a contemplative spirit that challenges sentimentality...

Once upon a time, in my early days of pastoral ministry in Massachusetts, a Sunday morning guest asked me about my favorite TV shows. With a bit o fear and trembling, I replied: "In my opinion, the three best written TV shows with the most significant theological content are: 1) Six Feet Under, 2) The Sopranos, and 3) Homicide: Life on the Street." He told me that he didn't know any of these but would check them out. To which I cautioned: "These are sophisticated, challenging programs. Do not, I repeat, do not watch them with your tween children. Do not expect "The Waltons." And know in advance that there is harsh language and upsetting sexuality shown in graphic detail. These programs have been written by adults for adults - and should be treated as such. They are artistically brilliant and spiritually profound, but not easy going. So let me know what you think?" He and his family never came back to worship again.

I heard through the grapevine of our small town that he was shocked and offended by my recommendations. "This man calls himself a Christian, a pastor, and he told me watch this?!" Truth be told, even with my disclaimers, I knew that he probably would have given these shows a chance if someone else had made the suggestion. Sadly what he wanted from his pastor, however, was something safe. Something pretty. Something sentimental, blandly pious and nice. 

I understand this yearning for safety. It is not only part of the human condition but it is a heresy the American church in most of its forms has nurtured for decades. Indeed, quietism masquerading as spirituality has historically haunted the Body of Christ. In her reflection on the story of the Christian Pentecost, Dr. Christine Valters Painter writes:  "The Apostles were together experiencing bewilderment over how to move forward when the Holy Spirit flows among them and breathes courage into their hearts." (The Abbey of the Arts weekly email) She continues:

Eugene Peterson describes it this way: "What we must never be encouraged to do, although all of us are guilty of it over and over, is to force Scripture to fit our experience. Our experience is too small; it's like trying to put the ocean into a thimble. What we want is to fit into the world revealed by Scripture, to swim in its vast ocean... but prayer isn't about baptizing the status quo, but entering into dynamic relationship with the God who always makes things new. Scripture challenges our ingrained patterns of belief, our habitual attitudes and behavior...To be fully human and alive is to know the tension of our dustiness, our mortality, to be called to a profoundly healthy humility where we acknowledge that we can know very little of the magnificence of the divine Source of all. The Spirit descends on those gathered together in a small room and breaks the doors wide open. We are reminded that practicing resurrection is not for ourselves alone, but on behalf of a wider community. Not only for those with whom we attend church services, but beyond to the ones who sit at the furthest margins of our awareness. Pentecost is a story of the courage that comes from breaking established boundaries. We may limit our vision through cynicism, but equally through certainty or cleverness. Sometimes we fear doubt so much that we allow it to make our thoughts rigid, we choose certainties and then never make space for the Spirit to break those open or apart. The things we feel sure that God does not care about may be precisely the source of healing for a broken world.

Consequently, in our quest not to be among the purveyors of shrill that fills both the Left and the Right - and as a part of the human condition to play it safe - we become addicts to sentimentality. I have done it. You, too, most likely. And as much as I have respected and cherished many of the people in the various congregations I served over nearly 40 years of pastoral ministry, too often we existed more as a bourgeois club guided by self-help slogans than the Body of Christ founded upon the Cross. Old Testament scholar and theologian, Walter Brueggemann, put it like this: “It is a measure of our enculturation that the various acts of ministry (for example, counseling, administration, even liturgy) have taken on lives and functions of their own rather than being seen as elements of the one prophetic ministry of formation and reformation of alternative community.” Watching the aforementioned TV shows broke through some of my bourgeois addictions. Like all great works of art, they showed me a new reality and my role within it. These days I find that Black Mirror and My Crazy Ex-Girlfriend are challenging me to go deeper than mere sentimentality. (And would add Treme, Battlestar Gallactica, and Breaking Bad to the list.)

This year has been dubbed a "season of "beholding" for us in the spirit of the Blessed Virgin Mary.  I still find myself anxious for clarity, unsettled by uncertainty, and aching for what is safe and quiet. What a humbling irony to be confronted by Pentecost! Sister Painter is right: Sometimes we fear doubt so much that we allow it to make our thoughts rigid, we choose certainties and then never make space for the Spirit to break those open or apart. The things we feel sure that God does not care about may be precisely the source of healing for a broken world.

So rather than rushing to get our house on the market, we're taking time to garden, do yard work and rest in God's grace. Instead of dashing into more activities in this season of retirement, I am sorting through 100s of books that have nourished me for decades and recalling their blessings. I am also going to Ottawa regularly to grow closer with the L'Arche community while taking time to let God show me the next step in this journey. I am genuinely not very good at this beholding business - that is, taking time to watch, see, listen and feel what the sacred is sharing with me - and I get it wrong more times every day than I get it right. One of the verses of Scripture that helps ground me in grace comes from St. Luke 2: 19: But Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart.  Pentecost calls me to confront my anxiety with silence, face my compulsion to control with trust, and relinquish my addiction to sentimental quietism with the presence of Jesus.

What we must never do, although all of us are guilty of it over and over, is to force Scripture to fit our experience. Our experience is too small; it's like trying to put the ocean into a thimble. What we want is to fit into the world revealed by Scripture, to swim in its vast ocean... but prayer isn't about baptizing the status quo, but entering into dynamic relationship with the God who always makes things new. Scripture challenges our ingrained patterns of belief, our habitual attitudes and behavior. (Abbey of the Arts)