Pay Attention

I was fortunate to visit Washington D.C. this winter when there was no snow on the ground. It was nippy, but I didn’t see any white stuff. One of the most compelling exhibitions I visited was the National Museum of the Holocaust. The museum is as haunting and moving as you might expect a Smithsonian Museum to be. It’s very well done, yet it kind of took the wind out of my sails, as places such as these do. With discomfort, I retrieved my coat from the coat check, and bundled myself up; on to the next attraction on my list. I was on my way out, on to the next sight, when I experienced a holy interruption -- god tapping me on the shoulder. I looked up -- and as plain as day, I saw it: a banner hanging way up high, well out of the normal line of sight. It read: “Think about what you saw.” I could have so easily missed it -- it was hanging up so high, the way banners do.

When I read it, I knew I was standing face to face with God. Those words spoke to me as directly as any I have ever heard. "Think about what you saw." I think these words are a rallying cry straight from God’s heart to our ears. The very essence of what we are called to be and do for Christ. We are called not to be so distractedly running through life that we miss what’s directly in front of us. We are called not to be so busily fighting for a parking place at the mall that we miss the homeless man sitting on the bench.

“Think about what you saw,” the sign said. Isn’t that where we and God meet each other? Where we all intersect? That is the Incarnation -- when humankind meets God face to face – alive in the world.

• When we think about poverty and are moved to respond, that is holy ground.
• When we think about malaria and are moved to send malaria nets, that is holy ground.
• When we think about children being deprived of an education and send uniforms, that is none other than God tapping us on the shoulder, and saying, “Think.”

There is so much we don’t see, like the words Laus Deo at the top of the Washington Monument, but they are there. But there is so much we do see... and ignore. God calls us to trust in that which we don’t see, and to think and respond to what we do see. In that way, it seems to me, we live into that to which we have been called: to be God’s hands and feet in the world.

A Child is Born

What wondrous thing is this, oh my soul, oh my soul.

What wondrous thing is this, oh my soul.

February 13th, our youngest son, Alex and his wife Emily delivered their firstborn son, making us grandparents for the first time. I've always wondered about folks who would place that bumper sticker "Ask me about my grandchildren" on their cars. I mean, what's the big deal? Yet, seeing my grandson for the first time took my breath away. There is something we all need to be reminded about in the Christmas story: new life. Possibilities. Breathtaking possibilities. The Spirit of God dwelling among us.

During the announcements at church on Sunday, I just blurted out, "Our grandson was born last night!" The congregation erupted in applause. People kept telling me that I was bubbling all morning. And, with God's incredible grace, I had a baptism to do at our third service. Another little boy.

New Life. What wondrous thing is this?

Amen.

Abandoning Perfection

“O Lord you are my portion and my cup; it is you who uphold my lot. My boundaries enclose a pleasant land ……” Psalm 16:7-8

This line has been poking at my heart and mind since I prayed this psalm last week. What is God asking me to look at? I became conscious of the need to review my goals, to see if they still were relevant. I have needed affirmation (for a long time) that I am doing parochial pastoral care “right.” Right – not WRONG. I've needed to know the care I offer is not “merely adequate” but actually top of the line pastoral care.

This week, a subtle shift occurred. I understood all at once that this desire for “perfection” is unattainable because it cannot be measured. That begged the question – if I didn’t give up my quest for “that perfect visit” -- the perfect delivery of perfect pastoral care -- would I always live in quiet desperation?

What if I set aside the quest for “perfection” and replaced it with “competency? ” A subtle shift, but a profound one for me. Could that be satisfying? I'm living that question right now. Competency - and how that feels. So, how does this feel? It is a presence I have in my work that feels like it’s a good fit. Like a familiar pair of old loafers or your favorite sweater. Where have I felt this familiarity before? What is this feeling of well being? Optimism?

Then it came to me. It feels like when I pray. When Jesus and I are back on a first name basis after I’ve been away for awhile. There’s a comfort and a familiarity that I can rest in. It’s like old friends catching up. There’s an easiness to us – together – that I call being “right with God.” And how good that feels!

And it feels authentic. Not pride filled, not boastful, just authentic. And Id rather have authenticity than perfection any day.

School Uniforms

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$12.00 = one school uniform for a child

Did you know that while some third world "public" schools are free, many children are prevented from attending because they cannot afford to purchase the required school uniform? Or that every year, 75 million children are not in school -- 2/3s of them girls?

This fall, the Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Chicago, Jeffrey Lee, decided to do something about that. He challenged every Episcopalian in the diocese to purchase one school uniform for $12. Monies donated will go to Episcopal Relief and Development (er-d.org) who will ensure that children can attend school.

If you donate a uniform, you will receive a gift card suitable for gift giving. The card announces that a uniform has been donated in the recipient's name. The cards are available through me. All proceeds will be directed to Episcopal Relief and Development.

Donate here.

Who are They?

The New Emergents

They are Christo-centric, not Church-centric. They're holistic, earthy, incarnational and relational. They seek to practice what Phyllis Tickle calls “radical obedience” to Jesus’ ways. In other words, they believe that Jesus meant what he said.

The Emergents believe Jesus and the 1^st century church are worth emulating. They are not intimidated or impressed by ecclesiastical hierarchy, and they're not distracted by the “holiness” (or assumed holiness) and privilege of clergy.

Perhaps Jesus was the first Emergent. He entered a world where hierarchical Judaism was at war with itself, split between varying sects of Pharisees and the Sadducees, some who were obsessed with Temple rituals and obeying the 613 Mosaic Laws, and another group following the teachings of Rabbi Hillel, who embraced the idea that how our hearts are is more important in God’s eyes than all the Mosaic Laws. In her new book, A Case for God, Karen Armstrong contends that Jesus embraced this new gospel of radical compassion. She writes,

“[Jesus] was asking his disciples for commitment. He wanted disciples who would engage with his mission, give all they had to the poor, feed the hungry, refuse to be hampered by family ties, abandon their pride, lay aside their self-importance, and sense of entitlement, live like the birds of the air and the lilies of the field, and trust in the God who was their father.”

Emergents in the 21^st century embrace this Way. They entered a spiritual desert pockmarked by warring factions of Christians and simply sought Jesus. They are more apt to find Jesus in the world than in a church. They see Jesus in the faces of the poor, the sick and the marginalized. They wonder whether “program based” churches only want what their demographic represents, and are not really interested in their spiritual journeys. Captivated by the ancient, Emergents long for the simplicity of the first century house churches. They study source texts such as The Didache, The Bible, Justin’s First Apology and Augustine’s Confessions to recover authentic Church. Lastly, they seek to emulate "church" as it was before it was polluted by politics and by “the Institution.”

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Speaking of Avatars

Modernity into Post – Modernity

There are two terms being bandied about in theological circles: modernism and post-modernism. We hear that we live in a “post-modern world” which would cause many folks to ask, “What was the modern world then, if we have already entered a post-modern world?” As we try to grasp the concept of Emerging church, we need to understand these terms.

Modernism brought with it reason, optimism, universality, and objectivity. In America, it was a natural response to our collective loss of innocence during the traumas of two world wars. Modernists embraced normalcy and assimilation. We embraced science as a provable, rational way to solve our problems, as in: “There’s a pill for that.” In modernity, we embraced sameness, and encouraged our children and newcomers to “fit in” and to live and dress like the Cleavers. We celebrated being collectively white and middle class. Mystery was out; reason was in. Foreign was out, American was in. Spirituality was out, science was in.

Post-modernity, to risk an over-simplification, is essentially the antithesis of modernity. If modernity was vanilla ice cream, post-modernity is cappuccino macadamia nut frozen yogurt. Mysticism – to post moderns – is enjoying a renaissance. Traditions from other cultures and from bygone eras are embraced and adapted for Christian use. (Icons, prayer beads, Sufi wisdom literature, and labyrinths are examples.) Recovering our ethnic backgrounds and bringing them to the common pot brings a rich deep flavor to a community. In addition, the post-modern church is becoming technologically savvy. Several mainline denominations are investing serious money in virtual reality worlds. Today, we can attend regularly scheduled worship services online at Anglican Cathedral in a virtual world known as Second Life.

The question becomes: Can an online priest absolve the confessed sins of an avatar?

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Milkweed and Chaos

Milkweed – and Chaos

My Lectio Divina passage this week was Genesis 1:26-31. I considered the phrases “God’s image” and “be fruitful,” but the loudest “whispering” I received was just one word: “Everything.”

The meditatio portion of my prayer continues. As I walked through the woods out at our cabin, I was still chewing on why God wanted me to hear the word “everything.” I saw, and picked, an unopened milkweed pod. Mostly, I looked forward to getting back home and opening it in the warmth of my kitchen, to see, once again, an example of God’s order and beauty in all things.

God creating perfect order out of chaos. When I got home, I resisted opening the pod, and abandoned it on the counter, waiting. A day later, some fluff puffed out of the pod. I never touched it, but daily it changed. More and more fluff burst forth. The metaphor shifted. I had intended the milkweed pod as an example of God’s creative desire for order and beauty over chaos – but now it was just an example of chaos. It had morphed into a pile of fluff!

Did my humanity cause the chaos? Did our original sin (and my picking it) cause it to revert to chaos? (Now there's a meditation!) And medatatio continues. God still whispers the word “everything” into my heart. And perhaps the milkweed pod’s return to chaos is part of God’s plan too. Maybe even chaos. Everything.