Hanging loose in the saddle for St. Patrick's Day...

Ok, so that's a really mixed image for a title - I don't know too many Irishmen with saddles - but this Scots-Irishman is going to really have to embrace both because my main man, Andy, is now in Florida and won't be back for Thursday's St. Patrick's Day gig at Baba Louie's.  You see, Andy had to leave town early today to be with his mother and family after her recent heart attack. Please join me in holding the whole Kelly clan in prayer as Mrs. Kelly prepares for triple by-pass surgery sometime in the next few days.

And then send a kind thought or two my way as well for we are going into St. Patrick's Day without our lead Leprechaun and key instrumentalist. Hell, Andy's the only one who REALLY knows all these songs!  And while we'll do our best - throwing into the mix some U2 and Beatles in the spirit of Celtic craziness - but I fear it will be a whiter shade of pale without the lead Irishman in our midst.  As our dear wives have said, "Figure out a good one hour set - encourage the crowd to have another Guinness - and play that set three times!"  Good advice - but I'm wearing me kilts just to cover ALL our bases!  And here's one that should be fun to share...

A very curious and unsettling reaction...

After a very full day at worship yesterday - including a number of meetings after church - I was at our Irish band practice for St. Patrick's Day for five hours.  It was mostly lots of fun albeit hard work, but during the day I found myself having a very curious and unsettling reaction to some of the tunes. Specifically, I found myself more and more uncomfortable with the IRA "fight" songs that not only celebrate taking up arms in romantic (and probably drunken) passion, but also demonize parts of my extended family. My Scots-Irish family, you see, is a mixture of both the Orange and the Green - on both my father's and mother's side - Protestant and Catholic together from Scotland and Ireland.  (No wonder I found greater comfort in this tune...
   
What's more, my exploration of my own Celtic roots - and current spirituality - leads me closer to a U2ish commitment to end the violence, bigotry and terrorism on both sides of this sad divide than partisan rants that keep waving the bloody shirt.  To be sure, my grandfather's people in County Clare knew the horrible effects of an Gorta Mor - the Great Hunger when over a million Irish men, women and children died of starvation - as well as the corrosive effects of England's historic greed and religious hatred.  And as I learn more of the mean-spirited and self-righteous response of the English to Ireland's starvation during the famine, I better understand the roots of the Easter Rising of 1916 and the eventual rebellion that gave birth to the modern nation of Ireland in 1921.

Nevertheless, while I can appreciate the context and commitment of the early IRA warriors  - and honor their sacrifice and vision, too - their legacy in my generation has been barbaric.  Their actions at home and abroad are not romantic to me - they are terrorists who are as vile and unholy as their former oppressors - and every bit as violent as England, too.  Which isn't to excuse my Orange forebears their sins either:  I remember the death of Bobby Sands, the viciousness of the Royal Ulster Constabulary during "the troubles" and the economic and religious discrimination the Orange side of the family enforced upon my Green relatives with diabolical vigor.

But my soul just doesn't resonate with "The Merry Ploughboy" or "The Soldier's Song." My heart sings the lament U2 created after the IRA-inspired violation of the Good Friday Peace Accords in Armagh or the earlier "Sunday, Bloody Sunday." And  I am an ally of the Community of Peace People like Betty Williams and Mairead Corrigan who were awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1977.  So I wonder... is this because the Orange and the Green are so blended within?  Does it have to do with choosing to be an MLK-like Prod for Peace and interfaith cooperation?  What fears and confusions are evoked by these old IRA war songs?  This has been a very curious and unsettling reaction that I want to explore more deeply.

At the end of the day, no matter how you cut it - Orange, Green or both (like me) - there still a TON of wonderful reasons to be proud of being Irish.  Check this out for fun - and share a pint with me on St. Patrick's Day...http://vinnymurphy.blogspot.com/2010/11/10-reasons-were-still-proud-to-be-irish.html

More meandering at the start of Lent...

Last night we celebrated our daughter's 32nd birthday - a lovely time with both daughters and their respective spouses at our home - a time filled with feasting, sharing stories and lots of laughter.  It always brings a measure of healing and calm to my soul to break bread with these dear people - it evokes a deep sense of peace that washes over and through me at these times - and I feel renewed.  The late poet, John O'Donohue, spoke of this in his book, To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings, in this blessing spoken after a feast:

We end this meal with grace

For the joy and nourishment of food,

The slowed time away from the world

To come into presence with one another

And sense the subtle lives behind our faces,

The different colors of our voices,

The edges of hungers we keep private,

The circle of love that unites us.

We pray the wise spirit who keeps us

To change the structures that make others hunger

And that after such grace we might now go forth

And impart dignity wherever we partake.

Today our lives return to "normal" - rest and cleaning, preparing for worship and ministry in our community - with all the hassles and holiness that is pregnant within the ordinary.  All the more reason to delight in the feasting, yes?

Lenten ramblings early on...

Last night our little jazz band SMOKED the place - so much fun, groove and soulful music all at one time - and the effect was contagious to both band and audience alike.  WE went deeper into the groove as individual band mates took risks and pushed their own limits.  THEY got caught up in all the fun and beauty.  And TOGETHER we found ourselves heading to a new place that was soul satisfying whether it was the impromptu "Superstition" that seemed to swell up from out of nowhere, the bluesy harmonica-driven intro to "Mercy, Mercy, Mercy" or the funky but sweet vocals and improvisations that were born in "Sentimental Mood."  What's more, we have five - that's right, count em 5 - guests sit in with us taking us to new places, too.

So this morning, as part of today's Sabbath prayer, I spent some time with these reflections by Fr. Richard Rohr who put last night into a deeper context:

In Isaiah 58:1-9a, Isaiah explicitly says that God prefers a kind of fasting which changes our actual lifestyle and not just punishes our body. (The poor body is always the available scapegoat to avoid touching our purse, our calendar, or our prejudices.) Isaiah makes a very upfront demand for social justice, non-aggression, taking our feet off the necks of the oppressed, sharing our bread with the hungry, clothing the naked, sheltering the homeless, letting go of our sense of entitlement, and not speaking maliciously. He says very clearly this is the real fast God wants!

In Matthew 9:14-15, Jesus is asked why he and his disciples do not fast. In effect, he says “because it is the wrong kind of fasting!” Then he introduces a favorite theme and metaphor that he gradually develops: life as a wedding banquet, with himself as the bridegroom and humanity as the bride. It will soon become clear that Jesus is not interested in an elite who do their rituals properly yet refuse to join in the wedding feast that God is preparing for all, both insiders and outsiders.

Making beautiful and soulful music is a sacramental act - whether it takes place in worship or a bar - and when things come together - dare I say when we are open to the Spirit - we are all touched and changed.  As Rohr says, we are led away from a body-hating religion to a way of living more like Christ's wedding banquet for THAT is the fast Jesus came to celebrate.  But living into the feast takes practice - our fears and addictions run deep - and often keep us trapped in our brokenness.  And isolated.  And confused.

So my commitment to bringing beautiful and loving music into people's lives grows as it is one of God's healing antidotes that can open the heart and nourish it.  And my affection and respect for my band mates grows, too as we help and encourage one another in this odd but sacramental ministry of sharing the feast in the most unlikely places.

Ash Wednesday

I am a grateful man as Ash Wednesday comes to a close:  I serve a congregation of loving, gentle and faithful people who are open to the Spirit in unique ways.  They have entered this Lent in a holy and faithful way - young and old, male and female, rich and poor - and ache to find Christ in the least of these "our sisters and brothers."  Tonight we gathered to rest in the beauty of Chopin and folk hymns - mark one another with signs of the Lord's cross - confess our sins, listen to the gospel and share Eucharist.  We prayed for Libya and Wisconsin, our children and our enemies as well as ourselves on this sacred night.  Over and over again I felt myself full to overflowing as my partners in this community of faith knelt to receive the ashes...

We left taking with us a small, smooth stone as a symbol of wandering with Jesus in the wilderness throughout Lent for who knows where this season will lead us as a congregation? All I am certain of tonight is that Jesus was in the house... and that is enough.  And when I got home, to break my fast, my dear buddy Peter from Thunder Bay, Ontario had left a telephone blessing:  I am a very grateful man as this day comes to a close...

Wandering in the Wilderness with Jesus - Part One

NOTE:  So Lent is almost here - Ash Wednesday worship starts at 7 pm tomorrow - March 9th @ 7 pm.  Here are my First Sunday in Lent worship notes for a series re: a spirituality of imperfection. I am rereading both Ernest Kurtz's text of the same name and Joan Chittister's Wisdom Distilled from the Daily as part of this year's reflections.  Please join us if you are in town...

Today is the first Sunday in Lent: the sacred season was opened last week on Ash Wednesday as the community gathered for a time of ritual, Eucharist, silence, song and symbol. I hope you noticed that there wasn’t a lot of explanation – we simply assembled – and then opened our hearts to God in liturgy and story.

• I hope that our Sundays in Lent will be something similar – more experiential than didactic – more mystical and intuitive rather than intellectual and rational.

• Christian educator in the Roman Catholic tradition, Gertrude Mueller-Nelson, writes: “The Church offers us the scriptural readings, the symbols and the disciplinary forms necessary to surround ourselves as consciously and creatively as we can with the business of God’s transformation....”

Through the sacramental “little deaths” of the season:

We are asked to break out of our old patterns of behavior, our interpersonal laziness, our habits to control, criticize or put-down, our selfishness, our fears and reticence… for something bigger and better in ourselves… the soul of Christ alive in all our daily struggles. (To Dance with God, p. 131)

Because, you see, the whole point of Lent – and liturgy – is NOT to give us more knowledge about Jesus, but to help us experience his grace and live into his presence. Makes me think about the young salesman who walked up to an older farmer outside of the feed store and started to rave about the new book he was reading.

“This book,” declared the young man, “will tell you everything you need to know about farming. It tells you when to sow and when to reap. It tells you about the weather, what to expect and when to expect it. This book is incredible because it tells you all you need to know.” To which the old farmer simply said, “Son, that’s not my problem. I already KNOW everything that is in that book. My problem is doing it.” (Spirituality of Imperfection, p. 159)

So we gather – once more – for the start of Lent: some of us hate this season, some of us cherish it, some of us are utterly bewildered by it and some of us don’t grasp what the bother is all about in the first place. And that is why this Lent I want to tell you some stories… and see where they lead us, ok? This Lent our Sundays are going to be more about wandering with Jesus in the wilderness than sitting in worship at First Church on Park Square in Pittsfield.

• So right out of the gate, let me ask you: what does that say to you? What do you think is the difference between wandering in the wilderness for a time with Jesus and regular Sunday worship?

• One of my favorite Franciscan monks, Fr. Richard Rohr, puts it like this: In the early days of Christianity, “faith was not something that was taught nearly as much as it was caught—by lifestyle (and spiritual experience) itself! “

Our way was not so much preachers out on street corners as much as disciples going into a new area and building a loving community that shared, lived beautifully on the land and did not seek wealth or status. Our way was clear: people do not think themselves into a new way of living, but we live ourselves into a new way of thinking. (Richard Rohr, A New Start, March 8, 2011 @www.cacradicalgrace.com)

Wandering is intuitive – gentle – unhurried; there may be a goal – or not. What’s more, wandering takes time – it isn’t power walking or running – but a way of moving that notices the small details along the road without obsessing on a destination. Our spiritual ancestors in Judaism wandered in the wilderness for 40 years with Moses – and today’s gospel tells us that Jesus wandered in the wilderness for 40 days after his baptism – which simply means they spent a LONG time wandering.

• The number isn’t precise, ok? It is illustrative – even suggestive – of spending a long, long time roaming or even meandering.

• And why is that valuable – the implied long period of time – in both the wandering of Jesus and his Jewish great grandparents?

I suspect it is born of spiritual wisdom and experience: most of us don’t change deeply over night, right? I know that is true for me and my hunch is that this rings true for you, too. In order for God “to fill up the emptiness and heal the brokenness in which most of us live,” says Joan Chittister, “we have to unplug ourselves from the world that in overworked, over stimulated and overscheduled.” (Wisdom Distilled from the Daily, p. 3) That is, we have to learn to wander again for a time – during Lent it is the wilderness – like Jesus.

But let me quickly add this qualification lest anybody feel anxious: not all wandering is equal, ok?

• Parents with small children will need to practice wandering in ways that are different from folks who are retired. Parents with teens – or young adults at home – will have to figure out their own rhythm of wandering, too.

• Just as married people will discover a wandering that is their own but quite distinct from the wandering of a widow or a person in a divorce. Are you with me here? Not all wandering is equal and there is NO one size fits all…

And this brings me to this morning’s gospel – where Jesus wanders in the wilderness for 40 days after his baptism – and I want to ask you what word best describes the action here: temptation or release? Do you grasp the difference?

• Sometimes this passage is talked about as the story of Jesus facing down Satan’s temptations in the desert – and that is certainly going on here – with the Tempter’s offering bread to a fasting man and power to one who is oppressed.

• But temptation – while profoundly real – shapes our sense of the spiritual through fear – which is mostly for children: do NOT put your hand on that hot stove or you will burn yourself, do NOT play in traffic or you will be injured by a car, do NOT trust strangers who offer you candy because they want to hurt you.

In my wandering with Jesus in the wilderness, I have come to sense that most of the time he doesn’t operate or teach us out of fear. Fear-based religion has its place – and serves a purpose in limited quantities – but mostly for small children. And as St. Paul says, “When I was a child I acted like a child and spoke like a child, but now that I am growing up I have put childish things away.”

So my hunch is that there is something else going on in this first Lenten story – some other path besides a religion of fear – and I think it has to do with release: letting go and experiencing God’s new freedom in our lives in a way that is real but never obtained, owned or possessed.

“It is that feeling,” writes Ernest Kurtz, “of the chains falling away and a weight being lifted… but not in triumph (as if we accomplished it) but rather receiving it as a gift in awe and wonder” and gratitude. (Spirituality of Imperfection, p. 165) So could it be that Jesus let’s go of his hunger for a time to consider God’s deeper truths – in this the bread of Satan has no power over him – because he isn’t even paying attention?

And what would it mean if he is able to turn his back on the lure of power and prestige because he has experienced God’s grace so profoundly that he no longer wants to be distracted by things that glitter but aren’t gold? Do you see how this is different from talking about temptation?

I really have come to believe that release is more central to being faithful in Lent than fighting our temptations. Because to give up our fears and simply trust God profoundly, unconditionally and gracefully is what Jesus did, right? My other favorite Roman Catholic monastic, Brother David Steindl-Rast – who is a Benedictine – puts it like this in his commentary on how to Live the Apostles’ Creed:

To believe is to dedicate yourself in complete trust to a power greater than yourself… such is the heart of faith… for faith is far more than the sum total of our ideas and concept (and fears) – they are merely pointers – while faith is profound and unconditional trust… that’s why the Latin word for belief is credo – it is a compound word from cor (heart) and do (I give) that literally means that which I give my heart to. (p. 24)

This sounds like Jesus to me – living life with unconditional trust in God –that let’s go of fear. It is one of the ways we experience of God’s grace – and Lent is about the experience more than the ideas, ok? Especially the experience of trusting that God can take our mistakes – and failures – and faults and bring us a healing that arrives the most unexpected, tender and grace-filled ways.

It is, as some have called it, a spirituality of imperfection that asks that we not take ourselves so seriously that we confuse ourselves for the Lord. It is an invitation to live beyond fear into trust – beyond understanding into experience – beyond control into faith – and beyond failure into release. Remember: we do not think ourselves into a new way of living, rather we live ourselves into a new way of thinking that empowers us to transform life rather than transcend it.

So let me ask you to take a few moments to be still in community and see what bubbles up within and among us from this morning’s wanderings, ok? Like the poet Denise Levertov observed: Not to flood darkness with light so that the darkness is destroyed, but to enter into darkness – the mystery – so that it is experienced.

Celebrating our OWN Carnivale...

One of our growing "spiritual disciplines" is the embracing of carnival before Lent.  Call it Mardi Gras - or the often anemic Protestant "Shrove Tuesday" - the goal is the same:  enter into the fatness of life - especially those practices you are going to forsake during Lent - with real abandon. Some have said that the word, carnival, "comes from the Late Latin expression carne vale, which means "farewell to meat", signifying that those were the last days when one could eat meat before the fasting of Lent." (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carnival) Wherever it comes from, it is a good practice but only if part of a larger commitment.

Now, Dianne and I do not like to do ANYTHING half-assed whether that is carnival or Lent - or music - or loving.  What's more, given the demands of observing a Holy Lent as both pastor and individual person, we find that it is easy to lose touch with one another during the 40 days before Easter. There are just too many demands - personally and professionally - to really be deeply present with one another.  So, over the years we've started taking a little time off before Lent for both personal reunion and carnival - and THIS year we did it up right!  We spent four days away - four days of walking all over Cambridge - four days of feasting and loving - four days of buying TONS of new music - drinking great wine - and listening to new indie bands!

Ok, it isn't Saturnalia - or even a T'Ohono O'Odham New Wine Festival - but it makes sense to us.  I've been thinking about carnival a lot - both for myself and my congregation - and one of the reasons I think it makes so much sense is that it is an invitation to embrace life fully, deeply and passionately.  It is a commitment to practice not taking people or God's grace or joy for granted.  Eating and feasting and celebrating is just as important a spiritual practice as fasting and praying and waiting in silence:  one helps you embrace the abundant blessings of the ordinary while the other trains you in patience and presence during hard times.  And both are part of reality in this realm, yes?

My sister-in-law, Julie, sent me a note while we were feasting that one of my San Francisco heroes - Johnny Nitro - passed from this life to life everlasting.(http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2011/02/21/BAN81HR1FE.DTL) 

I've been loving me some Johnny Nitro since my doctoral work at San Francisco Theological Seminary ten years ago.  Phil and Julie still had a small apartment on Green Street in the heart of North Beach in those days.  So every Friday after a week of intense class work, I would catch the ferry across the Bay and head to North Beach for a time of GREAT San Francisco rhythm and blues at The Saloon - THE local bar to hear local bands and shake your booty, too! 

I would catch two shows every Friday night, join my family for some fun during the day each Saturday, dance until 2 am on Saturday and then catch the Sunday night show as well.  EARLY Monday morning I would jump the ferry back to San Anselmo to start my doctoral seminar on the "problem of evil and God's love" at 9 am all over again.  I made it a point to turn my children on to Johnny Nitro when they were in the area and brought my beloved, Dianne, there to dance into the morning whenever she could join me.  He was a delight and part of my pilgrimage after I was awarded my doctorate.

Now there are too many shaggy-dog stories to tell about Johnny Nitro and me at The Saloon (http://www.sfblues.net/Saloon.html) with Phil and Julie; let's just say I was testing the limits of my endurance.  So when news of his passing came to me during our more modest carnival in Cambridge this weekend, it hit me hard - and I redoubled my commitment to embracing all the joy God shares in each ordinary day as preparation for a Holy Lent. I think that is what carnival is for - to wake you up to the shortness of life - and push you into seeking God's joy.

We also did two other things that are causing me to be reflective tonight:

+ First, we went out each night to check out live music!  No couch potato stuff or whining about being too tired.  Life is ALWAYS hard so shut up!  We put our butts in gear and made a point to hear some live acts that were to die for - something we need to do back home in Pittsfield, too.  Life is too short to waste it watching TV, yes!  

Two of the performers who knocked me out were Lake Side Dive (www.lakestreetdive.com/) and Anne Heaton (http://www.anneheaton.com/) Very, very different acts - both excellent in their own right - and the bass player from Lake Side Dive ALSO plays with a group I've come to love:  Joy Kills Sorrow (http://www.joykillssorrow.com/Joy_Kills_Sorrow/News/News.html)

+ Second, we took time to walk - and talk - and explore.  Today, for example, taking the back roads home we went to pay homage to Thoreau at Walden Pond (never been there.) And as we were winding out way towards the highway it became clear that we were just a few minutes from Sudbury where I lived when I was 12-13.  So we took a detour, stopped at the Town Hall and eventually made our way back to our old house.  It was a fun, silly and very tender way to spend the afternoon.  

We also headed into Worcester for a late lunch - and what a revelation that was! 15 years ago I interviewed at a downtown church there that was offended and put off by Dianne's more eccentric dress!  We weren't called there and went to Tucson instead - which was a profound blessing - and trying to find a place to eat in Worcester today made that clear in spades.  This is one hurting town - and while I have a commitment to ministry in hurting places - it is clear that this city is going to have to bottom out before anything gets better.  Very, very sad.

And now we're back - there is writing and getting ready for Ash Wednesday to do tomorrow - and heading off to hear my buddy Andy's Dixieland band for one last taste of Mardi Gras before the fast begins.  This trip confirmed to me that the rhythm of the the church calendar is sacred, but only if the joy and feasting part is embraced as fully as the waiting and fasting part.  Too often it is all somber ashes and emptiness - and that is not the totality of God's presence incarnated in Jesus but a LONG shot.

Out to Cambridge for a few days before Lent...

Dianne and I are headed out in about an hour for a little rest and renewal before the start of Lent next Wednesday.  I am going to be a part of a Massachusetts Conference worship event tomorrow morning and then we're on to Cambridge, MA for some exploration.  And tonight we got a cheap motel near Northampton just to chill - so we're in road trip/mini-vacation mode - which often evokes this song...

Taking a break before entering the disciplines of Lent has become an important act of self-care for me:  I cherish the deeper journey of Lent, but if I don't prepare for it I am also depleted and exhausted, too.  So, off we go for four sweet days away - with a mini-detour at tomorrow's worship.  I've been asked to open the gathering and this is what is likely to come out...

THERE’S SOMETHING HAPPENING HERE – WHAT IT IS AIN’T EXACTLY CLEAR

THERE’S A MAN WITH A GUN OVER THERE – TELLING ME I’VE GOT TO BEWARE

THINK IT’S TIME WE STOP – CHILDREN – WHAT’S THAT SOUND

EVERYBODY LOOK WHAT’S GOING ROUND…

That old song by the Buffalo Springfield is as true in 2011 as it was when I first heard it in the late winter of 1967: the context has changed – the players are definitely different – but God is still calling us to stop – listen to what’s going down – and faithfully join the march towards freedom. Whether it is in Wisconsin or Egypt – Libya or Soweto – we have been called by the One who made the Word flesh to listen – and respond with compassion.

+ At least that’s how I came to the Lord – listening – hearing – SHEMA O YISRAEL – HEAR, O PEOPLE OF GOD THAT THE LORD YOUR GOD IS ONE – discovering that the Voice of the Sacred is most often heard in the most unusual places.

+ You see, I heard my call to ministry in back of a 1965 Ford Mustang – well, the word of the Lord first came to me in Washington, DC a few days earlier – when my suburban Connecticut youth group joined the celebration at the Potter’s House. It was just two months after Dr. King had been assassinated – the summer of 68 – and we were on a mission trip to see the church in action.

+ And after engaging in the creative worship at the Church of the Savior – something that was 180 degrees different from my Darien, CT – Pilgrim Hymnal – upper middle class, white world of church – I was certain that I was being called. And on our way home – with the Queen of Soul – Aretha Franklyn blaring, “you better think – think about what you’re trying to do to me – oh freedom – freedom – freedom” on the radio – I KNEW that God was calling me into ministry. A ministry of the arts – a ministry of compassion and justice – a ministry of freedom.

THERE’S SOMETHING HAPPENING HERE – WHAT IT IS AIN’T EXACTLY CLEAR

THERE’S A MAN WITH A GUN OVER THERE – TELLING ME I’VE GOT TO BEWARE

THINK IT’S TIME WE STOP – CHILDREN – WHAT’S THAT SOUND

EVERYBODY LOOK WHAT’S GOING ROUND…

SHEMA O YISRAEL – listen o people of God – it will change your life! And once you start listening – and looking – and feeling you can’t help but see that there are no longer any false distinctions between the sacred and the secular. Everything is holy – how did St. Allen Ginsberg put it in “Howl?”

Holy! Holy! Holy! The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy!

The nose is holy! The body is holy! Everything is holy! Everybody's holy!

Everywhere is holy! everyday is in eternity! Every soul is an angel!

The bum's as holy as the seraphim! the madman is holy as you my soul are holy!

The typewriter is holy the poem is holy the voice is holy the hearers are holy the ecstasy is holy!

Everything is holy – heaven and earth have embraced – justice and compassion are locked in a soul kiss the unites our hearts and minds with our flesh. But… and this is huge – but – not without listening – hearing – and responding to the Lord’s call with tender integrity.

+ In my day it was Aretha singing freedom – a chorus she borrowed from Dr. King – who learned it from his slave for bearers. Do you know the old version? It’s easy – try singing it with me:

Oh freedom – oh freedom – oh freedom over me

And before I’d be a slave I’d be buried in my grave

And go home to my Lord and be free

Ours is a proactive – gentle call to freedom – it has roots – it has legs – it is born of tradition and innovation – and the song goes on forever. It is part of the Alpha and Omega – the Word – or dare I say Song – become flesh within and among us. Calling us into God’s grace and our best selves: Oh freedom – there’s something happening here.

And so we begin today’s worship listening – hearing – and singing about freedom – real freedom – grace and justice – hope and compassion – word and flesh – together – embracing – forever: maybe you can join with me in one last version of this song from my spiritual mentors – U2 – the bad boys of Irish punk who touch more lives with the Spirit and Truth of Jesus than we can ever imagine. Singing about Dr. King in their generation they say…

One man come in the name of love – one man he come and go

One man come he to testify – one man to over throw

In the name of love – what more in the name of love…

Early evening April 4th – shots ring out in a Memphis sky

Free at last – they took your life – they could not take your pride

In the name of love…

Lord, may it be so among us this day. Amen

An upside-down take on Lent 2011...

Over the past 15 years I have come to embrace an "upside-down" take on Lent.  I have found that both the Roman and Reformed expressions of this essential spiritual season are not only repulsive to me (for very different reasons), but also destructive in what they teach us about God. 

+ The Reformed/Protestant Lent is often so anemic and trivial that in most expressions it causes spiritual starvation in our souls.  The liturgies are watered down Catholic retreads, the sense of "fasting" is trivial and there is almost no depth to the spiritual disciplines of the season.  Think of the "Lenten Self-Denial" coin folders of the past; putting nickels or even quarters into a cardboard holder each of the 40 days of Lent has NEVER meant self-denial.  It is, rather, an almost irrelevant exercise in practicing a self-congratulating piety that is the polar opposite of Lent.

+ And the Roman practice is just as bad - but for vastly different reasons.  If the Reformed Protestant Lent is theologically and spiritually trite, the Catholic expression is obsessively destructive and ignorant.  Yes, there is often liturgical depth - from Ash Wednesday through the Easter Triduum of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and the Easter Vigil of Holy Saturday - and there is also a long history of practicing the Lenten disciplines of prayer, fasting and alms giving. But what I have discovered is that countless people have no idea what the connection is between God's love and their minimalist fasting.  Nor are they certain how it is that each sacred liturgy takes them deeper into the Paschal Mystery.  More often than not there is a wooden sense of obligation that remains unfocused beyond the ritual.

And let's be clear that the rituals are not only obsessed with a vision of the Lord's atonement that is destructive, but still virulently anti-Semitic.  Sure, the language of the liturgy has been sanitized in the last few decades, but the music of the tradition is still ugly, mean-spirited towards the Jews and morally offensive.  So... given the choice between a rich but destructive liturgical Lent and one that is spiritually irrelevant and aesthetically vapid it seemed that the time had come to turn the whole thing upside-down.

In subsequent postings I'll try to unpack what I mean by this upside-down Lent - and why it works better - but for today let me say a word about Ash Wednesday.  The wise and tender Roman Catholic educator, Gertrud Mueller-Nelson, teaches that the whole journey of Lent - embracing Christ's suffering and our own - is all about discovering how to take all of the "misunderstandings, losses and failures, separations and loneliness, loving and longing fears... and long shadows" that are cast across our days as part of the path to the light.  "We have learned to avoid the pain and the hurt," she writes.  We think we are clever in doing so... when, in fact, our denial and avoidance take us farther away from God's grace and presence.  Like the story of Jonah," it goes from bad to worse until we finally find ourselves in the belly of the whale."

To prepare for an alternative, she writes, demands Carnival - a conscious embracing of our shadow selves - that not only express in costume and activity our darkest fears and wounds but also allow us the chance to playfully release them into God's great love:

There is a dreamlike place that tradition offers that holds a wild pageantry of the dark, unknown elements of the soul:  Carnival.  Carnival prededes any efforts we might make at dying by allowing us to live in a compensatory period - briefly - that is a kind of reckless and daring make-believe world of shadows.  And throughout history, in every part of the world, civilized societies recognize the need to return for a brief moment to the chaos... a dance that honors all that is dark and messy and disorganized and iconoclastic and just the other side of our human consciousness...

The Feast of Fools is the Christian paradigm for Carnival - and I'll head into that territory tomorrow.  For now let's just say that the upside-down Lent that I am exploring is playful and sensual as a way of letting go and trusting God's grace at a deeper level; it is tender and compassionate as a way of sharing with the poor; and it is mostly silent or musical as a prompt to prayers of waiting and discernment.  What's more, it asks each and all of us to look at where Christ is being crucified within and among us today rather than only looking backwards in the traditionally sentimental or fetishistic ways of the Reformed and Roman traditions.

A strange and beautiful way to live...

Over the years I have wondered what I might do if I WASN'T a pastor: there certainly have been times when I've explored leaving the ministry - I've looked into massage therapy, faith-based community organizing and elementary school teaching - but always came back to a sense that even though this is a strange way to live, it is also a beautiful way to live in God's love, too.  I think that is why I sometimes make a list of what happened in the course of a day just to see the different ways I've been awakened to God's presence in my life.

Today, for example, I awoke DEAD tired.  I didn't sleep well and was slow and groggy as I made my pot of tea.  Turning to my on-line prayer friends @ Pray As You Go I sort of dozed my way through this morning's reflections.  Eventually I read the NY Times, shared breakfast with my honey and headed to church.  My secretary and I reviewed some appointments and then I met with a man in what turned out to be the start of a spiritual direction commitment.  I didn't know that was what our meeting was going to be about - and I don't think he did either - but that's what happened.  He wanted to learn how to grow closer to God's love now that just about everything else in his life has turned to dust.

That was the first beautiful surprise for the day - and while it caused me to miss a clergy gathering that I value - it was soul work and I wouldn't have missed it for the world.  Then I worked on another interpretive brochure for Lent - my sermon series re: a spirituality of imperfection - before meeting with a really insightful and helpful brother from the local music shop who is working with me on a new sound system for worship.  We spent an hour talking about options - the importance of beauty and clarity when speaking and sharing God's word, too - as well as his willingness to meet with our band to discuss the nitty gritty needs of doing music in a blended worship context.  I don't think I've ever spoken with a techie who quoted scripture before and was so committed to the integrity of preserving a building's visual beauty.  Very sweet.

Then I found my cell phone.  I have always tended to be a little forgetful (ask my staff about losing my keys or wallet) but as I have aged...it has only gotten worse.  For the past two days I have wondered just where my cell phone had walked off to only to have it turn up in the pocket of my wife's coat.  There were 11 calls on it that I missed - totally another lesson in humility and patience for me... Back in Tucson, I lost my wallet 5 times in 10 years and every time it was found/returned with NOTHING missing. Now  I don't count on such blessings always happening, but I am very grateful when they do!

Usually I have a bass guitar lesson late in the afternoon on Wednesdays, but my man is in DC for a sister city ambassador conference.  So, I took an appointment with a very troubled soul that left me baffled and bewildered - a real invitation for deeper discernment and lots of waiting and prayer.  Then it was off to visit some dear folk who have experienced one disaster after another this year but remain faithful and kind. (It was my joy to bring them a small contribution taken up by church members who wanted to go the extra mile and help out in a small way.)  Then back to the computer to finish up a Lenten liturgy, return phone calls and emails.

This was not a spectacular day - very ordinary in many ways - and God knows I wasn't always at my best. Still, there were clearly times when compassion was in order - and an invitation to go deeper in the Spirit was embraced, too - and I encountered God in some of very ordinary details.

It made me think of last night when I was coming back from the grocery store and heard Creedence's "Bad Moon Rising." As I listened to this old chestnut I realized that if I did it in a slower minor key version, it could be the perfect song for Good Friday:  "Don't go around tonight, its bound to take your life..." (This version isn't what I had in mind, but is kind of interesting, yes?)

So I have come to think of this way of being as a truly strange but beautiful way to live given the fast-paced, bottom-line obsession of popular culture - and nearly 30 years into my ordination I am ever more grateful for sticking with the calling - and can't wait to see what tomorrow will bring.

Rest in peace good and faithful servants...

Dear Peter Gomes passed from this life to life-everlasting in the Lord yesterday - and the world of moderate, respectful, wise and passionate Christianity with a compassionate conscience lost an important heart, soul and voice. In an Op-Ed article for the New York Times in 1992 he wrote:  Religious fundamentalism is dangerous because it cannot accept ambiguity and diversity and is therefore inherently intolerant. Such intolerance, in the name of virtue, is ruthless and uses political power to destroy what it cannot convert.  (His obituary in the Times is worth reading @ http://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/02/us/02gomes.html.)

Over the years, I learned a lot about living into the promise of compassionate Christianity as an organic alternative to the fundamentalism of both Protestant and Catholic alike.  What's more, he showed America that when the Spirit takes hold of your soul, old bigotries and fears can be overcome.  Not easily - and not all at once - but in profoundly important ways - and his life was a model when he came "out" as a Christian who was also gay. 

His death called to mind the passing of another good and faithful servant, this time from the  Roman tradition, who was also another voice of God's compassion in a sometimes shrill and harsh environment:  Father Matthew Kelty.  He was Thomas Merton's confessor at the Abbey of Gethsemane in Kentucky - who also "came out" as a gay man late in his life - in order to live with integrity and depth.  His writings about Merton's complicated relationship with Roman Catholicism - and Merton's quest for a deeper monasticism - have been helpful to many.  (Check out his obituary @ http://www.religiondispatches.org/archive/sexandgender/4278/“the_gift_of_gay”:_father_matthew_kelty,_confessor_to_thomas_merton,_dies_at_96/)

Both men remind me, too, of the "Saint of September 11th" - Father Mychal Judge - one of my spiritual guides in the second half of my life.  Fr. Mychal, too, was a gay man - a Franciscan in NYC - who not only was chaplain to the rough and macho guys of the NYC Fire Department but a pioneer in HIV/AIDS hospice in a time when the virus was called "gay cancer" and "God's answer to fags."  One story tells how on that horrible day, Fr. Mychal got the call to head down to the Twin Towers because of the terrorist attacks, so he hurried home to get into his Franciscan robe - and add some spray to his hair because he wanted to look sharp.

Sadly, he died that same day bringing comfort and last rites to his flock.  (Check out his story @ http://saintmychaljudge.blogspot.com/)  

I give thanks to God for each of these men who in their courage and compassion have shown the world something of the true face of the Living God. I give thanks to God, too, that they were able to "come out" and share the fullness of their beauty and truth with the world.  We all have been blessed by their presence.  So rest in peace good and faithful servants...