I will just have to trust that as I meet new people, my "religiousness" will speak for itself, and I won't have to explain it away, nor squeeze myself into a little box.

Face to faith

2007-11-05T04:33:00.000-08:00

All faiths must accept pluralism if we are to defuse strife caused in the name of religion, says Jay Lakhani

The Guardian
Saturday November 3, 2007

Not long ago, interfaith dialogue in this country was based on the idea of "tolerating" other religions. This was clearly a derogatory attitude, suggesting that other religions had to be given permission to exist. The dialogue has since moved on and is now framed in terms of "respecting" other religions. This may appear to be a more mature approach suited to the needs of a multi-faith society, but in reality this terminology is a camouflage, shielding an exclusivist, non-negotiable agenda of the Abrahamic faiths.

Read the whole article at the Guardian.

New Book: EMPIRE

2007-11-04T00:54:00.000-07:00

Reading the Christian Theological Legacy for a New Day

The radically altered situation today in religion, politics, and global communication—what can broadly be characterized as postmodern and post-colonial—necessitates close rereading of Christianity's classical sources, especially its theologians.

In a groundbreaking textbook anthology from Fortress Press, Empire and The Christian Tradition: New Readings of Classical Theologians, twenty-nine distinguished scholars scrutinize the relationship between empire and Christianity from Paul to the liberation theologians of our time.

The contributors discuss how the classical theologians in different historical periods dealt with their own contexts of empire and issues such as center and margin, divine power and social domination, war and violence, gender hierarchy, and displacement and diaspora. Each chapter provides insights and resources drawn from the classical theological tradition to address the current political situation.

Editors:
Kwok Pui-Lan is William F. Cole Professor of Christian Theology and Spirituality at Episcopal Divinity School.
Don H. Compier is founding Dean and Professor of Theology at Community of Christ Seminary, Graceland University, Independence, Missouri.
Joerg Rieger is Professor of Systematic Theology at Perkins School of Theology, Southern Methodist University, Dallas, Texas.

First Images from Rotterdam

2007-11-02T00:01:00.000-07:00

"Groenezoom" is the street where the Rotterdam church and the church's apartment is on. The slideshow (click on the pic) is a few of the first images from the church, apartment, and surrounding area - for those interested in a more personal look at our future.

Review: God & Empire

2007-10-30T11:35:00.000-07:00

I’ve never wanted more to be convinced by a book. But somehow, I just never felt like Crosssn could close the deal.

Part of the problem was that I went into it expecting (wanting?) the wrong things. I wanted to have a book that proved Jesus would have railed against imperial theology and policy, in particular the policies of the United States. I wanted unequivocal condemnation of war and poverty and exploitation and capitalism and… you name it – with verses to back it up. I wanted Crossan to give me a god that looked like me, talked like me, and wanted everyone else to see things the way I see it.

Right from the get go, Crossan didn’t deliver. Damn his honesty.

What I love about Crossan is that he is almost obsessively historical. Reading him is like accessing a Masters-level course in the history, sociology, politics, agriculture and economics of a very specific place at a virtually pin-point period of time: a geography of only about 80 miles along the Jordan river basin, under the rule of Rome from 60 BCE to 60 CE.

Yet at the same time, Crossan weaves into the specific peculiarities of the subject an exploded vision of the big picture, even the really big picture. He jumps back and forth between discussing the politics and nature of the Roman imperial occupation of Palestine on the one hand, and the nature and origins of civilization itself – all the while, building a Biblical awareness (with an honest scholarship that looks at the cultural and historical context of the Bible and its stories).

Turning traditional ideology on its head, Crossan identifies civilization itself as the phenomenon of injustice, and Crossan builds a case for the historical Jesus pitting himself against the domination system of civilization.

Civilization is the process of replacing a rough, natural equality among humans with an enforced unequality signaled by the production and acquisition of wealth (by a few) and resultant systems of violence to enforce and protect power-positions. Crossan, among others, refers to “civilization” as a 10,000 year experiment in living in systems of ordered domination and exploitation. (Think of civilization as a giant, thousands-of-years-long pyramid scheme, where most everyone “benefits” a little – except the top figures who benefit a great deal, and the masses of exploited people at the bottom who suffer extraordinarily in order to preserve the pyramid for everyone else.)

The historical Jesus – even preserved in the canonical tradition – stood against this system of violence and domination. The Pax Romana was purchased at the price of domination. The Pax Deus, the Peace of God, is established by justice for all – equality and sustenance. To such a counter-cultural/political/economic model, Crossan believes Paul was a faithful witness: struggling for equality and justice among Jews and Gentiles, men and women, slaves and slave-holders, rich and poor. To support this idea, Crossan delves deeply into the canon and works with the reader to identify genuine letters of Paul, letters that are certainly not Paul’s work, and a few letters in between of questionable attribution to the famed Apostle. And in so doing, Crossan does more.

Crossan goes to great efforts to recognize and lift up divergent streams in the Christian canon – those that support the domination model of peace-through-victory (which is supported by all the ideology and mechanisms of “civilization”), and those that stand counter-culturally against domination in faithfulness to a prophetic peace-through-justice conception of right human relations. Both models find ample expression in our Bible – Old and New Testaments. Crossan builds his case that the Bible itself is a struggle between the forces of civilization creeping into our minds and ways, and the forces of God’s peace establishing a beachhead on our hearts, minds and behaviors.

You see, I wanted Crossan to blast the Christian hawks of America. But he is very honest about the scriptural support for their reliance on peace-through-domination. At the same time, however, he is clear that the historical and canonical Jesus is a voice on the side of peace-through-justice.

And I suspect some readers will be asking why we can’t have both – peace-through-victory and peace-through-justice, or reading the word “justice” as “revenge” or “protection of what I have from those who want it.” In so doing, we are virtually proving Crossan’s thesis that the forces of civilization are making their way into even the counter-cultural and other-worldly vision to which God is calling us. We, just like the Bible, are the field upon which the question is played out – civilization’s rules or God’s rules?

God & Empire ends with the contest between Paul’s faithful struggle for equality and justice on the one hand, and John of Patmos’ vision of a vengeful, violent return of Jesus on the other. The Bible is ambiguous (unable to point clearly to one or the other), and oftentimes so are we who read the Bible. But Jesus is calling us out of the confusion. As Christians, that should matter to us most of all.

Crossan never ends up closing the sale for me. His book leaves me with more questions than answers; more insight and understanding, but less arrogant certainty about the clear call of “the Bible.” I went in hoping for evidence of how right I was, and came out wondering if that desire is really one of civilization’s fingers wrapping around my brain. God & Empire ends up opening more doors than it closes.

Which might be why can recommend the book so highly.

In flight

2007-10-28T11:41:00.000-07:00

In flight to Europe, and a preview of our future life.

We’ll be flying into Germany and catching a train to the first of several meetings in the coming two weeks. Christie and I will be meeting the staff of the Europe church, many for the first time, as well as introducing ourselves to the local church leaders of Germany and the Netherlands. Amid all this, too, there will be many discussions and reports on the state of the church in Europe, challenges and possibilities, hopes and warnings, that sort of stuff.

Particularly important, though, of course, will be the personal impression I make and the tenor of the new relationships that is sounded in these first few meetings. And that worries me a bit. You see, there have already been some misunderstandings, some cross-cultural blunders, that might have started a “reputation” for me in Europe. Plus the obvious challenges that my age, inexperience and nationality will present. It may be with just a few, or even just one, but I’m still anxious about making a good impression – flexible but confident, generous and eager to laugh, encouraging and hopeful. And, as if the way with irony, it is often when we are most anxious about first impressions that we rarely make entirely good ones. Que sera sera. Щто делать?

All the while, I’ll be trying to take a mental inventory of my job duties, personality traits and giftedness of my staff and co-workers, furniture available to us when we move to Europe, and small signs of hope and happiness. As I am now, I’m still feeling several weeks of tension and anxious anticipation regarding this trip and its manifold repercussions. I want to feel better about going to Europe – and am hoping that this trip (actually seeing the places and faces) will help me.

At the same time, I have to remember that this work isn’t entirely about me. I’m here to serve a community of people dedicated to giving themselves over to the transforming Spirit of God – to be transformed themselves and to accordingly transform their world. And really, that’s not up to me. I serve the Work. To do the work, but I don’t do the Work. (I keep reminding myself of this in hopes of relieving some of my anxiety and foreboding sense of tremendous responsibility.)

Wish me luck, dear readers. I am stepping into an unstable boat in uncertain waters, and I am far away from finding my sea legs.

I want to be heading toward something, rather than in flight away.

Soldiers of Conscience

2007-10-22T14:56:00.000-07:00

Local Film Screening: Nov. 2 - 8
Come to the Seattle opening of "Soldiers of Conscience," an award-winning documentary, at the Seattle International Film Festival Cinema (McCaw Hall at the Seattle Center), 321 Mercer Street from November 2 to November 8. The film features soldiers in Iraq facing the most difficult moral decision of their lives, to kill or not to kill. Eight soldiers, torn between the demands of duty and the call of conscience, including four who decide not to kill, highlight a realistic yet optimistic film about war, peace and the power of the human conscience. Produced by Catherine Ryan and Gary Weimberg, the film is co-presented by the Church Council of Greater Seattle. To learn more about the film, visit http://www.socfilm.com. For more information about screenings, call Michael Ramos at (206) 525-1213 x3950.

the fruits and vegetables that made me cry

2007-10-20T22:16:00.001-07:00

Ok, so I have a confession to make. I have a new love. My new love will be arriving every Friday afternoon in a rubbermaid bin. My new love is fresh, organic produce.

For me, food is often an erotic experience. I’ve written about my love of food before, here and here, however, I don’t think those posts quite capture my deep love of sensual pleasures. My love of embodied sensual experience is the inspiration for the title of my blog erosophy and one of the main ways I experience the world sensually is with food.

You perhaps think I am a little crazy, and I probably am, a little. But I could not help myself, when my vegetable bin arrived for the first time yesterday, I was ecstatic. I opened it up and as soon as I started lifting things out, tears came to my eyes. Who cries over produce?! I’m not exactly sure why I had such an emotional response, but I did.

I think it was partly the beauty, the exquisite beauty of all of them. It was partly the anticipation, since I didn’t know what I was going find inside. It was the feeling of each item, cold, wet, dirty. It was the smell of dirt and farm that was still in the box. It was the feeling of having been given a precious gift.

This feeling of having been given a precious gift is one I want to feel more deeply, on an ongoing basis, in my life. In a deep, true way, each of those vegetables and fruits is a little bit of sacrament, a little bit of precious earth, taken for my own sustenance, held by many sets of loving hands before reaching mine. Food is one of the most basic elements and life, and therefore one of the most precious and holy elements as well. Just as life is sustained in making love, when we take holy food into ourselves it blesses us with nourishment and allows our lives to flourish.

So I took each item out of the box and laid it all out on the dining room table, so I could take it all in. Again I was moved to tears. I took pictures. I marvelled at the purple carrots and their 2-foot-long tops. I held each item to my nose so I could smell its aroma. I didn’t even think about what it would all eventually become, I just felt gratitude for their beautiful colours and textures and scents and flavours, for the perfection of each atom that makes up the complexity of a single fruit or vegetable.

The most pleasant surprise in the whole box were the two pomegranates that I found hiding inside. Yes, I am easily amused. Yes, I can be a little emotional sometimes. But I would not trade a single moment of the awe and wonder I felt yesterday; for my soul was at rest in the perfection of the moment.

PS - yes, the pictures are of my produce and my pomegranates. You can get home delivery too, maybe you won’t cry, but maybe you will allow yourself to feel some awe and wonder, even for a moment, at the beauty of the earth: http://www.greenearthorganics.com

Back Pew Worship

2007-10-18T08:47:00.001-07:00

Do church as if you're speaking to the people in the back pew. What are they wanting to hear from a sermon? What kind of music speaks to them? What kind of worship will not just inform but will engage them?

The people in the back pew are the last ones in the church (sometimes literally, often metaphorically), and the first ones out the door (again, sometimes literally). Don't speak to the swollen middle. Like Jesus, head straight to the fringes, the margins, the people on the edge of the community, and minister to them. Because everybody needs to hear that.

Quote of the Week

2007-10-18T08:44:00.000-07:00

The question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or will we be extremists for love?
-Martin Luther King, Jr., in Letter from Birmingham Jail

i thank You God for most this amazing day

2007-10-13T23:50:00.000-07:00

Today I had an amazing day. It was amazing in its beauty and simplicity. My friend and I attended the UBC Botanical Gardens' Apple Festival (it's on tomorrow too), which was soooo fun. It was a gorgeous day, sunshine and blue sky. We tasted over 50 different varieties of apples, and I found my very most favouritest kind: "Aurora Golden Gala" which is a cross between a Gala apple and a Golden Delicious apple. SOOOO good! Every apple was different, too, which was so amazing! Who knew that one fruit could yield so many endless possible flavour-texture combinations!? It was truly wonderful.

And then this evening we went to a musica intima concert to hear another friend sing, and it was so marvelously wonderful, words cannot even really describe it. What comes close, though, is a poem that was sung at the concert, which is my benediction for the whole day, my prayer for the apples and the sunlight and the sweetness that is life itself:

i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any - lifted from the no
of all nothing - human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

-e.e. cummings

One Year of Flannel Christian

2007-10-11T07:26:00.000-07:00

One year ago I started this blog - originally as an extension of my new ministerial work for the church, reaching out to young adults and such. But in the process of writing and reflecting, and with comments and readers, I've found myself ministered to more than I've felt ministering. And that's not too surprising.

On this first anniversary, I'd like to thank two people who have contributed extraordinarily to this e-project, and shaped much of it with their character and insight: Jon and Shannon.

Jon has been the source of the wry humor of many posts. His proving searches of odd and sometime vaguely religious news on the internet have been both entertaining and edifying. And, it must be said, Jon's irreverence for most anything sacred has been a healthy and perspective-giving ministry in itself. (For a sample of this articulate irreverence - which may not be entirely irreverent - see his daily humor page.)

The smartest thing I ever did in regard to Flannel Christian was to ask Shannon to join me in posting on it. Honestly, I didn't entirely know what I was doing when I asked. I knew she was smart, but didn't realize how smart she was. I knew she was into cool (and honest) theological pioneering, but didn't know what she was into, or how much she was willing to explore. And Shannon just keeps getting more interesting (and more honest).

Thank you both, Jon and Shannon, for helping so much this past year. Your friendships are treasures to me.

This next year will see more changes to Flannel Christian. I will be moving to Europe to be a minister there, and haven't yet quite entirely envisioned how I will balance the Pacific Northwest and European angles. But I will try to do honor to all my experience, including the ties I have here. One year hence, I suppose, I have a better idea of what I'm doing.

I hope.

Looking back on my first post, it is funny to note that flannel might have originated as a material brought by refugees and immigrants from the Netherlands. Just four-hundred years later, I'm taking it back.

Thanks to my readers - those loyal, occasional and accidental. Without you, I'd be talking to myself - and that's healthy only in small doses. I really do appreciate your readership and comments. Honestly.

Well... here's to another year!

falling into autumn

2007-10-08T12:32:00.001-07:00

I’m willing to admit, finally, that summer is really over. I say this as I gaze out my window at trees on fire with orange and read leaves, at the crisp colours that only seem to exist in the fall. The mountains tower in the distance, sharper and darker than they were all summer, and now is when I begin the watch for the first dusting of snow atop the mountains to be revealed one rain clouds part.

It’s the beginning of a long season of deep faithfulness. For me, part of what makes me who I am is the geography of Vancouver. Strange, I know, but the mountains and hills and inlets and river hold me and hold the land in a way that I always know where I am, and I have a sense of the scale of myself in the face of the scale of grandeur around me. I don’t think I’m the only one who feels this way.

I find that the mountains (and the thick opaque rain clouds that block the view) are a good reminder that there is something much bigger and more powerful than I at work in the world, of which I am only a small piece. I like the grace that is implicit in this idea - it means that I don’t have to do or be everything to everyone, I don’t have to try and fix everyone and everything, it means I can find my small place, my small piece, and do that well. I want to practise more and more vulnerably falling into the arms of grace, the mountains, much stronger than I, and let them hold me.

How I Became Union

2007-10-06T17:04:00.000-07:00

I became Union roughly the same way I became Christian: I was lucky - I stumbled into it accidentally, not knowing what I was getting myself into.

This past week, at a meeting of regional ministers, a book was mentioned as being available from Amazon.com, and I gave a passing shout-out for Powells.com - a union run bookstore (headquartered in our very own Portland, no less). Afterwards, another minister came up to me and asked how I became a union supporter, since he thought it was pretty rare for someone my age (young, he meant) to even be aware of labor unions, let alone be an outspoken supporter of them. My answer got side-tracked by arguing that unions advance zionic conditions (better health care and working conditions, fairer wages and vacation policies, empowerment of people, and so on). I felt bad that I never got to answer him as to how I became a union supporter. To be honest, though, I hadn't thought of it before.

So this post is for Carman - and for the curious.

I left my previous job (2006) as a member of my union's Executive Board, a Shop Steward and work-site coordinator, a member of the contract negotiating team, a volunteer organizer and political activist. When I applied for a job with the church, most of my resume listed labor movement experience, and I still feel that heritage informing much of my ministerial outlook.

I first became a member of Service Employees International Union, Local 925, when I was hired as a mail-room clerk at the University of Washington in 2003. The University is largely closed-shop, so it was a legal obligation to join the union - I had no choice, and really didn't know what I was doing. I didn't think about it other than signing the membership card (under penalty of losing my job if I didn't). If anything, I was against compulsory membership in the union. I thought of it like Homeowners' Associations: vaguely fascist and dictatorial, and serving the powerful, rather than the powerless. (I may be retrojecting this concern for the underprivileged into my thinking then... I may honestly have been more concerned about the 1.5% taken out of my paycheck.)

For a year or so, the union was invisible to me. I didn't know it then, but my department was historically, notoriously anti-union - and few representatives of the union ever set foot inside there (and even fewer pro-union employees spoke up in the lunchroom about it). It wasn't until the union was doing an opinion poll in preparation for upcoming contract negotiations that I even realized what the union was. I filled out my little card and walked across the street to deliver it to the union representative (and later my friend) waiting in a room off the cafeteria. She introduced herself and said that if I had a few minutes to listen to what the union had in mind for the contract negotiations, she'd give me a tee-shirt for my time.

A free tee-shirt for listening to a five-minute spiel?! The union had me hooked. (This is an inside joke for anyone who's active in a union. A tee-shirt or button or hat or tote-bag for every action, and pretty soon one's wardrobe is overflowing with the union color and logo. And at that point, you just start going to the actions because you believe in it - and wearing your old tee-shirt to avoid being given a new one.)

Of course, the point of the spiel is to get you emotionally involved, at best even outraged at the offenses of the employer, in order to motivate you to become active in the contract campaign, and into the larger life of the union. It worked, and I slowly increased my activity with the union through the course of that contract campaign and the following political electoral season.

As I got more involved, I eventually became the "shop steward" for my building, and started organizing my co-workers. But it was the work as "steward" that most affected my class consciousness.

For me personally, the union was only so helpful. I had sympathetic and supportive supervisors, and administration above them that generally worked hard to be fair and helpful to the workers. My wages and benefits, however, were negotiated far above even my dean or director - and those administrators were much less likely to be sympathetic or helpful, to say the least.

It was in the course of a year or so of representing workers who were being disciplined or fired or something of that sort - and it was part of the job of a steward to help the worker understand what was going on and also support them in (if need be) objecting to the discipline and articulating why. (It did happen more than once that the worker recognized some poor performance and reacted positively to their supervisors' discipline, but that was all-in-all relatively rare.) About half of the time, it felt to me like I was helping defend workers against unfair discipline or working conditions. It only took a few ardent and seemingly vengeful bosses to make me a lifelong union supporter. (In the coming years, of course, it would take struggling to defend a couple wacky and irresponsible workers to temper my ardent one-sided-ness on the issues.)

I, myself, was never the subject of disciplinary action, or the victim of unfair working conditions. (It could be said that I was the victim of uncharitable and unfair conditions by virtue of the University's wage or vacation schedule, but after a lot of struggle the union did a pretty good job of keeping the University administration in check. The pic above is me arguing with the Public Relations Director of the University during a demonstration in the midst of 2007 contract negotiations.) It was as I witnessed what the union did for people who spoke English as a second (or third) language, and for women, and for folks who aren't white, and janitors or basement administrative assistants, that I became a union man. Supporting the union wasn't so much beneficial to me individually - except in the sense that what benefits all people benefits me. Supporting the union became an act of solidarity with and support of all workers, especially those who are least able to defend themselves and are therefore most in need of my solidarity.

Why I'm talking about this on a religio-personal blog is this: Jesus' life and ministry demonstrates to me the essential need to identify with and empower marginalized populations. That means my "class consciousness" has to align itself with "classes" "below" me (och, I struggle with that language, but indulge me), to identify their interests as my own, to work for their welfare as part of my work generally. I think it would be in most everyone's interest to be in a union - but as a Christian I don't want people to be in a union because it is in their interest. I want people to join unions because of the interest of others that it serves.

As a minister, when I left employment at the University and therefore faced giving up membership in my union, I signed up as an associate member - a status of virtually no benefit to myself, but an act of solidarity with my sisters and brothers still negotiating with hardened bosses for a fair living. And my wife joined the union with me.

Now, three years after I begrudged the union forcing me to join even though it directly benefited me to do so, I now join eagerly even though it benefits me directly hardly at all. I've been born again. I once was lost, but now am found; was blind, but now I see. Praise God, indeed.

Haggard

2007-10-04T12:40:00.000-07:00

I apologize for my absence. Don't take it personally. Really.

It's not you; it's me.

I've been in meetings for weeks now. Really. A week-long meeting of church leaders (one of which, apparently, I'm becoming with my new as-yet-un-assumed position), followed by a weekend Young Adult Retreat (fabulous, but still work), followed by another weekend ministers' event in Portland, and a week-long meeting of Western US ministers (of which I am, or at least used to be, or could still be considered, for a while yet). I preach this Sunday, and then I'm off for another week of meetings with my soon-to-be new boss and co-worker. Then I return to pack up my house to move, and then the annual regional church conference in Portland the next weekend. And somewhere in all this, I have to start preparing for two Seminary classes in January (and forget about November/December, as immersion language classes will take up those weeks).

I don't mean to complain... or, rather, I wish I didn't sound like I was complaining, but really, part of me is. And I worry, too, that this is the kind of life I've signed up for with my new job as the regional president of Europe. Part of me is getting worried that I will spend the next five-to-eight years of my life exhausted, and that makes me depressed. And, of course, depression isn't much of an upper in itself.

I knew I was giving up the life of a congregational minister when I first started working for the church (although I didn't realize at the time how much I would miss it). And I knew that in taking this job in Europe, I'd be giving up a large chunk of the rewards of intimate involvement in a congregation - even as a consultant or support minister. But I'm worried now that I won't even be able to enjoy congregations at all! I'll be spending all my time in meetings, or in transit from one guerrilla-ministry to another (in-and-out before they realize what hit them).

On a note of delightful self-indulgence, though, yesterday I had a full-body massage - my first in more than ten years. That was probably the most human contact I've had in months, and that long overdue. It is amazing what uninterrupted human touch can do - and occasions like this defy claims that humans are purely spiritual beings with no significant connection to embodied existence. Even thinking about it now calms me, reminds me that all is not harried or hectic, that there is peace possible in the world, in my life, in my career. It reminds me that part of discipleship is forgiveness, and that I have to practice forgiveness even (especially?) with myself. "Don't expect the world, Christian. Give yourself time - to see what is needed and what you can do. You can't honestly (fairly?) expect more from yourself."

So, you see why I haven't been blogging. It hasn't been for lack of things to say or talk about (the Young Adult Retreat needs a thousand words, itself!). I've just been distracted, away from home, with infrequent internet access, and in need of extra sleep.

It's not you; it's me.

So... I guess now would be a good time to transition. Let's see... where did I leave off?

someone is baking

2007-09-16T23:25:00.000-07:00

find out who at http://erosophy.blogspot.com/

Conversion From Critical to Post-Critical

2007-09-16T07:54:00.000-07:00

Packing up the house. Going through boxes of old stuff.

I feel a little like an archaeologist exploring my own past. I make small discoveries- some things I can remember clearly, some things are vague echoes of a familiar past, and still others I have no recollection of. Artifacts, clothing, papers, and books. Lots of books.

I came across my small collection of books by Thomas Merton (1915-1968), a Catholic Trappist Monk, one of the twentieth century's most influential religious figures and a prolific writer. Of course, being Catholic, he is rather orthodox, even for a contemplative, and there was a long period in my life when I would have balked at the idea of my reading these books.

You see, these books belong to a searching time in my life, in my late-junior-high and early high school years. My field of vision was limited (?) to more traditional (orthodox, safe) Christian thinkers, and I thought myself very daring to be looking outside of my own denominational community for insight into God. And something about Merton's style, as well as his thoughts, provoked me. (Although Merton's most famous work is an auto-biographical confession, a la Augustine, I found his essays to be more compelling - a genre that still speaks to my heart today.)

Merton wrote of struggle, but it was always (to me) faithful struggle with theological issues, or with the nature or love or presence of God. Perhaps this was the beginning of my more skeptical years that would follow (and come to full blossom in college just four or five years thence), but what I yearned for was meaningful personal struggle. And what I imagined to be "meaningful" was reaching a preconceived end, a known result, to arrive where I wanted to be. (Looking back on Merton's writings now, I'm not so sure he would have approved of such a reading, but I was young, and Merton was forgiving.)

In those years I was beginning to doubt. I had doubts about the story I was told, the devotion I had seen around me, the certainty or truth of the things I was brought up to believe in. And though at the time I may have been adventurous in reading a Catholic, I would venture much further afield in the coming years.

My Merton books - underlined and annotated in the margins (I can still remember sitting alone under courtyard trees during lunch hours, poring over pages, meditating and wondering, yearning for insight and profundity, and feeling so out of place in the mundane and often punishing world of adolescence and high school) - represent the last and greatest genuine throes of my pre-critical years.

If personal religious development can be broken down into three stages or fields, perhaps pre-critical, critical and post-critical, might be good terms. (My thanks to Tony and Charmaine for this insight.) The "pre-critical" is a delightful naivete, a place of profound confidence in the symbols and language of religious expression. Belief in this "stage" is clear, and often literal, encountering power in the actual words or images. Someone in the "pre-critical" stage might consider those of the "critical" perspective as fallen from the faith, and even the "post-criticals" as suspect in their use of the same faithful language in strange ways.

The "critical" stage is one of rejection and vehement questioning. Nothing is sacred to the critical thinker. This perspective often expresses itself in an ardent materialism, seeing no other cause for religious feeling or fervor than psycho-physiological needs. The critical thinker considers both the pre-critical and post-critical as deluded (self-deluded?) and foolish, unable to see the natural causes for their so-called spirituality. Critical thinkers are also able to cut through the crap of theological flowery-ness and identify what is really at stake in religious discussions, and are therefore often less patient with religious expression that does not meet exacting standards for correctness, openness, ecumenism/interfaith/alternative interpretations, and admission of profound finitude. If there is subtle, underlying racism or sexism in a religious expression, criticals will find it, and point it out. If there is logical inconsistency, criticals will not let it slide. If there is fuzziness, criticals will keep pushing for clarification. Criticals are hyper-sensitive to the oppression latent in much religious language and devotion, and react allergically to it. Oftentimes, critical thinkers cannot long stand the religious company of pre-critical devotees; and just as often criticals do not see any difference in the language of pre- or post-critical thinkers. They feel they have identified the true meaning of words, and find those meanings unsatisfactory - and thus find no compulsion to explore the differences when others are using traditional language.

This "critical" stage was where I was at for the bulk of my religiously conscious life. As a young child I was clearly pre-critical. But as a youth and teenager, I was critical to the core. Even though I deeply felt a longing for connection, I found the old forms lacking and unsatisfactory, even hypocritical and false. I remembered that young boy under the trees with Merton, and longed for that ecstatic confidence and faith, but couldn't bring myself to descend into what I considered self-delusion. Criticals are, in many ways, just discovering a profound honesty with themselves, and exploring the terrifying implications of that. This exploration is tremendously important, and I wouldn't have denied myself the honest sojourn of critical thinking for the world. A key to the critical stage (perhaps both pre-critical and critical in turn) is that there is no expectation of going anywhere else - pre-critical naivete or critical rejection is the reality of one's life, so get used to it.

I long ago packed away my Merton books, and even left my philosophy books at home (though close to my heart), when I left for three years of Peace Corps service. I was spiritually "taking a break." I was tired of struggling, of resisting, of arguing inside myself or with others. I wanted a vacation from self-reflection. Honestly. So I told myself that for the two years (I thought then) of Peace Corps, I would focus on someone else, on something else, and put all the internal struggle aside. I'd let the silt settle, and see what patterns it makes in the riverbed. I figured leaving home, language and country would make such a departure easy, and it was, for the most part.

On about my third year in Peace Corps, I started to face the possibility of coming home, and picking up where I left off. Except that I wasn't where I had left off - or perhaps more accurately, I didn't want to pick up there. I didn't want to go back. It helped that when I did return to the States I didn't go to my hometown, or resume my old life in any way - I came to Seattle, new home, new friends, new job, new church group, new girlfriend - I could entirely recreate myself here. And I decided, for some reason, to go back to church.

Don't get me wrong - I didn't enjoy church those first couple times. It was terrible - all I remembered from my critical days. But something kept me coming back. There was something here that I wanted or needed to know. I entered a post-critical phase in my life.

(This is an on-going discussion in my life... so let me just post this too-long-already post and continue this discussion later.)

Local Efforts Continue to Address Homelessness

2007-09-14T15:42:00.000-07:00

Religious leaders work to tackle homeless problem
By JOHN IWASAKI, P-I REPORTER

While chatting with friends Wednesday morning at a coffee shop in Ballard, Carolyn Swanson mentioned that she was headed to a meeting to learn how local churches could host Tent City 3, the traveling homeless encampment now in North Seattle.

Because Scandinavians pride themselves on "pulling themselves up by their bootstraps," she said, her astonished friends fired back questions:

"You're going to do what?" "Why don't those people work?" "Isn't that great to live off the state?"

Homelessness is a complex issue, and those with a roof over their head often don't understand it, said Swanson, a member of the justice committee at Our Redeemer's Lutheran Church.

Representatives of 16 congregations met Wednesday at St. Mark's Episcopal Cathedral to gather information on homelessness and Tent City 3. The encampment will be moving from Haller Lake United Methodist Church to Riverton Park United Methodist Church in Tukwila on Sept. 22.

The larger question, not on the agenda at the St. Mark's meeting, is how to make homelessness a problem of the past. That daunting topic will be discussed Tuesday when an interfaith group holds its seventh-annual conference on "creating the political will to end homelessness."

Read the whole article at the Seattle Post-Intelligencer.

What is Most Important

2007-09-12T10:29:00.000-07:00

The following is excerpted from a personal journal, so it is taken out of context (a little) and cleaned up (a bit). I was musing on the anxiety I feel about this change in assignment and new job approaching.

"Despite all the (mounting) anxiety - I think both Christie and I are excited about the adventure of Europe. In many ways, it is a large unknown - to everyone, including ourselves. In some ways, things are just unknown to us - surely my supervisor and fellow ministers and the Europe church have some expectations and understanding, and I have no idea where or what those are. Hopefully, that will be somewhat corrected in the next few months (and it may be an act of mercy not to burden me with those until I am free of obligation to the Northwest).

But one of my goals should be to enjoy Europe. Make that an explicit goal of my first year, too.

The minister for Hungary wrote to me earlier this week asking to hear about any ideas I have for Europe - and I'm torn. I really do feel like I need to learn what the Europe church wants for itself. I don't want to go to Europe with a cadre of pre-conceived notions, but moreover, I can't, without being egregiously arrogant and misguided. I don't say this as "I shouldn't," but as "I am not capable of going over there with many preconceived ideas."

When I started my present position in the Seattle-area congregations, I tried really hard not to impose my vision and priorities onto the congregations. But the truth was that I had my own visions and priorities. They weren't set in stone, or overriding congregational identity and initiatives, or exclusive of other ideas, even. But I had some ideas going into this what I could do. After all, I had lived here for several years already and was at least somewhat familiar with the church here by virtue of language, nationality, culture, and so on. None of these commonalities exist for me in the Europe church. I am not able to go into Europe with even a skeleton plan of preconceived notions.

In some ways this is good, surely, since I will be able to genuinely throw myself into Europe for its own sake. At the same time, however, I worry about the perception of my leadership abilities if I enter in in total obedience to the local whim of the people. (Two things come to mind: Jesus would not, I believe, condone entering Europe "proudly" and full of myself, and would himself model "servant leadership;" and part of my leadership ability may be to discern the viable priorities and initiatives, find the fertile ground, in Europe, from all the potential options.)

And, too, all this is not entirely honest. We do have commonalities. In fact, these commonalities are not merely "cultural" or "linguistic" or "nationalistic" - they are necessarily deeper, more foundational, root convictions. We are grounded in the scriptures, in shared history, in commitment to community, peace, and the worth of all persons. So perhaps there is hope there. I am going without my familiar footing, but not without grounding altogether. It may be a strange shore, but we share the same anchors. Perhaps going to Europe will be a good exercise for me in letting go of the unessential, identifying and keeping hold of what is most important.

What is most important. A tall order indeed."

Sunday At the Meaningful Movies

2007-09-11T10:55:00.000-07:00

West Seattle Neighbors for Peace and Justice is sponsoring a free public film series and discussion afterwards. September 16, at 6PM, at the Fauntleroy UCC Church (9140 California Ave SW). This screening is of the compelling documentary "Why We Fight."

Christie and I own this film, and few things will better inform you or make you more mad - mad that our country, culture and economy is organized this way. The film brilliantly escorts the viewer through the development of our national arms-industry and its place in the political and popular life of our nation. It takes a brave and honest look at the history of American state-violence, and tries to make a fair and insightful analysis of our national psyche. This film, in short, is tremendously worth watching.

And what better way than for free, with other West Seattlites of like mind and concern? West Seattle Neighbors for Peace and Justice are fun folks, who thankfully haven't lost sight of either long-term dedication or a healthy sense of humor. If you haven't met anyone from this group yet, you really should. They're a hoot.

And there's free popcorn!

Growing the Church

2007-09-10T14:53:00.000-07:00

The last two weeks I've been preoccupied with getting our house in shape to sell - all the yard and home projects I've neglected in my eagerness to work for the church have come back to taunt and chase me.

Another point of stress is that Christie and I run our home more like a farm - which looks different than a "yard." We don't water the lawn, letting it brown in late summer and die back naturally. We compost yard waste in big bales. We grow crops instead of flowers. Generally, the beauty of urban homesteading is a little rougher than the typical suburban well-manicured yard. In fact, if you're not used to it, it might look unkempt and ratty.

So once we made the decision to sell the house, I started pulling up crops and planting flowers, laying down bark mulch instead of the homegrown compost, and watering the lawn. The problem is, watering the lawn once the grass is already brown is too late. Once the crisis point has hit, it's the watering you've already done (or not done) that matters.

And watering only the brown patches leaves what still is green to wither and die - so you have to water both the living and the dying (or the birthed and potentially re-birth-able) equally, actually watering where you hope there will be grass soon.

Ministry within congregations, it occurred to me, is much the same. If we wait until crisis to start to minister to each other, show love, mobilize for issues we believe in, or begin mission work in our neighborhoods, then it's too late. The heat of the day and the summer will burn up most of your water and care. It is the watering and attention you've done prior to this that really sustains roots, that has already penetrated the soil and is at the source of people's strength. If we wait until congregations are dying to start mission work, it is an uphill battle, and the fruits of the labor may not be seen for a long time, while the water (and precious little at that) makes its way to the roots - and we need to keep watering. Whereas, if congregations sense a call to mission earlier, and begin to cultivate their spirituality and religious devotion to include a real-life care for the world, then when crises hit (and crises will come), the roots deep below will sustain them and weather the drought.

On a more personal level, when individuals are going through a crisis like the death of a loved one, oftentimes the words and efforts right then seem superficial and un-comforting. It is the understandings that have been deeply cultivated, the convictions that are already nurtured and healthy and rooted, that carry one through, or leave one wanting. It doesn't seem much different with larger organisms like congregations or denominations.

We've been starving our roots for too long, getting by with shallow waterings and quick fixes. We want our congregations to grow, but are unwilling to invite people, or unwilling to offer dynamic worship, or unconventional worship, or meaningful, insightful, exciting preaching, or whatever. We've been unable or unwilling to open our doors to homeless or poor or immigrants or other languages. We've clung to old forms of worship or congregational identity, when the world around us has changed dramatically. We've been hoping that having kids will grow our church - a strategy that worked in the 50's when the population of the US generally was growing. We are still conflicted about our history and heritage, embarrassed at times, ashamed at others, but sensing all the while that there is something precious and worthwhile buried under all the misgivings, and not having the language to talk about it without sounding retrograde.

Whatever it is, we need to stop watering shallowly. Gardeners all over will tell you: water more deeply and less often to conserve water and encourage healthy root growth.

We need to water where we want grass to grow, too. That means stretching ourselves, and risking the "waste" of some resources on land that is not yet in bloom, where roots have not visibly reached, trusting that the Spirit is at work there just as it is at work where the grass is greenest. This necessitates an economy of abundance, rather than scarcity - where we water deep and wide.

Honestly, I'm not sure many of our congregations are ready for that kind of commitment.

The thing is, there are other gardeners out there. If we don't reach people, something else will. And we'll have no one to blame for our desert lawn but ourselves.

ode to the pacific northwest

2007-09-09T17:31:00.001-07:00

Flying in to Vancouver this morning I see what makes my heart leap: terrifyingly jagged mountain peaks with bright blue, tiny, jewel-like lakes nestled amidst the razor-like rocks. In spite it being the end of summer there is still snow dusted on some of the edges. In the distance, far above the jaggy peaks, loom flat-top giants whose shape betrays the terrible power that lies inside them.

This is what I love about the northwest, the dramatic, rough splendour of these mountains and the whole landscape. Towns humbly sit at the feet of these towering, rocky slopes. Even the clear-cut expanses do not and cannot touch the terrible peaks. Rivers wind their way to the flatter land that gives way to more majesty, the ocean, with more jagged peaks across the water.

It is this chaotic and dangerous landscape that my heart/soul/spirit calls "home", not the rolling hills and gentle expanse of the midwest, lovely as they are. The danger and the beauty and their juxtaposition terrify, thrill and humble me, all the while pulling deeply on my passion and desire..... so beautiful, so frightening, and so much like God. Hallelujah.

2007-09-06T09:50:00.000-07:00

"A ten-year-old once asked me if I knew what Jesus' first words were after he came out of the tomb. 'No,' I replied. 'What were they?' He spread his arms, jumped forward with a grin, and said, 'Ta-dah!'

Jesus was constantly in a state of celebration."

Quoted from Jesus, CEO, by Laurie Beth Jones

Radical Hospitality

2007-09-04T09:15:00.000-07:00

This past Sunday I preached at the Yakima congregation - a small but lively bunch who loves to answer when I ask rhetorical questions, keeping me on my toes and oftentimes off my script. The scripture under examination this week was Luke 14:1, 7-14, when Jesus attends a dinner and points out people scrambling for the seats of most prestige. Jesus says that people should sit lower, rather than higher, so that the host can then ask them to move up - an honor indeed - rather than having to ask them to move down to make room for a more honorable or prestigious person - truly embarrassing.

But is Jesus merely being "Miss Manners" here, recommending a strategy for being publicly recognized as both prestigious and humble (if falsely)? Or, rather, is it our own egos that want to take Jesus' words about not being proud and twist them into a strategy for feeding our pride even more?

I told a story about Apostle Susan Skoor's recent trip to the church in Tahiti. While there, she was showered with gifts and honor and adoration. One of the first dinners she attended was a church potluck after a service. In typical Community of Christ style, the room was laid out with connected seating tables and one long serving table heavily laden with food and goodies. Being polite, the Tahitian congregants invited Susan, as their guest, to go first. Susan, being polite, tried to take a little bit from every dish, so as not to offend or disappoint anyone, and took her plate to the table.

Now, in the States, potluck ceremony ends about at the end of the food line, and you just sit wherever you can find a place - usually next to someone who's already sitting, so you can converse with them over the meal. So that's what she did. Susan saw some people sitting at the end of the table, went over and sat next to them. At which point there rose a tense murmuring in the crowd. Whispers of concern and confusion, nervous glances and desperate looks bounced back and forth. Blissfully ignorant, Susan continued her attempts to banter politely in her struggling French.

The financial officer for French Polynesia, Steve - an American who grew up partially in Tahiti, who knows both cultures well enough to navigate between them - came over to Susan. "Now, Susan, this seat is fine because you chose it. But just so you know, they meant for you to sit over there." It was obvious, once Steve pointed it out. The tables were arranged in a large horseshoe, with the largest chair at the top of the bend, ornate and padded, and the table in front of it festooned with flowers and crowded with food.

"Should I move?" she asked.

"No. You've chosen this seat, and that's ok."

But obviously, it wasn't. You see, Tahitian society is still very classified - that is, there are "classes" still largely present, a social hierarchy of prestige and respectability. Membership in the community of Christ hasn't completely done away with this cultural characteristic, and it manifests itself even in church. Where you sit is in clear relation to how important you are in the society, how respectable and honorable you or your place is. And these people hadn't even gotten their food yet, so they were probably at the very end of the line and had just sat down to rest while everyone more important than they went by the food-table. These people weren't even prestigious enough to be in the food line yet. And here comes Susan, unknowing, making no distinction, seeing no difference, more self-conscious about her own linguistic performance in front of these people than their social status. It was a question she didn't even think to ask, a factor she didn't even know to consider.

There she sat, at the lowest end of the table, with persons who might have considered themselves the lowest people in the room. And wouldn't you know it - a miracle happened. Slowly, people began picking up and moving the flowers and overflowing dishes, the decorations and abundance reserved for the most important person in the room, toward her end of the table. When Susan sat in the "wrong" place, they began to reevaluate where their abundance was located, re-prioritize their table-setting, re-orient their best efforts and highest honors. And the glory and honor of that congregation moved from the center of the table to the edges, from the middle to the marginal, from the pinnacle to the periphery.

Isn't that incredible?! Don't you just wish it was always that easy? Just sit in the wrong place, unintentionally, and see for one moment a holy shift in a congregation's consciousness? Wouldn't you just die for such a chance?

Last Sunday was, of course, Communion Sunday - the monthly meal where we are invited to sit at the table of Christ. The theme was "Practice Radical Hospitality." And so I asked the congregation who in their neighborhoods and city are people that could be invited if we only extended Christ's hospitality without thought of gain for ourselves. The poor. The homeless. Migrant workers. Illegal immigrants. The mentally ill. Children. Those with emotional problems. Those of political parties with whom we ardently disagree. And so on. Most of those categories were responses of the congregation, when I asked them the rhetorical question. But the Spirit moves them to answer, and I told them the Spirit will hold them accountable for their knowledge.

Radical hospitality has been extended to all of us - poor sinners and unworthy disciples of Christ. How difficult is it for us to extend that same hospitality to those sitting at the edges of our tables or neighborhoods? How much are we called to sit with those who might benefit from a reorientation of society's priorities? How lucky are we that there are so many opportunities waiting for us already?

Fourth Anniversary

2007-09-04T08:26:00.001-07:00

Christie and I celebrated our fourth wedding anniversary this past weekend - a blissful afternoon of Seattle summer, surrounded by friends and friends' children, German sausages on the grill, and Liberace and Cher on the cd player.

Actually, the party was in celebration of our brother- and sister-in-law's tenth anniversary. What better way to celebrate our own marriage than lifting up those who are successfully going before us, leading the way?

Here's to Flannel-in-laws, and love all around.

more poetry

2007-08-29T14:27:00.001-07:00

Ok, so I'm slightly obsessed with poetry lately, but I think that's ok; my guess is that it is kind of an epiphenomena of what's been going on with my soul as of late. So when I was at camp a few weeks ago, somehow Shakespeare's sonnets came up in discussion, and I, like virtually everyone else, had a sonnet still tucked away in the corners of my brain that I had memorized during high school. So I began to recall it, and as I did it was as if I were reading it for the first time, even though "I" "knew" the poem "by heart", it felt more like I was discovering the poem anew as I spoke it out loud, and in some ways it felt almost as if the poem were reading me, not I it. And it was an incredibly beautiful experience.

A large part of the beauty of this particular sonnet, for me, is in saying it out loud. For when I let the lines carry my voice, the very act of speaking the words with raw honesty seems to carry my body to a different place. The line that begins "Like to the lark..." always leaves me breathless with a racing heart by the time I get to the end of it, because I never pause between that line and the next. So partly out of physiology and partly because of the words themselves and what they point to, I am left gasping at the beauty of it all. And then the last two lines become a sort of contented sigh, passing through me like truths that cannot be harnessed, denied or controlled.

I am still swept away by the beauty of these words and the huge meaning they express in such brevity, amazing. There is a sense that I "understand" this poem now far better than I did when I memorized it for school, but there is also a sense that I have always "understood" the poem, in that the way I speak the words now is the result of continuous testing and re-speaking when I first learned them, and that too is a strange truth in itself. Perhaps this sonnet-remembrance experience has more in common with my spiritual journey than I first may have thought. Both are journeys of rediscovering something learned long ago that suddenly, under the right circumstances, has burst open with a supernova of meaning; a supernova that leaves both glittering beauty and a dark black hole..... kind of like the poem... Hm.

Sonnet # 29

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

Where Are Nukes at the Table of Peace?

2007-08-28T10:11:00.000-07:00

By Brent McDougal, on EthicsDaily.com

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the toughest of them all when it comes to using nuclear weapons against Osama bin Laden and terrorists in radical states such as Iran and Afghanistan? And by the way, while you're pondering that, mirror, mirror, what should people of faith and those who seek peace demand of candidates and leaders who feel the need to appear the toughest against our enemies?

In response to Barak Obama's statement that nuclear weapons were "not on the table" with regard to ungoverned territories in the two countries, Hillary Clinton responded that "presidents should be careful at all times in discussing the use and nonuse of nuclear weapons," adding that she would not respond to hypothetical questions about the use of nuclear force.

"Presidents since the Cold War have used nuclear deterrents to keep the peace," said Clinton, "and I don't believe any president should make blanket statements with the regard to use or nonuse."

The race is on to see who is the toughest, the biggest and the baddest when it comes to defending America against terrorism.

Targeting a person or small group with nuclear weapons? Seriously? Detonating a nuclear bomb on a country to eliminate a few persons within their population? Really? Ridiculous. And yet Clinton scores big for being hard-hitting, ready to strike at the least indication of terrorist activity, while Obama scrambles to define himself in stronger terms.
...

As a person of faith, and one called to be a "peacemaker" by Jesus, I'm shocked that candidates who say they follow the same teachings as I do could be so careless regarding the use of nuclear weapons. The same follows with the use of torture and the reflex use of violence against our enemies.

(continued)

Read the whole article at EthicsDaily.com.

Peacemaking or Peacemongering?

2007-08-27T09:14:00.000-07:00

I came across an interesting post this morning. It describes peacemaking as doing the hard (and often uncomfortable) work of bringing people to emotional maturity. Peacemongering, on the other hand, is seeking to maintain a (false) peace by catering to the whims of the least emotionally mature.

The example the blogger used was a family going to a restaurant: the family has decided and is on their way to go to a Mexican place, but the six-year-old decides he wants McDonald's and is willing to protest the whole way, so the parents just wanting a peaceful evening with the family give in to the six-year-old, therefore rewarding him for his immaturity. I can see the point in this example, but does it hold water when applied to larger interpersonal relationships? What about international relationships?

I'm also wondering if this isn't setting the author up to make value judgments about other people's lifestyles or cultures and endorsing a "tough love" approach to making "them" more like "us" (homogenization). (Leading to labeling preemptive wars or wars under the guise of "liberation" as "peacemaking.") What do you think?

The Politics of God

2007-08-24T13:45:00.000-07:00

"After centuries of strife, the West has learned to separate religion and politics — to establish the legitimacy of its leaders without referring to divine command. There is little reason to expect that the rest of the world — the Islamic world in particular — will follow."

(From the New York Times Magazine)

The twilight of the idols has been postponed. For more than two centuries, from the American and French Revolutions to the collapse of Soviet Communism, world politics revolved around eminently political problems. War and revolution, class and social justice, race and national identity — these were the questions that divided us. Today, we have progressed to the point where our problems again resemble those of the 16th century, as we find ourselves entangled in conflicts over competing revelations, dogmatic purity and divine duty. We in the West are disturbed and confused. Though we have our own fundamentalists, we find it incomprehensible that theological ideas still stir up messianic passions, leaving societies in ruin. We had assumed this was no longer possible, that human beings had learned to separate religious questions from political ones, that fanaticism was dead. We were wrong.

Read the whole article here.

Thanks to blogger Jon for pointing this out to me.

Listening - the common ground amid conflict

2007-08-24T10:29:00.000-07:00

The Seattle Times earlier in August ran a story about a local woman who believes in the healing and redemptive power of merely listening to others' stories. And it's not just her anymore. Her organization, The Compassionate Listening Project, is an international force for conflict resolution. Not just stopping fighting or imposing a fragile (and often false) "peace" onto a crisis situation, but rather cultivating deep reconciliation among individuals and populations that have been cultivating deep division for so long.

The article is worth reading. It is one model for genuine peace-making - both among ourselves and as a vision for international conflicts that popular culture or the military-industrial complex would have us believe is impossible.

A New Book Remembers Sacco & Vanzetti, and Injustice Served

2007-08-24T09:15:00.000-07:00

(From the Washington Post)

Eighty years ago this week, the Commonwealth of Massachusetts executed two first-generation immigrants from Italy, Nicola Sacco and Bartolomeo Vanzetti, for crimes they almost certainly did not commit. Before and after the executions, passions aroused by the case, in the United States and around the world, were incredibly intense. In part, this was because the case had strong political overtones at a time when much of the country was swept up in the Red Scare. In part, it was because, as the noted newspaper columnist Walter Lippmann wrote, "No man . . . should be put to death where so much doubt exists." And, in part, it was because Sacco and Vanzetti were appealing men, whatever one may have thought of their politics. In an interview with the New York World three months before his execution, Vanzetti was quoted as saying, in halting but powerful English:

"If it had not been for these thing, I might have live out my life, talking at street corners to scorning men. I might have die, unmarked, unknown, a failure. Now we are not a failure. This is our career and our triumph. Never in our full life can we hope to do such work for tolerance, for justice, for man's understanding of man as we now do by dying. Our words, our lives, our pains -- nothing! The taking of our lives -- lives of a good shoemaker and a poor fish peddler -- all! That last moment belongs to us -- that agony is our triumph!"

Read the whole article/book review at the Washington Post.

Thanks to blogger Jon for pointing this out to me.

Have Camera - Will Photo

2007-08-21T13:56:00.000-07:00

There's just so much I miss by not having a digital camera. So Christie and I finally broke down and bought one. We asked all our friends what cameras they have, tried them out, price shopped, you know the drill. Eventually, we came to a Canon S3 IS - a bit on the low end, but good enough for a starter camera for us. And heck, with shots like this (sunflower amid tobacco blossoms by the compost bin) we can't complain. (Click on the pic... there're raindrops on the petals!)

the present time

2007-08-19T22:52:00.001-07:00

Today I preached at church, and it was a very interesting experience. Lately I have been creating my sermons rather amorphously, leaving an awful lot up to my own theologizing - for better or for worse. I haven't been focusing on in-depth exegetical (aka Biblical study & interpretation) work, not going to the original languages, not reading commentaries, basically not using the tools I've spent years learning about and have faithfully used on many a successful sermon.

Instead I have been focusing on attentive readings of the scripture texts as well as readings of my life and the lives of those I'm supposed to preach to, and then I use the given theme to try and draw out possible important ideas.

Today's theme was especially fruitful and provocative: "Discern the Present Time". When I first read it I was struck by how much application it had to my own life, how much it resonated with my current reassessment of where my life is and where it is going. Discernment is something I've been very familiar with lately, it is an ongoing process in my life, but discerning the present time was a new framing for me. Usually when I think about discernment, I think about making a decision or choice for the future, but instead I find myself now, just as the theme stated, focusing more on the present time, on having fidelity to the current moment.

Fidelity to the present time can be very tricky, because we seem to much more naturally find ourselves getting caught up on past or future times – lately many are asking "how will my stocks perform through this market drop?" Lately I'm asking "What am I going to be or do with my life? Where is this life of mine going?" But as I’m sure you have heard in many a pithy proverb: if we only focus on and worry about the future and/or the past, we miss out on the beauty of this present, perfect moment.

So, I find myself asking the question that seems to consume me daily: “how then shall we live?” How do we discern what kind of just life I/we need to live in this moment? I find myself looking for (and found myself talking about in my sermon) the signals or pointers or road signs that let me/us know that the path we're choosing is one that is faithful.

In one of the scriptures there was a call to be a “healing and redeeming” agent in the world. Phrases like “wholeness of body, mind and spirit”, “strengthening of faith”, and “reconciliation and healing of the spirit”, to me are examples of the road signs that tell us we are on the right path. And perhaps that is all I/we need right now, to trust the journey and trust that when the time is right, it will yield fruit.

Euro-Flannel?

2007-08-19T16:50:00.000-07:00

Q: What do these three images have in common?
A: As of next year, they will all be associated with the Netherlands!

Last week I was appointed by my denomination as the new President of the church in Europe. In February, Christie and I will be moving to Rotterdam in the Netherlands to assume the duties and begin our new life in Europe. ... And my calendar is already packed.

What will happen when a West Seattle Peace & Justice minister goes to Europe? How will an activist fare in a larger administrative role? How will I look in a Citroёn? Burning questions that will be explored right here.

maybe tears are enough

2007-08-15T14:14:00.000-07:00

Anyone who knows me fairly well knows that I'm a crier. I cry fairly easily. Those who know my family know that this is a seemingly genetic trait I share with my mother, grandfather, aunts and cousins. When I was a teenager it was rather embarrassing and socially awkward to burst into tears at random moments. As I've gotten older, I think that I don't cry quite as much as I once did, but when I really think about it, I probably do cry just as much, but I have just gotten a lot more comfortable with it. One could say I have a healthier relationship with tears now than I once did

So when I saw an article entitled "Tears and Compassionate Connection" in an e-zine I receive regularly, I immediately clicked on it. It is a beautiful article that begins with a story of a young Palestinian woman who was arrested by Israeli soldiers at a checkpoint. Unlike the stories I hear from my women friends about using tears to get themselves out of situations, this story was very different. The young woman describes how seeing two of the soldiers at the checkpoint: a man and a woman, both crying, opened a space for her to forgive.

I have had incredibly powerful experiences of tears - one day I began crying for seemingly no reason, only to find out later that a woman near me was crying, and that I must have sensed her distress, even though I could not see her. I remember one time apologizing to a male friend for crying while we talked, only to have him say that he wished he could cry too, but couldn't. I jokingly tell friends that I should be a professional mourner (apparently in some cultures they actually have such things) since I cry so easily. In some ways I think I already do this, I mourn for the dead parts of our world and for my friends.

Tears, for me, as I've grown into them, are most often openings, just as the article suggests. Like a big smile, tears silently speak volumes and gift those around with a truth that is otherwise unspeakable. And so, I wonder, if sometimes tears are enough: words can't make another's pain go away, but tears can validate that pain, and shed a light of honesty that unites us even when all we can see is difference.

"Sometimes crossing the street can save a life."

2007-08-14T14:35:00.000-07:00

The Seattle Post-Intelligencer (Seattle's fairest and most objective major daily newspaper) last week featured an article about an outreach program focused on people on the streets. It tells the story of Mary Williams (who also happens to be an active member of Community of Christ) and her on-the-street "ministry" (my word) of compassion and help to people weighed down by poverty, drugs, abuse or any of a host of other inner-city plagues.

The outreach starts simply with offering a drink of water. How tremendously appropriate.

I spent an afternoon with Mary Williams not too long ago, when she set up her table on the sidewalk brimming with brochures and helpline information, and a basket of cupcakes and bottled water. She is a sight to behold: unafraid to talk to anyone, to strike up a conversation, start building relationships, offering information without being the least bit pushy - in short, showing the passers by that she actually cares about them. She doesn't just see sickness or mental illness or depression or poverty or addiction. Williams manages to convey a healthy care in her work. That one afternoon was inspiring enough. The P-I article last week raised my estimation of her and her work even higher.

Read the article. It's enough to give me hope.

2007-08-14T11:25:00.000-07:00

Because blogger Jon doesn't think my blog is funny enough.

All Is Not Lost: Another World Is Possible

2007-08-13T14:29:00.000-07:00

There is a wonderful poem by Naomi Shihab Nye that tells the story of a crowd at an airport gate waiting for a delayed flight. Why don't I just post it for you.

Wandering Around the Albuquerque Airport Terminal

After learning my flight was detained four hours, I heard the announcement: If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4A understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately.
Well, one pauses these days. Gate 4A was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.

“Help,” said the flight service person. “Talk to her. What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she did this. ”

I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly: “Shu dow-a, shu-biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick, sho bit se-wee?”

The minute she heard any words she knew, however poorly used, she stopped crying. She thought our flight had been cancelled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the following day.

I said, “No, no, we're fine. You'll get there, just late. Who is picking you up? Let's call him and tell him. ”

We called her son, and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and would ride next to her — Southwest Airlines.

She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad, and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out, of course, that they had 10 shared friends.

Then I thought, just for the heck of it, Why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her? This all took up about two hours.

She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering questions.

She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies, little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts, out of her bag, and was offering them to all the women at the gate.

To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California, the lovely woman from Laredo. We were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.

And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers, nonalcoholic. And the two little girls on our flight, one African-American and one Mexican-American, ran around serving us all apple juice and lemonade. And they were covered with powdered sugar too.

And I noticed my new best friend — by now we were holding hands — had a potted plant, some medicinal thing, poking out of her bag. With green furry leaves. Such an old-country traveling tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.

And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, This is the world I want to live in, the shared world. Not a single person at this gate, once the crying of confusion stopped, had seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too. This can still happen anywhere.

Not everything is lost.

More on Rorty

2007-08-13T10:45:00.000-07:00

Richard Rorty is dead. For those who loved him as a person, and also those who just knew him – I had the good fortune to spend an evening with him in Hamburg – this sentence is an expression of pain alone. But for those who loved him as a theorist, the question is what this sentence means besides. Certainly: one of the greatest philosophers of the twentieth century has died. What will come after him, will someone take his place? As with other great philosophers and writers, the answer is: of course not. One has to live with such losses; they are forever. But in Rorty's case, questions and answers lead beyond truisms. To explain that, I need to get slightly personal.

Read the whole article at Eurozine.

I post this because Richard Rorty had (and continues to have) a profound and formative influence on my personal philosophy and theology. His work has shaped my own, his style inspired me, his approach made sense to me, his answers (or, rather, his way of answering) spoke/speaks to me. I will miss his continued insights, and will continue to read the writings he left us.

(Thanks to Blogger Jon for pointing this article out to me.)

5,000th Prayer for Peace

2007-08-13T09:01:00.000-07:00

My church is a peace church. We find one of the primary expressions of the Gospel in our lives to be working for peace - on personal, political, social and international levels. As disciples, we also recognize that peace has a national/international conflict-resolution dimension.

In addressing this, in addition to more "earthly" efforts, our denomination has for several years offered a prayer for peace at our headquarters, every single day. Typically, a particular nation is given special attention each day, offering the participants and worshipers and opportunity to learn about the special challenges and callings facing unique and diverse peoples across our planet.

Today marks the 5,000th daily prayer for peace offered by our church since we began this practice. At one o'clock, in Independence, Missouri, (that's 11 o'clock in Seattle) this landmark prayer will be offered like all the others: to the Spirit of Peace and to people to respond to It. Today, for Suriname.

A Prayer for Healing

2007-08-10T08:22:00.000-07:00

The following is a prayer given to me by a Roman Catholic relative, who herself received it at a Mass she attended before arriving at my grandmother's funeral. For some reason, this woman decided I would like it. It has hung over my desk since then, and silently presided over my work. I offer it now to the folds of cyberspace.

God of endless love,
ever caring, ever strong,
always present, always just:
Who guided your Son
to save us by his life and his cross.

Gentle Jesus, shepherd of peace,
join to your own suffering
the pain of all who have been hurt
in body, mind, and spirit
by those who betrayed the trust placed in them.

Hear our cries as we agonize
over the harm done to our brothers and sisters.
Breather wisdom into our prayers.
Soothe restless hearts with hope.
Steady shaken spirits with faith.
Show us the way to justice and wholeness,
enlightened by truth and enfolded in your mercy.

Holy Spirit, comforter of hearts,
heal your people's wounds
and transform our brokenness.
Grant us courage and wisdom, humility and grace,
so that we act with justice
and find peace in you.

We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.

awesome

2007-08-06T21:40:00.000-07:00

Today I was walking with a small group of youth into the woods here at camp on our morning silent meditative walk. I had the most interesting experience:

Due to high winds last fall, throughout the pacific northwest, there are many trees that have fallen down. Our woods here are no exception. As we walked along a well-worn, very wide path, we suddenly came to a spot where a huge tree (about a two foot trunk width) was laying across our path. Serendipitously enough, our theme this week is "The Road, The Way" and so there we were with an unsurpassed object lesson... the teachable-moment-watcher in me was tortured because our little group had covenanted together that we would make the journey into the woods in silence, and so I was confronted with an ultimate moment of the "gappy theology" that I've previously talked about. I was not able to tell them what they should think about what was happening, wasn't able to tell them what the metaphor was, I had to trust that the tree itself spoke more than I could ever say.

Wordlessly, one of the campers led the way around the tree, through the brambles and branches, and back onto the path. And then my stomach dropped slightly: the first thing I saw when I looked up from our circumnavigation of the wind-fallen tree was a peace pole, decorated years ago by another camp, and facing me was the side that said "OUR GOD IS AN AWESOME GOD." Indeed. The fallen trees ahead and behind are visible testimonies of the awesomeness of God.

I find it so amazing that I am constantly learning new things about God. I am only now coming to terms with the awesome, destructive side of God. It almost seems un-politically-correct to say that a part of me was in awe of the beauty of the destruction that "God/creation/ultimate power/the ground of our being" is capable of. But that is exactly how I felt. I can't wait to see what other amazing things I discover about God this week.

Community of Christ Begins Legal Fight to Protect Historical Name

2007-08-06T08:33:00.000-07:00

AP — The Community of Christ filed a federal trademark infringement suit against a small church in suburban Kansas City for what the larger church says is an improper use of its former name and initials.

The Community of Christ, which has about 250,000 members worldwide, is suing the South Restoration Branch of Raytown. The lawsuit was filed Monday in U.S. District Court.

The Community of Christ, headquartered in the Kansas City suburb of Independence since 1920, split from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1860. Its members remained behind when the larger Mormon church relocated to Utah. It was known as the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, commonly abbreviated as "RLDS," until 2001 and still holds trademarks on both designations.

"The church legally trademarked these names decades ago," presiding Bishop Steve Jones said in a statement issued Wednesday, "and has taken all appropriate steps throughout the years to retain its ownership of all right, title and interest in and to the marks 'Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints' and 'RLDS'."

The term "Restoration Branch" refers to members' belief that the movement restores proper doctrine lost by the larger church. Membership in the Restoration Branches consists largely of people who left what is now the Community of Christ in the 1980s, disagreeing with its decision to begin ordaining women. Other doctrinal differences also exist between the larger church and the Restoration Branches, which have an estimated 12,000 members.

In April, the Joint Conference of Restoration Branches adopted a resolution to use the RLDS name, although not all branches have done so. But while the Community of Christ no longer uses its former names, it is not willing to give up trademark rights to them.

"The Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and RLDS names are integral to our heritage and will always be a significant element of who we are," Jones said. "Furthermore, there are nations in which the name Community of Christ could not be used, and there are important implications for legal documentation pertaining to such things as land titles."

No one answered the South Restoration Branch's listed telephone number, and court documents did not list an attorney.

AP - Community of Christ sues church over name
Independence Examiner - Church sues to protect name
Hays Daily News - Community of Christ sues small church for using its former name

Religion as an Entree to the Arts?

2007-08-06T08:08:00.000-07:00

The state of the humanities in the US can be measured by present achievement: would anyone seriously argue that the fine arts or even popular culture is enjoying a period of high originality and creativity? American genius currently resides in technology and design. The younger generation, with its mastery of video games and its facility for ever-evolving gadgetry like video cell phones and iPods, has massively shifted to the Web for information and entertainment.

I would argue that the route to a renaissance of the American fine arts lies through religion. Let me make my premises clear: I am a professed atheist and a pro-choice libertarian Democrat. But based on my college experiences in the 1960s, when interest in Hinduism and Buddhism was intense, I have been calling for nearly two decades for massive educational reform that would put the study of comparative religion at the center of the university curriculum.

Above is excerpted from a fascinating article that puts religion at the center of a liberal arts education - a suggestion that is significantly un-typicial in today's heavily secularized education environment. It is worth reading in its entirety. (Thanks to blogger Jon for pointing this out to me.)

The Day Hope Died

2007-08-04T16:09:00.000-07:00

Today - August 4, 1914 - the greatest socialist party ever, died. The German socialist party voted in Parliament to authorize "war credits" in preparation for World War I. It violated every felt and expressed impulse to hold solidarity with the workers of every country, and fell tragic victim to nationalism and patriotic myopia.

The German socialist party held the swing vote - a sizeable portion of the Reichstag, actually - and could have prevented World War I and perhaps ushered into Europe a prosperous and exemplary society that valued protecting lives more than gaining land, resources, prestige and power. Instead, they bought the old nationalist line and voted in financing of the war machine, and authorized sending German workers against French workers, for the benefit of German politicians and bankers.

At the time, socialists were well represented in the Reichstag - oftentimes vying for majority control in the ruling body. They had a party membership in the millions, had thousands of news dailies, had established grassroots networks of activists and union halls, community centers and soup kitchens, and determined the politics in much of the southern half of the country. They could have ended WWI before it started - and there was heated debate among them whether they should or not. But in the end, they made the wrong choice, and put their extraordinary weight behind an unjust cause, just for the sake of nationalism. As a result, the rest of the century would be spent in warfare of spiraling severity and scope.

Also as a result, the fractured, hypocritical, failed socialist party infrastructure disintegrated, and is virtually forgotten in Western history. Americans only know the Cold War propaganda version of "socialism" - and react to the very word.

This is a sad day in history - one that we would do well to remember and keep close to our hearts. Never violate our principles, especially for the sake of nationalism and patriotism. Our conviction of peace and solidarity with all peoples, our commitment to welcoming the stranger, caring for the widow and orphan, clothing the naked, feeding the hungry, healing the poor - this is our rock, our worship of God. And no false god or idol can take its place, no matter what flag it is wrapped in or over which it waves. History proves the folly of nations. God will bear out our faith with righteousness.

These Kids Are a LOT of Work!

2007-07-31T17:24:00.000-07:00

I'm at Jr. High camp this week, and being run ragged. My muscles are honestly burning from all the exercise - ultimate frisbee, hiking, soccer, kickball, and chasing these burning thunders all over the campgrounds. They won't go to sleep at night, and then won't wake up in the morning; complain about being tired all morning, but then won't stop talking at rest period, then complain when I have to wake them up from their nap; they want to be treated as if they were totally responsible and independent, but every chance they get they're totally irresponsible and can't hardly do anything by themselves. What a week... or, er, three days, so far (yikes!).

Good food, though. (For those who know him, Sean Langdon is cooking, so we're eating well.)

I'd write more, but I have to chase my cabin - someone is probably on the verse of losing a digit.

remembering

2007-07-30T22:17:00.000-07:00

This happened 10 years ago, around this time of year, so I thought it might be a good time to share it.

It is a hot, humid, August morning in Lamoni, Iowa. I am sixteen years old. In a huge gym filled with empty bleachers that will soon groan under the weight of 1500 teenagers, I sit on a low riser. Having just rehearsed the song we will be singing, the choir I sit in the midst of is abuzz with anticipation of the worship that will come, what the day holds, and where they will go to escape the heat.

“Excuse me everyone! We need someone to say a prayer in English at the end of today’s service! We have someone praying in Spanish but need someone to pray in English! Any volunteers?”

Silence sharply hits the buzzing choir. No hands go up. My mind races through the four days I have just experienced in this strange, foreign space that is the Midwest of the USA, which each day seemed increasingly far away from my home in Canada. Too many times had I heard prayers that started with “Dear Father…” too many times had I witnessed male-dominated leadership; too many times had I wiggled uncomfortably in my seat with a dissatisfied feeling in my stomach.

“I don’t mind” I hear myself say, as I watch my hand raise.

“Great! Thank-you!” replies the one on the pray-er quest.

I don’t think much of volunteering. Praying in worship is something I have done many times at home in the comforting space of the Pacific Northwest. I’d just have to speak a bit louder, that’s all. Teenagers trickle-in and fill the huge space, and the high-energy worship launches. I prepare myself as I normally would, paying attention to the words of others, listening carefully to what the songs and scriptures are saying in order to echo their words. At the end of the service I confidently step out of the choir and moved forward to wait for the microphone to be passed to me. I take hold of the microphone and look out at the gathered group, the beauty of this diverse gathering, the sense of anticipation and possibility that is so palpable in a group of teenagers, stirs me deeply and fills me to overflowing. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and begin to pray:

“Loving Mother God…” I feel like I’ve just stepped off a cliff into a great abyss of uncertainty. Falling into the oceanic depths of chaos, the tehom as I would call it now, feels a bit lonely, but not cold or desolate, just uncertain.

The rest of the prayer has disappeared from my memory. I remember looking down at my shirt just after saying ‘amen’ and realizing that I was not anonymous; I had “Pacific Northwest Delegation” emblazoned across my chest. It would not be long, I thought, before I was hunted-down and reprimanded. But a mob of pitch-fork-wielding teenagers never showed up, and the only comment I received before running away from the crowded gym that morning was from the choir director who thanked me. I realized that maybe the tehom was not quite as lonely as I thought.

From the vantage point of my 26-year-old self, everything else in my life seems to radiate out of that point, that moment of truthfulness and prophecy, a time of saying ‘yes’ not just to saying a prayer, but to something much deeper and larger.

Bringing Up the F-word

2007-07-26T08:49:00.000-07:00

The editor of Real Change - the Seattle weekly peddled exclusively by homeless people - posted a great discussion of "the f-word" (fascism). In Seattle, people of faith and other concerned citizens will be gathering for a "strategy session" on resistance to fascism:

My friend Rev. Rich Lang at Trinity United Methodist Church in Ballard has called an Emergency Meeting at his church for August 1, at 7 pm. I'm going. Rev. Lang has been concerned with the growing signs around us for some time, but a recent Executive Order signed by the President has him particularly concerned.

Rev. Lang's Real Change column from today's Real Change is posted there, too. It is worth reading, and the strategy session sounds worth attending.

Build Them Up, and They Will Become

2007-07-25T08:50:00.000-07:00

It took me a while to figure out how well Christie (my partner) was training me to be a better husband. It was sneaky. But most of the time it worked.

She would encourage me to do the things she wanted me to do by complimenting me as if I was already doing them, and doing them so well.

"You drive so calmly and defensively, not aggressively at all. You're a very understanding and forgiving driver," she would say. Or: "I'm glad that we like the same level of cleanliness around the house - you don't leave piles of clothes or things laying around," as I'm kicking my dirty laundry out of sight under the bed.

She knew, obviously, that I wasn't deserving of the compliment or the identification - yet. But there is something very powerful in being identified with particular characteristics. Something about the human psyche makes us want to live up to those expectations.

I think the same thing is going on in Paul's (?) letter to the Colossians, when he writes:

And you who were once estranged and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds, [Jesus] has now reconciled in his fleshly body through death, so as to present you holy and blameless and irreproachable before [God]... (1:21-22)

Of course, we are not blameless and irreproachable - we still are estranged, still hostile, still doing evil deeds - we are in constant need of re-reconciliation. But Paul identifies us as already everything God wants us to be, already whole and blameless, already abandoning hostility and evil acts.

Is Paul tapping human psychology here? Paul declares we already are what God is trying to make us! And you can almost hear the Colossians wanting to be better, wanting to abandon hostility, feeling motivated to cease evil deeds, beginning to feel less estranged and unworthy. We can almost hear the Colossians response because we hear ourselves responding to the same impulse.

And the verses above followed a hymn about Jesus - so Paul tells us we are Jesus', we are like Jesus, we are reconciled by Jesus, just after a hymn describes the glories and power of Jesus, Paul links us with that glory and power. Talk about giving people something to live up to!

Do the Colossians respond? Will we?

poetry and gappy theology

2007-07-24T21:34:00.001-07:00

Is there enough poetry in our lives? Today my teacher, who is first generation Chinese-American was telling us how much Chinese love poetry, they put it everywhere: on teapots, in landscape paintings, around the door of a home, on a flower vase, wherever there is a little spare space a few characters of poetry can be added.

Poetry doesn’t seem to occupy the same sort of space – literally or metaphorically – in our North American lives. In fact, I find that poetry tends to actually make people rather uncomfortable: “I don’t get it” folks say, “That’s pretty, but what does it mean?” folks wonder.

But the more that I study theology, the more I try to preach or write about what I dis/believe, the more I try to connect in pastoral yet challenging ways with my fellow spiritual pilgrims, the more I find that poetry offers far more possibility than any other form of writing or speaking.

I presided over a church service this weekend and found that the best way to communicate what I wanted people to learn or take away was through the hymns – the poetry. I find that people are at such different places in their spiritual journeys, and needs are so different, that most communities need “gappy” theology. By “gappy” theology, I mean theology that has enough gaps to allow people too find and make their own meaning. By this I don’t mean hymns or poetry that have no meaning or completely relative meaning, but rather different layers of meaning that can speak differently to different people.

I too find myself, far too often, trying to tie people down to thinking exactly the way I do, believing exactly the way I do – I find myself thinking “if only this person could read exactly what I’ve read, and hear the lectures that I’ve heard, then they’d see things the way I do!” But then there's the experiences I've had, the people I've loved, those who've loved me, the things I've seen... all of that has influenced the way I see the world and the way I do theology. How could I ever convey that totality of life theologically?

I speak of poetry as a revelatory distillation of experience.... Poetry is the way we help give name to the nameless so that it can be thought. The farthest horizons of our hopes and fears are cobbled by our poems, carved from the rock experiences of our daily lives.
-Audre Lorde "Poetry Is Not a Luxury" in Sister Outsider

Maybe poetry is a way of doing theology in a way that both honours the fullness of our lives and allows enough space for others to enter in.

Three things are too wonderful for me;
four I do not understand:
the way of an eagle in the sky
the way of a snake on a rock
the way of a ship on the high seas
and the way of a man with a woman
-Proverbs 30:18-19

Political Observation: Voting

2007-07-24T08:00:00.000-07:00

Forgive me. I'd like to make a political comment.

If we (citizens and government of the United States of America) want to maintain or even improve democracy in our nation, I humbly submit some suggestions. Two ideas off the top of my head for simple, easy, low-overhead, low-infrastructure ways to increase democracy in our government are: Instant Run-Off Voting (IRV) and universalizing polling places.

Instant Run-off Voting is not a new idea. It simply allows voters to rank their choices - if your first-pick of candidate doesn't get enough votes to contend, then your vote goes to your second choice. If your second choice is knocked out of the running, then your vote counts toward your third pick. And so on. This allows (encourages) people to vote their principles first, and virtually eliminates the "spoiler" effect. A "spoiler" is someone like Ross Perot in '92 or Ralph Nader in 2000, who supposedly draws enough votes away from one or another of the two major party candidates to win the race for the other major party. IRV allows people to vote for the person they would genuinely rather have in office, without looming over them the threat that their least desired candidate might be elected because of it. The system as it is now clearly benefits the two entrenched parties who both use "spoiler" language to discourage disloyalty. Both the Dems and Rebs want to discourage consideration of IRV because it is easier for them to remain in power without it. IRV would open the door to all kinds of "third-party" or "independent" candidates, and the public would be exposed to a genuine variety of viewpoints, and the major parties themselves would be held more accountable to their constituencies' expectations. Simply put, Instant Run-off Voting is a necessity if we are to make any strides toward genuine democracy in this country.

Also helpful, and requiring virtually no change to infrastructure, would be to eliminate the restrictions on polling places. Simply don't assign people to polling places. Have voter records accessible electronically. Allow any voter in the state or county to go to any polling station - close to their work, close to their hairdresser, close to their school, close to where they'll be having lunch. Allow them to walk in, check their card, and have the ballot they need printed for them right there, and drop it off as they leave. No more contested ballots based on who shows up at what polling station. No more hours-long lines in poor neighborhoods. Just let people vote wherever they are. This would benefit the poor and working families, who are less likely to work near their home, and therefore have their poling station be inconveniently located for their workday.

Come to think of it, make voting day a holiday. Don't think people will come vote on their day off? Make it legally compulsory. Make it illegal not to vote. If all they want to do is show up and sign their name (essentially not voting at all), that's fine. But if they don't vote, there's a fine or something. If we want people to vote, there has to be a combination of carrot and stick. The present system works to actually discourage people from voting, because the entrenched powers want people to not vote. It is easier to have one's way if the people don't care what happens to them.

So there. Some ideas to get the conversation going (or keep it going). As Christians, it seems a faith issue to empower the disempowered, to make sure the meek have a voice. Our so-called "democracy" at present doesn't do that very well (if at all). Our faith conviction ought to compel us to consider alternatives.

Break Down Walls - Build Bridges

2007-07-23T13:07:00.000-07:00

Or, What Conan the Barbarian Taught Me at Church Camp

I grew up going to church camps in Arizona - in the mountains just outside of Prescott. Everything I knew about church camp was taught to me there, including (most importantly?) the stuff not covered in classes or preaching services.

How to build a good fort - location & construction. What pinecones made for the best throwing in pinecone fights (without hurting your own hand, or hurting the other kids too much). And which sticks made for the best stick-fighting.

Stick-sword-fighting was popular when I was a little kid. When I was five or six, of course, I wanted to play with the eight- and nine-year-olds, but they already had their teams. They knew how to build better forts, throw pinecones better, and always managed to find stronger, more wieldly sticks. But as I grew older, I slowly gained the craft passed on to me through innumerable scratches and defeats. So by the time I was eight or nine, I knew the best fort spots, could throw pinecones with approximate accuracy, and find the good sticks. My friend, Jamie, and I grew up together and so formed our own "team," and excluded the younger six- and seven-year-olds - and enjoyed the privileged position of victors in fort-durability and stick-fighting.

Now, in stick-fighting, the object isn't to hit the other person, it's to hit the other person's stick and (hopefully) break it. The weaker sticks get broken and weeded out of the battle, and eventually the strongest stick remains. ("There can be only one!") And the year that I am remembering now, I had the best stick of my life. I can still remember it, picture it in my hand to this day - the feel and the heft of it, and its surprising strength. (I must confess... I cheated: that year I brought this particular stick from home. Ah, but how the sweetness of victory compensated for the secret guilt of violating the unwritten rule.)

Anyway.... That year there was a new boy our age, but Jamie and I had already formed our team, and he didn't have the secret knowledge that we had earned over the past several years. So we relegated him to the team of little kids - the six- and seven-year-olds, despite his obvious longing to be with us.

Not surprisingly, in a grand battle of epic proportions - at least seven or eight kids - Jamie and I were kicking the little kids' butts. They just couldn't find a good stick to save their lives! And this new kid was red-faced with anger, embarrassment and frustration with his team. In an ego-inflating series of victories, my stick reigned supreme, and broke several of this new kid's sticks in a row. Finally, on the verge of tears, this kid just picked up the biggest log he could find on ground around him - almost too heavy for him to lift at all - and swung it like an axe over his shoulder and down at me. Instinctively, like Conan the Barbarian, I raised my sword horizontally over my head (hoping it would hold) and perrried the blow.

What neither of us knew up until that moment was that that log was rotten through the middle. The instant it made met the resistance of my super-stick the log exploded into dust and splinters. And as if my sense of superiority weren't already secured, the log split and the upper-half fell back onto this other kid. His own log doubled back on him and hit him in the head - surely scratching him a little, blinding him with wood-dust and being the final straw in his ultimate defeat. He ran off, crying.

The battle raged on for a few minutes (although no one wanted to fight my stick after that), but ended when that kid's mother raced into the scene. She was dragging me across the camp - surely to confront me in front of my own mother - and yelling at me asking why I had hurt her son! We were on the opposite side of the camp from my mom, so I had some negotiating time, and I described the scenario (without the obvious embellishment above). And halfway across camp, she stopped in her tracks.

"I didn't hit him," I pleaded. "He hit himself!" And I explained the rules of the game and his own violent engagement of me. It was in self-defense, I argued. (Or the rough eight-year-old equivalent of a self-defense plea.) And to my profound surprise, she let go of my arm. She thought for a moment or two, and then agreed that it wasn't my fault. I wouldn't have to face my mother, or even apologize to her son. She did, however, ask that I start to include him in things with Jamie and myself. (Which we did for the rest of the week - there's nothing like suffering and battles to build a bond between boys.)

I was innocent, according to the letter of the law. I was blameless by the rules. Even this mother did not feel she could hold me accountable for acting within the "law." I was set free.

I was not free, however.

I may have been innocent according to the letter of the law, but I was convicted by the Spirit of Jesus. I didn't have to apologize to that kid for causing him to hit himself with his own log - but I should have apologized for not including him in my circle of friends, for not embracing him despite his newness, his foreignness, his being a stranger. By every conventional law, I was blameless. By every law of God, however, I was convicted.

As a disciples of Jesus, we must not think of ourselves as bound by the laws of humans. We are bound by the Law of Love, the Law of God, the Life and Law of Christ. And it may just be, that when we embrace everyone to "our team" (or join theirs, if they won't join ours) that there won't be any place for stick-fighting.

12 hours ago

2007-07-23T12:55:00.001-07:00

I finished Harry Potter 7.

Anyone else? I won't spoil anything by discussing details here, except to say that I thought it was a good book to end the series. Thanks J.K. Rowling, for a great ride.

Two Long Weeks: One Small Lesson

2007-07-16T13:23:00.000-07:00

Whew!

I'm just returning (recovering?) from two straight weeks of Reunions (week long family church camps). The first outside of Remote, Oregon (and boy, was it!), the second at Samish Island in the north Puget Sound. This explains my lack of posting these two weeks - the first week was entirely cut off from all electronic communication, the second was so busy I had no time for any.

Reunions are both rejuvenating and exhausting. Try two of them back-to-back.

At Remote, among a great many other things, I was assigned with leading two song/praise services each day, every day. This despite my lack of interest or ability in leading praise-singing. I did say to the director, though, that I would do anything she needed me to do... so I guess I deserved it.

The Remote CofC-ers were exceedingly generous, however, and faithfully participated in (and perhaps even enjoyed) the singing. I ended up introducing several songs to the camp, two of which were taken from the labor movement: "We Shall Not Be Moved" and "Roll the Gospel (formerly 'Union') On!" They were so much fun to sing that by the end of the week we didn't need the lyrics on the Powerpoint anymore and were comfortable spontaneously improvising variations.

By the end of the week - with ten or more of these song-services under my belt - I felt comfortable leading them. So much so that my first few days at the next camp up at Samish Island, I actually missed not leading the song services. As a result, at the Wednesday evening worship/communion service, I volunteered to lead the pre-service singing. Up went my Powerpoint, and I started strumming on a borrowed guitar (thanks, Catherine). The musicians - a bass, a viola, and a piano - who were there for the service, started joining in and improvising accompaniment like a Prarie Home Companion segment. And the congregation not only sang but belted out the songs - throwing at me suggestions for lyrics and everyone singing along. The Samish Saints raised the roof - cultivating a spirit of excitement and anticipation which started off a great Communion service.

All because the Remote Reunion Director took me at my word and made me step outside of my comfort zone, to serve in an unexpected way. What I had been grumbling about inside myself leading up to and even through the Remote Reunion, ended up being a tremendous ministry to me, and helped me be a better minister to others.

This doesn't mean I won't necessarily grumble about my next uncomfortable assignment. But I will have to rethink how long I avoid throwing myself into it regardless.

a breath of fresh air

2007-07-14T16:47:00.000-07:00

The other night while I was walking home at the end of a long, hot day I found some surprising refreshment. I noticed that as I walked along the street, the temperature and taste of the air changed dramatically when I stepped beyond the first bank of concrete buildings, and set out across a tree-lined street. As I kept walking I noticed huge shifts in the temperature and quality of the air, from stuffy and hot next to buildings, to refreshing and cool next to plants and trees. It was a very immediate and obvious reminder of my/our own total dependency on the world around us - particularly the green, growing world, for our survival, and the necessity of plants for our lives to flourish.

I also found myself thinking about the unexpected places where I find breaths of fresh air, or the times when i don't even realize that I need fresh air until it comes whooshing over me or gently wafts into my nostrils. Sometimes I think my life (our lives?) become stagnant and muggy and stale so gradually that I don't even realize what has happened until something awakens my senses, either by rushing in and shaking me up or gently and softly permeating me.

Once I'd had my first taste and sniff of fresh air during my walk the other night, I kept looking for those fresh breaths the whole rest of my way home. My nostrils were so entranced by seeking out that sweet soft air that they managed to sniff it out even in tiniest gardens along the way.

When the air of our human lives is so heavy and hot and thick, can we dare to sniff out wisps and whispers of sweet green goodness? As in the city, which may seem void of such lushness, yet where I found fresh air, we may find those whispers in unexpected areas, from unexpected people, in books we may have once turned our noses up at, or in the flotsam of our consumed and consuming lives.

The grace and power of greenness (what mystic Hildegaard Von Bingen called veriditas) can enliven and restore the soul, and is woven deeply into creation by the One who desires our flourishing. May we be blessed by its goodness.

summertime...

2007-07-04T09:37:00.000-07:00

...and the livin' is easy.

Here's a little summer treat, a lovely quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson, made all arty by yours truly. Enjoy. (click image to see larger, higher quality version)

the table

2007-06-25T14:17:00.001-07:00

The table: locus of our lives together. "No matter what, we must eat to live" says Joy Harjo in her poem "Perhaps the World Ends Here":

perhaps the world ends here

By Joy Harjo

The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live.

The gifts of the earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it has been since creation, and it will go on.

We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at the corners. They scrape their knees under it.

It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be human. We make men at it, we make women.

At the table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts of lovers.

Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms around our children. They laugh with us at our poor falling-down selves and as we put ourselves back together once again at the table.

This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella in the sun.

Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place to hide in the shadow of terror. A place to celebrate the terrible victory.

We have given birth on this table, and have prepared our parents for burial here.

At this table we sign with joy, with sorrow. We pray of suffering and remorse. We give thanks.

Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing and crying, eating of the last sweet bite.

I adore this poem, and this weekend as I was drafting this blog entry I kept coming back to the poem. I find myself sitting at a multiplicity of tables in my life.

There is the lunch table with my work colleagues where we sit in the cafeteria of the Bay department store downtown and discuss everything from movies to politics to meditation.

There are the lunch tables at school where our busy student lives collide for hours/minutes/moments to eat and share in our common chaos.

There is the familiar dinner table I grew up at that is still in my parents home, where I know I can always go, knowing I'll leave full.

There are the tables at church, old and new, small and large, where I sit crowded in with all sorts of people I love.

There are the dinner tables of friends: varied sizes and types, with their vinyl benches, wooden chairs, office chairs, couches and laps, formal and informal.

And there is the table in my own home, where I set down dishes that hopefully read "love" and bring out food that contains part of myself and my com/passion.

I like to believe that tables are always holy places, be they adorned with decorations at the front of a church or weathered and sitting in the middle of a park. Sitting down together to eat is a sacred act, or else we would not have had a history of so many cultures where who one ate with, what one ate, and where one ate meant so much. Is your table a holy place? How can we endeavor to make all of our tables holy places?

"The Law" and Christians

2007-06-25T12:27:00.000-07:00

Now before faith came, we were imprisoned and guarded under the law until faith would be revealed. Therefore the law was our disciplinarian [pedagagos] until Christ came, so that we might be justified by faith. But now that faith has come, we are no longer subject to a disciplinarian, for in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith. As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.
Gal. 3:23-29

Paul wrote this letter to the Galatian followers of Jesus (the word "Christians" hadn't come into vogue yet) around the year 50 or so. They were having some trouble accepting diversity of opinion on some issues. The problem was, there were non-Jews becoming disciples, and some of the Jewish disciples felt that in order to become disciple of Jesus (who was, after all, a Jew himself) one had first to become a Jew (and follow all the necessary rituals and regulations... including, not insignificantly, circumcision... yikes!). And at the same time, some of the non-Jew thought all that Jewish stuff was rubbish, silly, and an affront to civilized sensibilities.

So Paul writes to them and says they're both being stupid. (Ok, he doesn't use the word "stupid," but he does use the word "foolish," which in church is probably a lot worse than @$$-hole on the street.) The "law" is still valuable and honored, but it is not to be worshiped. Paul describes the law as a pedagagos, which in Greek was a slave whose job it was to supervise and guide the children of the house. The slave was ultimately a servant of the children (owned by their family and working in the children's best interests), but while growing up the children were to obey the pedagagos. (There is an obvious linguistic connection between the Greek word and our modern English word: pedagogy - to teach.) But when the children grow up, they are no longer bound by the rule of the slave, but can still value in principle the instruction and guidance provided by their former disciplinarian. We were bound by the slave until Jesus came and gave us the new, more mature law: Love. (Isn't this a fantastic analogy? I wonder what Paul would say today, with illegal immigrant nannies as rough contemporary equivalents to pedagagoi.)

The point is, disciples of Jesus are not bound by the specific laws of the Hebrew Bible, because - as valuable as they were for guidance before - now we are guided by the supreme law: Love. We are not held to the strictures of the Hebrew law - and we cannot bind others by those strictures either. As a community of disciples of Jesus, we are all bound by one law: Love, as revealed in the life and person of Jesus. Paul is chastising the Galatian Judaizers (people who believed one must become a Jew in order to become a Christian) for lifting up a legalistic code above the revelation of Love in Christ. Paul is also laying the smack down on those belligerent Gentiles who refuse to value and honor the revelation (however antiquated) that was given earlier. We must continue to respect the slave who tutored us, while remembering that we are no longer bound to its unforgiving, black-and-white proscriptions.

This is REALLY important for Christians to remember - especially those who consider the Bible to be the Word of God, and use it to beat up on people who disagree with them. As Christians, we can not go to the "Old Testament" laws and demand obedience to them as a test of fellowship or faith or communion in Christ. We are not bound by those laws any longer. We must respect the principles revealed in those laws, but be ultimately subject to the law revealed in Christ: Love.

As Christians, we cannot point to Levitical verses and condemn homosexuality wholesale. We cannot cite scriptures and exclude the ministry of individuals who are co-habitating in committed relationship. We cannot look at the prophetic writings and sneer at someone just because they vote Republican (and in so doing seem to negate every prophetic impulse in the scriptures). We cannot look to the narratives of herem (holy war) and justify wars of aggression and occupation. We can look to those texts and seek insight, but must in the end examine the issue under the rubric of love.

Love.

We Christians are bound to others in love, even with our enemies, but also with those who are merely different than us. We can evaluate actions and beliefs, positions and practices; but we cannot look to the Bible at face-value and still remain faithful to Christ. Being a disciple means we read everything through Christ, through goggles of love.

More importantly, just as for the Galatian churches, we cannot exclude someone from communion based on any rubric other than love. Is what they are doing being done out of love? Will their actions deepen and broaden their love, and the love of those they come into contact? Are they demonstrating the radically inclusive and subversive love that Jesus himself demonstrated? (And I wonder if we applied that rubric to ourselves, how many of us would still qualify for full communion in the church.)

People who read the Bible at face-value are not reading it as disciples of Christ. People who use the Bible to beat up on others, to divide or separate people, are not using it as disciples of Christ. As Christians, we are bound by the messy, difficult, confusing, complicated law of Love. It would be easier to be bound by the slave - letting someone else take responsibility for answering yea or nay. But we can never go back. Once we've been awakened by the revelation of Christ, the world will never seem as black and white.

Thank God for that.

(Excerpted and adapted from this Sunday's sermon.)