There is a story about St. Francis and the Sultan - greatly embellished to be sure and often treated in apocryphal ways in the 21st century - that has grabbed my attention. It appears that in 1219, during the Fifth Crusade, Francis of Assisi made a trip to discuss war and peace with a caliph in Cairo, Malik al-Kamil. There are no records of this conversation - no transcripts or scribal notes - but upon his return to Italy his order - the Little Brothers - chose to live in peace with the Muslims. What's more, there is a small gift in Assisi from the caliph that is still enshrined in the monastery cell where Francis lived.
Two thoughts come to my mind:
+ It is possible for people of good will to find ways to live together as both an alternative and an antidote to the violence and hatred that surrounds them. I think of the work of Clarence Jordan at Koinonia Farms in the 1942 when he established an inter-racial community in the heart of racist Georgia as a parable of hope and reconciliation. I think of the work of Brother Roger - founder of the Taize Community in France - who first built an ecumenical house of prayer that simultaneously served as a refuge for Jews fleeing Vichy France in WWII - only to become a center for spiritual renewal and prophetic presence throughout Europe. Or the healing work George MacLeod initiated during the depression in Glasgow and Scotland through the Iona Community.
I think of the work of the work of Abuna Elias Chacour - Christian priest in Palestine - who has built a residential school where Jews, Christians and Muslims live and study together. (See: Mar Elias Educational Institutions @http://lluker.faculty.ltss.edu/Elias_Chacour.htm) Or the work of Desmond Tutu in South Africa as well as the work of the Peace People in Northern Ireland (http://www.peacepeople.com/) founded by Mairead Corrigan, Betty Williams and Ciaran McKeeown in 1976 who created a witness against the madness and received the Nobel Peace Prize for their work at reconcilation.
+ The United States is aching for a symbolic but transformational way out of our morass of fear, racism and mistrust. And one of the best is found in the sacred feasting of Jesus where meals become places of conversation, trust-building and community. For those who know the story of Zacchaeus, this is a sign of hope. For those who recall how Peter and Cornelius overcame their profound differences over supper, there is hope, too. Feasting is both satisfying and prefigurative: it feeds the body and gives us an earthy way of discovering common ground.
Three of my favorite books warrant comment:
+ One Loaf by Joy Mead of the Iona Community in Scotland shares a host of stories and recipes about the spirituality of bread and the blessings that come from breaking bread with one another. One writer said: A book which explores the making and the mystery of bread: growing, making, baking, sharing in story and recipe, poetry and prayer. In bread we see the true connectedness of all life - the uniting of body and soul, spirit and material. It is not just a symbol of life, it is life itself. Without food, life is impossible, so eating becomes sacred. Take and eat means take and live; to share food is to share our life. Jesus, in a simple act, made eating and sharing sacred.
+ Another excellent resource is The Spirituality of Bread by Donna Sinclair. People of every culture are tied together by the breads they bake. Bread helps us remember who we are and whom we love. Bread gives us calm. It is the opposite of fast food. You cannot make bread in ten minutes and the slow work of kneading and shaping and meditating heals our over-scheduled lives. Bread demands peace; you cannot grow grain in a battlefield. And justice: cheap bread that depends on the loss of the family farm is too bitter to eat. Bread, in fact, rises up out of the past into our fractured postmodern age. When we question all our assumptions and struggle to find a reason for existence, the making of bread gives meaning. There is no rational explanation for this the healing power of making bread has nothing to do with the mind and everything to do with the wisdom of the hands.
+ Feasting with God: Adventures in Table Spirituality by Holly Whitcomb. Curiously, earlier this year - in May to be exact - I wrote about this book saying: There is a theme that I find myself coming back to over and over again: feasting with God. As a metaphor for my spirituality, the feast is rich and inspirational for it is grounded in the reality of hospitality, abundance, joy and sharing. As a spiritual discipline, the feast helps me practice using my resources and time in ways that nourish. And as a way of talking about what is most important to me personally and socially, the image of the feast is almost perfect.
+ A feast is costly - it requires sharing my time, money and space; a feast is beautiful - it demands a well-set table, a clean house and tender care.
+ A feast is intentional - there can be spontaneous gatherings but a feast takes planning; a feast is about community - anything less is self-centered.
And a feast is sensual - it invites calling forth our hearts and bodies along with our mind - a feast treats people as honored guests, practices radical hospitality and gives us all a chance to be our best selves just as God intended. Holly Whitcomb speaks of compassion as cum (with) panis (bread.) She makes the case that table fellowship is not only where Jesus did a great deal of healing, but it is also where we learn to practice sabbath rest most authentically as our hungers are satisfied.
As many of you know, I am a really slow learner but it would seem that this feasting - and building common ground - could be a way embody another parable of hope for these times. My heart keeps wrestling with how might we do that in this community? How might we bring very different - and often fear filled - people together for a feast? For bread? For sharing and conversation?
I don't know the specifics... but I'm going to work on it. These other models - and books - are a starting place. Anyone else have any ideas?
On Saturday night, as I sat basking in the beauty of Paul Winter's music - a music that was inter-racial, multicultural, participatory AND found a way to celebrate the music of the planet through animal songs - I kept thinking: what is a way through the current morass of hatred and racism? I remember back during the nuclear arms race I challenged my congregation to begin a "people to people" mission to the former Soviet Union. Like Stanley Hauerwas likes to note: it is a lot harder to kill the people you know and pray for every day.
So, over time I took four different groups to Soviet Russia for conversations and worship and prayer and listening. In Cleveland, I worked with the city government on race relations in the Community Development Board - bringing people together for food and conversation - and eventually I was elected to the Board of Education to work on quality education for all of the city's children: black, white, brown and yellow. In Tucson, we did work with BorderLinks around immigration and globalization concerns as well as fought for the GLBTQ community as allies.
In every setting, God has opened a door for learning, listening and growing together through our many differences. And clearly the music of Paul Winter embraces the quest for common ground in bold and beautiful ways... so what can be done to advance the common good now in this ugly climate of fear, name-calling and racism?
So here is a challenge – personally and professionally – that I would appreciate your wisdom working through: how do people of faith and consciousness really disagree with one another without demonizing or polarizing one another? You see, this past week I have experienced the onslaught of vicious disagreements from people opposing health care reform – and most of the arguments are filled with sarcasm, rank opinion and personal attacks. They are rarely about the issues which leads me to believe that:
+ Much of what passes for debate in the USA today is more about fear than cooperation and respect.
+ A whole lot of people don’t know how to disagree without being disagreeable – and in a culture of insults and competition tend to go for the low blow as their default position.
+ Religious communities have not helped the situation much with spiritual leaders encouraging violence, hatred and intolerance in the name of this or that scared tradition.
+ The whole culture is a lot more course and mean-spirited: from TV programming and talk radio to music, movies and mainstream literature. There is a vulgarity that is all too common place.
Now I am not one to believe culture can be put into reverse: once Pandora’s Box has been opened… such is our reality. At the same time, I am eager to know how others have addressed this issue in their spiritual journey. Two insights from the Christian scriptures come to mind:
+ The early church seemed to argue and pray a great deal – while still trying to share table fellowship with one another – during Peter and Paul’s calling to welcome Gentiles in the formerly Jewish community of faith. If the book of Acts bears any truth, there were a host of very hard conversations – lots of prayer and disagreement, too – before the group in Jerusalem discerned that what took place beyond Jerusalem among the Gentile converts to the way of Jesus had just as much integrity as those who followed the older tradition in the Law.
+ The history of the church is filled with division and separation – every 500 years to be sure – and a lot more frequently, too. And perhaps that is how it is supposed to work: people clarify the essentials and share them and then break into opposing camps and go their own way for a while until the Spirit creates new possibilities for common ground.
In my own family of origin, we’ve certainly practiced both ways: arguing fiercely but choosing to find ways to share a common table, and, breaking apart from time to time until people cool off or realities change. But I’m curious about your experience:
• How do you deal with bold differences in your faith community? • How are minorities honored and heard? • How do you make decisions when there are clear divisions in the house? • What are the spiritual guidelines that help you? • What has caused the most problems? • What has helped you, too?
I have been thinking and praying over this insight from Joan Chittister: "Holiness...is not something that happens in a vacuum. It has something to do with the way we live our community lives and our family lives and our public lives as well as the way we say our prayers. The life-needs of other people affect the life of the truly spiritual person and they hear the voice of God in that. As one midrash on Genesis points out: God prefers your deeds to your ancestors' virtues."(The Rule of Benedict, p. 39)
Yesterday's so-called "Tea Party" rally in Washington, DC - an event largely organized by former US House leader Dick Armey and his Freedomworks network - was really an anti-Obama exercise in hatred and public vulgarity masquerading as patriotism.
To be sure, the sanitized overviews of American history often leave out the harsh vitriol that is always just below the surface or real life the in this complex nation. Just ask most American young people and they will tell you that we are a middle class nation of cooperative achievers dedicated to freedom and caring for the common good. Reality, of course, is uglier and far more troubling.
Take the US experience of race as one example:
+ England would NEVER have been able to conquer the Americas if 98% of the indigenous population hadn't died from our diseases. England, Spain, France and Portugal were not able to "conquer" China, Africa or the Middle East - they colonized these areas - because the local people remained alive and well even in bondage. Not so in the Americas where 98% of the roughly 15 million inhabitants were killed by plague and disease. +The reality of Black slavery is minimized and hidden for most US students - and its legacy largely ignored - so that we don't have a true understanding of this inhuman activity.
What's more, the post Civil War truths have been discarded for bland descriptions of what happened during Reconstruction and we NEVER study the years between 1890 and 1950 for they were the nadir of healthy race relations in the United States. Yet it was during this time that theKuKlux Klan was revived and encouraged to grow - often by leaders in the White House like Woodrow Wilson - and second class citizenship for African Americans returned throughout the North and South in what can only be called American apartheid.
It should come as no shock, therefore, to note that the current leadership for the anit-Obama rallies is both essentially Southern and fundamentally Republican. What we are seeing is the ugly underbelly of the American reality in the full light of day. Look at some of the pictures from yesterday's rally and tell me I am overstating the case...
What is equally disturbing is that such images and the rhetoric of demagogues like Joe Wilson have been embraced by the leadership of the Republican party in the United States. There have always been extremists in our debates - I have seen ugly and vvicious images of our presidents during the Vietnam and Iraq war demonstrations - but these were always at the fringe. Now they are at the center... encouraging even uglier thoughts, words and actions.
It used to grieve me - and I would fight to stop - the burning of the American flag during my anti-war days. Not that such acts should be illegal, but simply because I have such a deep and passionate love for the best of America. Today there seems to be precious little love among the opposition. I sense that crudity and being mean-spirited has now come to mean fidelity to Christ and loyalty to America for at least an overly vocal minority.
Dr. King nailed the challenge of this moment when he said:when evil men plot, good men must plan. When evil men burn and bomb, good men must build and bind. And when evil men shout ugly words of hatred, good men must commit themselves to the glories of love. Now is the time to stand and be counted...
UPDATE: Over the past few days I've been having quite a go of it in the blogosphere/facebook world with folks who are just hell bent on: 1)confusing their racism with the truth and 2)insisting that their fears are reality. Now I am all for experiential theology, but it must always be checked by the bigger picture. As the saying goes, "even the Pope has a confessor." This is a frightening - and demanding - era for those of us in the USA. To be sure, most of the ugly noise is from a wildass minority, but let's not forget that it was only a month after the end of the Civil War that President Lincoln was killed - and not too deep into his naming names phase that Bobby Kennedy was gunned down, too - a mere two months after Dr. King. An ugly, self-righteous and unchallenged minority can wreak havoc on us all.
images in this blog from the recent racist washington, dc tea party... you be the judge!
The world in these parts has definitely shifted from the warm days of summer into the hazy and very cool shades of autumn: the trees are turning, the night air is cold and the days are shorter by almost an hour. Poet laureate, Donald Hall, notes in his essays on the seasons in New England:
Walking in late September, we gaze south towards Kearsarge from the dawn window under the great maple that torches the hillside. Each morning is more outrageous than the one before, days outdoing their predecessors as sons outdo their fathers. We walk out over the chill dew to audit glorious wreckage from the night's cold passage - new branches suddenly turned, others gone deeper into ranges of fire, trees vying to surpass each other and their yester-selves... as the dog bounces (before us) so our hearts bounce with a happy overload, our landscape turned into a sensuous Italian crockery or grand opera staged by the cold hills.
I LOVE autumn - my favorite season of the year - although it is often melancholy given the brutal winters that follow. Still, it is a time for rejoicing - and tonight we're going to enter the celebration by visiting with the Paul Winter Consort.
I first saw Paul Winter in 1968 at the Fillmore East when they filled in for the Kinks at the last minute. It seems that the Kinks drummer had come down with hepatitis and could not travel across the pond at the last minute. So, in addition to the Voices of East Harlem - another last minute surprise - Paul Winter et al brought his mix of jazz, world music, spirituality and early New Age wizardry to the East Village.
I was in heaven - this adoration of genre bending as been a long time love affair it seems - and continues to inform my spirituality. It also informs my sense of liturgy and worship where improvisation and tradition meet like parts of a tapestry and the whole becomes far more beautiful than the individual parts.
One of my all-time favorite liturgical experiences took place with Paul Winter in 2002 when he joined the spiritual leadership of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in NYC for their annual feast of St. Francis. In addition to dancers and choirs - jazz and ancient hymnody - there was the procession of the animals. People from all over New York, of course, had already filled the cathedral with their own animals: cats and dogs, lizards and birds sat patiently through the worship order. And then ALL the animals - owners and pets as well as friends borrowed from local zoos - processed down the center aisle for a blessing. There were eagles and camels, wolves and zebras. Once there was even an elephant but apparently insurance issues now make that impossible.
And all the while Winter and the church organist were improvising on ancient melodies and filling the spectacle with sounds of faith, hope and love. Not every Sunday can (or should) be such a festival, but the unity of old with new - old friends and new guests - stays a lively part of how I understand and experience Sundays.
What makes this evening even more special is that Winter is coming to town in support of the work of Strolling the Heifers - a regional consortium dedicated to the cause of local small farmers - who provide micro-loans to farmers as well as their educational efforts concerning sustainable agriculture. (check them out @ www.strollingoftheheifers.com/v2/) They put it like this:
Whenever New England loses one of its family farms, it loses some its unique identity, some of its agrarian landscape, and some of its proud culture and heritage. Seeking to slow down and even reverse the decline of New England farming, Strolling of the Heifers works to educate the public, and especially school children, about the importance of sustainable local agriculture; we work to preserve the livelihoods of farming families and the health of consumers who depend on local farm products; and we help maintain the patronage of tourists who are drawn to our agricultural environment.
Vacation has truly come to an end now - and while I cherish the long, lazy days of summer - I am opening to the not quite hazy shades of autumn.
(A local congregation sharing the Missa Gaia by Paul Winter - totally GREAT version, too! Photo credits: Dianne De Mott)
Ok, this may seem like a totally random thing but there is a young man out there in the USA who called my church a while back - at a time that was rough for me - and I have never returned your call because: I lost your number. I would love if you would call the church again and leave me a number and THIS time I won't be so distracted. Thanks man...
I remember September 11, 2001 vividly - and eight years later I am still moving through its significance. Today's NY Times carried a lengthy article about how many of the fears we felt so deeply at that time have never been realized: car searches are mostly a thing of the past, gasps of fear upon seeing a single plane on the horizon have subsided, tourists have returned to Times Square in hordes and there are far fewer American flags adorning public space. I would suggest that the collective shock we experienced after that terrorist attack has now moved below the surface; it still touches us deeply but in significantly less visible ways.
Two thoughts run through my mind as I remember and also reflect about the journey of moving through it all. First, the aftermath of fear, anger and blame that so many of us felt after the smoke cleared was clearly used to both manipulate us into an unnecessary war in Iraq and nurture suspicion and hatred for our scapegoats. As Renee Girrard has so carefully observed, fear and violence can be used to promote social cohesion - that is one of the stories of history - and it certainly was used that way in the United States.
There was an uncanny sense of solidarity throughout America in the days and months after the attack. I felt and experienced it at Ground Zero a few weeks after the World Trade Towers were destroyed: my oldest daughter, Jesse, had just started teaching middle school in Manhattan, so I quickly flew East from Tucson just to see her and hold her close. My youngest daughter, Michal, and I met first in Massachusetts to do likewise before driving to NYC. There was a stunned apprehension every where - AND - a profound sense of community, too. This was all cynically manipulated by the Bush administration time after time - in Iraq and Iran, in Asia and Europe, throughout the Middle East, too - until our fear and solidarity was transformed into arrogant brutality with no sense of history or truth.
And that is precisely what Girrard describes in his work regarding scapegoats: pinning all of our hatred and fear on the scapegoat always unifies a society - but only for a season - and then more violence is needed to bind people together. Further, societies rarely consider the consequences of scapegoating - history is never told from the perspective of our victims - so we rarely feel remorse or act in repentance.
Which is why the story and reality of Jesus is unique: for the first time, Girrard suggests, history is told from the perspective of the innocent scapegoat. For the first time we can see the horrible consequences of our violence. Indeed, what makes the passion of Christ so important in NOT the horrible violence a la Mel Gibson. That, sadly, is all to ordinary. No, what makes the passion life changing is the awareness that Christ died to expose this horrible sin and invite us - with God's grace - to stop it.
Second, the legacy of this fear, manipulation, anguish, sin and deception has helped fuel both the historic election of President Obama - we ache for hope - as well as increased the vitriol and incivility that continues to plague American society. Today fear has replaced reason, shouting has supplanted careful public conversation and opinion generally trumps truth. Talk radio and its hate mongers are partially to blame: they have carefully wounded our sense of propriety in pursuit of ratings and money. Politicians and preachers of all hues have done likewise: it has been lucrative to build on phony apocalyptic scenarios - and it keeps adrenaline junkies coming back for more.
So, as I move through my memories as well as my reflections on this eighth anniversary of that tragic day, I sense that part of my new calling is to live simply as a "lover in this dangerous time." (see previous postings re: Bruce Cockburn's song and the way it has become a prayer.) In this week's reading from the Jewish scriptures - Isaiah 50: 4-9 - I find a quiet sense of encouragement in the prophet's words:
The Master, God, has given me a well-taught tongue,
So I know how to encourage tired people.
God wakes me up in the morning, wakes me up, opens my ears
to listen as one ready to take orders.
The Master, God, opened my ears, and I didn't go back to sleep,
didn't pull the covers back over my head.
Being a lover in a dangerous time seems a good description of what faith feels like today. In that truth, I think poet Billy Collins got it right more than all our politicians and preachers - and brother Springsteen nailed it, too.
Yesterday, I lay awake in the palm of the night.
A soft rain stole in, unhelped by any breeze,
And when I saw the silver glaze on the windows,
I started with A, with Ackerman, as it happened,
Then Baxter and Calabro,
Davis and Eberling, names falling into place
As droplets fell through the dark.
Names printed on the ceiling of the night.
Names slipping around a watery bend.
Twenty-six willows on the banks of a stream.
In the morning, I walked out barefoot
Among thousands of flowers
Heavy with dew like the eyes of tears,
And each had a name --
Fiori inscribed on a yellow petal
Then Gonzalez and Han, Ishikawa and Jenkins.
Names written in the air
And stitched into the cloth of the day.
A name under a photograph taped to a mailbox.
Monogram on a torn shirt,
I see you spelled out on storefront windows
And on the bright unfurled awnings of this city.
I say the syllables as I turn a corner --
Kelly and Lee,
Medina, Nardella, and O'Connor.
When I peer into the woods,
I see a thick tangle where letters are hidden
As in a puzzle concocted for children.
Parker and Quigley in the twigs of an ash,
Rizzo, Schubert, Torres, and Upton,
Secrets in the boughs of an ancient maple.
Names written in the pale sky.
Names rising in the updraft amid buildings.
Names silent in stone
Or cried out behind a door.
Names blown over the earth and out to sea.
In the evening -- weakening light, the last swallows.
A boy on a lake lifts his oars.
A woman by a window puts a match to a candle,
And the names are outlined on the rose clouds --
Vanacore and Wallace,
(let X stand, if it can, for the ones unfound)
Then Young and Ziminsky, the final jolt of Z.
Names etched on the head of a pin.
One name spanning a bridge, another undergoing a tunnel.
A blue name needled into the skin.
Names of citizens, workers, mothers and fathers,
The bright-eyed daughter, the quick son.
Alphabet of names in a green field.
Names in the small tracks of birds.
Names lifted from a hat
Or balanced on the tip of the tongue.
Names wheeled into the dim warehouse of memory.
So many names, there is barely room on the walls of the heart.
NOTE:Well, I am back into the groove of weekly sermon preparation and here are my notes for Sunday, September 13 2009. Please feel free to join us if you are in town at 10:30 am.
For the last week or so I’ve found myself praying through the words and music of Bruce Cockburn, a Canadian artist who crafted a tune he calls “Lovers in a Dangerous Time.” There is something powerful going on in this unique prayer/song that speaks to this moment in history: like today’s gospel, it invites each and all of us to consciously embrace both the cost and joy of discipleship. That is, to be lovers – women and men of compassion and justice – in a time filled with danger.
These fragile bodies of touch and taste This vibrant skin - this hair like lace Spirits open to the thrust of grace Never a breath you can afford to waste When you're lovers in a dangerous time…
And then the final verse – after a gentle instrumental interlude – the song cuts to the chase of Christ’s challenge saying:
When you're lovers in a dangerous time Sometimes you're made to feel as if your love's a crime But nothing worth having comes without a fight Got to kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight When you’re lovers… in a dangerous time
Can’t you just hear Jesus saying this to his disciples along the road to Caesarea Philippi? “Who do people say I am?” “Well… some say John the Baptizer," they said. "Others think you are Elijah and still others say one of the prophets." So Jesus pushed them and asked, "And you—what are you saying about me? Who am I?" Without hesitation, Peter gave the answer: "You are the Christ, the Messiah."
So Jesus warned them to keep it quiet, not to breathe a word of it to anyone – what’s more he began to explain his ministry to them – saying: It is necessary that the Son of Man proceed to an ordeal of suffering, be tried and found guilty by the elders, high priests, and religion scholars, be killed, and after three days rise up alive." He said this simply and clearly so they couldn't miss his point: it is costly to follow the way of the Lord.
It is costly to follow the way of the Lord… To pick up your cross and make the way of Jesus your own – to live like lovers of the world in a dangerous time – to accept the cost and joy of discipleship so that we share both the passion and the victory of our Lord is tough going.
• In this morning’s story, Peter freaks out: one moment he has a partial vision that Jesus is truly the Christ – the long awaited Messiah of Israel – and the next he hears himself being called Satan by the one he loves.
• In fact, Jesus scolds his old friend – and many of us, too – saying: Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You're not in the driver's seat; I am. Don't run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and I'll show you how. Self-help is no help at all. Self-sacrifice is the way, my way, to saving yourself, your true self. What good would it do to get everything you want and lose you, the real you in the process? What could you ever trade your soul for?
And that is the right question, don’t you think? What good would it do to get everything you want but lose the real you – the very image of God within you – in the process of living? What good would it be to discover at the end of your days that you wasted it all? Pissed it all away? Rolled over one morning only to realize that you had refused to be nourished by the inner meaning of real life – and now it was too late?
• There is an old saying: “Take from death before it takes from thee” and that is what we’re talking about.
• Choosing to learn from Jesus how to be lovers of the world in a dangerous time.
That is part of what Mark’s gospel is trying to communicate to us through the very way it tells this story. Do you remember where these events take place in today’s text? We’re told that Jesus and his disciples were walking along a country road in Caesarea Philippi. They are not in a religious building – synagogue or church – they are in the world, ok? And let’s be very clear about the significance of this place in the world, too. Biblical scholars tell us that Caesarea Philippi was…
• … once the locus of a shrine to the Greek and Roman god Pan – source of both beauty in nature and music as well as fear and confusion – hence the root of the word panic. Pan was known for evoking wild sexual passion and leading souls astray which is probably why medieval Christianity chose his image to give form to Satan.
• … it was also named after Cesar – a political place – one that intentionally blurred the distinctions between God and government.
So the first thing Mark wants us to wrestle with when we commit ourselves to being lovers in a dangerous time is our context in the world. It is relatively easy to confess the way of Jesus inside these walls. It is another challenge altogether to do it out in the world of politics and temptation and commerce and all the rest – and yet that’s where it counts the most – out there where we live most of our lives.
Did you see the President’s speech about health care reform the other night? After church council I went home and watched it – and the thing that hit me hardest was the boorish, racist insult hurled at Mr. Obama by Joe Wilson of South Carolina. Yes, I know that he was chagrined into an apology a short time later. But what his unprecedented outburst said to me is that he, like all too many others, had lost perspective. He became so caught up in the vicious, racist fear-mongering of our era that for a moment he dropped the mask of civility and publically exposed his inner disdain for a black man holding the office of president.
It was a startling but equally clarifying example of what it means to gain everything and lose your soul – to throw away your true self in pursuit of power and pleasure – to become lost in the chaos and fears of the real world of Caesarea Philippi or Washington, DC.
That is Mark’s first insight: we will be tested as lovers out there where it is dangerous and costly and hard. His second insight is equally demanding: what kind of Christ do we confess? Jesus asks, “Who do you say that I am? What kind of Christ do you confess and serve?” And what does Peter say? “You are the Messiah – the Anointed One – come to save Israel.” And once again biblical scholars can be helpful in unpacking the significance of Peter’s words. Because, you see, until the time of Christ there was only one understanding of the Messiah. • The Anointed One by God would come as a powerful king and warrior who would both physically annihilate all of Israel’s enemies and establish an everlasting earthly kingdom of God over all of creation.
• It was a grand military vision that was one part Terminator a la Arnold Schwarzenegger, one part Colin Powell at his best and one part Martin Luther King, Jr.
But that is not the Messiah that Jesus describes, is it? He tells his disciples – then as well as today – that his way involves sharing the suffering of the earth: It is necessary that the Son of Man proceed to an ordeal of suffering, be tried and found guilty by the elders, high priests, and religion scholars, be killed, and after three days rise up alive." He said this simply and clearly so they couldn't miss his point: it is costly to follow the way of the Lord.
“Who am I?” he asks: “I am the man for others – I am a lover in a dangerous time – I am 180 degrees from any idea of Messiah you have ever considered and you can’t figure this out all by yourselves because I am too wildly outside the mold.” So, the text goes on to say, he taught them – he nourished this new insight – he trained them with care and clarity saying:
Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You're not in the driver's seat; I am. Don't run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and I'll show you how. Self-help is no help at all. Self-sacrifice is the way, my way, to saving yourself, your true self. What good would it do to get everything you want and lose you, the real you? What could you ever trade your soul for?
Peter is often hard headed – a real block head sometimes – but not here because Jesus is offering up something radically new. Something we can’t comprehend all by ourselves. Something that requires discipleship. And that’s the third insight: first, we’re told that we will be tested as lovers in this dangerous time; second it is made clear that our love will involve radical compassion and solidarity with the world; and third we are told that we can only learn about this together in community.
Follow me and I'll show you how. Self-help is no help at all. Self-sacrifice is the way, my way, to saving yourself, your true self. What good would it do to get everything you want and lose you, the real you? What could you ever trade your soul for?
We call this church – a faith community gathered to learn and practice the radical compassion of Christ – together – with encouragement. So that when we go out there into the world of politics or teaching or business where we’ll be tested, we can challenge the fear and hatred of the status quo with the very spirit of Christ alive within us.
• We can’t do this automatically – especially after being raised in Caesarea Philippi – with all of its influences. No, we have to practice becoming lovers for a dangerous time.
• And that means our understanding of church may have to change: too many people think of church as a museum – a place or a building to maintain and preserve – some even treat it like their own personal burial society.
But Jesus is mostly out on the road – in the world – trying to train every day people to be lovers for this dangerous time. In her book, Reaching Out without Dumbing Down, Marva Dawn describes that challenge of being the church like this. She was visiting the 1987 Vancouver World’s Fair.
In the Christian pavilion (there was a) presentation that utilized glitzy double-reversed photography and flashing lasers. When I tried to explain my qualms about the production to an attendant who had asked me how I liked their "show," she protested that it had saved many people. I asked, "Saved by what kind of Christ?" If people are saved by a spectacular Christ, will they find him in the fumbling of their own devotional life or in the humble services of local parishes where pastors and organists make mistakes? Will a glitzy portrayal of Christ nurture in new believers his character of willing suffering and sacrificial obedience? Will it create an awareness of the idolatries of our age and lead to repentance? And does a flashy, hard-rock sound track bring people to a Christ who calls us away from the world's superficiality to deeper reflection and meditation?
This year, my friends, I sense that we are being called into a ministry of encouragement – a commitment to help one another become lovers in a dangerous time – so that we are part of the healing of the world.
• We don’t need any more Joe Wilsons spewing hate and fear.
• We don’t need any more talk radio demagogues either.
• And God knows we don’t need any more religious snake oil sales people offering their glitz and promises of power and glory in return for your personal check.
No, we need lovers – lovers trained for a dangerous time – how did the prophetic poet, Isaiah put it? “The Master, the Lord my God, has given me a well-taught tongue so that I might know how to encourage tired people. God wakes me up in the morning, wakes me up, opens my ears to listen as one ready to take orders.”
We are being called into something new – not a burial society or a museum – but a community of encouragement. So let those who have ears to hear, hear what the Spirit is saying to the church.
Now...would those who are able please stand and join me in our affirmation? In the midst of hunger and war, We celebrate the promise of plenty and peace. In the midst of oppression and injustice, We celebrate the promise of service and freedom. In the midst of doubt and despair, We celebrate the promise of faith and hope. In the midst of fear and betrayal, We celebrate the promise of joy and loyalty. In the midst of hatred and death, We celebrate the promise of love and life. In the midst of sin and decay, We celebrate the promise of salvation and renewal. In the midst of chaos on every side, We celebrate the presence of the Living Christ within and among us. For we have gathered together in community – with God and each other – to worship and reflect on our Christian faith, And then to go into the world to do justice and share compassion. Lord may it be so among us. Amen.
(Adapted from the Community of Iona Abbey Worship Book)
credits: icarus @henri matisse art of the day; chris cook, "jesus is tempted" @http://dwellingintheword.wordpress.com/2009/07/09/304-matthew-41-25; georgia o'keefe, "black cross" @artknowledgenews.com; o'keefe, "black cross stars and blue" www.thecityreview.com/s01camp.html; arthur dove, "nature symbolized #2" @angellier.biblio.univ-lille3.fr/etudes_recher...; james whistler, "nocturne in black and gold" @angellier.biblio.univ-lille3.fr/etudes_recher...; o'keefe, "grey cross with blue," @www.tfaoi.com/aa/8aa/8aa93.htm
Tonight when Joe Wilson, Representative from South Carolina, rudely maligned the President in a stunning breach of public etiquette – shouting “You lie!” while Mr. Obama spoke to the nation – two truths became clear to me:
• First, the antagonism of partisan politics has reached a new low. When an elected public official forgets his highest sworn commitment and falls into the ugly, mob mentality of hate-radio that has become the rule rather than the exception, we have a problem. Once, such activity took place after a pay-off happened, but now the hacks are the elected officials who used to pay others to heckle, denigrate and destroy public discourse. No more illusions, yes?
• Second, those who oppose such incivility should be shocked and call Wilson to accountability. Thankfully, Mitch McConnell and John McCain have done just that and late this evening a very chagrined Wilson phoned the White House with an apology. But it is time for ordinary people to challenge this rudeness and demand better in public and in private, too.
And while I'm on a rant, two other thoughts come to mind:
• The late Malcolm X once spoke of the “chickens coming home to roost” in reference to the violence America had fostered throughout the Third World coming back to haunt us in the assassination of John Kennedy. It was a crude but all too true observation – one that certainly applies to the phobic right wing of contemporary America. Since stealing the election of 2000 – and employing the Tom Delay goon squads and Limbaugh bullies – the crazed wing of the Republican party has gone way beyond “swift boating” their opponents: they now bring loaded weapons to demonstrations, shout lies and spend millions of dollar fomenting race hatred. That one of them let his mask slip tonight should not surprise any of us because it was never a matter of if… only when.
• And let us not forget that much of the venom and fear is being generated in the American South who still teach – and believe – that the era of Reconstruction after the Civil War happened exactly as it was written in Gone with the Wind! This deep and uncritical racism is just below the surface – and has been nurtured and encouraged by hate mongers for generations – and now it is breaking through the façade of civility in unexpected places like the Senate chambers of the US government.
I rarely go over the top in my outrage – there are already too many unstable souls clogging up the airwaves – but tonight’s gaffe deserves to be exposed for the ugly, racist behavior it is: it would NEVER have been tolerated if a white man had been speaking. How did brother Gil Scott Heron put it so long ago in what is arguably the BEST rap tune ever?
Someone has said that Bruce Cockburn's "Pacing the Cage" is the music of a mature man: damn straight! He speaks of trying so hard... and failing over and over again. And he says it with beauty, grace and even a little humility.
This morning in prayer I read the words: Once a seeker came to the ancient elder and asked, "What can I do to make myself Enlightened?" And the Holy One sat quietly and then answered, "As little as you can do to make the sun rise in the morning?" The surprised disciple asked, "Then of what use are the spiritual exercises you have taught us?" To which the elder replied, "To make sure that you are not asleep when the sun begins to rise."
"There is NO escape from life," writes Joan Chittister, "only a chance to confront it, day after day in all its sanctifying tedium and blessed boredom and glorious agitation... at any given moment of our lives." And so it goes...
NOTE: a recent posting was recently picked up by my Internet buddy, Trevor, over at ROCK OM. Check it out - it is a wonderful resource for this quest of spirit and music and how they advance our maturing in humility and hope: http://www.rockom.net/. photo: dianne de mott
Sometimes a song just gets a hold of you and won't let go: that's what the acoustic rendering of Bruce Cockburn's "Lovers in a Dangerous Time" is doing to me right now. It has so many levels of insight about this moment in time that it has become a prayer.
+ In one breath he is singing about the rush of time and the craziness of how we live, but in the next he notices that amidst the rush we catch glimpses of beauty, too, that dazzle us.
+ Next there is a verse to the tenderness of love - fragile and grace-filled that cannot be wasted - while the third notes that often love requires a struggle and even a fight: got to kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight. How does the gospel of John put it: there is the light of life in our world that the darkness cannot put out?
And then that haunting chorus! Lovers.... in a dangerous time!
Dangerous for whom? For the lovers? For the church? For the status quo? All of this and more always below the surface? I suspect so... This song helps give shape and form to my calling to be a pastor and musician in these strange days: live as a lover in this dangerous time. (NOTE: We saw him during this tour as we happened to be in London on vacation. He played in Union Chapel, a small Congregational church with a huge building in North London that has cultivated a great ministry of the arts. Check it out: http://www.unionchapel.org.uk/index.php )
How does this week's gospel from Mark put it?Calling the crowd to join his disciples, he said, "Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You're not in the driver's seat; I am. Don't run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and I'll show you how. Self-help is no help at all. Self-sacrifice is the way, my way, to saving yourself, your true self. What good would it do to get everything you want and lose you, the real you? What could you ever trade your soul for?
Lord, help me be a lover to all I meet in this dangerous and grace-filled time! credits: lovers @ kikoshouse.blogspot.com/2008_10_01_archive.html
As today unfolded - a Labor Day holiday of sorts - this tune by Mason Jennings kept wandering in and out of my head. It is EXACTLY what I was writing about in my posting re: the river. He puts it like this in "Some Say I'm Not."
To look at a baby you've gotta be brave In the black of his eye is your own grave And something darker you wanna touch It must be love 'cause it hurts so much
Love, love, love, love
I've been to Egypt, I've been to Rome I was a young man when I left my home Looking for something I couldn't find Now I'm back where I started, it was here all the time
Time, time, time, time Out of the darkness into the light I had it wrong, you made it right I had it wrong, you made it wrong Same old story, same old song Same old ...
Song, song, song, song
Some call me Allah, some call me Tao Some call me Buddha, some call me now Some call me Jesus, some call me God Some say I'm real, some say I'm not
There is not a youtube video of this song, but go here and take a listen. http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Some_Say_I_m_Not/1601785 (It is freakin' brilliant!)Both aesthetically and theologically, I am finding myself in this place over and over again. It feels right. Like I said to my brother on the phone as I was driving back from being with my father: "About all I really want to do for whatever days I have left is to enjoy each moment fully and be compassionate with whomever I meet."
In one of his newer tunes, "Never Knew Your Name," he sings: If the house is on fire/You’re gonna run for the door/If the door is on fire/You’re gonna kneel on the floor/You get down low/You learn to love the flame/I’ve been loving you forever, but I never knew your name.
1st century - that has grabbed my attention. It appears that in 1219, during the Fifth Crusade, Francis of Assisi made a trip to discuss war and peace with a caliph in Cairo, Malik al-Kamil. There are no records of this conversation - no transcripts or scribal notes - but upon his return to Italy his order - the Little Brothers - chose to live in peace with the Muslims. What's more, there is a small gift in Assisi from the caliph that is still enshrined in the monastery cell where Francis lived.
ion. I think of the work of Brother Roger - founder of the Taize Community in France - who first built an ecumenical house of prayer that simultaneously served as a refuge for Jews fleeing Vichy France in WWII - only to become a center for spiritual renewal and prophetic presence throughout Europe. Or the healing work George MacLeod initiated during the depression in Glasgow and Scotland through the Iona Community.
ceived the Nobel Peace Prize for their work at reconcilation.
read with one another. One writer said: A book which explores the making and the mystery of bread: growing, making, baking, sharing in story and recipe, poetry and prayer. In bread we see the true connectedness of all life - the uniting of body and soul, spirit and material. It is not just a symbol of life, it is life itself. Without food, life is impossible, so eating becomes sacred. Take and eat means take and live; to share food is to share our life. Jesus, in a simple act, made eating and sharing sacred.
y resources and time in ways that nourish. And as a way of talking about what is most important to me personally and socially, the image of the feast is almost perfect.
makes the case that table fellowship is not only where Jesus did a great deal of healing, but it is also where we learn to practice sabbath rest most authentically as our hungers are satisfied.
en able to conquer the Americas if 98% of the indigenous population hadn't died from our diseases.
