An alternative take on a community event...

NOTE:  In January one of the local peace and justice groups wanted to hold a "bank fair" in our building.  While I support the Occupy Movement on nearly every level, I am also eager to know the goals and objectives of their local actions.  For example, we served as a "helper" for the local Occupy event on May 1st - storing chairs, etc - because that's part of what it means to be a good neighbor. 

But the "bank fair" felt wrong to me from the start: not that local banks are exempt from accountability, but in these days of broken-hearted politics (to use Parker Palmer's words) I don't think we find common ground by starting with confrontation.  So, the more my church community wrestled with the proposed bank fair, the more two things emerged:  a majority of my leaders didn't like the "gotcha" nature of the proposed event, while a few felt strongly that we should stand in solidarity with our peace and justice allies.

My mind kept going to the biblical line about "not everyone who cries Lord, Lord..." but I mostly kept my mouth shut. I did suggest that we ask the sponsoring group some really hard questions before offering our endorsement - like did they do their homework re: local lending practices and have they lived into the protocol and hospitality of being good neighbors by actually having conversations with our local banking folk before going public? - but this was not to be. 

So eventually we chose not to endorse or support the event. And because we agree to disagree at times, some of my leaders will still act on their conscience and participate in the Berkshire Citizens for Peace and Justice bank fair this coming Saturday afternoon. (for more information about the actual event, please go to: http://bcpj.org/)

I still hope to find ways to partner with our local peace and justice allies.  Next week, for example, an emerging faith-based community organizer and I will meet to talk about building bridges to fight poverty in our city.  I look forward to this, having lots of experience doing the hard work of organizing communities towards the common good, and trust good things will come. 

What follows, however, is a public letter of critique re: this Saturday's bank fair. In the spirit of Wendell Berry - and the practices of community organizers since the days of Alinsky - I believe you first start any action with conversations and discernment of the issues. I don't sense that this has happened yet and so do not support participation in this action.

From the desk of James Lumsden

June 6, 2012

Dear friends of the Berkshire Citizens for Peace and Justice:

I send greetings to you in the name of all that is sacred and loving.  Earlier this week I was told that to date only one of the guests invited to participate in your “Bank Fair”would be attending.  There was some speculation at our meeting about why this might be the case – and even a mild sense of disappointment by a few.  But,it came as no shock or surprise to me. From the outset I have argued that what might be a creative and meaningful exercise in community organizing and local accountability will, however,likely be a waste of time. 

Months ago, I suggested to friends and colleagues in my congregation that I had reservations about the Bank Fair as it was presented to us.  I also offered some broad suggestions about how this event might be strengthened as well as a willingness to be in dialogue with BCPJ re: my concerns. As you know, my congregation eventually chose not to endorse or participate in the Bank Fair because we continue to see it as deeply flawed.  (Of course, individuals are always free to act upon their own conscience in our tradition and I know some of our members will be present.)

My concerns remain:

+ First, powerful organizations only respond to power and self-interest.  This is community organizing 101.  As virtuous and compassionate about the common good as BCJP might be – and that is not clearly expressed in your Bank Fair promotional materials – you are not yet an organization of power that is recognized in our region.  And that is the fundamental reason why institutional participation in the Bank Fair is likely to be so small:  there is no energy or pressing need that compels the financial community to the table.

Second, it appears to me that precious little study has gone into the creation of this event. To be sure, an extensive laundry-list of questions for the banks was created;but many of these questions strike me as unnecessarily confrontational and/or ideological.  To my knowledge, no one has yet done the hard homework that makes a community based public event a success.  Has BCPJ conducted a series of one-on-one interviews with local banking leaders? What does your research concerning local lending practices suggest about the integrity of our institutions? Have there been a series of community meetings throughout the region to determine whether or not a real issue even exists?

Please understand that I am not uncomfortable with taking a prophetic stand should injustice or avarice threaten the common good.  I have been a supporter of the Occupy Movement from its inception and celebrate the creative ways they have called our nation to conscience. My concern with the Bank Fair, however, is that a real “issue” has not been clearly cut for this event.  Rather,it appears to be more of a small public witness of frustration against a perceived danger than anything else – and consequently will go largely unnoticed.  To me, this is an opportunity lost.   

BCPJ has a long history of solitary public vigils that have their place in pursuit of democracy and social justice.  I am more interested in altering the power dynamics in the community. If you would like to explore these ideas further, or be in dialogue with me about where our paths may cross, I will look forward to hearing from you.

Respectfully,
James Lumsden
The Reverend Dr. James Lumsden

We'll see where this leads...

To begin at the beginning...

NOTE:  Here are my worship notes for Sunday, June 10, 2012. This will actually be our first Sunday in my summer series:  The Top 7 Key Stories of the Old and New Testaments.

Introduction

More than at any other time in my life – including the social chaos of the late 60s, the potential for mutually assured nuclear annihilation in the 80s and the political and economic polarization of our own era – I believe that people of faith are called to:

… live calmly in the middle of the chaos, live productively in an arena of waste, live lovingly within the maelstrom of individualism and live gently in a world filled with violence. (Joan Chittister)

This is neither romantic utopianism nor spiritual denial, beloved:  it is a calling from God by faith – an embodied alternative to the status quo – a living vision of God’s creative word for our moment in time.  You see, the Church, the Synagogue or the Mosque was not ordained and brought into life simply to serve as a spiritual club – a religious alliance that only reinforces our particular prejudices and fears – but rather our sacred associations were given shape and substance by God to provide a living alternative to the greed, sin and death that surrounds us.

·       That’s what the 19^th century American evangelicals meant when they told us that the church was not born to become a museum of saints, but rather a hospital for sinners.

·       And that’s what the opening words of the Jewish/Christian Bible tell us, too in Genesis:

In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God^* swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, ‘Let there be light’; and there was light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.

Today, in the first of a summer series exploring the 7 Key Stories of the Old and New Testaments, I want to start at the beginning with you: 

·         I want to think out loud with you about why we begin at the beginning

·         I want to share some key insights from the Biblical texts that are essential for living faithful

·         And I want to encourage you at the deepest level to wrestle with both the wisdom and challenge of this sacred story so that you make it your own

Apparently the ancient teachers of Israel prohibited people from reading Genesis One until they were at least 40 years old – or until they had proven to possess a measure of wisdom – whichever came first.  I am going to trust that those of us here today fall into at least one of those categories, ok?  I am also going to trust that you want to go deeper into the foundations of our faith not only for the blessings they will bring you personally, but also so that you can be a part of God’s creative healing of the world.

I am clear that in “a world given over almost entirely to the superficial and tinny,” God’s people are called to offer depth – and integrity – and a measure of wisdom.  “In a world that has been seduced by gimmicks and quick fixes…” we have a unique role to play in sharing God’s “good news for hard times.”

The invitation of faith, to paraphrase Sr. Joan Chittister, is to show others:

… how to see the word as good (without sugar-coating the evil), to show people that their needs are legitimate  (but only in balance with God’s will) and that human support for the common good is essential (lest the chaos and darkness overcome the light of the cosmos.)

So, let’s begin at the beginning of the Bible with the first story:  the ordering of Creation.  Bereishit bara Elohim et hashamayim ve'et ha'aretz – in the beginning of God’s creating the heavens and the earth.

Insights

The first thing you need to know about this story is that it was designed to give people of faith a lens through which they might look at reality and make sense of their world.  There is a precise organization to this story that I will describe it in a moment that strives to give folk both shape and order to a world that sometimes feels malevolent and appears chaotic.

·       At our Monday night book discussion, we talked a little about this – how many of us have acquired a lens through which we look at the world - that helps us evaluate and make sense out of our experience. 

·        Someone mentioned the metaphor of gardening as their guide – how there are weeds and work, seeds and sunlight and all the rest – and this gives them a way to create understanding of life’s ups and downs.  Another mentioned balance as a lens for comprehending how to best use time and energy and resources.

·         Are you with me?  Am I communicating? 

Well, the story of creation in Genesis One is a lens through which the people of Israel were invited to see God creating order out of the chaos.    Their temple had been destroyed, the holy city of Jerusalem had been sacked and most of the wealthy, educated elite had been driven into exile in 587 BCE.

Like anyone experiencing such anguish and loss, at first our cousins in faith were in shock.  Psalm 137 puts it like this:

 By the rivers of Babylon—there we sat down and there we wept when we remembered Zion.On the willows^* there we hung up our harps. For there our captors asked us for songs and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying, ‘Sing us one of the songs of Zion!’  How could we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land? If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand wither! Let my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth, if I do not remember you, if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy.

It was agony, yes?  The bottom had fallen out on reality – everything they knew and cherished had been taken from them – they were literally strangers and exiles in a strange and brutal land.  It reminds me of something the great jazz trumpeter, Wynton Marsalis, wrote in his primer on jazz history.  He said that as a Black American musician it is always painful for him to hear the early music of New Orleans referred to as “Dixieland” because… what do you think?  “Somehow the music of my people was identified with the Confederacy’s battle hymn:  you play about freedom, but we’ll make it an homage to your enslavement.” (Moving to Higher Ground, p. 91)

·       As a middle class, white intellectual and musician, I never thought about it like that – an homage to the Confederacy - but that’s because I hadn’t looked at life through brother Marsalis’ lens 

·       That’s part of what this creation story offers us:  a way of seeing life from the bottom up – from those wounded and enslaved – who ached for an alternative to the pain and chaos.

And that’s exactly what the exiled priests and leaders of Israel began to do in their captivity: they began to retell their own story of God’s love through the lens of Sabbath.

How is it stated in the 10 Commandments?

Remember the Sabbath day, and keep it holy. For six days you shall labor and do all your work. But the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work—you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns. For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but rested the seventh day; therefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and consecrated it.

The Sabbath is about freedom – about experiencing in our everyday lives the love and grace of God – it is an encounter with blessing and beauty.  So, within the context of their exile and pain, the enslaved Jewish imagination returned to Sabbath as the fundamental guideline for helping their people move from anguish to hope.  In fact, Sabbath becomes the lens through which everything else makes sense – from the beginning of time until right now – and even beyond – if you have eyes to see and ears to hear.

Because Sabbath is about freedom – about light and enlightenment – about beauty and grace in a world obsessed and surrounded with work.  Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel puts it like this:

The meaning of Sabbath is to celebrate time rather than space. Six days a week we live under the tyranny of things of space; on the Sabbath we try to become attuned to holiness in time. It is a day on which we are called up to share in what is true… the mystery of creation… for it is not a date but an atmosphere… to set apart one day a week for freedom, a day on which we would not use the instruments which have been so easily turned into weapons of destruction, a day for being with ourselves, a day of detachment from the vulgar, independence from external obligation, a day of armistice in the economic struggle with our fellow man and the forces of nature… is this not a way of realizing hope?

The ancient priests and rabbis, you see, began to retell the story of God’s people in Israel through the lens of Sabbath – emphasizing the call to order and freedom it affords – and making it the very first story of the Bible.  In history, of course, Genesis One is NOT the first story of the Jewish people – that would go back to the very origins of Israel as a nation in Palestine about 1350 BCE – and includes the stories of the Abraham and the patriarchs as well as Moses and the Exodus.  But historicity was not the fundamental goal of Genesis One: 

·        The priests and scholars living in exile in Babylon needed to renew the hearts of their people, strengthen their unique identity in the midst of slavery and possible assimilation and restore a sense of hope and purpose to a wounded tribe, yes?  

·         So, they were inspired to reshape a new identity born of the Sabbath.

And the entire structure of this story is saturated in Sabbath commitments.  Jon Levenson, Professor of Jewish Studies at Harvard University, writes:

 Genesis One is ordered toward the Sabbath, which is its finale.  The passage is divided into a set of seven days:  six of creative labor and one of repose. The organization of this text around strings of seven and its multiples extends far beyond the sequence of days in the primal week.  For example, seven times we read that “God saw that it was created and that it was good…” the word God occurs thirty-five times in the passage and the word for earth twenty-one… and thirty-five is also the number of words in the Hebrew original… about God’s observance of the primordial Sabbath (in which all of creation is pleasing and very good.) So the Sabbath is… the apex and culmination of the opening passage of Genesis… threading numerous sets of seven and its multiples into the text to underscore the preciousness of the Sabbath and its divine origins.

It is as if the early sages were saying that everything God does points towards Sabbath – and freedom – for those with eyes to see, right? 

·       The story BEGINS with God creating order out of chaos – the earth was a formless void (no order) and only darkness covered the face of the deep (a poetic reference to a much older Babylonian myth about the monsters of chaos just below the surface) – so God speaks a word: let there be light and there was light.  

·        And God saw that the light was good and so separates the light from the darkness.  God gave each a name, too and begins a process of separating creation in ways that helps us comprehend what strengthens or diminishes Sabbath.

Do you get a sense of what is happening here:  how chaos is being overcome by God’s creative word that results in the separation of the light from the darkness?  Step by step, this new creation story born of exile and slavery describes how God alone – not magic or politics or anything created by humankind – brings chaos under control.  This is how freedom and hope emerge we are being taught: by learning how God creates and maintains separation and order.

·       Look at the heavens and the oceans, the animals and the vegetation, the day and the night, the sun and the moon, the waters and the land. 

·       All of this creation – and all of this separation – is called good by the Lord – and you should know that when the Bible tells us that that when “God saw every thing that he had made and behold it was very good” that means what God saw was “a perfect reflection of God’s thought.”

So when God created humanity in the divine image – that is, created a living being with the powers of thought and discernment, spiritual insight, the ability to communicate and to think beyond the needs of mere survival -  this was the final act of creation.   At which point in time, what does the story say?

And it was so. God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day. Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all their multitude. And on the seventh day God finished the work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all the work that he had done. So God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it, because on it God rested from all the work that he had done in creation. 

Sabbath… right?  At the crown of creation – after humanity is made in God’s own image – the Lord sees that it is just as God intended so…  the Lord rests and Sabbath is established as the heart of God’s will.

This was the vision – the lens – that shaped those in slavery and exile in Babylon.  This was the organizing principle that shaped Jewish identity when they finally returned to Jerusalem to rebuild it and the Temple 50 years later.  This is hope a people regained hope and purpose:  they learned to see reality through God’s eyes.

·       With confidence, they could announce that God is in control whether we see it or not.  God is moving the chaos of reality in ways that bring us closer to freedom and Sabbath whether we sense it or not.

·       And we can either celebrate God’s plan through participation in Sabbath living or be a part of the chaos that subverts God’s will through opposition – and that choice is one that rings true for our generation, too.

Conclusion

As Christians, we took this ancient Hebrew story of God’s battle against the chaos and made it our own in the gospel according to St. John – with a few important changes:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life,^* and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

You can see the parallels, of course, right?  How since the beginning of creation the very essence of Jesus has been part of God’s plan – that’s why we call Jesus the Word – for whenever God speaks the essence of Christ is made clear.  And in the beginning God spoke by the Spirit to bring order out of the chaos – and that is what Christ does in our lives – moves us from separation and sin into community and intimacy with God and one another.

And here’s the challenge:  in both the Hebrew and Christian story of creation the blessings of order and grace can be reversed.  By refusing to honor God’s work in creation – by choosing to become allies of injustice – human beings can disturb the fragile balance between creation and chaos.

We can become co-creators of the darkness rather than the light.  That’s why it is vital to know which lens you use to make sense of the world?  What vision guides your insights and habits and hopes and dreams?

·       Our lens – our vision – is NOT guided by the Republicans or the Democrats.  It is NOT given shape and form only by our race, gender, wounds or nationality.

·       Our vision is shaped by God’s will and grace – it is born of Sabbath and freedom – and anything less encourages the chaos.

Have I been clear?  Have I made a case for why we begin with the beginning?  Have I outlined what about this beginning tells us about God’s will for our lives?  As I said at the start, our vision will help us:

… live calmly in the middle of the chaos, live productively in an arena of waste, live lovingly within the maelstrom of individualism and live gently in a world filled with violence.   

So let those who have ears to hear:  hear.

 

What lens do you use to make sense of your world...

Tonight, in our on-going conversation about Parker Palmer's Healing the Heart of Democracy, I asked the group:  "What lens - or story - do you use to make sense of your world?"  I suggested that the Jewish/Christian scriptures begin with a worldview shaped by the need to bring order out of chaos. Using the rhythm and wisdom of Sabbath keeping, those who shaped the worship life of 6th century BCE Judaism in Babylon helped their people grasp that God is always at working creating order out of chaos - even when life appears a shapeless void.

In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.Then God said, ‘Let there be light’; and there was light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.

Then I noted that Miles Davis used a different lens - the Dorian mode in Dm - to play with jazz convention in his masterwork, "So What?" and this too gives shape and form to what might otherwise be chaos.  The structure is simple - Dorian for 16 bars, move up a half step for the next 8 bars and then back to Dm for the final 8 - but when you create this foundation for the improvisation of Coltrane, Cannonball Adderely, Miles and Bill Evans ... ooh, la, la mes amies: c'est magnifique!

And with that we were off:  some saw life through the lens of their garden, others used balance to bring life into focus, a few relied on the KISS (keep it simple, sweetie) rule (of as Jesus might say: unless ye become as a child...) and mine had to do with seeing experience through the life, death and resurrection - and now the ascension - of Christ. There are other insights, to be sure, that guide how we process and interpret the meaning of our experiences; tonight we hit upon a few that deserve more attention over the next three weeks.

Palmer uses the metaphor of a broken heart to organize our contemporary life. He asks: do our broken hearts "break apart or break open?  And his lens created another deep conversation about American politics, religion and the search for meaning.  We see a lot of the current fear, scapegoating and mean-spiritedness as hearts break apart.  For as Parker writes: those who are able to help their hearts break open have made a commitment to letting all the "little deaths" life brings to us like disappointment, failure, disease and loss in love help us move beyond ourselves.

How did Jesus put it in Luke 17: 33: Those who try to make their life secure will lose it, but those who lose their life will keep it?  Dig it...

A mystical sweet surprise...

It isn't quite clear to me when I realized my mystical sensibilities, but they've always been a part a part of this journey.  I just didn't have the words - or encouragement - to openly connect all the dots.  Sometime in Cleveland, however, after discovering the Community of Celebration in Aliquippa, PA - and spending time with the writing of both Joan Chittister and Kathleen Norris - the truths of a mystical spirituality started to become real for me.  And this blessing has been a sweet surprise for nearly 25 years.

Recently, I have found encouragement and insight in the words of Fr. Richard Rohr who has been summarizing part of the mystic's quest in his notes from a European encounter.

Mysticism is when God’s presence becomes experiential for you, as opposed to intellectual. Mystics are not talking about belief systems, but rather a felt sense of Mystery.  A hallmark of mystics is the integration within themselves of what I have identified as the Ego's Four Splits. To create our mental ego, our false self, there are Four Splits that the mind goes through. I'm going to very simply describe the Four Splits for you and show you how, in embracing the way of the mystics and people like Francis, we just might “get it” earlier than at the very end of our lives.

The First Split: Self from Others

The First Split is the split between my self and your self.  “I'm here, and you're over there.”  We would call that dualistic consciousness. We learn to see this way as children, and most of us live with it for the rest of our days.  In the first half of life (and for many, into the chronological second half of life), we spend most of our time just accentuating and accessorizing that separate self.  “This is me. That's you.  I'm better than you; you’re smarter than me. I'm better looking than you; you’re wealthier than me.” It's all about separation, and using the self as the central reference point.  The modern word we use for this Split is the ego. This is the first Split to form, and usually the last to die.

When Jesus commands us to love our neighbor and to love the enemy, he's training us in overcoming this split. What you do to another, you do to yourself. What you do to the neighbor, you do to Christ. “You are one in God, and one in me,” so it becomes what Julian of Norwich calls “Oneing”: overcoming the splits, little by little, so in the end there's just One. As Jesus said, “I and the Father are one.” The whole point of Christianity is the experience of unity with creation, with the neighbor, with the enemy, and with God. This creates a basis for universal mysticism. God is not so far away. God is not so transcendent. God is not found in glory, but in humility. It really re-positions the spiritual journey. Now the goal is the bottom, not the top.

The Second Split: Life from Death

The Second Split is the split between life and death. We come to this as children, when we first experience loss, perhaps the death of a grandparent or beloved pet. They were alive a moment ago, but are suddenly gone forever. It just boggles the mind. Suddenly, instead of being an integrated whole, life is here and death is somewhere else.

Once you integrate that life and death are one, you are not afraid of death anymore. You don’t waste any more time and energy in a neurotic building, defending and protecting in avoidance of disappearing.  There's nothing to be afraid of, and you can’t avoid it anyway. You are already living the seamless process. Francis says, “Face the first death, and the second death can do you no harm.” He is pointing to the death of the illusion of the separate self (the first death) vs. the death that is ascension to the Beloved (second death).  Francis made a proactive move into death. In other words, he met life at the bottom, at the place of humility, at the place where there was nothing to lose. The place where reality, every moment, is what it is.

The Third Split: Body from Mind

The Third Split is that we separate our body from our mind.  The mind is given pre‑eminence in almost all people. It might take different cultural forms, but this little machine called the mind starts steering and judging, analyzing and fixing, controlling and dominating.  Most people think they are their thinking. That's what contemplation aims to resolve; to let you find the deeper self that exists previous to your thinking about it. The self prior to the judgments you make, the preferences you have. It doesn't matter what you think; your thinking doesn't make it so. You are part of something bigger than your thinking can even hint at. Perhaps it's easier for us to see this in our children with mental handicaps or Down's syndrome.  We can see the divine image in them so easily, almost because they're not their minds.

I'm sure that so many of the problems we have—addiction, obesity, anorexia—they're all this rejection of the body; a result of feeling the body is not good, not holy.  I'm sure sexual addiction also is just a body trying to compensate; feeling so unloved, so disconnected, it tries to connect in False Self ways that don't really work.

There's no point in hating this—which Jesus never does. Jesus shows tremendous compassion for what we later called “the sins of the flesh.” Jesus is only hard on what we call “the sins of the spirit”: arrogance, pride, hypocrisy; these are the sins that really destroy the soul. Jesus is not localizing sin in the material universe (sins of the flesh or sins of weakness). Sins of the spirit and the mind—these are the sins that really separate you from God.  So the alternative orthodoxy that's emerging is orthopraxy instead of verbal orthodoxy: adopting an orthodox, gospel-based way of life instead of just saying the right words and thinking the right thoughts.

Each of Rohr's summaries sings true to me - and invite me to go deeper.  For more information, see: http://secure.lenos.com/lenos/cac/FranciscanMysticism2012/

Sometimes you just have to let go...

I threw out my prepared Trinity Sunday notes this morning after reading the gospel according to St. John... Sometimes you just have to let go and follow the Spirit, yeah?  It just seemed like the right thing to do so I asked the folk, "Has anyone here ever felt God's spirit from above alive in your heart or lives?"  The text was clear:

There was a man of the Pharisee sect, Nicodemus, a prominent leader among the Jews. Late one night he visited Jesus and said, "Rabbi, we all know you're a teacher straight from God. No one could do all the God-pointing, God-revealing acts you do if God weren't in on it." Jesus said, "You're absolutely right. Take it from me: Unless a person is born from above, it's not possible to see what I'm pointing to—to God's kingdom."

"How can anyone," said Nicodemus, "be born who has already been born and grown up? You can't re-enter your mother's womb and be born again. What are you saying with this 'born-from-above' talk?" Jesus said, "You're not listening. Let me say it again. Unless a person submits to this original creation—the 'wind-hovering-over-the-water' creation, the invisible moving the visible, a baptism into a new life—it's not possible to enter God's kingdom. When you look at a baby, it's just that: a body you can look at and touch. But the person who takes shape within is formed by something you can't see and touch—the Spirit—and becomes a living spirit.

"So don't be so surprised when I tell you that you have to be 'born from above'—out of this world, so to speak. You know well enough how the wind blows this way and that. You hear it rustling through the trees, but you have no idea where it comes from or where it's headed next. That's the way it is with everyone 'born from above' by the wind of God, the Spirit of God." And Nicodemus asked, "What do you mean by this? How does this happen?"

So I asked:  have you experienced - known - encountered this power from above that Jesus is referencing in today's gospel reading.  Some clearly had - so I continued noting that if some had, then others hadn't - and why is that?  Sometimes we're too damn busy.  Other times we're such control junkies that we push the Spirit away.  And then there are the times we obsess and embrace only our wounds - define all of creation by our failings or pain - but refuse to let God bring healing.  "All of these acts," I suggested, "keep us from experiencing the promised love from above.  So is that what you want?  To lock the blessings of the Holy Spirit out of your lives...?"

Then two suggestions popped up:  First, if you haven't known or trusted God's Spirit in your lives, maybe now is the time to make that a priority.  Other things can wait - maybe this is the time to let down your defenses and trust that God will come to you just as you need God - so what do you have to lose? Second, if you have already known that love and power from above, maybe now is a good time to ask how are you letting it lead?  "Our only task," you see, "is to follow.  We're not in charge. We're disciples.  There is already One God and One Lord - that job is already taken - but followers... disciples... Christ still is calling us to pick up the Cross and follow."

From time to time I have learned I just have to toss away my prepared material and go with what the Spirit is saying to my heart.  And most of the time this let's me get out of the way long enough for the Spirit to speak to the congregation in ways I would never have imagined.  Like the story says at the end:   God didn't go to all the trouble of sending his Son merely to point an accusing finger, telling the world how bad it was. Christ came to help, to put the world right again. And anyone who trusts in God is acquitted.

Thanks be to God.

When the rain comes...

Today was going to include some weeding and gardening, but when the rain comes (as my boys used to say in that great psychedelic B side) "they run and hide their heads" - and that includes me, too.

Some fascinating new books have arrived on my desk/bedside that point to an eclectic summer of study:

+ Insurrection by Peter Rollins.  I LOVE this cat who is a creative philosopher, Christian man of faith and doubt, and an excellent story teller.  At the heart of this book is the following insight: To believe is human, to doubt is divine. Therefore, the heart of the Christian faith is not about life after death but with the possibility of a vibrant life before death.

+ The Writing on the Wall by Maggi Dawn.  This just arrived from the UK - an exploration of high art, popular culture and the Bible - and mirrors my own quest for the Top Seven Stories of the Old and New Testaments!  And in an introduction that would suggest Ms. Dawn has been reading my emails, she writes:  The inspiration for this book came from hundreds of conversations with students at the University of Cambridge who, in the course of reading various Arts subjects, have knocked on my door to ask what the significance of this or that biblical or theological allusion might be: who is the King of Glory in the Messiah, why do the characters in Hamlet suffer such anxieties over death and hell... and just who were the cheesemakers?  Looks like another winner from
a favorite writer.

+ What Matters by Wendell Berry. This is Berry's clearest critique of our current moral, political and economic crisis from his agrarian Christian wisdom.  He is all over sustainability and the pursuit of integrity for the land, the soul, our food and how we use out resources.  Given the on-going exhaustion of our so-called economy, Berry's wisdom resonates:  Ours, is not, in fact, in any respectable sense an economy," he writes, "but rather a financial system based on easy credit, cheap energy, over-consumption, unsupportable "development," waste, fantasy, bubbles and sometimes nothing at all. It is now undeniable - though some will attempt to deny it - that we are involved deeply and intricately in an economic disaster..."

+ The Transition Companion by Rob Hopkins.  From the founder of the Transition movement in the UK, this volume of practical insights shows local communities how to organize a broad-based grassroots "green agenda" that gets results.

+ Moving to Higher Ground by Wynton Marsalis.  The great one's guide to "how jazz can change your life" is a fun and insightful read.  His goal is to demystify jazz so that people beyond the elite can access the beauty embodied in jazz improvisation, cooperation, listening and responding to movement of the spirit.

+ Deep Waters by Barbara Nadel.  Part of her on-going series of mysteries set in Istanbul, Turkey.

+ The Jewish Annotated New Testament, eds Amy-Jill Levine and Marc Zvi Brettler.  Every night I read one of the essays at the end of this volume and wonder, "Why didn't I know that?"  Not only is this an important contribution to Jewish-Christian dialogue, but helps preachers and pastors truly ground Christ in his Jewish context while breaking down unhealthy stereotypes.  Brilliant.

And I'm still working my way through Wendell Berry's sabbath poems, A Timbered Choir, as well as rereading Gertud Mueller-Nelson's take on Christian formation for the whole family, To Dance with God.  So let the rain keep coming...

Another blessed sabbath...

Today we slept LATE - shared tea and the NY Times on the deck - and then weeded part of the garden:  it was another blessed Sabbath rest in the Berkshires.  We also spent time talking about the New Jewish Annotated New Testament, building and strengthening the artistic expression of our church band (Between the Banks) and grooving to the Montreal Jazz Festival later this month.  (OMG:  Bill Frissell will be at Club Soda as will Esperanza Spalding and Victor Wooten.  Jack Bruce and Ron Carter, too!)  NOTE:  I LOVE the scene at Montreal's CLUB SODA.  It is a small venue with a real alt/metal feel that is totally comfortable hosting the most incredible types of music. We saw the Cinematic Orchestra there four years ago and have never been the same because it was so creative, alive and intimate.  I can't wait to go back...

As the day ripened, we talked about my sabbatical in a year or two: there is a helpful and insightful process set up by the Lily Foundation that encourages pastors and congregations to work together and help their clergy person find a way to renew his/her soul and keep fresh and engaged for ministry.  I know that after five years of serious work I am growing physically tired.  And while I LOVE this gig - it is a blessing and we're just starting to go into deep territory on so many levels - I need refreshment, too.  Even though I practice reasonably good self care, I've never taken a real sabbatical in almost 30 years of ordained ministry. So... to everything there is a season, yes?

So we're starting to think about what it would mean for me to take 3+ months in Montreal doing jazz bass lessons along with French language work.  Music is such a key component of my spiritual life and our renewal work at church that I sense going deeper in study and practice - and exploring the writing of others doing jazz liturgy - would be just what the doctor ordered for my heart, soul and body. And doing all of this in another context - my heart soars in Montreal - would be sweet beyond comprehension.  There are a lot more of things to explore about this, to be sure, but I think the essence of a sabbatical is beginning to emerging.

A poem from Wendell Berry's sabbath writings comes to mind:

A man with some authentic worries
And many vain and silly ones,
I am well-schooled in sleeplessness;
I know it from the inside out.
I breathe, and I know what's at stake.

But still sometimes I'm sane and sound,
However heart or head may ache;
I go to sleep when I lie down.
With no determined care to breathe,
I breathe and live and sleep and take

A sabbath from my weariness.
I rest in an unasking trust
Like clouds and ponds and stones and trees.
The long-arising Day will break
If I should die before I wake.

Tomorrow there is grass to cut and weeds to pull - and maybe "Snow White" to see in our favorite little cinema. This has been another blessed and restful Sabbath - and I am grateful to God.

More thoughts about the top 7 stories...

Ok, Wendell Berry articulates the challenge like this in What Matters? (Economics for a Renewed Commonwealth). 

To deal with the problems, which after all are inescapable (i.e. economic, social, political and moral that arise through greed, obsession and an atrophied imagination) I suggest that we may have to remove some of the emphasis we have lately placed on science and technology and have a new look at the arts. For an art does not propose to enlarge itself by limitless extension, but rather to enrich itself within bounds that are accepted prior to the work. 

It is the artists, not the scientists, who have dealt unremittingly with the problem of limits. A painting, however, large, must finally be bounded by a frame or a wall. A composer or playwright must reckon, at a minimum, with the capacity of an audience to sit still and pay attention... (And) within these (various) limits artist achieve elaborations of pattern, of sustaining relationships of parts with one another and with the whole that may be astonishingly complex. Probably most of us can name a painting, a piece of music, a poem or play or story that still grows in meaning and remains fresh after many years of familiarity. (Berry, p. 51)

To my mind, Berry offers a helpful albeit complicated way of reclaiming common ground for moral discourse:  embrace the limits of time, sense, culture and physical stamina.  Hence my decision to look for the top SEVEN important stories in both the New and Old Testaments.  There are some other limits to this search, too:

+ In a commitment to Christian formation, one of the key challenges has to be identifying stories from within our Judeo-Christian heritage that illuminate both the quest for personal integrity and our calling to serve the common good, yes?  In other words, what are our historic Biblical guidelines for framing an ethics of faith, hope and love?

+ Simultaneously, I sense that these stories must also point us towards a spiritual presence that is greater than ourselves.  Our ethics must resonate with the life, death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus: anything less all too easily becomes utilitarian in our context - especially given our addiction to marketplace metaphors and bottom line demands.

So, the search becomes more focused:  what stories do we need to encourage and empower 21st century people towards compassionate living?  What stories provide a window into the upside down kingdom that Jesus celebrates?  What stories help us wrestle with the Paschal Mystery, too?

In the same Wendell Berry essay, he notes that when Dr. Faustus asks Mephistophilis about hell, the servant of Lucifer replies:  "Why, this is hell,l nor am I out of it... Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed in one self place, but where we (the damned) are is hell, and where hell is we must ever be."  Berry concludes:  "For those who reject heaven, hell is everywhere and thus is limitless. For them, even the thought of heaven is hell." 

I value your insights and replies, dear friends, so don't be shy...