Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Sabbath, sabbaticals, mourning and renewal...

NOTE: We just got home from band practice - three FULL hours of working on wooden and electric music for our Sunday, August 17th gig for the Berkshire Environmental Action Team - and it was a gas! I am SO grateful for my band of musical magicians who are vulnerable, committed and so compassionate. I love them beyond words and they feed my soul. So, all day long my worship notes have been lost in the ether net and no matter what I tried I couldn't find them. So, we sat down, had a glass of red wine and tried a bunch of things and all of a sudden: voila - they returned. This is the close of my summer series re: Sabbath and it sets up a year long emphasis on sabbatical. Please come join us for worship if you are in town this Sunday: and without a doubt come on up to the house for the 3 pm gig!


The brightest and most compassionate people I know understand that perhaps the only thing we ALL share in church… is a sense of loss: There isn’t a person here today who has not known death – or heart break. You would be a liar if you told me you had never known shame or grief. And every one of us has been bewildered and perplexed while looking upon the staggering suffering that runs rampant in our world.

Whether it is the suicide of Brother Robin Williams or the revolting and vicious execution of Yazidi women and children by ISIS guerillas in Iraq, we know what that emotional punch to our solar plexus feels like and it hurts. It hurts like hell. And that’s why the people of wisdom teach us that the fundamental truth we all share is a sense of loss.

Fr. Richard Rohr of the Center for Contemplation and Action in Albuquerque, NM teaches that because we all suffer and know the pain of loss, what we do with our pain matters:  it matters to our neighbors and it matters to our families, it matters to our economy and our politics and it matters to our soul. So, he continues, we either learn to transform our pain or we will transmit it. And transforming our pain is at the core of our Christian spirituality.

+  What else is Jesus teaching the world from the Cross when in agony he cries out:  Father, forgive them for then know not what they do?

+ Notice he doesn’t say: God damn these wicked sinners – look what they’ve done to me by piercing my hands and my side and hanging me out in the sun to suffocate as a common criminal?  Nor does he say: Give me drugs to take away all of this pain – I can’t face it – and I don’t deserve it. No, he takes all the pain the world can give him – holds it inside so that he doesn’t push it out on innocent people – and asks God’s grace to transform it so that the pain of evil and sin is NOT transmitted to others.

It is a beautiful but terrifying thing Jesus shows us. Father Rohr writes that our pain has something to teach us – we probably won’t like it – and we will resist holding on to it because it hurts so much. But we must hold on to our pain until it teaches us its lesson: Don’t get rid of your pain until you’ve learned its lessons:

(For) when you hold the pain consciously and trust fully, you are in a very special liminal space. This is a great teaching moment where you have the possibility of breaking through to a deeper level of faith and consciousness. Hold the pain of being human until God transforms you through it – don’t pass it on and transmit it to others - and you will be an instrument of transformation (and peace) for others.

Do you remember the Prayer of St. Francis?  It begins:  Make me an instrument of your peace…

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:
Where there is hatred, let me sow love; 
where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is discord, harmony; where there is error, truth;
Where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; 
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

When we commit ourselves to the journey of letting God transform our pain into peace and compassion so that we don’t transmit it and dump it all over the world, we become active, honest, broken and grace-filled followers of Jesus. How did he put it in this morning’s gospel reading: “Listen and under-stand: it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person… but what comes out of their mouth.” And when the Lord’s disciples said, “Oh come on, will you explain this to us,” I sense that in exasperation Jesus told them:
Do you not see that whatever goes into the mouth enters the stomach, and goes out into the sewer? But what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart and this is what defiles. For out of the heart come evil intentions, murder, adultery, fornication, theft, false witness, slander. These are what defile a person, but to eat with unwashed hands does not defile.”

Peterson’s reworking of this text is much less subtle and probably closer to the spirit in which Jesus spoke it – it is certainly closer to the Greek in the Bible. Listen carefully to the way Jesus replies to Peter’s question, “Can you put your mysteries into simple talk?” Christ responds:

Are you being willfully stupid, too? Don’t you know that anything that is swallowed works its way through the intestines and is finally defecated? But what comes out of the mouth gets its start in the heart. It’s from the heart that we vomit up evil arguments, murders, adulteries, fornications, thefts, lies, and cussing. That’s what pollutes. Eating or not eating certain foods, washing or not washing your hands—that’s neither here nor there-what pollutes ourselves and our world is what we do!

Precious little ambiguity there, right? And let’s be equally clear about the specific actions that Jesus names in his rant:  covetousness, murder, adultery, theft, false witness and slander. Do these sound at all familiar to you? They are the remaining six commandments of the Lord given to Moses on Mt. Sinai – the ones that come after honoring and keeping the Sabbath – the ones that have to do with loving our neighbor and caring for the common good.

·   You shall not murder - neither shall you commit adultery - neither shall you steal - neither shall you bear false witness against your neighbor – nor shall you covet your neighbor’s wife or desire your neighbor’s house, or field, or male or female slave, or ox, or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor.

Now I don’t know about you but I am blown away by how often Jesus teaches his first disciples – and by implication you and me, too – that Sabbath keeping is not only one of the ancient commandments, but that it is the key to right living and right thinking. Without it, it is much harder for God to transform our pain by grace and love, and we wind up transmitting our wounds in ways that defile us and hurt our neighbors.

·   That’s the first insight I want to share with you this morning:  Sabbath keeping is absolutely essential for you and me if we are to become instruments of God’s peace. We need time and rest, refreshment and renewal, quiet reflection and grace if our pain and loss is to be transformed by God’s love.That is part of what this whole year and next will be about for us as a congregation as we all prepare for a season of sabbatical.

I didn’t realize it when I started this summer series on Sabbath keeping, but one of the truths I have learned is that we have been given an incredible gift by God in the form of the Lilly grant we just received. Not only does this grant give me a time for deep Sabbath creativity – a season to let my heart sing as the grant application says – but it also provides as way for you – and I mean all of you – to playfully practice some creative Sabbath keeping as a congregation.  In fact, the grant would not have been awarded if there wasn’t a vibrant congregational component.  Too often, you see, clergy sabbaticals are only for the clergy.

·   I’ve talked with many of our lay leaders who’ve been around for a long time and what I heard is that while First Church has a long tradition of providing for clergy renewal and sabbaticals, there isn’t any tradition of simultaneously doing a congregational sabbatical.

·   In fact, the way I get it, often times the leadership felt the church was hanging on by their fingernails when the pastor was away: church participation slumped, things felt like they were grinding to a halt and while the minister was blessed, that blessing didn’t touch the congregation very deeply.

Well, that’s NOT what’s going to happen as we take a full 10 months to prepare for OUR sabbatical:  we have a congregational sabbatical planning team that will be at work to make sure YOU have fun in a creative and faithful way, too while I am away.  And let me tell you who is on that planning team:  David Noyes, Scott Eldridge, Holly Goodrich, Carlton Maaia, Liz Calderon, Sue Kelly, Renee Moretti and James and Ashley Burke.  They are going to make certain that this year of sabbatical makes a difference to YOU as well as me. 

·   Sabbatical keeping in all of its rich radicality is going to be at the heart of faith community over the next few years:  without grace and refreshment from God our pain cannot be transformed.  That’s the first thing I want to share with you.

·   And the second is this:  Sabbath keeping in the biblical tradition – and in our sabbatical planning – is a way for us to keep maturing in the way of God’s grace.  As one scholar said, the second part of today’s gospel shows us that even Jesus had to learn more about God’s kingdom – he had to grow and mature in the radical implications of grace – and it took an unclean woman from Canaan to teach him. David Lose writes what if:

Jesus’ own sense of God’s kingdom is challenged, stretched, and enhanced by his encounter with this fierce and faithful woman. Maybe, that is, Jesus is serious – that is, he believes he was sent only to the Israelites – and the woman takes him on and, in fact, persuades him that something larger is at stake. In this context, her “great faith” isn’t so much an amount, but rather is simply the fact that she just plain holds on. She won’t let Jesus go until she wrests a blessing from him on behalf of her daughter. Moms with sick kids are like that – they won’t let anything get in the way of their taking care of their child. Not unsympathetic doctors or health regulations or lousy insurance, not even a slightly narrow-minded messiah-type.

The gospel of Matthew tells us that the woman said to Jesus: “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.” But he did not answer her at all…so she knelt before him and pleaded: “Lord, help me.” To which Jesus said: “It would not be fair to take children’s food and throw it to the puppies.” But she persisted telling him: “Yes, Lord, but even the dogs get to eat the scraps that fall under the table.” And with that Jesus realized that her faith was great and said: Let it be done as you have said.” And her daughter was healed instantly.

Do you grasp the totally upside-down wisdom revealed in these eight sentences? Not only are we given a story about Jesus resisting sharing God’s grace with a woman, who was also an outsider to Israel, but we’re shown that he had a change of heart and mind because she was so insistent. Three key biblical clues warrant a comment:

·   First is the notion that Jesus, and by implication God, respond to the ups and downs of our lives with ever increasing compassion. Traditional doctrine states that Christ is always divine and perfect even in his humanity and God is always constant and in control.  And I’m not going to argue or subtract truth from doctrine, but rather let me add something to it.  Let me suggest that maybe what Jesus is showing us here is how even God chooses to respond in new ways in the cause of grace. Yes, God set creation in motion, but could it be that part of the divine nature is to also become ever more gracious?

·   Are you with me on that? Could it be that as humans live and life changes and matures, that God also responds to those changes, so that grace grows deeper? 

That’s how I see what’s going on in this story: at first Jesus doesn’t acknowledge this woman – after all she isn’t a part of his community – and his understanding of ministry was grounded in caring for the children of Israel.

She was an outsider – and we know this both because Jesus is now wandering outside of Israel in Tyre and Sidon in what is currently Lebanon and once was Syria – and because he calls her a dog.  A little dog, to be sure, but still a dog which is probably a racial slur – and on one level, this is very troubling. But on another it is very hopeful because not only is Christ’s notion of God’s kingdom expanded, but racial division is overcome in healing.

·   The second biblical comment is simply that this woman – like those in ancient Israel who were welcomed by God after the exile in Babylon 600 years before Christ – bowed down and knelt before Jesus. Now what do you know about kneeling? I found the scholarship of Professor Carla Works of Wesley Theological Seminary in Washington, DC to be very helpful. She writes:

The author of Matthew uses the action of kneeling as one befitting a king.
The magi, who are also Gentiles, are the first to offer worship to Jesus in this way (Matthew 2:2, 8, 11). The unrepentant slave bows before the king in the parable of unforgiving servant (Matthew 18:), and the mother of James and John kneel before Jesus as a king of a kingdom (Matthew 20:20). For the woman to treat Jesus in this manner is in keeping with her earlier declaration of Jesus as the Son of David. Kneeling is not only a sign of kingship, but also recognition of power. There is a connection between those who kneel before Jesus and the healings that Jesus performs. A leper kneels before Jesus and asks to be made clean (Matt 8:2). A ruler kneels and asks for his daughter’s healing (9:18). At the end of this Gospel, when the resurrected Lord appears, the disciples bow before him, and Jesus says that all authority in heaven and earth is his (28:17-18). Bowing in worship also recalls Jesus’ command to worship only the Lord God (4:9). This woman kneels before one whom she recognizes as having authority not only to sit on the throne of David, but to wield power over evil. (Working Preacher)

Once again a nontraditional person from the margins of society recognizes and names the movement of God’s gracious spirit in the world – and blessings abound. 

+  And that is the third biblical insight – on that Isaiah celebrated 600 years before Jesus – and one that always challenges the status quo:  she claims a place within the household of faith.  She doesn’t make unreasonable demands – she’s willing to take the crumbs from the table – but she still pushes the envelope in a radical way. I love how Professor Works puts it; this woman: places hope in what others have discarded. This Son of David has so much power that there is enough power for the house of Israel and more than enough left over for her. She is not trying to thwart his mission. She just wants a crumb, recognizing that even a crumb is powerful enough to defeat the demon that has possessed her daughter.

All of which brings me back to my starting place:  we all have known loss, we all have shared pain and our loss and pain CAN be a way into ever greater blessings if we are willing to learn the wisdom of our wounds. And over the 15 years – to say nothing of the past 250 years – there have been wounds and loss in our faith community.  To name a few of those wounds out loud just a few:

·   The economic and social tumult that transformed Pittsfield in the wake of General Electric’s departure.  As a congregation, we lost members and resources to say nothing of stature and influence with this loss.

·   Then there was the injury of my predecessor, the Rev. Dr. Richard Floyd, my colleague and friend. The tragedy of his biking accident not only turned his life upside down and created trauma in his family, but it forever scarred First Church, too. Not intentionally, but naturally as any profound pain always does:  there was hurt and anger, fear and anxiety and a deep loss of confidence in our future born of this loss.

·   And let’s not forget the loss of Lou Steigler after 50+ years of ministry here that went well beyond just music.  He was beloved – and trusted – a source of wisdom and stability – a symbol of tradition. And when it came time for his retirement, many of the long time members of First Church were troubled and afraid. Believe me, the anxiety was palpable.

·   Because, of course, not only was there all the loss I mentioned, but there was also the changes brought about by my ministry.  For the first few years I was here, the jury was still out for some and you made it very clear that only time and commitment would warrant anything more than suspicion. What's more I made it clear that we HAD to add new friends and allies to our core and today over one half of the people who are in worship have been here less than 5 years. That's a LOT of change.

We lost our friend and colleague Vicki Forfa in those early years, we wrestled with the greatest economic downturn since the Great Depression and we buried some of this congregation’s saints.  To say it has been a full and demanding – albeit it fruitful and sacred – time of ministry for me would be an understatement. Because, you see, now as I look back after seven years I see more clearly that for five full years we were grieving. It was necessary and vital, it was normal and healthy, but it was grieving.  One of my favorite writes, Jaco Hamman, from South Africa notes that “grief is the normal emotional, spiritual, physical and relational reaction to the experience of loss and change.” 

As I look at our work in anticipation of our share sabbatical, I want to name and own that:  for almost five years we were grieving. And then something changed – I don’t know exactly when or how it occurred – but I would like to name that change as mourning. We moved from grieving to mourning and “in contrast to grief…”

Mourning, is the intentional process of letting go of relationship, dreams, visions and more as the community lives into a new identity after the experience of loss and change. The work of mourning is into about replacement, but rather living through grief… as we move towards renewal and revitalization.

·   I believe our shared sabbatical is one of many signs that we have honored the holy work of mourning… and are moving into a new realm of grace and hope.

·   Like Jesus we have changed – like the woman who claimed her place at the table of grace, we have wrestled with the past and found a new vision – and like the prophet Isaiah we know that the old days are over and a new way of being God’s house of prayer for ALL people is dawning upon us.

So know this, good and faithful people of First Church, this sabbatical year is going to be FUN.  It is going to be playful and creative – it is going to help both you and me go deeper into grace – and it is going to be saturated in Sabbath rest.  What’s more, it is going to ask us – and invite us – and challenge us to:

Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don’t become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You’ll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you.

Our year of sabbatical living, beloved, has come – and it begins… NOW!

Monday, August 11, 2014

Gifts not wages...

Earlier today I stumbled across the words: God dispenses gifts, not wages. This is how I choose to see the world so they have been food for thought as this day unfolded...

... it began by finding out that a precious colleague and friend had spent the night in the hospital with his fiancee. Due to a mistake with medication it was essential that immediate medical attention be shared - and then carefully monitored. My heart seized up in fear and sadness with love for them both but I gave thanks to God that they have one another. And competent and creative medical support. And a community and families that cherish them both. Such things are terrifying and never the "will of the Lord." But God's presence is active even in our terror as love rises to the occasion and prayers are lifted up and dedicated servant work to reclaim life.

Then we went to a funeral. It was mostly emotionally flat with a few flashes of compassion but way too much sloppy agape piety. Death DOES hurt, God damn it. It changes everything. It is NOT moving through some invisible spiritual door so that we can wait in bliss until all our loved ones are restored to our embrace. It is not some game of holy Candy Land where God comforts us while the living continue with life without anguish or fear. Rather, death is terrifying and often cruel, it is painful and too often tragic and hurts like hell. AND... and it is also saturated with God's compassion at the same time. It is never either/or but mostly both/and. And too much American religion has been fed a diet of saccharine platitudes that divide our complex creation into phony categories of good and bad, right and wrong, light and darkness. As we stood in the back of an overflowing crowd of friends and family I kept praying: Please, Lord, make him stop. Please make him stop saying things that not only aren't true, but are cruel. Please erase our collective memory of things like 'now is the time God needed this one to go home" blah, blah, blah."

Then I had lunch with two men who want to study more deeply "a spirituality of imperfection." We shall see (btw that's the title of a great book by Ernest Kurtz that may become our guide.) After some follow-up phone calls to make sure we've dotted all the i's and crossed all the t's in the sabbatical acceptance paper work, there was a conversation with a local artists I've asked to serve on my sabbatical implementation team. 

Then it was off to the hospital to see a member brought in to the ER over the weekend. As I was leaving a young man who was very disoriented - and somewhat trashed - noticed my hospital ID and said, "Dude, semper fi. I need to get to the ER where my parents just dropped me off. I went to the car to get my ID and now I'm lost. Can you help me?" I led him around the hospital complex and learned that he was having a panic attack.  He had been drinking too much after completing basic training at Paris Island and was trying to get admitted to an alcohol detox unit. When I finally got him to the right place, he hugged me - this young, trashed, brave and bewildered Marine hugged me - an old, too heavy peace-loving ex-hippie pastor and said, "Semper fi, dude. Keep the faith." I came home and took a nap because there is still church council yet on today's agenda.

I do believe that God gives us gifts, not wages. I also know there is a terrible
amount of undeserved suffering in each day and God has called us to both share it and lessen it however we can. This, too, is a gift. When my heart breaks in fear or sorrow, when I pause to lift loved ones and strangers in prayer, when I take the time to listen and respond, my heart is strengthened and God gives me a gift. The suffering is not of the Lord, it is an invitation to share the gift of love and hope and compassion and even justice. So in that I give thanks today for the times that frightened me and pushed me beyond my comfort zone. I give thanks, too for each person who invited me to go deeper. Some days I get it - and others I blow it - and usually it is a combination of both. Good thing we're studying grace tonight at council...

Sunday, August 10, 2014

Hurt feelings, owning our part in the mess and shaking the dust off our sandals...

One of the hardest things about doing ministry in a small church is when some body gets their feelings hurt. There are lots of different ways this happens - all of them hurt - and all of them are unfortunate, but only some of them can be addressed. I remember the very first time I served Holy Communion at my first church in Saginaw, MI. Not only did I not know the Eucharistic set up drill, but no one told me.  So, I prepared the elements and was ready for worship when a lovely older couple showed up and SHE flipped out! "WE ALWAYS SET UP COMMUNION," she shouted at me. "HOW DARE YOU TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME."  And broke into tears as she stormed away.

Now, all these years later I can say, "Hmmmm, a little bit of over reaction, yes? What was really going on?" But I didn't know about such things back then. I was physically sick to my stomach. I apologized to the older gentlemen and by the time worship was over the woman had calmed down. She said to me, "I guess I was a little over the top?"  (You GUESS!?!) But she held on to that grudge all three years I was there and I never found a way beyond her hurt feelings.

When I took my next congregation in Cleveland, OH another Eucharistic error happened: Trinity Church came out of the Evangelical and Reformed side of the United Church merger; I grew up in the Congregational side of the family. In my tradition, all baptized folk were welcome at Christ's table - and we were not always particular about baptism - just an open heart. The theology of the Evangelical and Reformed side was much stricter.  So when my two young daughters, aged 5 and 7 respectively, took some bread as the plate was being passed, there was a collective GASP. Because, you see, in Trinity's tradition, only those who were confirmed were allowed to go to the Lord's Table. (NOTE: this was never disclosed either... see a theme?) 

To say that my elders were upset is an understatement. But I saw this as a teaching moment.  And we began a year long study into the meaning and different ways Holy Communion is celebrated in the United Church of Christ. We got through the hurt feelings and moved forward as a congregation, too.  There is an peculiar and sacred irony in that as our study matured, the very old man who set up Holy Communion for the congregation eventually came to me and said:  "You know, I don't think I was ever baptized!" So here was a whole bunch of angst over my two baptized daughters taking Eucharist when the man who had prepared the elements for probably 40 years had never received the OTHER sacrament! (NOTE: that Easter, when I baptized a number of kids from one of the local street gangs, my older friend was baptized, too.)

I still hate when feelings get hurt. I still get physically sick - but not for as long. And I also know that I am not the only reason for hurt feelings whether others own their baggage or not. After all these years, I have learned that at least HALF the problem has nothing to do with me. If people are willing to be adult people of faith - and both faithful and adult are operative - then we can find our way through the mess and even grow in love and respect. If not, I have to listen to Jesus who said: shake the dust off your sandals, man and keep moving. Life is too short. (Or something like that.)

One of the ways hurt feelings happen is when someone has an expectation that is never articulated. I quit trying to read people's minds about 25 years ago. They still act like I should try, but I don't do it any more. If someone has a need, they need to articulate it to me clearly. Sometimes more than once. And if they get called out for not doing this - or for not speaking to me directly about any perceived hurt - that's what adult people of faith mean by accountability. Life in a small church is wonderful, but sometimes very complicated.

It was a great Sabbath and I give thanks to God that the day is coming to a close.

Saturday, August 9, 2014

A hard truths and real tears...

A long-time colleague from my Cleveland days, the Reverend Dr. Marvin McMickle (now President of Colgate Rochester Crozer Seminary) recently posted this sober and insightful summary of the stalemate currently in play between Israel and Palestine on Facebook.  He writes:


The cease fire between the Palestinians and Israelis has ended again. Who could be surprised? This war is not about some simple grievance. This war involves two groups that are making an historic claim on the exact same land, and neither side is as of yet prepared to live side-by-side with the other. As John B. Judis points out in his book, Genesis: Truman, American Jews, and the Origins of the Arab/Israeli Conflict, this issue stretches back at least 100 years. It began when the need of Jewish people for a homeland resulted in immigration to the land that had long been occupied by the Palestinians. Every rocket fired by Hamas, and every air strike launched by Israel, is rooted in that history. Every tunnel dug by Hamas and every hour of border restrictions and economic sanctions by Israel simply pour more fuel on this fire of hatred and suspicion. Until both sides are willing to live side-by-side as neighbors without threatening the safety and security of either nation there will not likely be any peace in that troubled land. As Dr. King said in the title of his final book, Where Do We Go From Here?
Three important contextual notes are necessary:

+ First, when European Jews began to leave their homes in Russia and other anti-Semitic Eastern European nations, their departure was inspired by a new wave of violent pogroms. To be sure, the birth of a Zionist movement soon followed, but the origins of modern Israel begins with the pain, violence and despair of long-suffering Jewish people who were searching for a new and peaceful future. Many found new lives in the United States, Canada and other lands of hope and promise. That some Jews chose to explore possibilities in what was once their ancestral homeland strikes me as natural. 

+ Second, what should also be remembered in the return of some Jews to what was then part of the Ottoman Empire at the start of the 20th century (and later a British protectorate after WWI), is that much of the land they settled on was vacant.  Not all of it, but a great deal. Further, a great deal of this land was owned by absentee landlords from the Ottoman Empire and Egypt. These Muslim entrepreneurs willingly sold their property to Jews without first communicating their intention to their existing Palestinian  tenants. This, in my impression, makes the context ever more complicated.

+ Third, as President Obama noted in today's NY Times interview with Tom Freidman, the consequences of both European and Arab manipulation of this region - including Northern Africa - that dates back to WWI "is starting to buckle." This, of course, includes Syria, Iran and Iraq as well as Libya and Egypt. (check it out @ http://www.nytimes.com/2014/08/09/opinion/president-obama-thomas-l-friedman-iraq-and-world-affairs.html?_r=0)

With nuance and a wisdom born of sober experience (along with a healthy dose of Niebuhrian Christian realism) the President went on to observe:

It is amazing to see what Israel has become over the last several decades,” he answered. “To have scratched out of rock this incredibly vibrant, incredibly successful, wealthy and powerful country is a testament to the ingenuity, energy and vision of the Jewish people. And because Israel is so capable militarily, I don’t worry about Israel’s survival. ... I think the question really is how does Israel survive. And how can you create a State of Israel that maintains its democratic and civic traditions. How can you preserve a Jewish state that is also reflective of the best values of those who founded Israel. And, in order to do that, it has consistently been my belief that you have to find a way to live side by side in peace with Palestinians. ... You have to recognize that they have legitimate claims, and this is their land and neighborhood as well...
Asked whether he should be more vigorous in pressing Israel’s prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, and the Palestinian Authority’s president, Mahmoud Abbas, also known as Abu Mazen, to reach a land-for-peace deal, the president said, it has to start with them. Prime Minister Netanyahu’s “poll numbers are a lot higher than mine” and “were greatly boosted by the war in Gaza,” Obama said. “And so if he doesn’t feel some internal pressure, then it’s hard to see him being able to make some very difficult compromises, including taking on the settler movement. That’s a tough thing to do. With respect to Abu Mazen, it’s a slightly different problem. In some ways, Bibi is too strong [and] in some ways Abu Mazen is too weak to bring them together and make the kinds of bold decisions that Sadat or Begin or Rabin were willing to make. It’s going to require leadership among both the Palestinians and the Israelis to look beyond tomorrow. ... And that’s the hardest thing for politicians to do is to take the long view on things.

The absence of a long view, the political advantage violence brings to both Israel and Palestine, the uninhibited expansion of Jewish settlements throughout what was once to be an independent Palestinian homeland,the relative collapse of effective political leadership in the Palestinian Authority as well as the chillingly intolerance in contemporary Israel for authentic political debate means... more children will die, hatred will fester and explode, the cease fires will come and go, the current discussions in Egypt will grind to a halt and nothing will get better for the foreseeable future.
On Thursday night, after the rabbi, imam and minister presentations at the Inter-Faith Youth Summit at Bard College at Simon's Rock in Great Barrington, MA two Israeli women spoke out.  One was a recently married Muslim woman from the Negev who said: In my world, Muslims and Jews get along. We cooperate and live side by side. And this isn't the only place coexistence happens. It used to happen in Jerusalem and could happen again. She soberly asked us all to pray for peace AND do our part in promoting trust and hope between Jews and Muslims.

The other Israeli was a Jew - very active in her synagogue back in Jerusalem - and she told us: I am angry. And sad. Back in Israel I can't talk about hard things like I can in America. It is like we're living in a bubble where only fear and hatred are discussed... but not cooperation and peace. When I return I need to help break that bubble but it won't be easy.

One of the organization's Israeli leaders openly wept. Afterwards she said, "I work and live among Muslims in the Negev - and none of them have affirmed my trip here - the won't even respond to my emails given the death and fear born of Israel's invasion. I don't know how I am going to go back and look at them in face let alone continue my work of building briedges and trust?"

As is so often the case after such an intensely beautiful and tragic time, I wept on my ride home to Pittsfield. Sometimes that is all a person can do - weep - and I am not afraid or ashamed of my tears. In fact, if more of us would weep it might help to break open the shame and fear so many feel at this moment in history. Jesus wept. Sometimes tears are the only prayers we have and in the heart-breaking intransigence of this time weeping is one of the ways to unlock the compassion deep within. Fr. Richard Rohr once said that if our hearts aren't broken from time to time, we become unable to live and move with love.
My old colleague's opening quote is the hard truth - as is the full title of Dr. King's last book - Where Do We Go from Here: Chaos or Community? The tears from my new friends from Israel pray for community.  If you can, come out to the concert at the Guthrie Center on Sunday. It will be one small act for hope and community rather than the chaos.

Friday, August 8, 2014

Seemingly disconnected Sabbath thoughts updated...

There are a few seemingly random thought swimming around my head this Sabbath morning and I wonder if they share a connection? They are, in no order of significance, at least so far as I know:

+ Last night, responding to a question about why there is so much violence and fear between people of different religions, the Sufi imam answered with a unique insight (at least for me as a Christian it was unique.) First, he asked if we had ever seen photographs from the Hubble telescope? "What do you notice most about the pictures of our Earth? Or even from other planets and stars throughout space? Chaos, right? Gas clouds exploding, meteors colliding, zombie stars, mystery and so much more." He paused and then said,"So when I am asked questions about pain and violence, confusion and destruction, I can only reply: what do you expect? What is going out there in space is going on inside you, too. It is how creation works."
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.

The only portion of my sacred text that I know consciously shares this wild and creative assessment of the inherent chaos of creation is Job. After the destruction of Job's family, his business, his friendships and finally his health, Job cries out to the Holy for an explanation. The Lord's reply starts in chapter 38 and continues like this for four more chapters:

Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind: ‘Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge? Gird up your loins like a man, I will question you, and you shall declare to me. ‘Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements—surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it? On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone when the morning stars sang together and all the heavenly beings shouted for joy? 

Finally God is silent and Job responds - but his response has no linear quality to it - because the words of the Creator are not ordered nor do they explain anything in a way that evokes comfort. Rather, God reminds Job that there is a power more chaotic and creative at work in the universe that is beyond Job's comprehension. And only when Job surrenders to this awesome truth is their serenity in his soul.


I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted. “Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?” Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know. “Hear, and I will speak; I will question you, and you declare to me.” I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you.

The reality of chaos - and mystery - needs a greater hearing in my own heart as well as my own tradition. Such wisdom does not negate the order that is a part of creation, it simply brings balance much as the Serenity Prayer links inner peace with acceptance of what is real.

+ Another floating thought: after 30+ years of struggling with the challenge of how best to be in ministry with narcissistic people I am still no farther along than when I left seminary. To apply the imam's insight, I guess I just have to accept them as a fact of life because it would seem that only God can change them. I know I certainly can't. Over the years, I've tried but nothing makes any difference, right? They still run over people with harsh words, they more often than not think all of Christ's teachings are for somebody else and they ambush their allies in cruel ways that spread hurt and fury in their wake. For the most part I simply hold them in prayer and try to get out of their way. For anyone who takes congregational life seriously, this cadre of broken souls are a troublesome enigma.
+ Another random notion: last night I learned that for the most part Muslims do not observe a Sabbath. They pray at least five times a day - and this is done to reconnect with the holy - and tradition has it that on Friday's the wider Islamic community will gather together at noon for prayers and sermon. But then most folk return to work, because there is no Sabbath requirement or tradition in Islam. To be sure, many Muslims take a day off from work, but it is not part of their spiritual discipline because the Qur'an teaches that God never sleeps but is always at work.

This made me uncomfortable. It is another perspective on the divine and so I want to honor it in my heart. And yet I believe that one of the sacred gifts I have inherited from Judaism is the invitation to Sabbath rest. We become like the image of the Lord because ours is a God who rests. Walter Brueggemann's text, Sabbath as Resistance: Saying NO to a Culture of NOW, has been instructive and challenging for me. For fundamentally he says that the way of the Lord begins with trust and rest rather than restlessness. This is a significant difference. One I will have to ponder in my heart like Mary the mother of my Lord because right now I am just perplexed.

+ And finally this odd notion: over the past month I've had the chance to spend some wonderful time in conversation with a variety of teens and young adults. It has been an unexpected joy!  In both encounters there have been times for me to question these young people about their deepest hopes and dreams and then sit back and listen carefully. More than I anticipated, I sense that there is an important place for such old guy and young people conversations is our polarized and segregated culture. As four different students said to me after our Interfaith Youth Summit last night:  I don't come from a religious background - and don't know very much about this stuff - but what you said about tenderness and peace, listening carefully and paying it forward really spoke to something deep within me.
I continue to believe in my heart - and experience in my life from time to time - a deep hunger for compassion in our society. There is a loneliness that is palpable and a thirst for spiritual depth that is dissatisfied by harsh fundamentalism of any hue. Again, I don't know where these thoughts are heading so I guess I will spend some more Sabbath time letting them swim around.  (BTW this tune is one I am practicing today - love Ron Carter's groove and enormous hands. We'll be playing it on the 17th of this month at the BEAT gig.)

SABBATH NOTES REDUX...
Well wouldn't you just know it:  give yourself a little space and exercise - and a little good food, too - and things start to come together. Di and I ate waffles later this morning, sipped tea and read the NY Times to start the day. Then we spent the afternoon pruning and caring for our front yard. As she was getting ready to head off to physical therapy for her healing back, I read a little Richard Rohr and what do you know? He challenged me to deal with my own shit and pain because we all carry it. 

He also tenderly invited me to get out of the way of those really wounded souls I fret about most and give them lots of space. (NOTE: this does not mean being a doormat!) Deal with what is yours and leave the rest to the Lord. Here's what he wrote on this blessed Sabbath:

To keep the mind space open, we need some form of contemplative or meditative practice. This has been the most neglected in recent centuries, substituting the mere reciting and “saying” of prayers, which is not the same as a contemplative mind and often merely confirms us in our superior or fear-based system. One could say that authentic spirituality is invariably a matter of emptying the mind and filling the heart at the same time.


To keep the heart space open, we almost all need some healing in regard to our carried hurts from the past. It also helps to be in right relationship with people, so that other people can love us and touch us at deeper levels, and so we can touch them. In addition, I think the heart space is opened by “right brain” activities such as music, art, dance, nature, fasting, poetry, games, life-affirming sexuality, and, of course, the art of relationship itself. And to be fully honest, I think your heart needs to be broken and broken open at least once to have a heart at all or to have a heart for others.

To keep our bodies less defended, to live in our body right now, to be present to others in a cellular way, is also the work of healing of past hurts and the many memories that seem to store themselves in the body. It is very telling that Jesus often physically touched people when he healed them; he knew where the memory and hurt was lodged, and it was in the body itself. Eckhart Tolle rightly speaks of most people carrying a “pain body.” Sometimes I fear that most of humanity has suffered from some form of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) when you read the history of war, torture, abandonment, and abuse.

It has always deeply disappointed me that the Christian religion was the only one that believed God became a human body, and yet we have had such deficient and frankly negative attitudes toward embodiment, the physical world, sexuality, emotions, animals, wonderful physical practices like yoga, and nature itself. We want to do spirituality all in the head. It often seems to me that Western Christianity has been much more formed by Plato (body and soul are at war) than by Jesus (body and soul are already one). For many of us, the body is more repressed and denied than even the mind or the heart. It makes both presence and healing quite difficult, because the body, not just our mind, holds our memories.

Thursday, August 7, 2014

Music in common...

Tonight I sat with a Jewish rabbi and a Muslim imam along with about 20 young people - 10 from Israel (Jews, Muslims and Christians) - and 10 from across the USA. Why is it that liberal clergy from these traditions can listen and question one another with respect and love? Why is it that Israeli and American young people interested in peace can share love and respect with one another, too? I am so grateful for this encounter and look to build links with Music in Common. It is a little sign of hope in a sea of tears and fears.

Going theological part two...

NOTE: My on-going theological reflection on the development of our renewal at First Church.  This is part two in anticipation of the conclusion re: seven current actions we are working on that embody a new commitment to servant leadership. I shared Part One yesterday and hope to complete this essay over the weekend.
Thoughts on Two Hundred and Fifty Years of Ministry in the Same Place (part two of three)

When we began our journey towards renewal seven years ago, we trusted by faith that God wasn’t finished with us as a community. We didn’t know what that meant because it was unknowable before starting the journey; we simply trusted that God had been faithful to our great cloud of witnesses before and would continue being faithful.  Patiently and carefully, listening to one another and sharing prayer, tears and laughter, we began to discern a path into both renewal and reconciliation.  It should be noted for the record, however, that before there was an abundance of laughter, there was a surfeit of tears. 

Grief work in churches called to renewal is essential because “when deaths go ungrieved, death becomes triumphant.” (Jaco Hamman, When Steeples Cry, p.24) Both Douglas John Hall and Jaco Hamman have observed that in the past 50 years, the once dominant Christian churches of North America have been disestablished; in Quebec this took place legally while the change has been more cultural in the United States. Nevertheless, the once main line denominations are now side line institutions struggling for vision, meaning and resources. And the magnitude of this change is wrought with grief.

One son of First Church recently posted this sobering summary of contemporary church life on Facebook:  “Pray for your pastor: 97% of pastors have been betrayed, falsely accused or hurt by their trusted friends. 70% of pastors battle depression. 7,000 churches in the United States close each year.  1,500 pastors will quit this month. 10% will retire. 80% of pastors feel discouraged.  94% of pastors’ families feel the pressure of ministry. 78% of pastors have no close friends. 90% of pastors report working 55-75% hours each week. Pray for your pastor.” (Steven Small, Facebook, August 5, 2014) I would push this summary one step further and note that when our pastors are overwhelmed and discouraged, it is only natural for many in their congregations follow suit. Such grief “is the normal emotional, spiritual, physical and relational reaction to the experience of loss and change. It is a powerful and involuntary force governing the way your congregation will have its life together and engage God in the world.” (Hamman, p. 12)

In the summer of 2007, the magnitude of grief in First Church was incomprehensible to me. I knew the brain injury inflicted upon my predecessor had been traumatic and unnerving for everyone involved, but I was not aware of the additional congregational pain born of the cultural and political changes in our community. (NOTE: After serving faithfully and creatively for 22 years, he was struck by a hit and run driver while riding his bicycle – and left for dead. In time, he physically recovered but chose retirement during the years required to rebuild a life after such a brain injury. He continues to serve Christ’s church through writing and has become a trusted friend and colleague.)
Seven years later my sabbatical team and I wrote about this anguish like this:

Our congregation was struggling for an identity for the future. In the past, First Church had been the theological and cultural home of the community’s elite. Changes in culture, demographics and regional business needs rendered the old identity moot. (Further upon the) unexpected (but necessary) retirement (of our pastor of 23 years) we wandered through a series of interim pastors, false starts and despondency… We were in desperate need of… renewal.

What was actually true, however, was the desperate need for mourning.  The loss of a strong and trusted pastor was profound, but so was the confusion and resentment born of losing the region’s largest manufacturer – and the subsequent loss of jobs and people. And it would be a mistake to minimize the effects that our cultural disestablishment had upon the congregation: not only was Pittsfield becoming a more casual community, but it was forsaking its long history of involvement in houses of worship. To be blunt, the world was changing too fast for many. So when the pastor had to depart without an intentional transition, the congregation’s sadness and despair became palpable.  Without “an intentional process of letting go of relationships, dreams and vision,” fear and death became the dominant motif of our community of faith. And it demanded that we make the work of mourning the first step towards our renewal.

Mourning implies living through grief; to live with loss and change: Due to its intentionality, mourning is work. Mourning requires mindfulness and decries nostalgia. You have to embrace Paul’s challenge to the believers in Rome, whom he commanded to have “sober judgment” about being the body of Christ. (Romans 12:3) Doing the work of mourning is not about replacement but describes a process of evoking memories of the past, discerning the impact of change on the present, envisioning a future and then living into that new identity. The work of mourning is a creative response to loss.

Once again, our great cloud of witnesses – this time from Israel’s exile – is instructive for they, too had to grieve and lament before they were ready to rebuild and renew. In Isaiah 61, the prophet of the Lord was inspired by God to tell his people: “God has anointed me as the herald of joy to the humble, to bind up the wounded heart and preach good news to the poor.” It is essential to grasp that the Hebrew word we translate as “preach” is basher, “from the stem basher, which literally means meat or flesh.” (Hamman, p. 10) Perhaps a more helpful rendition of the Hebrew in Isaiah 61 would be: The Spirit of the Lord is on me because the Lord has anointed me to ENFLESH or EMBODY good news to the poor.”

In prayer, by accident, through conversation and the wisdom of others, we discerned that there were three places we needed to embody mourning before the light of renewal would dawn: worship, church council and our engagement with the wider community. It was not always pretty. As in any group being led through their grief, there is often anger and acting out to say nothing of resistance and sabotage. There were countless nights when I wept and actually prepared my resignation. Like Moses before me, I grew weary of the “murmuring” and active dissatisfaction that was our reality for the first three years of my ministry.  Thanks be to God there were times of laughter and joy, too because without them I would have been long gone.
Thanks be to God as well that most of the elected lay leadership of First Church trusted the grace of God as expressed in our great cloud of witnesses.  They were faithful, if uncertain; they loved, even when afraid; and they knew beyond any obvious evidence that God was not finished with them yet. Further, they came to trust that I did not recommend – or make – capricious changes – they were all intended to take us deeper into the work of mourning and renewal – so the leadership trusted. They were rigorous in their questions and critique, but they gave me the space, love and respect to “embody and enflesh” some of God’s spiritual good news.

·        Worship:  Because public worship is the front door through which new and well-established folk experience the church, this was we needed to embody new encounters with the Spirit. The music had grown stale – well-executed and beautiful – but in a narrow and limited way. Sung responses were outdated and complicated to sing. The words of the liturgy sounded like 1950. And people were not accustomed to full participation during the 10:30 hour. As one old salt said:  “We were mostly a place where the pastor pastured and the congregation congregated.”  There was a lot of mourning to be done as we changed the worship experience. There was sorrow and uncertainty when long standing staff retired. There was resentment and resistance to hiring new and more contemporary musical staff. 

Personally I came to value this quote by James Dittes:  “To be a minister is to know the most searing grief and abandonment, daily and profoundly. To be a minister is to make an all-out, prodigal commitment to a people who cannot possible sustain it.” We spent a full three years grieving and mourning about worship because “when you grieve the disappointments and disillusionments… you create space for yourself to continue to grow in ministry. Such space in turn makes growth for your congregation possible… for the art of creating space for others to grow is the essence of pastoral ministry.” (p. 29) With tears and clear explanations, with courage and support from key lay leaders, with an abounding trust in God’s grace, we kept moving beyond exile towards healing. And while there will always be more work necessary, after five years of wandering and rebuilding I think it is fair to say that we have entered a time of creativity, zest and celebration in worship.

·        Council:  Without the support, love and trust of the elected lay leadership the work of leading a people through grief into mourning and renewal is impossible.  Thankfully I inherited a faithful and well-trained group of leaders when I arrived in 2007. Not everyone was charitable, of course; but the majority refused to engage in gossip and honestly brought their concerns to my face rather than triangulating and causing deeper pain.  The journey into mourning on this level took three forms:  a) periodic study and prayer retreats; b) study and prayer at the opening of each council meeting; and c) the strategic and prayer-filled rewriting of our by-laws.  During our retreats – where we crafted a new mission statement, envisioned new directions for worship and saving money and also discerned the focus of our Open and Affirming commitment – we studied scripture. That is, we learned from the great cloud of witnesses.

We broke bread together, we told stories, we wept and grieve in the open – and in time we shared our hopes and dreams. I am convinced that this “slow church” approach to embodied mourning was the key to moving into new life.  As some theologians believe – and Jesus taught us – the leadership of a congregation is to become the leaven in the loaf.  When they are grounded in God’s grace, not only are they able to interpret the movement of the Spirit to the wider congregation, but they radiate joy rather than despair. “We learn the skills of hospitality in small increments of daily faithfulness. The moral life Is much less about dramatic gestures than it is about steady work – faithfulness undergirded by prayer and sustained grace. The surprise is how often it is accompanied by mystery, blessing and joy.” (Christine Pohl in Sojourners magazine)

·        Mission:  The Old Testament book of Proverbs, an ancient collection of wisdom statements designed to help young people transition into successful adulthood, includes this aphorism in 29:18: “Where there is no vision, the people perish.” (KJV) Over the years of decline and death, the outward mission of First Church lost vision. Everything that was taking place was good, but our efforts seemed more designed to make us feel satisfied that we were on the right side rather than making a difference in our culture. When asked early in my ministry, “What is the mission of our outreach work?” there was a long, confused silence and then the embarrassed confession that nobody really knew.  This, too, had to be grieved – and it was frustrating to own our lack of vision. In time, however, we were led to two significant changes:  a) we crafted a pithy mission statement that allowed us to evaluate our work and use of resources; and b) we reclaimed the liturgical calendar as a guide for our social action.

After prayer and study – in retreat and in private – we wrote:  In community with God and each other, we gather to worship, to reflect on our Christian faith, to do justice and to share compassion. This allowed us to prioritize our limited time and funds to strengthening worship, Christian education, acts of both social justice and compassion. The liturgical calendar helped us refine this mission even more:  in the summer months of ordinary time we gave time to caring for the earth; in the fall as ordinary time was shaped by Reformation Sunday and All Saints Day we made certain that we were offering hope to those in need of food and shelter; as winter morphed into Advent and Christmas we addressed peace-making; and in spring we were shaped by the movement of Lent/Easter and acts of renewal and rebirth. We also found that we needed to join others in the ecumenical church who have created the “Season of Creation” in September to give special emphasis to environmental justice.

As I stand on the precipice of a sabbatical in 2015, I am certain that without the grief work of mourning First Church would be in much tougher straights than we are today. Jaco Hamman is right:  When you grieve the disappointments and disillusionments you experience in ministry, you create space for yourself to grow. Cleary Israel’s return from exile is a model for our renewal.  Our internal struggles for trust, our deep and sometimes contentious arguments and laments were, in reality, symptoms of grief that were also signs of hope. Sr. Joan Chittister once said that renewal is always about learning to “see the eagle within the egg.”

Our great cloud of witnesses might put it like this:  I know it is Friday – and all we can see is the Cross – but hold on because Easter Sunday is coming!” What I have discovered over seven years is that by honoring the call to mourn – and creating expressions of beauty and joy in worship – we were able to listen for God’s still, small voice and follow in creative and playful ways. We were empowered to emphasize gratitude rather than obligation or judgment. And we took theology seriously as we prayed with fear and trembling.

Slowly, patiently and quietly a new/old way of being First Church began to take shape in ways that honored the great cloud of witnesses while charting new ground as servant leaders.  As we prepare for my 8th year of ministry at First Church, I see seven ways that this truth is being embodied in our life together. We are not always consistent and we sometimes get our new commitments wrong as often as we get them right. That is part of the holy/human story of being God’s people – call it sin or just human nature (they are profoundly related) – still these inconsistencies do not diminish in any way the radical change we are exploring in community
credits:
1) Rebecca Leigh
2) Dianne de Mott

the wisdom and grace of mystery...

In this week's summary of reflections at the Center for Contemplation and Action, Barbara Brown Taylor's synthesis of the apophatic ...