The foolishness of our baptism...

NOTE:  Here are my worship notes for the start of a six week series re: Living as Fools for Christ. Today's texts - Genesis 1: 1-5, Psalm 29 and Mark 1: 4-11 are those assigned for the Baptism of the Lord Sunday by the Common Lectionary.

In my heart – in my head – in my sense of what is most important in our community and our

congregation at this moment in time is the gentle invitation from the Lord to live as God’s beloved. We are not called by the Spirit to become Republicans or Democrats or followers of the Green Party or the Tea Party. We’re not asked to become members of this or that church, denomination, synagogue, ashram or mosque. We’re not asked to read the scriptures daily, do any type of prayer or spiritual practice on a regular basis (as helpful as that might be) or even try to see the face of Christ in one another. Rather we’re simply invited to learn how to trust that from before the beginning of time, we have been created in the image of the Creator who calls us beloved. Listen to these two lessons read back to back and see if you don’t agree:

+  Genesis One at the very start of the Bible: 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.

+  And the story of Jesus according to St. Mark – the first gospel written and affirmed by tradition – that says: Beginning with the good news of Jesus Christ… (It was) in those days that Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

It is not coincidental that the foundational stories of our tradition – the myths and histories and parables we tell and retell ourselves over and again – start with the affirmation that in the beginning:  God created, God called creation good and God called us the beloved of the Lord. Many other foundational stories begin with death or destruction:  Isis and Osiris, Zeus and his battle with the Titans, the sacred war of creation between Marduk and Tiamut. And while we certainly have our own myth of the flood in the Old Testament, both the Jewish and Christian Testaments begin with the blessings of creation and a sacred pronouncement that we are the beloved.

It is that affirmation – and its distinctive invitation to a way of living in this world that fortifies creativity and love – that I want to call to your attention today. You see, this is the day set aside for us by our tradition to be like the Blessed Virgin Mary, who pondered in her heart the significance of the baptism of our Lord. Most of us don’t think of our baptism very often:  generally our culture considers it either a nostalgic ritual linking this generation to the past by tradition, or, else it is treated like an unnecessary ceremony born of an out-dated world view steeped in superstition. In our small corner of the church, we tend to speak of the sacrament of baptism as a practice that welcomes a child or adult into the family of faith – a spiritualized Christian reworking of circumcision, if you will – that marks and receives the baptized into the community of Christ.

+  But what if baptism is more than tradition, ritual, reminiscence and welcome? What if it is God’s promise to us that trusting the Lord with all our heart, with all our soul, with all our strength and with all our mind, we will be mystically embrace by the Lord?

+  What if baptism is God’s assurance to us that whether we are resting beside cool waters, enjoying the richness of the banquet table or walking through the valley of the shadow of death, God is with us - always? For ever? In life, in death and life beyond death?

That’s a rather high theology of baptism, I grant you, but it seems to resonate boldly with the story St. Mark tells us.  You see, Mark places the baptism of Jesus at the very start of his story. There is no Christmas celebration in Mark’s gospel – in fact, the Lord’s birth is only mentioned in two books of the New Testament –  signifying that baptism probably has greater worth than his birthday. Why else would it be discussed in Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Acts and Romans? But let’s go deeper and consider the actual text:

+  When God first speaks to Jesus according to Mark’s gospel, the words Christ heard – and the words we are allowed to overhear, too – are: You are my beloved, Son, with you I am well pleased.

+  What do these words say to you?  What do they mean and what is their significance?

+One preacher called God’s address to Jesus after his baptism words of radical acceptance saturated with the blessings of identity, worth and unwavering regard. (David Lose, Working Preacher)

That’s one insight we can draw from this story:  when Jesus pledges himself to trust the Lord with his whole being by baptism, God promises to Christ – and to all of us through him – that God will be with us throughout all time. St. Paul likes to say that NOTHING can ever separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. At every funeral or memorial service I am asked to preside over, it has become essential for me to always include Paul’s confession from the book of Romans that says in part: We know that there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus; for we know that in everything God works for good with those who love the Lord and are called according to God’s purpose. That is why we are certain that neither death nor life, nor angels or principalities and powers, nor things present, nor things to come, not height nor depth nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God.

By faith God is with us always:  but this is not the only truth Mark’s story about Christ’s baptism celebrates. If we notice where this story takes place – just before the temptations of Jesus in the desert – then we realize that everything else Jesus does grows out of his experience of God’s holy promise to cherish him forever as beloved. One scholar put it like this:

Jesus’ baptism isn’t preamble to all that comes later in his life, it’s the highpoint and climax of the story in a nutshell. Again and again, as Jesus casts out unclean spirits, heals the sick, feeds the hungry and welcomes the outcast, he will only do to others what has already been done to him, telling them via word and deed that they, too, are beloved children of God with whom God is well pleased. And (at) the darkest moment of the story, when Jesus feels absolutely abandoned, it is followed immediately by the story of resurrection, where the messenger testifies that God has kept God’s baptismal promise and continues to accept and honor Jesus as God’s own beloved Son.

+  Are you still with me because this is really important? If God is with Jesus throughout his lowest and most shame-filled experiences – if God refuses to quit loving even when Christ is nailed to the Cross – then in all things in our life we can trust that there is hope for those who trust the Lord.

+  "At our low moments, (we can) remember that the God who raised Jesus from the dead is the same one who promised in baptism to never, (ever) abandon us and to love and accept us always and still as beloved children, even and especially when we have a hard time loving and accepting ourselves.” (David Lose, Working Preacher)

That is the foolishness of the Cross – the foolishness of our baptism – the foolish-ness of God’s grace:  in it we confess that we trust that God’s love is greater than all sin, shame and fear. And I have to tell you that is only from within this trust, beloved, that I find the strength and solace to live creatively and compassionately these days. Like you it is easy for me to become discouraged in these times.Like you I don’t often see a lot of evidence that our culture values the way of trust, peace, justice and compassion. So I have to regularly turn my eyes to Christ and his experience with God.  For there, even when I can only see as through a glass darkly, another world comes into view.

+  A world where I am forgiven – and so are you. A world where we are God’s beloved – the Lord’s cherished friends – with whom God is well pleased. It is a world where we count more than what our credit score tells about us.

+  A world where God the least among us so much that they are raised up to change the world.  Did you know that Jesus was from such a nowhere town in Israel called Nazareth that it is never mentioned in the Old Testament, the Jewish Talmud or the history of the Jews as recorded by Josephus. It is so insignificant that no one had even heard of it. And yet by grace God raised up from Nazareth one who would bring hope and healing to a broken world.

+  Our African American sisters and brothers like to put it like this: In Jesus Christ we can see how a no body can be raised up to become a some body, who can tell any body that every body is loved by God. Because, since the beginning of time, we are all what…?

+  God’s beloved. Can you say that again: WE ARE GOD’S BELOVED!

Now I told you at the start of my message – and I am going to say it again right now – that most

of us don’t think about our baptism very often. But now would be a good time to revisit that oversight. Because we need more people who KNOW from the inside out that they are God’s beloved. We need more souls who have ANOTHER world in view – a world of grace and compassion – a world of God’s kingdom of peace and forgiveness – that upside down world that Jesus called God’s kingdom where we know we are mystically embraced by God’s love so we can give away as good as we have gotten.

+  We don’t need more cynics – we don’t need more gossips – we don’t need more broken hearts obsessed with shame and fear. We don’t need more FOX News or MSNBC pundits. We need more of God’s beloved who know from the inside out that God’s love is greater than all our wounds and all our divisions.

+  So you know those Christmas Eve candles you received when you came into worship? I bet you’ve been wondering what the devil are we going to do with these, right?

So I’m going to tell you:  we’re going to use them to affirm that WE are God’s beloved who know God loves us from the inside out.

+  We’re going to use them as a body prayer to confess that God is calling us to be light in the darkness. Hope in despair. Peace-makers in a world of violence. And women and men who love one another as God has already loved us.

+  Amen? Can I get a witness?  Amen?!

Just like Christmas Eve, we’re going to light one another’s candles; and as the light is passed from one candle to another. I want you to say to your neighbor:  YOU are a beloved child of God. Ok? Can you do that? YOU are a beloved child of God.

+  And then when all our candles are lit, we’ll raise up the light of Christ to the glory of God and pray a simple prayer: Marked by the Cross and sealed by the Holy Spirit: Lord, help me live as a fool for Christ in a world that takes itself too seriously. For I am a beloved child of God. Amen.

+  Are you ready…? 

credits:

1) www.bcartfarm.com

2) www.pinterest.com

3) www.pinterest.com

4) jasongoroncy.com

5) theanxiousbench.wordpress.com

Sunday benefit concert

Fighting Off

    The Winter Cold 

Sunday, January 11, 2015 - 3:00 pm

                                                                                 Darlene Keefe – “The Shape That Defines Us”

A Benefit Concert for Emergency Winter Fuel 

Pittsfield Area Council of Congregations Fuel Assistance Program

Carlton Maaia II, Charlie Tokarz, Rebecca Leigh, Jon Haddad, Linda Worster, Andy Kelly,

Olivia Kinne, Grahm Sturz, Weez McCarty, Win Ridabock, Omar Enriquez, Between the Banks

 Special Guests: the Gospel Gang and The Messengers

First Church

On Park Square

27 East Street, Pittsfield, MA 0120

www.firstchurchpittsfield.org – 413-447-7351

an open and affirming congregation of the united church of christ

Trust the Lord...

When I started out in ministry 30+ years ago, I often ached for affirmation. Not only did I avoid conflict like the plague, but sought out allies who both liked and agreed with me. In such a needy state, it was easy for me to demonize those with whom I disagreed - and feel righteous doing so, too!  For years I have hated this part of my life - it has made me sick and afraid - and inhibited me from living into the full blessing of ministry. The time for such self-hatred is over; so, too, my toxic sense of conflict. These things have surpassed their personal usefulness and have long outlived their profession expiration dates.

An old political nemesis from Cleveland - a venerated hero of the old school civil rights

movement - used to say to me: Can't we disagree without being disagreeable?  He was right, of course, for that is the higher road.  Fr. Richard Rohr notes that before we can do the work of unity, however, we have to make distinctions and separations. Such is the life work of youth and is essential before maturation can ripen.

unity is not the same as uniformity. Unity, in fact, is the reconciliation of differences, and those differences must be maintained--and yet overcome! You must actually distinguish things and separate them before you can spiritually unite them, usually at cost to yourself (Ephesians 2:14-16), which is perhaps why so few go there. If only we had made that simple distinction between uniformity and true unity, so many problems--and overemphasized, separate identities--could have moved to a much higher level of love and service.

When I look back on the conflicts I have faced - those I managed well and those that became destructive - there are three insights worth mentioning.

+ First, spiritual surrender to God's will. The word surrender may not communicate as clearly for women what it does for men, so I ask your forgiveness in advance. For what I am trying to say has something to do with the process of:  a) taking time to quiet my soul; b) listening for and trusting that God's grace is bigger than my fears or shame; c) prayerfully lifting the conflict into the love of Christ and asking his will; and d) taking the time to wait for God's clarity. That is what I mean by surrender. The 12 Step folk use it and it works for me because it involves an act of the will as part of being open to a love greater than myself. And without such an intentional resting in God's protection, my own inner demons have a field day with conflict.

+ Second, I need the counsel of older and wiser soul friends. At this point in the journey I mostly know that my shadow is HUGE - and I can't see most it. My shadow contains wisdom about me that I need to know, too. So if I want to engage conflict in a healthy and holy way, I need wise counsel to tell me what I am not seeing. Sometimes this comes from spiritual directors. At other times, I have needed to cultivate regular conversations with those in my faith community with whom I've tangled in the past and ask them for their take on what I am missing. This is a humbling discipline, but it builds bridges and opens up insights that might forever elude me.

+ And third, with the exception of the soul vampires (with whom I shake the dust off my sandals and keep moving) it is crucial to avoid demonizing my partners in conflict. The Alban Institute once published an excellent book, Never Call Them Idiots,  Once you do, your opponents humanity is diminished - and before long they become "other" rather than just another pilgrim striving for truth and grace. To be sure, their are those in every congregation who are a pain in the ass with no apparent purpose other than being a thorn in your side. There are excellent resources about such toxic players. But most of those I have come into conflict with over the years are NOT soul vampires. They are people of faith who want to serve God and the church with zest and integrity.

Yesterday I read Fr. Rohr's summary of the spiritual disciplines he now commits himself to that keep him grounded in mature unity rather than the distracting and unobtainable fantasies of uniformity. There are five:  contemplation, Sabbath, service, shadow work and spiritual direction. Each component moves beyond simple dualisms to deeper harmonies. They also build into the natural rhythm of a life the inward and outward journey. In these truths, I can enter conflict as a way to seek greater truth and grace. I can trust that my own anxieties are not the whole story. And I can practice waiting on the Lord until a fair and compassionate path is discerned.

Proverbs 3 in Peterson's Message puts it like this:

Trust God from the bottom of your heart;
    don’t try to figure out everything on your own.
Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go;
    he’s the one who will keep you on track.
Don’t assume that you know it all.
    Run to God! Run from evil!
Your body will glow with health,
    your very bones will vibrate with life!
Honor God with everything you own;
    give him the first and the best.
Your barns will burst,
    your wine vats will brim over.
But don’t, dear friend, resent God’s discipline;
    don’t sulk under his loving correction.
It’s the child he loves that God corrects;
    a father’s delight is behind all this.

My challenge and blessing for this year...

Today's message this morning was essentially a reflection on two quotes born of the gospel invitation from the Magi who, after Christ's birth, returned to their regular lives "by a different way." So I wondered out loud about my commitment this year to TRUST God more thoroughly - and consciously practice giving up fretting. Now regular readers will know this is a perennial challenge for me. But upon receiving BOTH these quotes from friends on Facebook last week, I sensed that now was the time to pay special attention.

The first is from Walt Whitman, taken from the preface of Leaves of Grass:

This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown, or to any man or number of men—go freely with powerful uneducated persons, and with the young, and with the mothers of families—re-examine all you have been told in school or church or in any book, and dismiss whatever insults your own soul; and your very flesh shall be a great poem, and have the richest fluency, not only in its words, but in the silent lines of its lips and face, and between the lashes of your eyes, and in every motion and joint of your body. “Leaves of Grass" (1855)

And the second from Frederick Buechner:

Stop trying to protect, to rescue, to judge, to manage the lives around you; remember that the lives of others are not your business. They are their business. They are God's business... even your own life is not your business. It also is God's business. Leave it to God. It is an astonishing thought. It can become a life-transforming thought... unclench the fists of your spirit and take it easy... What deadens us most to God's presence within us, I think, is the inner dialogue that we are continuously engaged in with ourselves, the endless chatter of human thought. I suspect that there is nothing more crucial to true spiritual comfort... than being able from time to time to stop that chatter.

So, onward into the blessings and challenges of Epiphany.

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I do not occupy myself with great matters...

One of the truths I start to recognize and own at this point in the journey is how often I am preaching to myself. Once, while speaking with a sculptor who did some of the work on the new Roman Catholic cathedral in Los Angeles, I asked where she went within herself in pursuit of creatively re-interpreting the ancient biblical narratives. After a short pause, she smiled and said something like, "I have to let the story move me at a primal place - really touch me - and then I create out of what the story says to me because... whatever is most personal is also almost always most universal." 

Other writers, poets, activists and musicians have reinforced this paradoxical insight: when I tell my deepest truths, I am talking to most people. When I ask my most vexing questions, I am articulating the anxieties of many others regardless of race, gender or class. Brother Buechner puts it like this:

I have discovered if you really keep your eye peeled to it and your ears open, if you really pay attention to it, even such a limited and limiting life as the one I was living... opened up onto extraordinary vistas. Taking your children to school and kissing your wife goodbye. Eating lunch with a friend. Trying to do a decent day's work. Hearing the rain patter against the window. There is no event so commonplace that God is present within it, always hiddenly, always leaving you room to recognize him or not to recognize him, but all the more fascinatingly because of that, all the more compelling and hauntingly... If I were called upon to state in a few words the essence of everything I was trying to say as a novelist and as a preacher, it would be something like this:  Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that it is. In the boredom and the pain of it no less than in the excitement and the gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis all moments are key moments - and life itself is grace.

My quest for rest, it would seem, is something many of us long for; my aching

to trust God more fully is something that haunts others, too. And the more honest I am about this quest in my own experience, the more I connect with others. This morning, I spent time with some of the children, youth and parents of my congregation in a run through of tomorrow's Epiphany pageant. I am always blessed by hanging with this crew - the enthusiastic and those still nursing a grudge because they had to get out of the house and come to church with a sibling - the young, the innocent and those just about to step into maturity. And I find myself grateful for the parents who gather in the Sanctuary to do this one more time, too. Nobody does church any more out of obligation so my heart is gladdened when families make the choice to be a part of this old, old story one more time.

O Lord, 
   I am not proud; I have no haughty looks.
I do not occupy myself with great matters,
   Or with things that are too hard for me.
But I still my soul and make it quiet 
   like a child upon it's mother's breast,
   my soul is quieted within me.
O Israel, wait upon the Lord,
   from this time forth and for evermore.

Tomorrow we will worship God with our small pageant. It will be humble and it will be holy. I will share a few simple thoughts about the blessed mystery of Epiphany and how it calls us to receive the "gifts of the Magi" with gratitude. We will host an Epiphany party after worship, too with games, songs and good food. And then we'll do band practice to start regrouping for next Sunday's concert (our rescheduled gig from Thanksgiving Eve.) Today I can say with confidence that life - and God - is good. 

credits:
1)www.wilfriedjoye.com

stopping...

The bard of Vermont, Frederick Buechner, always grounds me in what is essential -- especially here:

Like the Hebrew alphabet, the alphabet of grace has not vowels, and in that sense God's words to us are always veiled, subtle, cryptic, so that it is left to us to delve their meaning, to fill in the vowels, for ourselves by means of all the faith and imagination we can muster. God speaks to us in such a way, presumably, not because he chooses to be obscure, but because, unlike a dictionary word whose meaning is fixed, the meaning of an incarnate word is the meaning it has for the one it is spoken to, the meaning that becomes clear and effective in our lives only when we ferret it out for ourselves. 

Last night, on New Year's Day, Di and I were in conversation about our upcoming sabbatical (yes, I am still chewing on that bone!) I was musing on how I wanted to figure out a rhythm for the day so that I didn't fritter away this special time.  "I need to make certain I reclaim time for prayer and quiet, practicing my bass and..." To which she replied, after listening to my fretting, "How about we wait 'til we get there?" And after a brief pause and a smile, continued, "If all you do in Montreal is rest, take the dog for a walk and rest some more... that will be enough. We'll already be taking in some of the finest musical festivals in the world.  I trust that an organic rhythm will emerge once we wander around for a few days, ok?" Clearly she was right. Clearly I need to really learn to rest during this sabbatical. And clearly, as much as I cherish the truth that trusting and resting in God's grace is the essence of faith, I don't do it very well.

Small wonder my mind immediately cut to these words from St. Matthew: "‘So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today." They come from the center of the Sermon on the Mount where Jesus is teaching his disciples to trust that God's love is sufficient for the day - and anxiety is like praying for something you don't want to happen. He puts it like this in chapter 6:

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? Therefore do not worry, saying, “What will we eat?” or “What will we drink?” or “What will we wear?”  For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But strive first for the kingdom of God^* and his^* righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.

It is so easy for me to slip into senseless, un-grounded anxiety, yes? I wake up and discover

that my mind is worrying about a financial problem I have no control over. I step into the shower only to note that I am fretting about whether this Sunday's Epiphany Pageant will be satisfying - when it always is!  I become aware of my thoughts while watching TV only to find that I am lamenting long standing family concerns that have always been beyond my power to address, correct or change. So much worry! Perhaps the incarnate word for my life in anticipation of this sabbatical is: stop! Stop fretting, stop worrying, stop trying to control. Trust. Maybe the invitation to life born of this New Year comes from another Buechner quote that I have beside my night stand. I think I am being called to make this my New Year's mantra each morning, noon and night:

Stop trying to protect, to rescue, to judge, to manage the lives around you; remember that the lives of others are not your business. They are their business. They are God's business... even your own life is not your business. It also is God's business. Leave it to God. It is an astonishing thought. It can become a life-transforming thought... unclench the fists of your spirit and take it easy... What deadens us most to God's presence within us, I think, is the inner dialogue that we are continuously engaged in with ourselves, the endless chatter of human thought. I suspect that there is nothing more crucial to true spiritual comfort... than being able from time to time to stop that chatter.

It sounds like Jesus said elsewhere in Matthew's gospel to mel:  

Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.

Lord, may this be so as my New Year unfolds...

A year of living as fools for christ...

Clearly my mind is set upon sabbatical as New Year's Day shines through the brilliant cold. We are moving slowly this morning, putzing about in preparation for returning home, even as we enjoy our daughter/son-in-law's mountain farm house. Di is baking them cookies so that when they get back from NYC the place will smell sweet. I've been tending the animals and stoking the wood stove. And all the while my mind has been thinking about sabbatical.

This morning, after the goats and chickens were tended, I read this essay by Douglas John Hall: http://www2.ptsem. edu/uploadedFiles/IYM/YCCL/Hall-Finding.pdf. Hall is my go to theologian in North America. I hope to share tea or something stronger with him one afternoon while in residency in Montreal. At the heart of this essay, and much of his work over the past 30 years, is this insight about the challenge of being faithful in the 21st century:

The “difficulty” of Christianity that we must all encounter in an original way in our time could in fact be stated in precisely these terms: namely, that unless we are able, as Christians, to discover ways of conducting our life and our mission that differ radically from the Christendom form of the church that has dominated throughout most of Christian history, we shall be doomed in the future to be part of our world's problem, not its solution.

One of the reasons I value Hall's contributions is that he is a theologian of humility. To be sure, he knows the lingo and can speak the parlance of the academy as a full fledged insider, but he refuses to be seduced by its promise of self-importance. He has broken outside of the seminary's self-referential walls and is circumspect about next steps. In fact, he is fond of saying that given our history of triumphalism since the fourth century and our institutional insistence on certainty since the Reformation, more than anything else, now would be a good time to learn how to listen to the world around us.

For the present, I think, the most important step that any serious Christian
or Christian community can take toward the future is a deliberate and disciplined step in understanding. Like most people who feel called upon today to speak publicly about these matters, I am frequently asked, “But what can we do?” We North Americans have always been a practical people, activists to the core! In the face of any problem, we want to be able to act, and to do so soon—at once! 

Our brand of success as a people is perhaps greatly due to this kind of practicality. But mere activism does not help, and in fact it often greatly hinders, where a whole spate of planetary problems are concerned, problems that have become, in our time, the most pressing—including the great instabilities of economic and other forms of injustice, war, and violence, and the degradation of the natural order. All such problems are only exacerbated by the kind of let’s-do-something approach that I ascribed, in my previous lecture, to the Henny-Pennys of our society. Act we certainly must; but pertinent acting, judicious acting (for Christians, obedient acting) presupposes theory the present, I think, the most important step that any serious Christian presupposes the often much harder work of thinking, including that form of thought that is
called prayer.

Years ago, I saw a poster in the most unlikely place—a Protestant church!—that read, “Don’t just do something, sit there.” This, I believe, is the first requirement for any Christian person or congregation or denomination today that wants to find a way into the future. Thought—original, deep, critical, theological thinking—is the conditio sine qua non—the condition without which the Christian movement will not find its way into the uncertain future. Another word for the kind of thought of which I am speaking is the much-misunderstood word “theology.” Ours is a time when theological reflection may be the most important thing Christians can do if they are earnest about their future.

With four months left before our departure - and so much to accomplish both personally and professionally before that time - I spent the better part of yesterday "sitting there" just as Dr. Hall ordered. I have been pondering, listening and discerning just what my work requires during this curious transition time. And part of what has come to me involves my contribution to the worship and study life of my congregation. Specifically, two series of messages geared towards interpreting this time of sabbatical. In-between, of course, there will be Lent/Easter with its own unique charism and kerygma. But for the time before and after that penitential season, I am considering a two part series (January-February and then April) re: Living as Fools for Christ - a Time for Sabbatical Playfulness. Yesterday, I took a stab at an outline for the first six weeks that looks something like this:

+ The foolishness of baptism: affirming our beloved selves in a culture of judgment.

+ The foolishness of community: the wisdom of the Cross as celebrated by MLK

+ The feast of fools: how worship reinforces playfulness (with reference to Harvey Cox)

+ The foolishness of trust: democracy and service within our Congregational tradition (annual meeting Sunday)

+ The foolishness of sabbath (and sabbaticals)

+ The foolishness of grace (Transfiguration Sunday)

We'll be playing a lot of jazz during this time, too. And one of Hall's insights about listening as a theological discipline strikes me as essential for jazz, too: reclaiming the original wisdom of the Trinity helps us all explore the presence and calling of both Creator and Spirit in creative ways. He writes:

But besides being truer to the original, the Trinitarian conception of the Christ proposed by Niebuhr is terribly important for any possibility of a Christian mission that today includes (as it must!) dialogue with other religious faiths. In this social context, where we brush shoulders daily with persons of other religious persuasions, the glorious, powerful Christ-of -Christendom can only offend and alienate these others. St. Paul rightly insists that there is an “offense”—a scandal—in the Christian message. But the scandal Paul has in mind is not the idea of a powerful messiah who in the very grandeur of his person excludes and humiliates others; rather, it is the scandal of a messiah who, contrary to everybody’s expectations of divinity, enters into complete solidarity with the suffering world and seeks to change the world, not by force, but by the weakness of his radical compassion—agape.

Our sabbatical time - mine and the congregation's - will be saturated in jazz and jazz teaches us to trust that God's grace is greater than our fears. We are going to spend some time playing together like a hot jazz quartet - and that means a whole lot of listening - and trusting and practicing. As a faith community we've learned to do some of this in modest ways. And now the Spirit could be calling us to go deeper - deeper as fools for Christ.