Christmas Truce in Seattle

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

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?!

Baby Grow Day

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

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.

Armstrong's The Bible: A Biography

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.

Currently Listening: Ray of Light

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

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.

Finally!

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

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?

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

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?

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.

McDonalds - Dutch Style

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

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.)

My Latest Favorite Thing

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.) :-)

Moving Day

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.

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.

Last Gig in Seattle (for a while)

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! :-)

"Mission" as Neo-Colonialism?

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.

First Images from Rotterdam

"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.