to every thing there is a season...

Interestingly, I haven't posted here since before Christmas! Blogging was once an essential spiritual practice for me - a venue to think and rethink my questions of faith and ministry - but now it's become an afterthought. My hunch is that this has evolved because:

Since my sabbatical in Montreal, I've experienced a dramatic shift in how I think about and do ministry. Having come of age in the '60s; been conscientized by the public theology of Dr. MLK, and the insights and critiques of the feminist movement of the 70s; studied carefully the progenitors of liberation theology in the 80s; and engaged in urban social justice activism as an elected official in the 90s: I used to believe that it was essential for people of faith to challenge the status quo when it was oppressive. This is still a part of the equations for me - and our current context offers a ton of ways to do this. What has changed, however, is the realization that the old affirmation, you can't give what you ain't got, is true! In other words, because I wasn't clear about the necessity of both the inward and the outward journeys of faith, I tended towards either/or analysis rather than the liberating blessings of dancing with paradox.

It wasn't until I completely melted down in the 00s that the sacred link between resting into God's grace, trusting silence more than words, and sharing compassion in acts of social justice was made. The 12 Step movement and L'Arche insisted that "if you always do what you've always done, you'll always get what you've always got," but as my AA told me: I'm just too smart for my own good. Deep within, I believed that I could think my way out of hell rather than learn strategies to make it through. Stepping away as a "civilian" gave me some clues as to how to integrate the way of the heart with the way of the gentle warrior. But it took leaving formal ministry for a few years for this new awareness to bear fruit. The first few years of retirement gave me permission to garden, walk quietly with Mother Nature, savor being a grampa and friend. During this quiet hiatus, I learned a little more about the unforced rhythms of grace from our wacky dog Lucie and went deeper into Celtic spirituality. 

Without belaboring ALL the details, it took stepping away before the Spirit renewed my sense of calling to formal ministry. To everything there truly IS a season: once I was called into the fold, then I was called out only to be surprised by grace when I was invited back after the pandemic. The big difference was that my focus now was NOT (and is not) about advocating for faith-based community organizing, but rather assisting individuals and congregations to cultivate a vibrant inner life as the foundation to any social engagement. St. Paul put it like this in I Corinthians 13:.

If I speak in the tongues of humans and of angels but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers and understand all mysteries and all knowledge and if I have all faith so as to remove mountains but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions and if I hand over my body so that I may boast but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Fr. Richard Rohr rang true when he wrote the following about the social justice agenda of Jesus.

Jesus does not directly attack the religious and institutional sin systems of his time until his final action against the money changers in the temple (see Matthew 21:12–13; Mark 11:15–17; Luke 19:45–46). Because of this, Jesus’ primary social justice critique and action are often a disappointment to most radicals and social activists. Jesus’ social program, as far as I can see, is a quiet refusal to participate in almost all external power structures or domination systems. His primary action is a very simple lifestyle, which kept him from being constantly co-opted by those very structures, which I (and Paul) would call the “sin system.” Jesus seems to have avoided the monetary system as much as possible by using “a common purse” (John 12:6; 13:29). His three-year ministry, in effect, offers free healing and healthcare for any who want them. He consistently treats women with a dignity and equality that is almost unknown in an entirely patriarchal culture. At the end of his life, he surrenders to the punitive systems of both empire and religion by letting them judge, torture, and murder him. He is finally a full victim of the systems that he refused to worship.

Jesus knew the destructive power of what Walter Wink wisely called the “domination system.” [2] These systems usually wield power over the poor, the defenseless, and the outsider in every culture. When he does take on the temple system directly (Mark 11:15–18), Jesus is killed within a week. Contrary to history’s interpretation of Jesus’ practice, he did not concentrate on personal, “flesh” sins nearly as much as the sins of “the world” and “the devil,” but few of us were taught to see him that way. In fact, Jesus is always forgiving individual sinners, which was a problem for the righteous from the beginning (Luke 7:34). In contrast, I do not once see him “forgiving” the sins of systems and empires. Instead, he just makes them show themselves (Mark 5:8) and name themselves (Mark 5:9)—as did Desmond Tutu in South Africa and Martin Luther King, Jr. in America.

Significantly, Jesus says “Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida!” (Matthew 11:21) and “Alas for you [cultures of the] lawyers, scribes, and Pharisees” (most of Matthew 23 and Luke 11:37‒54). He didn’t warn Bill from Bethsaida, Cathy from Chorazin, or Simon the Pharisee, with whom he engages and eats (Luke 7:36–47). He laments over “Jerusalem, Jerusalem” (Luke 13:34‒35) instead of attacking Jerry from Jerusalem. Today we would call that making an “unfair generalization”; but if what I am saying here has any truth to it, maybe it is a much more truthful and fair diagnosis of the problem. It is Bethsaida and Jerusalem that should fear judgment more than Bill and Jerry! It is “Capernaum” that is to be cast into hell (Matthew 11:23), not necessarily Corey from Capernaum. How did we miss that? It is crucial in our understanding of evil as being, first of all, a social agreement.

My somewhat stumbling attempt to articulate this shift has incrementally taken shape and form in a song I've been working on throughout this metamorphosis:

Thinking big and acting strong – led me into all that’s wrong
Hitting bottom taught me well – strategies to get through hell
Touch the wound in front of you, that’s all you can really do
Keep it close, don’t turn away, make room for what’s real today

SMALL IS ME, SMALL IS YOU, SMALL IS HOLY AND RINGS TRUE
SMALL IS HARD, SMALL REVEALS THE WAY OUR HEARTS CAN BE HEALED

Blame is such a viscous deal, wastes your time and never heals
Pay it forward’s more the way, grace trumps karma every day
Live the questions, wait your turn, take a deep breath, try to learn
Losing is one way to win what once has died might live again (chorus)

Wisdom’s blessing’s upside down - something’s lost when something’s found
Each day brings us something good: carry water, chop the wood

When my life bewilders me – it's time to listen silently
Don’t say too much, don’t push too hard - what helps the most’s in your backyard
Let it lead your soul to rest just like a child on momma’s breast
The arc of love is slow but true and waiting to come home to you (chorus)

So now it's on to an extended retreat of wandering favorite places, visiting bookstores and coffee shops before heading into the rugged beauty of the forest and the ocean. Once we're out in the woods, beyond the hiking and rest, I need to reclaim the prayer rhythms found in Prayers for the Domestic Church by Fr. Ed Hay, the insights of Robin Wall Kimmer's new book, and what New England gardeners have learned about the best way to grow pumpkins!