Some upside down thoughts about being faithful...

My favorite conservative, David Brooks, wrote yet another column about the upside down state of moral discourse in the USA at this moment in time.  At the heart of today's work is this insight:

Many people today find it easy to use the vocabulary of enterepeneurism, whether they are in business or social entrepreneurs. This is a utilitarian vocabulary. How can I serve the greatest number? How can I most productively apply my talents to the problems of the world? It's about resource allocation. People are less good at using the vocabulary of moral evaluation, which is less about what sort of career path you choose than what sort of person you are... (All around me) I see young people with deep moral yearnings. But they tend to convert moral questions into resource allocation questions; questions about how to be into questions of what to do.  (check it out @ http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/25/opinion/brooks-the-service-patch.html?)_r=1&ref=davidbrooks

As I've noted before, when the only working metaphor of a culture is the market place - and the only tool for evaluation is the bottom line - is it any wonder that our best and brightest no longer have a moral vocabulary?  What's more, given the public track record of our religious institutions - Catholic, Protestant, Jewish and Muslim - it is no wonder that our youth are not learning their moral vocabulary from our spiritual traditions. In a highly publicized survey conducted by Georgetown University's Center for Religion, Peace and World Affairs it was reported that:  while 76% of millenials (young people between the ages of 18-24) believe that Christianity has good values and moral principles, a staggering 62% of these same people find Christianity harsh and judgmental - and have left their churches in droves.  And 64% of these spiritual but no longer religious millenials cite the church's attitude and teaching towards the LGBTQ community as proof!

Mary Catherine Bateson, writing in her new book, Composing a Further Life, says that in general "conversations and dialogues between (differing) communities are hindered by the fact that members (of these communities) describe their own faith in terms of ideal norms within the community while outsiders characterize them with negative examples of actual behavior in the past or present. Thus, Christian have mounted crusades and have sometimes owned slaves, Jews have sometimes been moneylenders, Muslims have sometimes been terrorists and so on and on."  Given this huge divide, it is clear that old Feurbach was right:  you ARE what you eat!

Brooks concludes:

It is worth noting that you can devote your life to community service and be a total schmuck. You can also spend your life on Wall Street and be a hero. Understanding heroism and schmuckdom requires fewer Excel spreadsheets and more Dostoevsky and the Book of Job.

What Brooks doesn't address, however, is how this shift in the conversation towards moral vocabulary takes place.  And from my perspective of doing ministry for 30 years in the local church, I've come to two conclusions:

+ First, in 2012 we are starting from scratch.  Not only have we lost touch with our historic moral vocabulary, but we now have 3-4 generations who don't know the time tested stories of ethical exploration.  Not only haven't they read or heard of Job, they don't know the 10 Commandments.  They may have gone through the DARE program in school, but they haven't talked about the Golden Rule, the Sermon on the Mount or the 23rd Psalm around the dinner table.  So, we are at ground zero and have to start again. (Hmmmm, no wonder I love those post-apocalyptic movies, yes?)  Now you can piss and moan about this, or, you can say like Meister Eckhart: "Reality is the will of God - it can always be better - but you have to start with what is real."

+ Second, while the old stories are essential, old school shame and guilt no longer cuts it (if it ever did!) Not only will the old judgments drive our young families away (see the millenial survey from Georgetown above) but they will guarantee that another generation becomes deaf, dumb and blind to the ethical wisdom and moral vocabulary of our various spiritual traditions.  I've seen it happen over and over:  a hate and fear filled preacher like Worley gets public notoriety for a few days and more young people run away from the insights of religion.  More than ever, I sense that faith communities are being called to do "family moral education" rather than incidental Sunday School as an alternative to the status quo.  Let's face it:  45 minutes every other week does NOT create a moral foundation to deal with the hard ethical realities of this (or any other) generation. We need something deeper.  More real.  And certainly more bold that what is currently taking place in most of our congregations.

And this is, perhaps, the real upside down moment:  faith communities are being given a new chance to reclaim our moral vocabularies if we are willing to seize the moment. In an era Parker Palmer calls "the politics of the broken hearted," we can begin to show what an alternative to greed and the bottom line looks like.  We can begin to retrain young families in the time-tested stories of ethical development.  And even do so in an environment of encouragement, hope, joy and moral integrity. (Carrie Newcomer models this commitment in her sweet song, "I'll Go Too.")

To seize this moment with tenderness and patience is the challenge - even the patience of Job.

Returning thanks for Wendell Berry...

On and off for the past 10 years I have been paying more and more attention to Wendell Berry - one of the true American saints and prophets - and of late I've been in a total Berry groove.  Daughter number two turned me on to his insights over the years - she continues to be my inspiration in matters integrating spirituality, care for the earth and politics - so I eventually found my way to his poetry. 

It seems that this is where my heart first becomes engaged - in poetry, art or music - and if the art ring true here, then I let it lead me into a more careful and studied listening.  Berry's "sabbath poems," for example, speak to me on many levels.  A Timbered Choir spans 20 years, but reflects his 40 year habit of walking the land every Sunday and listening for the wisdom of the Lord in the earth.  The first poem in the book from 1979 reads:

I go among the trees and sit still.
All my stirring becomes quiet
around me like circles of water.
My tasks lie in their places
where I left them, asleep, like cattle.

Then what is afraid of me comes
and lives a while in my sight.
What it fears in me leaves me,
and the fear of me leaves it.
It sings, and I hear its song.

Then what I am afraid of comes.
I live for a while in its sight.
What I fear in it leaves it,
and the fear of it leaves me.
It sings, and I hear its song.

After days of labor,
mute in my consternations,
I hear my song at last,
and I sing it. As we sing,
the day turns, the trees move.

Oh does this speak to my soul!  It resonates with slowing down.  It encourages being tender and vulnerable.  And it affirms my spiritual hope that trusting in the Lord brings both rest and a renewal of strength.  Another poem, from 15 years later, puts it like this:

No, no, there is no going back.
Less and less you are
that possibility you were.
More and more you have become
those lives and deaths
that have belonged to you.
You h ave become a sort of grave
containing much that was
and is no more in time, beloved
then, now and always.
And so you have become a sort of tree
standing over a grave.
Now more than ever you can be
generous toward each day
that comes, young, to disappear
forever, and yet remain
unaging in the mind.
Every day you have less reason
not to give yourself away.

Perfect, yes?  "Every day you have less reason NOT to give yourself away."  A few weeks ago the current copy of DISSENT found it's way into my life as well as Berry's new book, What Matters?  And because it is true that when the student is ready the Buddha will appear, I am loving his reflections.  When asked, "Are you a socialist?" he replies:

From what I've read and heard, socialism and communism have been just as committed to industrial principles as capitalism. My own inclination is not to start with a political idea or theory and think downward to the eland and the people, but instead to start with the land and the people, the necessity for harmony between local ecosystems and local economies and think upward to conserving policies... (You see) you have to prefer to have a neighbor (in my worldview) than just owning your neighbors farm.

Later, in his collection of essays, he adds:  "Our system of education until now has had only one major: Upward Mobility. Now... a second major needs to be added, and the name of that major will be Homecoming." It would seem that Berry advocates helping us reclaim a sense of being connected with the land, with our souls, with our neighbors, with time and with God's grace. 

Today I celebrated Eucharist with a small group of friends who listened for God's word in Psalm 147 - especially this verse: Our Lord is great, with limitless strength;  we'll never comprehend what he knows and does. It was a quiet celebration - resting in God's grace rather than our wisdom - a time to honor the love and trust. Later I shared a conversation with others in our church who are trying to help their families grow into to a rhythm of sacred reverence in their lives.  And closed the day helping a young friend test out a new guitar. 

Berry is right: deep does not speak to deep without a homecoming.  I grateful this night that the Lord has called us to this place"  "The whole earth is at rest, and is quiet: they break forth into singing." (Isaiah 14:7) 

No carping zone: Pentecost 2012

NOTE: Here are my worship notes for Pentecost 2012 - it is also Memorial Day in the US - so who knows who will be in worship?  We're doing some creative visual art for this feast day so if you are in town, come on by at 10:30 am.

Introduction

I love the way the words of this gospel lesson from St. John end: 

I still have many things to tell you, but you can't handle them now. But when the Friend comes, the Spirit of the Truth, he will take you by the hand and guide you into all the truth there is. (And) he won't draw attention to himself, but will make sense out of what is about to happen and, indeed, out of all that I have done and said. He will honor me; he will take from me and deliver it to you so that you will know that everything the Father has is also mine… and now yours, too.

This is a word of assurance – a reminder that God’s love is in charge even when we are uncertain of the details – so we need not worry or fret or be filled with anxiety.   Do you remember how Psalm 37 puts it?

Do not fret yourself because of evildoers

and do not be jealous of those who do wrong.

Put your trust in the Lord and do good…Take delight in the Lord…

And be still before the Lord as you wait patiently nothing comes to those who fret and rage…So please do not fret it only leads to evil…

Now I don’t know about you, but I need these reassures from time to time.  I need reminders that God’s ways are not my ways – that when I rest and trust in the Lord rather than fuss and fret – God’s peace and truth always nourish me from the inside out and I am refreshed.

·    Because, you see sometimes it feels like the valley of the dry, dead bones is inside me – or an intimate part of the politics of our nation – or certainly being realized in so much of the destruction taking place throughout creation.

·    And if you know what I’m talking about then maybe like me you’ve also found yourself sounding like the prophet Ezekiel who, when asked by the Lord, “Can these dry bones live?” whispered, “Only THOU knowest, Lord, only thou… because I haven’t got a clue.”

Pentecost, therefore, is a gift to us – a celebration of reassurance – to remind us that God’s love is in charge of heaven and earth – not our sin or our fears or our fretting – God’s love.  And by trust, God’s Spirit promises to make sense out of what is about to happen and, indeed, out of everything else, too.

Insights

But here’s a fact:  most of us have monkey mind – that’s what the Buddhists call it – and it is fitting for Christians, too.  Monkey mind – being scattered and easily distracted from God’s love – that we live more in a state of fretting than rest.  Like Ezekiel, time and again we find ourselves grabbed and tossed into a valley filled with dry, dead bones. 

·    And those bones rattle us – they terrify us – they get us fretting and fussing until all we can see is what’s broken – or evil – or wrong.

·    It is not easy to be at rest when you are constantly being grabbed and tossed into a valley surrounded by dry, dead bones, right?

And what I’ve come to discern is that left to our own devices and habits – left to what we know best – when we find ourselves grabbed and tossed into that valley of the dry bones we usually give in to the fear and the fussing and the evil.  We go to our default setting – and for most of us that is NOT trust – but anxiety and shame and fear

But look what Ezekiel does, ok?  He is the model for Pentecost – he is the trusted guide that Jesus told his disciples about – so that when they found themselves in a similar situation – their own valley of dry bones – they were able to practice resting and trusting in the Lord.  What did we read last week on Ascension Sunday:  Jesus advised his beloved to wait and rest together in community until they had received power from on high.

·    Don’t rush into your fears – don’t give into your fretting – wait and trust and in God’s time you will discover the Spirit of the Lord leading you forward

·    “Can these bones live?”  Can this group of broken sinners who betrayed Christ Jesus become the living body of Christ for the world?  Can we rest so deeply in God’s grace that we live beyond our fears and anxieties in our generation?

At first all Ezekiel can say is…?  “Only thou knowest, Lord.”  But then he listens – and trusts – and what does the story tell us?  God urges him to prophesy to the bones – do you know what that means – to prophesy?  Literally it means to offer religious instruction – to explain the way of the Lord – as inspired by the Holy Spirit.   

·    It doesn’t mean carping – it has nothing to do with our opinions or fears or prejudices – it means sharing the blessings of God clearly and persuasively.

·    And that is what God asked Ezekiel to do to the DRY BONES:  prophesy to them – teach them – love them and encourage them – and on one level that is pretty weird, don’t you think?  To speak lovingly and with encouragement to a valley filled with dry bones?

But… if you go deeper you probably agree that encouragement and loving insight is what you want most, right?  You don’t need more preaching – or carping – or complaining – or fretting:  you need a word of encouragement and insight.  And when Ezekiel does that, what happens…

As I prophesied, there was a sound and, oh, rustling! The bones moved and came together, bone to bone. I kept watching. Sinews formed, then muscles on the bones, then skin stretched over them. But they had no breath in them.  So God said to me, "Prophesy to the breath. Prophesy, son of man. Tell the breath, 'God, the Master, says, Come from the four winds. Come, breath. Breathe on these slain bodies. Breathe life!'" So I prophesied, just as he commanded me. And the breath – the Spirit – the truth of the Lord entered them and they came alive!

That is what St. Paul was advising us about, too:  left to ourselves we ache and groan and don’t know what to do.

But the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.

Time after time – in my own life and in the life of the faithful all over the world – the truth of Ezekiel and Pentecost is revealed: 

·       God’s word is loving and filled with encouragement – so beware of those who know only complaints.

·      God’s word fills us with hope and brings to life what is dead – so beware of those hawking only the valley of dry bones.

And God’s word invites us into a peace and rest that allows us to share peace and rest with others – not out of fear or guilt or fretting – but out of blessing – out of abundance and grace and joy.  That’s how Peter interprets what has happened to his friends on Pentecost. He tells us that God’s loving encourage-ment has set his own heart free from fear…

So now he is able to encourage others, sharing God’s spirit so that our sons and daughters can prophesy – did you hear that – prophesy? And our young people can see visions for the future and our elderly can dream dreams of love rather than wrestle with nightmares…

You see there is nothing passive about resting and living and trusting in the Lord – Pentecost empowers Peter and the disciples to go out into the world – but here’s the thing: the only thing they have to offer is an encouraging word from the Spirit and the grace of our Lord made flesh in Jesus Christ. 

They don’t have any political agenda, they don’t have a litmus test of social issues that determines who is in and who is out… How did the story of the first Christian Pentecost in Jerusalem put it? 

In the city of Jerusalem that day there were people from all over the known world… there were Parthians, Medes, and Elamites;  visitors from Mesopotamia, Judea, and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene; there were immigrants from Rome, both Jews and proselytes; even Cretans and Arabs!

And what happened?  All these different people were able to hear the same message of God’s grace and encouragement because God’s Spirit had touched the hearts of the disciples.  They were no longer relying on their old habits and fears; they were committed to speaking from the heart – by the Spirit - so that like Ezekiel they could prophesy to the dry bones.

Conclusion

That, beloved, is our calling – plain and simple – and oh so wonderfully challenging: to prophesy to the dry bones.  To tell the world something of Christ’s grace – God’s healing love – the beauty of the Spirit in a tender and encouraging way.

·    Could that mean that the church – the body of Christ – needs to declare itself a NO CARPING ZONE!       We made a deep commitment to be and Open and Affirming congregation – and I give thanks to God for that – but could it also be that Pentecost invites us to become a no carping zone, too?

·    To prophesy is to offer an encouraging and spirit-filled word – a word that makes the beauty of the Lord real to even our dry bones – and God knows we need such a word in our generation.

And here’s what I’ve vowed to do for the next year as a consequence of the beauty and reassurance of Pentecost:  every time I feel like carping – or fretting – or giving into fear… I’m going to pray the Jesus Prayer.  It is one of the time-tested resources that helps believers overcome their monkey mind and reclaim the peace and rest of Christ’s presence. 

·    Do you know it?  The simplest version goes like this:  Jesus, Savior, Son of God:  have mercy on us.

·     Can you say that with me:  Jesus, Savior, Son of God:  have mercy on us.

This prayer began in the Egyptian desert by the earliest Christian monks of the 5^th century and is committed to helping believers stay focused on God’s loving beauty.  It is a GREAT resource for nourishing an inner no-carping-zone and can help us rest and trust in the Lord when we’d rather fret and fuss.  So let me teach you a musical version of this prayer because it is a proven fact that music helps us go deeper – and remember more – than mere words alone.

This is a call and response song – and I’ll ask my band mates and others to help me – you sing and repeat what I line out to you, ok?  Jesus (Jesus) – Savior (Savior) – Son of God (Son of God) – have mercy on us (2x) And then it modulates up and goes like this:  Christ (Christ) – Savior (Savior) Son of God (Son of God) – have mercy on us… And it ends like it began:  Jesus – Savior – Son of God…

In the reassurance of Pentecost, let me invite you to sing the Jesus Prayer with me now as an affirmation of our trust and commitment to the gentle and encouraging grace of our Lord Jesus Christ: Enter our hearts, O Holy Spirit, come in blessed mercy and set us free.

Tender thoughts for today...

There comes a time in each person's life (I think) when you don't want to fight any more. I certainly feel that way as I sneak up on my 60th birthday. Now, I don't mean giving up on life or rolling over to die.  Rather I'm talking about not having to prove things to yourself and others, yes?  To be sure, we will always have to fight our worst selves - and we'll never be exempt from the way our shadows take us on trips we can't comprehend - but my hunch is that each person has a longing to be at rest in the world spiritually, physically, emotionally and politically.  

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.

I find myself constantly drawn to this text from Matthew 11:  it strikes me as an invitation to trust deeply that God's grace is sufficient. And in that place, to play with a musical metaphor it feels like my John Lennon has finally left the house after years and years of agitating everyone in sight so that Paul McCartney can now sing "Hey Jude" unhassled. Does that make any sense?

I really don't have any energy left for fighting or arguing with my loved ones, I don't want to keep mixing it up people who are always itching for a battle, I have no desire to carp or whine out loud in any way, shape or form (except, I guess, in this rant) and I have little to no patience in spending time with souls who only see the negative. Now, I could be wrong, but I don't think this is complacency.  I'm not talking about ignoring or denying injustice.  Nor do I have any interest in excusing actions or words that are self-centered or mean-spirited. 

No, what I'm talking about has to do with trusting that God's grace is bigger than all my anxieties.  This evokes such a sense of peace that I can risk being at rest with the world and maybe even myself. It feels like something has shifted deep inside me. For a while I thought I was trapped in a loop where Ringo kept singing "A Little Help from My Friends." But when I woke up and asked "is that really so bad?" I had to confess that it didn't strike me as a problem...

This morning Fr. Richard Rohr wrote:

To more fully understand the concept of the Cosmic Christ we must be ready to receive a mystery that is too good to be true. God is saving everything and everybody until, as Paul says, “Christ will be all in all” (1 Corinthians 15:28). Or, as St. Augustine put it, “In the end there will only be Christ, loving Himself.” Now this may sound like a shocking statement at first, but we are talking on a mystical level, about where history is going. Most of us did fairly well with the passion and death, but any comprehensive theology of what we mean by the Risen Christ has not really been developed.


Christ in His risen presence is pervading all of creation, all of humanity. The metaphor used in the New Testament is that we as Christians are the first fruits, the adopted sons and daughters. Jesus is the Son and we are the inheritance, like the Jews were for history. To use the language of Paul in his letter to the Ephesians: “Before the world began, we were chosen in Christ to live through love in His presence” (1:3).


From where I sit today, this makes a whole world of sense to me...

Two very different brothers say good-bye...

So brother Robin Gibb of the Bee Gees gave up the ghost at 63.  I have to admit that the Bee Gees were one of my guilty pleasures:  they could groove and rock the dance floor like no body's business.  Sure, like Rolling Stone wrote in the early days of their disco songs, they sounded like porpoises singing in close part harmony with a drum machine.... but come on.  Who doesn't dig Travolta struttin' down the street to "Stayin' Alive?"

Back in the day I can remember when it was sooooo un-cool to like this stuff - and I just couldn't help myself.

Another brother who left this realm was Doug Dillard  - taught and mentored by Earl Scruggs - this cat made bluegrass rock.  He was a key influence on the Byrds when they went "country" and paved the way for the Eagles and so much of what is called "contemporary country." (check it out @ http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/news/la-me-doug-dillard-obituary-20120518,0,663551.story)

Thank God for the variety of music that is alive and well all over the planet.  These two brothers from different mothers brought a whole lotta joy to those who loved them - and I am in awe of their beauty.

Here's a fascinating thought...

One last note on the Ascension - this from Damian Howard SJ - in his summary of NT Wright's insights:  when the story of the Ascension is focused on how Christ becomes king - and what the kingdom of God means in the Judeo-Christian canon - it offers a "crowning moment in the resolution of the apocalyptic vision first articulated in the poetry of Daniel.

I saw one like a human being (Son of Man - Christ's favorite self reference)
   coming with the clouds of heaven.
And he came to the Ancient One
   and was presented before him.
To him was given dominion
   and glory and kingship,
that all peoples, nations and languages
   should serve him.
His dominion is an everlasting dominion
   that shall not pass away,
and his kingship is one
   that shall never be destroyed.
     

Howard notes:  the coronation of the one like a human being (Son of Man)... is presented exactly as an onlooker in heaven would enjoy the scene. It is a dream-vision - an imaginative rendition of the deep, hope-filled aspiration of faithful Jews, suffering persecution at the hands of an enemy so powerful they could scarcely envisage ever overcoming it. The Ascension, therefore in the words of Douglas Farrow, is quite simply the very same event (from Daniel) as viewed from earth, the Son of Man setting out on His journey to take up His throne alongside 'the Ancient One.'

The words of St. Paul note something similar in Philippians II:

Think of yourselves the way Christ Jesus thought of himself. He had equal status with God but didn't think so much of himself that he had to cling to the advantages of that status no matter what. Not at all. When the time came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human! Having become human, he stayed human. It was an incredibly humbling process. He didn't claim special privileges. Instead, he lived a selfless, obedient life and then died a selfless, obedient death—and the worst kind of death at that—a crucifixion. Because of that obedience, God lifted him high and honored him far beyond anyone or anything, ever, so that all created beings in heaven and on earth—even those long ago dead and buried—will bow in worship before this Jesus Christ, and call out in praise that he is the Master of all, to the glorious honor of God the Father.

Here the Ascension as recorded in Luke-Acts depicts the mystery of the Hebrew Bible revealed in the presence of the disciples.  Interesting, yes?  Consequently, this imaginative and poetic understanding of Jesus as King of heaven - not "kin" in some half-baked and sibling society attempt at inclusivity - but king invites a metaphorical vision of Christ's compassion becoming the heart of justice, judgment and God's will.  In the best mythopoetic sense, a king invites the common good:  not only is balance restored between the physical and the spiritual in a healthy kingdom, but the well-being of the least is protected and honored.

For too long the Reformed tradition has insisted on an anemic utilitarianism for fear of being too "Catholic."  Let's get over our fears, our selves and our prejudices and go deeper into the mystical wisdom of the poetry of the Ascension.

Thoughts on ascension day redux...

Sometimes it takes a few days of wandering around with an idea before it takes real shape and form, yes?  The late Raymond Brown of Union Theological Seminary - one of the Roman Catholic scholars of the Johannine writings who really cracked open the text - used to say that whenever he was preaching:  first he spent time with the Biblical text in study, then he spent time thinking about his contemporary context only to be followed with a few days of "walking around with the text" before coming to his conclusion.  "Jesus used to walk around a lot," he told us, "and we would do well to spend some walking around time with the text before coming to our own conclusions, too."

That was good advice - something I practice often - even if I still do my Sunday writing on Tuesday:  walking around with the text for the rest of the week gives me time to see what the Spirit might be saying to my soul, my church or my world.  No wonder what comes out of my mouth in worship is only loosely related to my earlier writing!  So goes it with my thoughts about the Ascension of Christ from a Reformed perspective...

All week long I've been wondering:  why is it that we Protestants give so little attention to this fascinating and challenging feast day?  In all of our founding documents - the Westminster Confession of Faith, the Heidelberg Cathecism, Luther's Cathecism and the Second Helvitic Confession to say nothing of the historic creeds - there is a simple acceptance of the Ascension as essential.  The Apostles' Creed, for example, puts it like this:

I believe in God, the Father almighty,

creator of heaven and earth.

I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord,

who was conceived by the Holy Spirit,

born of the Virgin Mary,

suffered under Pontius Pilate,

was crucified, died, and was buried;

he descended to the dead.

On the third day he rose again;

he ascended into heaven,

he is seated at the right hand of the Father,

and he will come to judge the living and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Spirit,

the holy catholic Church,

the communion of saints,

the forgiveness of sins,

the resurrection of the body,

and the life everlasting.

Amen.

The Ascension was reaffirmed during the Reformation and has been a foundational insight in our tradition since 1517.  Yet, not only is this doctrine currently embarrassing - "To put it crudely, had Jesus simply ascended vertically into space, we would by now expect him to be somewhere in the outer reaches of the solar system" as one blogger put it - but also conspicuous by its absence in contemporary reformed and reforming theology.  A Reformed believer from Calvin College, who was raised in Indonesia, restates the importance of the Ascension like this:

John Calvin taught that Christ truly inaugurated his kingdom only at his ascension to heaven. Calvin believed that as Christ withdrew his bodily presence from his people, he began to rule heaven and earth with more immediate power. Calvin was also sure that Christ’s spiritual presence could only come after his ascension (Institutes of the Christian Religion, 2.16.14). He explained that Christ’s ascension to heaven is beneficial to our faith in two ways. First, it opened the way into the heavenly kingdom that had been closed after the fall. And second, Christ in heaven has been our constant advocate and intercessor (2.16.16). By the power of his Spirit, Christ is now present with his people all over the world in his Word and in the sacraments. (Yudha Thianto @ http://www.reformedworship.org/article/march-2012/he-ascended-heaven)

Another Reformed pastor, Paul Detterman, askes: So why do modern and postmodern North American worshipers shy away from a full-on embrace and celebration of Christ’s ascension?

Ascension Day is traditionally celebrated on the fortieth day after Easter. But in many congregations we’ve successfully (if unintentionally) trained our worshipers to think the season of Easter is over less than forty hours after the guest trumpeter gets paid and the memorial lilies have been distributed. By the fortieth day after Easter, we’ve moved on to other rites and rituals: graduation parties, strict observance of the spring gardening calendar, and the beginning of the liturgical season of Little League, to name a few.

Familiar patterns of worship don’t help either. The Day of Ascension, strictly observed, calls for worship on a Thursday. As a parish pastor, I thought this was an amazingly cool thing to do—and apparently so did the four or five other people who usually showed up for Ascension Day services. For many Protestant churchgoers, off-Sunday worship ranks right up there with arena football as a less-than-interesting derivation of “the way things ought to be.”

Gradually, however, the importance and joy of Ascension can even captivate pragmatic churchgoers! New generations of worshipers (for whom Sunday is only one among many options) are discovering the power of mystery and the beauty of liturgy. Ascension provides a direct link into the unique power of the gospel.

Whether we observe it on Thursday or Sunday, the two great overarching themes of this celebration define the very core of our faith: Christ is Lord of all, and we are commissioned by Christ to live in this world as people who know it. Congregational vitality and mission, as well as our individual discipleship, can benefit from a more intentional observance of Ascension.

The British Jesuit, Damian Howard, suggests that the contemporary church has become so obsessed with relevance - and so driven by "what's in it for me" thinking - that we've created an "eastery spirituality" that is no longer connected to the kingdom of God.  And as N.T. Wright makes clear, Easter and Pentecost only make sense from the perspective of the kingdom.

(Ask believers) what, in a nutshell, is the core of the New Testament message? And there are doubtless as many answers to that question as there are Christians, but most of them would probably involve one or more of a bundle of ideas: resurrection–reconciliation–new life–triumph over sin and death, all very good, very Eastery answers – and all, incidentally, very much about us human creatures.

The centrality of these notions to most Christians explains both why Easter and Pentecost are so important to us and why the Ascension is not. Easter and Pentecost can be quickly established to be all about us: the promise of forgiveness and new life for us, the gift of the Spirit to us. It is not quite so clear what the Ascension has to offer us? The best answer I have been able to come up with is that Christ’s withdrawal brings about a new mode by which Christ can be present to us, intimate, yet universal and ‘interceding for us at the right hand of the Father’.

If you were to ask the same question to the New Testament scholar, N.T. Wright, you would be given a subtly different response, one that puts centre stage someone other than us. For Tom Wright, the core truth of Christianity is that Jesus, and hence God, has become King. The crucified Nazarene has been raised by God to be the universal Lord. Christ’s rising from the dead is not in itself the end of the story but a vitally important part of the trajectory that takes him to his heavenly throne. Wright’s interpretation hardly denies the importance of resurrection; it just sees it as part of a bigger picture. Jesus is raised to be King. (check out Howard's full article @ http://www.thinkingfaith.org/articles/20120516_1.htm)

The abiding conclusion from all of these thinkers points to this insight:  the Resurrection of the Lord is the beginning of Christ's heavenly journey.  "Pentecost is the echo on earth of Christ's coronation" and the Ascension in the hinge that holds it all together.  Given Christ's ascension into heaven, we can now live into compassionate and grace-filled blessings of Jesus trusting fully that Christ is present with God.  As Paul says, he intercedes for us with sighs too deep for human words.  And in this assurance, we can now live out Christ's grace - and justice - in public knowing that we are not alone in heaven or on earth. The imaginative/poetic truth is that of intimacy between the Creator and the Christ - an intimacy nourished by the Spirit - that works ALL things together for good.

RIP old friend...

One of my favorite "old school" disco queens left our world today:  Rest in Peace, Donna Summer, rest in peace.  Remember when "Love to Love You Baby" hit the airwaves in 1975?  OMG!  What a wildass, sexy fun tune that was!  We were living in LA at the time and working with the Farm Workers a few months before dear daughter number one was born.  And as I drove around the city doing voter registration - and later get out the vote drives in 1976 - Donna was wailing all over the place.  At first I was embarassed that I dug her groove so much - good Christian boys weren't suppose to enjoy this sultry stuff - but later I just let her sweet fun wash over me and celebrate the blessings of sensuality.

And she kept the hits coming:  my all-time favorite is "Hot Stuff."  And if confession is good for the soul, I still want to have a chance to play this song with our women singers at a Thanksgiving Eve or Fat Tuesday gig sometimes before I leave this realm.  It is just too much fun to miss playing, yes?  My girls got turned on to her when this song was used in the great "Full Monty" soundtrack... 

Don't forget "Bad Girls" and her duet with Striessand ~ she was a total pro with a great attitude - and I miss her already.  She left this world today @ 63 years old ~ waaaay too young - a victim of that bastard cancer.  So, shake your booty tonight for Donna Summer and know that she was a total blessing.  Thank you, old friend...

Anxiety, reason, sentimentality, despair and God's grace...

Tonight we spent an hour talking through Niebuhr's "existential anthropology" as part one of our study of social justice.  Without understanding how anxiety compels us towards sin in our dance with freedom and finitude,  we fail to grasp the core of our post-modern dilemma:  we know what is good and true and beautiful - and can accomplish it sometimes, too - just not consistently.  So what do we do with this baggage?

The legacy of sin and our simultaneous aching for grace drives some of us crazy - and we become self or other destructive.  Others embrace denial and leave a wake of pain as they wander through life.  Some give up all hope and still others become convinced that if we just had enough... something - faith, love, reason, wealth, pleasure - everything would be better. Except, of course, there is no historic evidence of this EVER!

That's why Niebuhr was clear:  Nothing that is worth doing can be achieved in our lifetime; therefore we must be saved by hope. Nothing which is true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history; therefore we must be saved by faith. Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore we are saved by love. No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as it is from our standpoint. Therefore we must be saved by the final form of love which is forgiveness.

I give thanks to God tonight for a leadership team willing to go deep into real theology.

Special and unexpected blessings...

There is a big, soft spot in my heart for the children of our church - and tonight I got the chance to nourish it.  One of the daughters of our one of our singers was with her momma for our weekly practice.  Her mother is a creative, faithful, brilliant and tender soul who brings so much depth and verve to our band.  And our church!  She was with us for a short time - went away - and now has been back for almost a year.  She sings like an angel, she is fun, sassy, spirit-filled and oh so inventive.  She regularly brings us unexpected blessings wherever she goes..

... and tonight one of those blessing was her youngest daughter.  A total pistol who is equally creative, sassy, funny and brilliant.  We were working on two songs for the next few weeks and I knew my little buddy would be bored to death if we did practice in our usual "adult" fashion.  So we got her up behind the congas, I gave her periodic cues and she beat the drums like nobody's business until I gave her the cut off sign.  She watched me like a hawk. She played with abandon.  And she was a total delight.  Not only did it bring back sweet memories of my own daughters in the varous churches we've served, but it also helped me pay attention to the fun of the music from the perspective of a child.

What's more,  tonight I got a chance to reconnect with some other once children/now grown women who used to be wee ones back in my first church in Michigan. I love how the sometimes blessings of FB can reconnect old friends in new ways. 

Tonight I give thanks to God for special and unexpected blessings like both momma and daughter and tonight was pure grace.