tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-177745402024-03-07T11:54:17.260-06:00Nkosi Sikelel'i AfrikaDo not care overly much for wealth, or power, or fame,because one day you will meet someone who cares for none of these things, and you will realize how poor you have become.
|Rudyard Kipling|Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.comBlogger148125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-40965527246787399832009-04-27T10:35:00.000-05:002009-04-27T10:36:38.733-05:00So What?Sermon on the Third Sunday in Easter, 2009<br /><br /><br />Christ is risen! Christ is risen, indeed. Alleluia!<br /><br />…so what?<br /><br />I think our gospel this morning asks us that question: So what? Christ is indeed risen, yes. So what does that mean?<br /><br />We have many accounts of the risen Jesus meeting his disciples, and they respond in a markedly different way than a resounding, “Christ is risen, indeed! Alleluia!” They don’t seem to know what to do. Jesus comes and says, as always, “Peace be with you.” He brings them peace…and they’re afraid.<br /><br />Hmm. Christ is indeed risen…? So what?<br /><br />The disciples respond in such a way that’s natural. They’re afraid of the peace Jesus brings. They live in a world of fear of violence and peace is simply not something they know. It’s not their language. The disciples knew only fear and violence under an oppressive regime, Rome. Let’s put another modern spin on it – they knew fear and violence because they lived as people without rights in a land not their own, a land that was occupied.<br /><br />Fear and violence was their language. They could understand how Jesus, who was wildly popular and also quite controversial, could upset the authorities – both religious and secular, both Judean and Roman – and, like any of the other radicals, experience Rome’s capital punishment: death by crucifixion. They could understand fear and violence winning out.<br /><br />But they just could not understand how Jesus could defeat these powers, this death and fear and violence, so ingrained in their collective minds, and be raised from the dead. They couldn’t understand that peace could win. It didn’t register with them. They meet together in the wake of Jesus’ execution, speaking in the same terms they were raised on – fear of those who had come after Jesus, so, it seemed, they just as likely would come after them; and violence, both the violence they had experienced, and the violence maybe some of them thought about inflicting on somebody, anybody, in return.<br /><br />And the disciples just could not understand how Jesus could come back and proclaim peace. How is this possible? And so they respond with fear, and trembling. <br /><br />Christ is indeed risen… So what?<br /><br />The risen Christ comes to proclaim peace in a world of fear and violence. Jesus appears before his disciples and says, “Peace be with you.” Jesus appears before his disciples and says, “The power of fear and violence is nothing in the face of the power of peace.”<br /><br />This radical proclamation comes from the risen Christ, and it has so much more of an impact because of the fearful and violent world in which Jesus lived and died and was raised from the dead. Jesus the Christ was fearfully rejected by those he loved (including the disciples, his very own inner circle), and violently betrayed, taken, beaten, whipped, spit on, mocked, made fun of, and put to death. And yet he responded – only and always – with peace. Peace and love.<br /><br />This proclamation of peace is so much more amazing because of these circumstances. You might imagine someone who had gone through all this violence and betrayal, and then appears before those responsible for abandoning him when he needed him most, might say something more like, “Hey guys…I’m baaaaack! Remember me?”<br /><br />That might be more understandable. To continue in the ways of fear and violence. Yet the risen Christ comes back after all of that, and says, “Peace be with you.”<br /><br />Wow! Christ is indeed risen. And so what? What does that peace look like?<br /><br />Does it look like the girl who was the first to integrate the school in Little Rock, AR? Everyday she walked into the school amidst taunts, sneering, jeers, spitting, and much worse – the face of pure hatred. Years later, a journalist looked at video of her walking, and noticed the girl muttering something under her breath. In an interview, the woman said that she was saying the same thing, every day: “Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they’re doing.”<br /><br />Does it look like the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem? When I was there, worshipping with a community of Palestinian Christians who live under occupation – a wall stretches around the city of Jesus’ birth, to keep the inhabitants in, suffocating in extreme poverty and violence – and who were crying out to God. They weren’t crying for revenge, or retribution; they were crying for peace.<br /><br />We know the disciples, maybe a little too well, don’t we? We live in a world just as driven and ruled by fear and violence as they did. And so when Jesus appears to us this Easter, saying, “Peace be with you,” we often respond with that same fear and trembling. Peace just isn’t the language we’re used to.<br /><br />Yet, in the midst of wars raging around the world, and people who live in constant fear for their lives, Jesus appears to us and says, “Peace be with you.”<br /><br />Alongside the 30,000 people who die every single day because of starvation and preventable diseases, such as the common cold, the risen Christ appears to us and says, “Peace be with you.”<br /><br />Along with those who live under occupation, behind walls, with no rights, in the West Bank and Gaza, the risen Christ appears to us and says, “Peace be with you.”<br /><br />In the midst of those in this country who are victims of domestic abuse, who cannot find peace even in their own home, the risen Christ appears to us and says, “Peace be with you.”<br /><br />Next to those of us who are depressed, who suffer from addictions, who have scars in our lives, who are told by our society that we need more stuff to fill the void in our lives, the risen Christ appears to us and says, “Peace be with you.”<br /><br />Whispering in the ear of those of us in this sanctuary, this Upper Room in which we are gathered, who don’t know exactly why we have come here today, but know that, in some way, we may feel fear, emptiness, or that we aren’t good enough, the risen Christ appears to us and says, “Peace be with you.”<br /><br />Christ is indeed risen. And so what?<br /><br />Jesus appears to us today and answers that question: “Peace be with you.” This Easter season, let us hear those words anew. Let us live as agents of peace, as the “peacemakers” whom Jesus calls “blessed.” In a world of fear and violence, let us stand and say that Christ is indeed risen, for us and for our broken world that continues to say that violence is the answer, that violence somehow brings peace. And Christ repeats, repeats, repeats, “Peace be with you.”<br /><br />Fear and violence don’t bring peace. Christ brings peace. Christ is our answer. And the power of peace wins out. Christ is <span style="font-style:italic;">indeed</span> risen. <br /><br />Amen.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-23149866065922512292009-04-23T16:53:00.005-05:002009-04-23T17:00:42.012-05:00Holy, holy, holy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5EXtOmp0FX-FnBOqh9ioHK3bjUme3lqWYglh0sJuChF9Gwe3Azk2W8tJEtQuWLfSzvoYXXV6cKsyDVJsUXZofIRMTw2O7WJtQyLhhTjSnk8SbrnYJtjgVZ2Zm3AP3ijkIGUOl/s1600-h/IMG_2618.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5EXtOmp0FX-FnBOqh9ioHK3bjUme3lqWYglh0sJuChF9Gwe3Azk2W8tJEtQuWLfSzvoYXXV6cKsyDVJsUXZofIRMTw2O7WJtQyLhhTjSnk8SbrnYJtjgVZ2Zm3AP3ijkIGUOl/s320/IMG_2618.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328008733454392690" /></a><br />We had waited for a long time for this, and it was finally here. Holy Week. For those who still think that all pastors really do is show up on Sunday, preach, and then go home, this week affords the opportunity to show up at the church on other days of the week, and see that – surprise, surprise – the pastors are still there!<br /><br />The week before, I had finished my sermon series on “Rediscovering the Liturgy,” which, in my free-flowing vernacular, quickly became renamed, “Worship MEANS Something.” I wanted to encourage all of us in mainstream, liturgical Christianity, to understand that what we do when we gather is more than just stand up, say a few words, sit down, then stand up again, later. We are deeply interwoven with something greater than us, a great flowing river of words, actions, and rituals – spoken, sung, and celebrated, in one way or another – for the better part of 2,000 years. What we do together means something. It’s not just done to be done. In short, I wanted all of us at my internship church to be unabashedly, unashamedly Lutheran.<br /><br />Then we entered Holy Week. I had never been so busy in my entire life, and yet, I had an opportunity to really be, to be a part of the body of Christ, to take part in this holy and ancient ritual. I walked the labyrinth. I fasted. I sat in our sanctuary, the late afternoon sun piercing the darkened space, stopping for a moment to enter through a stained glass window, then continuing on in a kaleidoscope shower of browns, yellows, and oranges. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn0sFNGxHoLg126cY4T6DQHkcd0RyAnZNMpVQRQqC7BAP1zuFsAxPYuH09JqV2c14leWze2q95jnz_CRX0c-YmNyoSXIdZcOFyYJpSz-5X2xVrYgPLDaO83JUkeP_3mcAzCNBZ/s1600-h/IMG_2582.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn0sFNGxHoLg126cY4T6DQHkcd0RyAnZNMpVQRQqC7BAP1zuFsAxPYuH09JqV2c14leWze2q95jnz_CRX0c-YmNyoSXIdZcOFyYJpSz-5X2xVrYgPLDaO83JUkeP_3mcAzCNBZ/s320/IMG_2582.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328009599022047138" /></a> <br /><br />I was washed in this light, thinking about all the things I had done, and things I had yet to do. Thinking about the real, complicated, broken, and beautiful body of Christ in this church in Central Florida. Considering how God loves us so desperately and unabashedly it’s almost embarrassing. God as my supervisor’s Jack Russell terrier who lays in my lap, licking my cheek, making me blush.<br /><br />Then came worship. One of the many things I have learned this year is that it’s hard to worship AND lead worship at the same time – but there are always those moments, for this worship-loving boy, when I forget where I am or what I’m doing, and I’m just speechless. Those moments were everywhere during the Maundy Thursday services, as the haunting words of Psalm 22 echoed in the silence, blanketing the child of God as she slowly and methodically stripped the altar. Jesus being taken by the Roman authorities, violence seeming to win over peace.<br /><br />The Easter Vigil service also poured out those moments for me, drenching me in this grace that comes from the One who created us, who continues to love us, who invites us to co-create this world of ours. Listening to the stories of our ancestors in the faith, I was amazed at how these stories wait there for us, rarely being read in their entirety, enticing us to listen with new ears, to hear how God saves God’s people. <br /><br />Holy Week is past, and I’m still so exhausted I am daydreaming about my pillow as I type. And last week, two years ago, my Mom died. Easter had come and gone for a few weeks then, but now it’s still in the air. When we call out to a God who says that not even death itself can separate us, I remember Mom. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggF45h851EwGrdaIg-jcw5Kbr6iAAsb518tnEE7QyQdtUSCj9XDaG3FbbtG_Iky8IABlkxbeNDIZtMAwhbx-emH-OCg8DL1CWf61P49g7cjbWHddsZOWSOh8v2UTDbCoLTKcM_/s1600-h/IMG_2627.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggF45h851EwGrdaIg-jcw5Kbr6iAAsb518tnEE7QyQdtUSCj9XDaG3FbbtG_Iky8IABlkxbeNDIZtMAwhbx-emH-OCg8DL1CWf61P49g7cjbWHddsZOWSOh8v2UTDbCoLTKcM_/s320/IMG_2627.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328010093679903234" /></a><br /><br />And I hope that, now, Mom can finally remember me, too.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-45739632248015583852009-02-16T09:03:00.001-06:002009-02-16T09:04:46.463-06:00God's Gettin' MessySermon on Internship, February 15, 2009<br /><br />I love stories. I really do. I especially love stories in which I can find myself; stories with characters with whom I can relate. And I can always relate really well with people who mess up. People who are imperfect and do stupid things. And the Bible is full of stories like this. Naaman and the Jordan is a perfect example. <br /><br />It is in this story today that we learn that our God works through messy situations. It’s in this messiness that God works. No matter what obstacles or hard-headedness or miscommunication gets in the way, God overcomes them. <br /><br />And this story is full of obstacles, isn’t it? It’s kind of a messy story.<br /><br />There’s Naaman, a powerful general, not a Hebrew, has leprosy, and so he travels all the way to the land of Israel – where, by the way, his people had taken and enslaved at least one Hebrew girl, who served him – and then is offended when he’s not treated like a king. <br /><br />There’s the king of Aram, who mistakenly believes that the king of Israel is the one who can cure his general Naaman, so he sends Naaman with an amazing array of gifts to win over the king.<br /><br />There’s the king of Israel, who thinks the letter asking for a healing is a call to arms – interesting, since the writer of 2 Kings tells us that it was by the foreign Naaman, not the king of Israel, that the Lord had brought victory to Aram – and is probably mustering up his men for war by the time the message from Elisha arrives. <br /><br />There’s even Elisha, who, with this powerful army just outside his front door, tells a messenger to tell Naaman to go wash in the Jordan. He can’t come himself – he’s a bit busy. <br /><br />These are all characters who get in the way, who mess things up – they are obstacles to grace winning out, to a person being healed, to the glory of God being shown before all. <br /><br />Yet God works in this messiness. God is at work even though people are messing up. And we can see it in the girl from the land of Israel. As fascinating as Naaman is, I think the award for most intriguing character goes to the girl from the land of Israel, the servant of Naaman’s wife. The phrase “girl from the land of Israel” is repeated, maybe to clarify that she is merely a girl; or that she comes all the way from Israel, a place way out there, much farther than U.S. 41 – I mean it’s far away. Or maybe the phrase is repeated because it’s a nameless girl – she doesn’t even have a name worth remembering.<br /><br />Yet she is a complex, beautiful character in this already fantastic story. She refuses to believe that God’s work is over – even though she was taken captive – we call that ‘slavery’ – she continues the work of God. Forcibly taken from her home, from everything she knows, she continues to believe, to hope…to have faith. <br /><br />God works in messy situations. Whether we are like the king of Aram, and too often misunderstand the situation, and do something, well, stupid. Or maybe we’re the king of Israel, taking something the wrong way and jumping to dangerous conclusions. We might be Naaman, letting our egos and prejudices get in the way. <br /><br />It doesn’t really matter, though. Despite our best efforts, we’re going to mess up. We’re going to create obstacles. Maybe that’s why we can relate to well with the stories in the Hebrew Scriptures – they are flawed, imperfect human beings, just like us. Yet God overcomes those obstacles – every time.<br /><br />It’s more than God working in messy situations, however. Even God starts getting messy, y’all. And it goes everywhere. It’s Grandma God, at the Thanksgiving table, with a huge bowl of grace and mercy and love and forgiveness, and she’s doling it out with a huge ladle, and she’s gettin’ messy. <br /><br />It’s getting all over our Sunday-best, and there’s no amount of laundry detergent that can get these stains out. It’s staining us and our lives, forever. It’s not coming out.<br /><br />And when this starts to pour out, when Grandma gets messy with her love and forgiveness, we see normal, everyday things, become holy and amazing. God’s mercy and grace is so messy, it spills out, drenching us and getting us messy, too. <br /><br />When God starts getting messy, we see incredible things happening. <br /><br />We see Naaman washing in the Jordan – anyone ever been to the Jordan? It ain’t blue and beautiful…it’s kinda murky and muddy. It’s a messy little river. Not the kind of place you’d pick to take a bath. Yet Naaman steps into it, and is healed. Normal, everyday water turns into a Word of healing. <br /><br />We see a star in the sky becoming a bearer of the Most High God. We see our words spoken to loved ones who are in the hospital or sick become God’s own words of comfort, spoken to our ancestors, to God’s people throughout the millenia; spoken to us, today.<br /><br />We see people doing everyday things that become holy and sacred with God’s messy grace getting on them forever. Rosa Parks refuses to give up her seat, and her humanity, taking something simple and making it sacred. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. speaks the words of the Declaration of Independence in Washington, D.C., and these words become more than just a hollow pronouncement – “All people are created equal.” They become holy words of a God of justice and equality.<br /><br />We see ourselves come into this sanctuary, and speak words from a cranberry red book. Yet they are so much more – they are God’s holy words to us. It’s Grandma spilling out into our worship, shaking hands with us during the peace, calling on us to be her people, inviting us to her table.<br /><br />God’s gettin’ messy, y’all, and it’s a mess I want to get into, too. It’s a word that spills out, a word of overwhelming grace and unending mercy. <br /><br />And today, we see it everywhere look. Our God works in the messy situations. And when God gets messy, look at what happens: normal, dirty water becomes life-giving. Stars in the sky become bearers of the Most High God. Wine and bread become salvation.<br /><br />God’s gettin’ messy, y’all.<br /><br />Amen to that.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-46253217132905954072009-01-21T13:27:00.001-06:002009-01-21T13:29:42.906-06:00Being Human“I feel like a human being again.”<br /><br />That’s what a parishioner – a small older woman with wispy hair and a soft smile – said to me in the hospital, after having just taken a bath. And by “bath,” I mean that she had a tub of hot water on her lap, and that morning she had taken the time to use a towel and wash her upper body. <br /><br />Just something as simple as taking a bath, of cleansing herself, had given her back her humanity. <br /><br />That morning, she had the ability to feel like a human being again. Maybe it was because of the attention she was able to give her body; maybe it was the lack of someone else helping her do something; or maybe it just felt so good to be warm and clean again, that she remembered who she was:<br /><br />A beautiful child of God. <br /><br />I visit people all the time at Trinity. Whether it be in hospitals, waiting rooms, hospice homes, actual homes, kitchens, living rooms, bedrooms, or even prisons, I spend a good amount of time on my internship listening and talking to people. <br /><br />And I live in south Florida, the home of all things retirement facilities and golf courses. I see a lot of old people. I’ve gotten to know them, learn from them, listen to them, and experience their humanity.<br /><br />Too often that humanity is subtly taken away. And it’s not malicious in its intent. It’s just simple things – doctors talking to the nurses and family in the room, but never to the person in the bed. People who are ‘shut-in,’ stuck in their homes, in the same chair, in the same room, because they don’t have the ability to leave the house, whether it’s physically or mentally. 70-year olds, 80, 90, 106 year-old people who talk about the life they’ve lived and who seem to be preparing for it to end.<br /><br />I’m 26, and I never talk like that. But I’m learning the power of that conversation. I’m learning the importance of regaining a sense of humanity in the onslaught of a culture who has a place, a prescription, or a ‘solution’ for the problem of old age. <br /><br />“I feel like a human being again.” I hope that everyone, every day, can say that.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-84753809832914594442008-12-10T19:07:00.002-06:002008-12-10T19:15:12.341-06:00Backstage PassesI say it all the time to the kids at my internship church: <span style="font-style:italic;">It’s not Christmas yet.</span> You, of course, wouldn’t know that if you paid attention to the radio or the TV. Christmas carols start before Thanksgiving, Christmas sales begin with the infamous Black Friday, and Christmas dwarfs what Christians are called to be: a hopeful, waiting people. When Christmas dwarfs Advent, Christians lose the very thing it means to be Christian.<br /><br />And it’s in Advent where we meet John the Baptist – Jesus comes to the world through a half-naked lunatic who eats bugs. Here’s a guy whose sole purpose is to point to something beyond himself. He is, essentially, that really good supporting actor in movies that you <span style="font-style:italic;">love</span>, but who never gets top billing. He’s Djimon Honsou in <span style="font-style:italic;">Gladiator</span>, Philip Seymour Hoffman in <span style="font-style:italic;">25th Hour</span>, Zooey Deschanel in <span style="font-style:italic;">Eulogy</span>.<br /><br />And it’s just not like our society to reward those people. Nobody cares about the offensive lineman who helps LaDanian Tomlinson into the end zone – it’s only the running back who spikes the ball. <br /><br />But Christians revel in our supporting role. We are John the Baptist, speaking the truth – “I am not the Messiah.” When society tells kids they must be the best, the brightest, the skinniest, and the coolest, Christians say, “I am <span style="font-style:italic;">nothing</span> without God.”<br /><br />This is not a limitation, however. It allows us to do amazing things, to love our neighbor, to work for justice in the world. <br /><br />It was Oscar Romero’s words that ring true: “We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something, and to do it well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning - a step along the way. An opportunity for God's grace to enter and do the rest.”<br /><br />We are not all quarterbacks and leading actors. We are the backstage people, making the set ready for the main event. And there’s no shame in that; there’s no disappointment because we “should” be something more.<br /><br />The New York Yankees are such a prolific baseball team, any year they don’t win the World Series, it’s considered a failure. Luckily we don’t have such high expectations.<br /><br />We are just wandering around, searching, waiting. And then God’s grace enters and does the rest. <br /><br />It’s not Christmas yet. All we can do is wait, in a society that never does.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-43534802126400800162008-12-03T19:19:00.001-06:002008-12-03T19:21:45.443-06:00The Passion of Black FridayThere are some who mourn the loss of God in our schools (as if she couldn’t get in there without our help or something). Others decry the moral degradation of our nation, witnessed in such things as the Ten Commandments being refused public placement in courthouses across the United States. This is where we can see how much our country has fallen from its “godly” ways, they say. If only we could get back to that golden age when God was worshiped (and so was the United States of America).<br /><br />I’m pretty sure, however, that the U.S. isn’t bowing down to the Christian God – I seem to remember that we were a nation of religious freedom, first off – and I’m pretty sure it never has. The nation we know was founded by deists, people who believed in a deity up there, in the sky, but no mention of Jesus Christ in the Declaration of Independence. (I think I would remember – I learned that document in our “godless” public schools, and it certainly mentions a Creator…)<br /><br />But this nation has always bowed down to another god, and this has <span style="font-style:italic;">never</span> gone challenged. It’s the god of consumerism, wealth, and materialism, and it is worshiped with such vigor and passion that Protestant Christians, for one, could learn a lesson.<br /><br />I don’t think Jdimytai Damour would have ever imagined that his day would go like this. But, indeed, the son of Haitian immigrants died on the biggest shopping day of the year, a martyr to the god of consumer wealth that has certainly <span style="font-style:italic;">not</span> disappeared from our schools, as well as everywhere else. Bum-rushed by more than 200 people at 5am, this guy’s only sin was to be the one to open the door that fateful morning.<br /><br />That’s not the worst part. As he lay dying, and medics came to his side to revive him, people <span style="font-style:italic;">still rushed by</span>, undaunted by this dismal scene. A dying man was <span style="font-style:italic;">not</span> going to get in the way of their LCD flat-screen TV for $399, thank you very much. “Don’t even think about closing the store,” you could almost hear them saying. “That dying dude better not get in the way of my shopping!”<br /><br />And so another innocent bystander dead in our obsessive worship of this god. There are those that may fight for God to ‘return’ to schools, but I think a much better use of our time is to rid ourselves of the god who infiltrates every aspect of our society…and its refrain is loud and clear: “Purchase me, and you will be a better person.”<br /><br />This god is passively entertained – if not wholeheartedly endorsed – by our society. And someone died for it on Friday. <br /><br />But, hey. Widescreen LCD flat-screen TV’s for $399! Wow, what a deal! I’d <span style="font-style:italic;">kill </span>for that!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-20723848502387263982008-11-18T14:09:00.003-06:002008-11-19T13:55:27.147-06:00Defining Life<span style="font-style: italic;">Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you...</span><br /><div style="text-align: right;">|Jeremiah 1:5|<br /></div><br />I would love a coherent definition for “life,” because I just don't get it. <br /><br />The pro-life camp wants to protect the rights of the “unborn,” or, basically, to defend innocent babies – human beings who can’t defend themselves. I know there’s some discussion over what constitutes a “life,” whether it’s at the moment of conception, or nine weeks later, etc… <br /><br />God says Jeremiah was known before he was “formed in the womb.” This seems to clarify the definition of the beginning of “life” a bit more, at least from a Judeo-Christian perspective. <br /><br />If it comes down to a definition of what constitutes human life in general, however, then the scope broadens. <br /><br />I wonder about the thousands of human beings who die <span style="font-style: italic;">every day</span> from hunger and other preventable diseases. Are they also innocent human beings who deserve protection against harm? What about the millions of victims of genocide and bombing campaigns in places like Darfur and Iraq? Are they deserving of life as well? How about the human beings (not “aliens,” no matter how many times you say it, CNN anchor Lou Dobb) who cross over national borders, trying to survive? Did God know <span style="font-style: italic;">them</span> before they were formed in the womb?<br /><br />The Bible has things to say about life <span style="font-weight: bold;">across the board</span>. For immigrants, legal or not, we are told to “love [them] as yourself, for you were [immigrants] in the land of Egypt” (Leviticus 19:34). For those who are poor, or hungry, or naked, or imprisoned, we are told that “just as you did it to one of the least of these…you did it to me” (Matthew 25:40). <br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">For those who are imprisoned</span>, Jesus says. Perhaps for those on death row who are overwhelmingly men of color, whose lives are scheduled to be taken away by a government that kills people in order to say that killing is wrong.<br /><br />As a man, I can never know what it means to be faced with a pregnancy or possible abortion. I can never, ever understand what that’s like, and I’m very wary of male politicians making judgment statements on women in those precarious positions. <br /><br />But I do know what ‘life’ means. And if it applies to defenseless unborn babies, then it must <span style="font-style: italic;">equally</span> apply to defenseless born babies in Rwanda and Chicago, to teenagers in the rundown and neglected inner cities across the United States, to people wasting away in places ravaged by war, genocide, and AIDS.<br /><br />If we’re going to use the Bible to defend a “pro-life” stance, then let’s please ask what constitutes life. If we’re just being “pro-birth,” then let’s call it that.<br /><br />Because I just don’t understand how a view can defend to the death the right for babies to be born, but care less when it comes to those same babies who grow up in the crumbling homes and schools of the forgotten America; or the wretched lives struggling to eat from day to day across this world; or the lives taken by bombs for no other reason than that they happened to live in a place overflowing with much-needed oil.<br /><br />I just don’t get it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-3876439938358060882008-11-12T16:07:00.003-06:002008-11-12T16:13:36.605-06:00The Meaning of Hope500 years ago, you’d be called a flat-out lunatic if you had the radical notion that the earth revolved around the sun (still, however, we pretend like it doesn’t: the sun “rises” and “sets”). 100 years ago, you’d be quickly dismissed if you thought that human beings could fly. And less than a few weeks ago, you probably still couldn’t convince people that the United States of America would elect someone <span style="font-style:italic;">other</span> than a white male to be president. <br /><br />Yet, it has happened. And it happened regardless of all the (obscene) un-truths spreading around, the idea that Obama isn’t a natural-born citizen, that he’s a radical Muslim, that once he’s elected president, the U.S. will become a Marxist haven that has abortions every day on the White House lawn while pledging allegiance to France…naked. <br /><br />America has chosen change, and, as John McCain said Election Night, the people have spoken, and they have spoken clearly. <br /><br />We’ve not just chosen change: we’ve chosen hope. And we’ve chosen to believe in Barack Obama’s own words: “In the unlikely story that is America, there has never been anything false about hope.” <br /><br />But it’s even more than that. We’ve chosen, as a people, to stick our necks out, and dare to dream. To imagine that the world is circular, not flat; that the center of the Universe is nowhere near our piddly little planet; that we can travel to the skies, and beyond; that pompous, middle-aged white male farmers are not the only ones deserving of citizenship in this great country.<br /><br />We’ve chosen to move forward, so that our children can live in a world better off than how we found it, not worse. <br /><br />Barack Obama is not the Savior, he’s not the end-all-be-all. It’s not “In Obama We Trust.” But he’s always said this election wasn’t about him; it’s about us. As Gandhi said: We are the ones we’ve been waiting for. And we've chosen to hope.<br /><br />Just as Galileo chose to hope for a world that realized its place in the Cosmos. Just as Martin Luther King, Jr. hoped for a country that judged people by the content of their character, first and foremost. Just as all those innovators through the millennia hoped for a better world...somehow, someway.<br /><br />500 years from now, will the notion that people drive gas-guzzlers that get 15 mpg be laughable? 100 years from now, will the extreme nationalistic divide be considered the <span style="font-style:italic;">definition</span> of "inappropriate" in the face of global threats in the form of self-destruction and climate crisis? A few weeks from now, will there finally be a realization that it might not have been the destruction of the Grand Ole’ Party, but more of the success of a junior senator from Illinois to inspire millions, that led to this new administration?<br /><br />Let’s hope so.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-41378907391126847772008-10-16T14:59:00.005-05:002008-10-16T15:07:14.332-05:00Just As We Are<span style="font-style:italic;">Just as I am;<br />thy love unknown<br />has broken every<br />barrier down...</span><br /><br />This week, members of the Equality Ride – <a href="http://www.equalityride.org">http://www.equalityride.org</a> - were arrested in Palm Beach, Florida. After being told they were “unwanted guests” and would be arrested if they crossed the line and trespassed, five members crossed that line. These people, traveling across our country to colleges and universities in order to seek justice for lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people, in the spirit of the Freedom Rides in the 1960s, continue to cross that line.<br /><br />In the one and only vice-presidential debate, both candidates quickly said that they considered marriage to be between “one man and one woman,” before going into subtle differences on what “rights” same-sex couples were entitled to in this country. Two straight people talking about what should be given to – and taken away from – lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people in the United States. <br /><br />In mainline Protestant Christian denominations, a continuing debate on sexuality rages, deciding about the fate of our LGBT partners in the faith, often talking <span style="font-style: italic;">about</span> them, instead of <span style="font-style: italic;">to</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">with</span> them. <br /><br />And these Equality Riders – one of whom is a dear friend of mine from college, Lauren Parke – walk across the line, singing “Just As I Am.” I’ll never know that kind of courage. This act, to me, defines 'faith.'<br /><br />Recently “National Coming Out Day” was celebrated by many people close to me. Many people God has called, to the ministry, to the Equality Ride…and to simply living life just as they are. <br /><br />And I continue on my internship in this place, working toward what I feel God has called me – rostered leadership in the church. Do I have the courage to ‘come out’ as an ally? Do I have the faith to affirm that God loves all people? These are questions that continue to, rightly, follow me wherever I go.<br /><br />An ally who knows what it means to ‘come out,’ and who has been spending years speaking out for God’s radical love, is another dear friend, David Weiss. (Check out his exquisite book on this subject – <a href="http://www.davidrweiss.com">http://www.davidrweiss.com</a>) <br /><br />Lauren and David inspire me in their love and longing for justice in this world. I can only hope that this justice wins out. It’s going to take a lot of work from us in the church. I feel it’s what we’ve been called to do. God’s final answer to God’s people is <span style="font-weight: bold;">yes</span>. Justice <span style="font-style: italic;">will</span> prevail. Truly, if God is for us, who can be against us?<br /><br />God's unknown love has broken down barriers, and will continue to do so.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-48576137950080731412008-09-29T09:36:00.001-05:002008-09-29T09:38:22.962-05:00A Slight MisunderstandingThis past weekend, I gave a sermon on the necessity (or lack thereof) of understanding in the Gospels. I believe that Jesus made no distinction, and loved people regardless of their understanding. I connected it to the debate over how old a person must be to receive communion – their age is a factor in their understanding, after all. The sermon is done (for me, this means giving it four times in a 20-hour period, which translates into a few of these: !!!), but I’m still thinking about it. <br /><br />I’m still thinking about it, because every time I turn on the TV to one of the “Christian” (I use that term loosely) stations, or any time I flip the radio station to one of the three – or 3,000, it’s hard to tell sometimes – conservative talk-show/fundamentalist Christian sermon-hours, I experience a full-on assault of immensely absolute and fundamental knowledge. There’s no room for not understanding with this theology. <br /><br />They understand all, it seems – and we better figure out how to do the same. And soon. ‘Cause Jesus is coming. And, apparently, he’s super pissed.<br /><br />I related the story of my mother, who understood close to nothing in the last years and months of her life, yet she could have still received communion. Because it’s not about whether or not she understands. It’s not about what she can or can’t do. <span style="font-style:italic;">It’s about what Jesus does</span>. What he promises in the bread and wine. <br /><br />We serve an amazing God, a God, I believe, who is quite powerful and loving. You’d never know it from listening to this understanding-based theology on TV and radio, though. For them, the answers are necessary and critical, and we must understand all of God’s innermost attributes and characteristics. We must understand what – and who – God hates, and follow by example.<br /><br />In this theology (I believe), it is “understood” that we must work towards God, instead of God emptying Godself and coming down to us, to be among us. It’s understood that we must prove ourselves again and again, accepting Jesus into our hearts – instead of <span style="font-style:italic;">Jesus accepting us</span>, and God calling us to be God’s people in the world.<br /><br />Basically, this theology is so concerned with what we must do – include understand – instead of the amazing things God does. What a sad view of God.<br /><br />I’m just fairly certain of one thing: I don’t understand much. I’ll never truly “get” God. And I think that’s the only honest thing I can come up with – for who can really understand the truly mysterious?<br /><br />I realize that this blog post talks about how it doesn’t matter whether or not we understand by assuming that I “understand” that this is the correct way of thinking. But I’m pretty sure God is greater than us. So it makes sense to me that it’s not about what we can do. <span style="font-style:italic;">It’s not about us.</span> <br /><br />It’s about the One whom we worship. Whether or not we understand what that really means.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-61000821206978696092008-09-17T16:21:00.004-05:002008-09-17T16:32:46.256-05:00Wii Don't Live Here AnymoreAs time goes on in my internship, I find my eyes straying more and more to the Wii’s advertised on Pandora.com (which is a phenomenal free radio station that personalizes its music selection – shameless plug, I know) or in the window of the Gamestop next to my apartment. <br /><br />And why? Because I’m bored here in Florida? Not really. I have plenty to do most days, and even when I don’t, I am usually content lounging around and watching movies.<br /><br />The reason I haven’t bought one yet is mostly because I am extremely wary of video games. This is not a rip into those who have them – I have many myself, and have appreciated playing them from back in the days of the original Nintendo. <br /><br />What gets me, however, is the amount of time often spent playing them. Time that could be spent doing any number of things. Nintendo has been trying to get around that, however, by pushing their Wii’s interactive and exercise-oriented gameplay. Don’t worry about getting stuck inside staring at a TV screen, they say – you are getting plenty of exercise playing our games.<br /><br />I hear that – the Wii is not your typical system – which explains my continued interest in it. But then there’s the whole consumerist thing. In a society that tells us that we need certain items in order to be whole and acceptable human beings, I feel like I’m buying into that if I get a Wii.<br /><br />I know I don’t need it. But I do find myself wanting it. And, again, this is not an elitist, holier-than-thou rip on those who are Wii-owners. I’m just honestly struggling with this. <br /><br />Whether or not I get one, I want to take my time and not go into such a purchase lightly. I want to make sure I don’t buy one simply because I’m on internship in a new place, and am basically bored. I want to distinguish between an unhelpful distraction and a healthy, entertaining way to relax.<br /><br />Any thoughts?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-18652214896465146482008-09-09T13:31:00.000-05:002008-09-09T13:32:18.427-05:00On a First-Name BasisIt’s hurricane season in Florida, as this state has welcomed me by constant reports and weather warnings focusing on the next tropical storm that is making its way from the west coast of Africa across the Atlantic. These storms, starting with Faye – and working its way down the alphabetical list to the current monster, Ike – are mulled over by tropical weather teams on the local news channels all over south Florida. Where are they headed? Are they a tropical storm, or a hurricane? If a hurricane, what category? And – the most important question, by far – where is it headed?<br /><br />These are important questions, no doubt. But the insistence of our media to focus on the United States – and the United States alone – is really getting to me. When asked by a member of my church what was one of the interesting things I’ve found living in Florida so far, I told her that I’m amazed how much attention is given in the news to two countries: Haiti and Cuba. These are two places that may as well not exist as far as the U.S. is concerned, but they figure prominently in hurricane talk – and for one reason:<br /><br />How have they affected the tropical storm/hurricane? Have they slowed it down, or increased its wind? Nevermind that the infrastructure in both countries is shaky at best, and pitiful at worst. In Port-au-Prince, the capital city of Haiti, they continue to be pummeled...without mercy. Cuba gets hit again and again. Food sources are destroyed. People starve, if they haven’t drowned.<br /><br />And according to Channel 9 News of Tampa, the deaths and misery leveled on these people by Gustav and Hanna, Faye and Ike, matter only in the sense of how they’ve affected the current strength and direction of the hurricane. Nothing more. <br /><br />The important thing is where in the United States it will hit. Now, I’m not saying that the people in our country don’t matter, or that their suffering (especially in New Orleans post-Katrina) is somehow less important. But as Gustav showed, with enough pre-warning, these people have places to go. <br /><br />Haitians and Cubans continue to be mercilessly rained down upon this hurricane season, and they have nowhere to go.<br /><br />It is in this situation that I hear echoes of the occupation of Iraq, when we are given up-to-date, detailed accounts of every American citizen who has died or been injured, but hardly a mention of the Iraqi people who continue to be killed and maimed, usually hidden beneath euphemisms like “collateral damage” or “smart bombs.”<br /><br />It’s ironic to me that we personalize these hurricanes so much by giving them first names. It’s just more euphemisms. Haiti wasn’t destroyed by a hurricane with winds up to 115 mph last week; Gustav was simply weakened to a category 2 hurricane as it passed over the mountainous region of Haiti. <br /><br />Mmm. That sounds so much better, doesn’t it?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-35510421444013028922008-08-26T11:03:00.005-05:002008-08-26T11:10:29.660-05:00The Politics of Internship<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">The Democratic National Convention is in full swing, and the Republicans come on the stage next week.<span style=""> </span>I’m mostly drooling over all of this, as my political science self kicks into high gear.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">And then I remember where I am, and what I’m doing this year.<span style=""> </span>Most of this identity comes in the negative format: I’m <i style="">not</i> in <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Chicago</st1:place></st1:City> anymore, and I’m <i style="">not </i>a student anymore.<span style=""> </span>I’m an intern, working with people at this church – and as I drive to work each day, I pass home after home with a simple sign displaying proudly in their green lawn: John McCain, 2008.<span style=""> </span>Obama is nowhere to be found.<o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">Here I am, trying to minister to – and, simply, love – the people who have accepted me so fully and graciously into their midst as vicar, and I am coming to the realization that many of them do not share my own political views…at all.<span style=""> </span>It begs the question – how do I stay committed and authentic to the worldview to which I subscribe, while at the same time affirming these people as wonderful and beloved children of God?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">There’s an “easy” answer, of course: Don’t talk politics.<span style=""> </span>Obvious enough, it seems.<o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">But what about the alternative?<span style=""> </span>Is there one?<span style=""> </span>A way to be honest about how I feel, and how much I’m passionate about this issue, especially as we inch our way toward the first Tuesday in November?<span style=""> </span>Is there a way I can refrain from hiding the fact that my entire being is wholeheartedly connected to the intense hope that McCain is not elected in the fall?<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">The truth is, this passion is most likely shared on the other side of the aisle by many folks in my congregation – by many people with whom I worship, to whom I serve communion, from whom I have received so much already.<span style=""> </span>“God is NOT a Republican,” the bumper sticker on my car shouts, “…or a Democrat.”<span style=""> </span>But I am most certainly driven by a certain way of viewing the world, and it is a deep and sincere part of my very identity.<o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">At the same time, my identity is also tied into that radical notion: I’m a child of God, made in God’s image.<span style=""> </span>As are the rest of the people in this congregation.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">So, what’s the answer?<span style=""> </span>Luckily, I’m Lutheran.<span style=""> </span>We don’t have answers – we have paradoxes.<span style=""> </span>I love these people, <i style="">even</i> when I vehemently disagree with them.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">And I pray for the same from them.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ></span><o:p></o:p></span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-88759380826692789952008-08-17T20:57:00.001-05:002008-08-17T20:58:44.030-05:00Radical PresenceI gave my first sermon as “Vicar Jason” this weekend, preaching once on Saturday and three times on Sunday. This will be my task for every other weekend this year on internship. Luckily, I do not require sleep. ;)<br /><br />I thought about posting my sermon on this blog, but it is quite long for an online post. Plus, I gave the sermon without notes, so it really isn’t what’s written down. It was so much different once I got up there, once I let go, and started talking. It was actually a rush, to be honest.<br /><br />What hit me from today was the response from people in the congregation. Standing there after each service, shaking the hands of the different people in line, I was given a snippet of lives lived, each in their own unique way, as they continued my sermon in their own words. It was like the body of Christ – that which we proclaim <span style="font-style: italic;">to be</span> – in action. People had taken my imperfect sermon and applied it to their own lives, taking my inadequate words and, with the Holy Spirit, made them real.<br /><br />“Good sermon, Vicar. I’ve been going through some tough changes lately myself, having been laid off from two jobs. Just know that I take comfort in the presence of God in the unexpected places, too.”<br /><br />“Thank you for your words. God continues to be present in my life, after 106 years.” <br /><br />That’s right, there’s someone in our congregation who is 106 (and a HALF, as she makes sure to mention). There’s also someone who’s recently lost their job. There are people who are in every stage of life, dealing with every kind of problem, reveling in every kind of situation life throws at them. And we have the audacity to get up and proclaim God’s radical and sustaining love for each and every one of them…including us. I mean, wow.<br /><br />How could we do any of this without God’s help? It would be egotistical and condescending to imagine we could. Yet pastors get up and proclaim in the pulpit, speaking God’s word to us today. <br /><br />That great Lutheran response, “I will, and I ask God to help and guide me,” is our confession of faith. Who are we to get up and proclaim? We continually ask. And God answers from the depths of time and eternity, echoing through the millennia, “Who are you not to? I am with you. This is all you need.”Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-89623882687360724602008-08-09T19:43:00.002-05:002008-08-09T19:44:58.394-05:00Post-AtlantaSo, I just got back from a 4-day conference on Biblical storytelling in Atlanta, walking into the apartment, sitting down at my computer, and having it all sink in at once: I live in Florida, now. Alone. And I’m an intern. Wow.<br /><br />The storytelling conference – run by the Network of Biblical Storytellers (http://www.nobs.org) - is a fantastic annual gathering, in which 150 or so storytellers descend upon Atlanta, to, basically, hear and tell stories. Mostly Biblical ones. Without notes. <span style="font-style: italic;">By heart. </span>I'm telling the Gospel tomorrow - Jesus walking on the water, from Matthew. I never think of Matthew having good stories, but this one is pretty sweet.<br /><br />Right, so. I was the emcee for this particular shindig in Atlanta, mostly because I’m under 40, and, therefore, a celebrity. However, more young people are coming every year. But, yeah, I’m kind of their golden boy. I’m okay with this.<br /><br />Tomorrow I’m getting to the church at 7:15am (is that actually a time? I thought everything before 8am was a blur in the space-time continuum) to go over my assistant minister part. I’m going to dress in a collar, for only the second time in public. I’m going to try not to scream – I don’t think that’d go over too well.<br /><br />Yeah. That’s it. I’m Vicar Jason now. Watch out, world. Or, at least, watch out, this particular congregation that has me for a year.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-89476103374779960732008-08-02T10:04:00.001-05:002008-08-02T10:04:37.862-05:00Transition TensionSo, I sit here, having successfully made the move to Florida, and waiting for my first introduction to the congregation at this evening’s worship service. I have to echo my colleague Rachel’s response to my Facebook status of “I’m now a vicar. Holy. Crap.”: <span style="font-style: italic;">“This. Is. Terrifying.”</span> I’m not sure what to do right now, oscillating between unpacking some more; staring off into the deep blue yonder, pondering my place in the cosmos; or simply vocalizing my transition-tension with blood-curdling screams. I think my new neighbors will appreciate that. <br /><br />I won’t be taking part in the service tonight; I’ll most likely just sitting there and doing some form of looking pretty. I’m okay with this.<br /><br />I have the largest amount of space I’ve ever had to myself, complete with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, AC, and a washer-dryer unit. Nobody else lives here except me – I might have to resort to having conversations with myself in different rooms in the condo. <br /><br />I now have a bedroom and an office. That’s right – two separate rooms in which to do two separate things. I don’t really know what to do with all this space. It feels like I’m staying in someone else’s place, and any moment they’ll show up and demand that I explain myself. I’m working on my explanation right now.<br /><br />Umm…yeah. Maybe I’ll have more to say about something other than my apartment soon. You know, vicar-like things.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-50895295721949657372008-07-28T16:27:00.025-05:002008-07-29T11:43:03.868-05:00Polite Dinner Conversation<span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >Lately I’ve been having conversations about my upcoming internship – especially related to getting back into the habit of writing in this blog.<br /><br />Why, Jason, you know people will be able to read </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >everything</span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" > you’ve ever written, I’ve been told. Entries written about the current Bush administration, for instance, or articles written about inclusive language when we talk about God – or another type of inclusion: that of all people in our churches, regardless of the lines society often draws for us. Lines across race, ethnicity, economic status, or even sexual orientation and gender identity. Lines that have been erased in Christianity, as Paul couldn’t help but point out: “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female, for all of you are one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). And if that’s not enough, I’ve connected my opinions and beliefs with my Christian faith and identity.</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >Certainly these are things I cannot think anymore, right? I mean, at least not while I’m on internship. Does that mean I can go back to having these opinions on August 1, 2009, when I’m all done at my internship site? No, it would just continue, on to my first call after I’ve graduated from seminary, and so on…</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >I feel as though I’ve been called to be at seminary, and I especially feel I’ve been called to this particular aspect of seminary: internship. I’m going to be working full-time (and probably more) at a church, gloriously diving into all aspects of what it means to be in a church, to continue discerning what God has called me to do. Meeting people. Learning to be a pastoral presence. Preaching the gospel among the gathered believers.</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >But this call does not stop at the church doors, or only on Sundays. It does not only include my internship experience – it includes everything else in my life. It includes how I feel my faith informs my political and social beliefs. It includes how I feel the church is called to attend to the “least of these”…and how it so often does not. It includes accepting a certain level of discomfort and frustration with the current status quo of things.</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >So I argue that I can continue writing in this blog, even though it’s open to anyone. This means that my words might anger someone else, or go against the core beliefs of another person. </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >And that’s okay</span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >. As a Christian, I am not called to be an intern at a social club, a gathering of like-minded, look-alike people, in order to feel better about myself. </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >I’m called to struggle, to doubt, to proclaim Christ crucified, to share in communion…with everyone. As my worship professor would say, <span style="font-style: italic;">especially</span> with those whom we struggle. With whom we vehemently disagree. We are not called to agree…we are called to </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >love one another</span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >, as God has first loved us. It’s that simple, and that inexplicably difficult and complicated: To love God, and to love our neighbor. </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >I’m not perfect, and thank God for that. Here we are – especially those of us working in the church – understanding God to be present, even amidst our glorious imperfections. Maybe </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >because</span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" > of those imperfections. </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >Any words I have written in here are meant to be a conversation-starter, not a cause for shutdown. This is my sincere hope.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-32388363216265774822008-07-21T12:00:00.007-05:002008-07-28T16:39:31.938-05:00Serving Christ in the World<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNMsAeCPsSgzonNbIsffSQ0sZOjpTjLRLssUJId8BUhLQ3Pd3MNtRuvwWDbCulMiiotBGVL0c2ueQSi30f8WBjEM6iQyIcu9fbvQNWqlzRLM9esyqn7LKKFHgmVqhXNUs7iTmJ/s1600-h/YIM425r.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNMsAeCPsSgzonNbIsffSQ0sZOjpTjLRLssUJId8BUhLQ3Pd3MNtRuvwWDbCulMiiotBGVL0c2ueQSi30f8WBjEM6iQyIcu9fbvQNWqlzRLM9esyqn7LKKFHgmVqhXNUs7iTmJ/s320/YIM425r.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225513897164715618" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" >This past June, 23 young people from across the country congregated in Chicago. This was to be a three-week immersion program, including time in the city of Chicago, Mexico City, Cuernevaca (to the south), and north of the U.S.-Mexico border in Texas. The title of this program was "Serving Christ in the World." </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" >And I will never forget it.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" >It wasn't just that I was changed as one of the mentors (which I was, more than I could have ever imagined). Or that the youth changed me (which they did; we each had 3-4 youth in a covenant group, with whom we met daily). Or that I had a good time (which I most certainly did) or found out I love working with youth (which, crazily enough, I do). Or even that I'll never forget these young people, who gave up a part of their summer to do this work (which I won't...and they did...with gusto - I don't know if I could have done what they did when I was their age). </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" >No. It's so much more than that. It's that God was present in those three weeks, in a way I don't have words to describe. It always happens like that, you know? Every time I think I've got God figured out, or that I know how and when God normally shows up, God does it again. God breaks out of the pathetically small boxes we create, and bursts into the world, here and now. </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" >Serving Christ in the world. What does this look like? The 23 phenomenal young people approached this question with daring, with passion, with hope. And we were all changed for the better.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" >So to all those people of God, I say thank you. Thank you for opening my eyes to the fact that we'll never be able to categorize our God, but that God will continue to break down walls - and refuse to let us get away. We are God's beloved.<br /><br />What they did was remind me of this. As I head to internship in Bradenton, Florida (which starts August 1), what I needed was a refresher course. And, thank God, I got it - in abundance. I got a full dose of God's mercy, which, in the words of author Anne Lamott, meets us where we are, but doesn't leave us where it finds us.<br /><br />Amen to that.</span><br /><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-13650596272788538222008-03-28T15:56:00.002-05:002008-03-28T16:20:54.591-05:00John Hagee, Anyone?<p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal">Here’s my question: Why does Barack Obama get so much crap for being associated with Rev. Jeremiah Wright, and John McCain gets absolutely no grief whatsoever for actively seeking out the approval of Rev. John Hagee? <span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal">Here we have the leader of Christians United For Israel (CUFI), which actively calls for an end to <span style="font-style: italic;">any</span> peace agreement in Israel-Palestine, because to support the so-called Biblical Mandate for <st1:country-region st="on">Israel</st1:country-region> (basically, the secession of all Palestinian land to the original borders of ancient <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Israel</st1:place></st1:country-region>) is a “moral mandate for all Christians.”<span style=""> </span>(see <a href="http://www.cufi.org/site/PageServer?pagename=about_AboutCUFI">http://www.cufi.org/site/PageServer?pagename=about_AboutCUFI</a>) <o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal">Rev. John Hagee has repeatedly denied the very existence of Palestinians as people:<o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal">"God gave to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob a covenant in the Book of Genesis for the <st1:place st="on"><st1:placetype st="on">land</st1:PlaceType> of <st1:placename st="on">Israel</st1:PlaceName></st1:place> that is eternal and unbreakable, and that covenant is still intact.<span style=""> </span>The Palestinian people have never owned the <st1:place st="on"><st1:placetype st="on">land</st1:PlaceType> of <st1:placename st="on">Israel</st1:PlaceName></st1:place>, never existed as an autonomous society. There is no Palestinian language. There is no Palestinian currency. And to say that Palestinians have a right to that land historically is an historical fraud."<span style=""> </span>(from <a href="http://www.evangelicalright.com/john_hagee/">http://www.evangelicalright.com/john_hagee/</a>)<o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal">This is interesting, since there are Palestinian Christians who have been living in the land for generations, and, I imagine, would be surprised to learn that they have no right to their land, and, in fact, no culture at all.<span style=""> </span>From one Christian to another, Hagee denounces any plan to give up ANY land from <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Israel</st1:place></st1:country-region>. <span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal">This is not because he has a sincere love for Jewish people.<span style=""> </span>Jews simply have a part to play in the sick end-times scenario peddled by <i style="">Left Behind</i> creator Tim LaHaye and others.<span style=""> </span>For Jesus to come back again, <st1:country-region st="on">Israel</st1:country-region> needs to expand, and the <st1:city st="on">Temple</st1:City> needs to be rebuilt in <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Jerusalem</st1:place></st1:City>.<span style=""> </span>That’s all there is to it.<o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal">And perhaps the saddest thing of all: Hagee and his ilk have been so incredibly effective in their message, that if anyone questions their motives – or even considers the experience and plight of Palestinians themselves – they are often times labeled anti-Semitic.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal">So, you have Rev. Wright, who questions <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Israel</st1:place></st1:country-region>’s treatment of their occupied people behind their separation barrier – he’s “racist,” and a “demagogue.”<span style=""> </span>Then you have Hagee, who waves away any effort at peace in the <st1:place st="on">Middle East</st1:place> like an annoying gnat.<span style=""> </span>He’s not even heard of.<span style=""> </span>Just another Bible-believing Christian.<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal">Obama must deny, distance, and denounce himself from Wright (even so, that won’t stop FOX News’ Sean Hannity from calling him racist and anti-Semitic without a shred of evidence, treating his own fantastic conjectures as carved-in-stone fact).<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal">McCain, however, can court Hagee all he wants.<span style=""> </span>Even though he’s recently tried to distance himself, this still gets absolutely no coverage in the media.<span style=""> We'll be watching five-second clips of Jeremiah Wright every chance we get.</span><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Umm…what? </span><span style=""><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span> </span><span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-8860481596630920902008-03-24T17:27:00.007-05:002008-03-24T21:12:11.928-05:00Peanut Butter and Tetanus Shots<span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Oh, if I could only contribute to this blog as much as I want to. Alas, there is no time.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">So, I have to get on here when I get the chance, sneaking away a few moments to throw some words out into cyberspace. If only I could do this daily, as a sort of meditation. If only.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">It's my mom, again. She's always right there, on the tip of my tongue, at the forefront of my mind, coming and going each and every day. It doesn't take much to bring me back to her.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Today it was peanut butter sandwiches and tetanus shots.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">You see, she was the one who thought of the brilliant solution for her youngest son, who happened to dislike all flavors of jelly, to continue consuming that which he adores - peanut butter. Aside from eating it raw off the spoon (which I have done my fair share of times), she devised a way I could still eat it on bread without it sticking to the roof of my mouth.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Butter. That's right, add butter. Brilliant, I know. That was my mom. And, to this day, I slap butter on to a fresh piece of toast (well, okay, mostly half-toasted bread, at most), top it with peanut butter, and close my eyes with enjoyment. And every time I do this, I think of her.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">And...tetanus shots. Yes, I need to know when my last tetanus shot was. And, of course, I don't. This question always falls into the category of information for which I called my mother. She had all of this information in her home, in her head, or some combination of both. She knew the random details of her kids' lives. She even knew things about us we would never know.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">So I scramble in my room, searching long-forgotten corners for the elusive piece of paper which holds this unknown date, all the time remembering Mom. Wishing I could call her.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">She's always right there, waiting to be triggered again. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I don't think I would have it any other way.</span><br /><br /><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-86064870743611530162008-03-07T10:57:00.002-06:002008-03-07T10:59:57.005-06:00A Lenten Reflection<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>and in God’s word I hope;<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;">my soul waits for the Lord<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>more than those who watch for <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>the morning,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>more than those who watch for<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>the morning.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;">|Psalm 130: 5-6|</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I’m not a morning person.<span style=""> </span>Anytime my alarm clock wakes me up, especially if it’s before 9am, I feel a certain emotion – but it’s nothing close to the hopeful anticipation that drips from the psalmist’s pen.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;">The psalmist stuns me with her attempts to describe how powerfully she waits for the Lord.<span style=""> </span>Like those who watch for the morning.<span style=""> </span>At my Ministry in Context church – <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Bethany</st1:placename> <st1:placename st="on">Lutheran</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Church</st1:placetype></st1:place> on the South Side of Chicago – people often thank God for “waking me up this morning.”<span style=""> </span>The response is always the same: “Amen.<span style=""> </span>Amen!”<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;">But for the psalmist, it’s not just “like” those who watch; it’s more.<span style=""> </span>So much more, in fact, that she has to write it – to say it, to sing it, to shout it – <i style="">twice</i>.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;">She asks, knowingly: You know how people watch for the morning, for the beginning whispers of the sun, for the soft rays that illuminate the sky while we are still half-asleep and swimming in dreams, for the life-giving light to shine on God’s awesome creation?<span style=""> </span>My soul waits for the Lord MORE even than that.<span style=""> </span>My soul waits for the Lord more even than that.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" >Amen.</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" >Amen!</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-28200665254896336352007-12-29T10:39:00.000-06:002007-12-29T10:40:54.938-06:00CellsMaybe I’m easily annoyed (okay, I know I’m easily annoyed). But, in the sea of pet peeves, I think a new one has finally taken sole control of number 1: people talking on their cell phones in public places.<br /><br />Like, oh, trains. Let me contextualize it for you. The woman ahead of me is talking on her phone, and not only does she seem oblivious to other people sitting next to her (and, thus, she’s talking as if her talking partner is deaf), but she is apparently catching up on conversation she’s neglected to have for several years. This person is someone in her family, someone she will see in less than an hour when she gets off the train (I know this because of the aforementioned decibel level of her voice). But, thank God for cellphones, because now she can talk to her heart’s content. I mean, I figured since we were in the nowhere border land between Arkansas and Texas, there would be no cell phone service. No such luck. <br /><br />I don’t think I can imagine something more insensitive and rude than this recent pastime. Cell phones are beautiful pieces of technology (for the most part), connecting us to others instantly in ways never before imagined. It’s not enough, however, that we can talk to virtually anybody, but we must do so at any time we damn well please. On the bus, in the car, in the waiting room, wherever. Whenever. It doesn’t matter who is around us, or how loud we are, or how long we talk. The world is our phone booth. <br /><br />There are calls we must take, I understand. And I love how my cell phone can connect me to so many people. But sometimes I long for the time when people had to be in a phone booth or specific room in their house in order to talk on the phone – probably with a door that closes, since many cellphone-istas seem to not care at all about privacy, and talk as if nobody can hear them. <br /><br />I can hear you. And it’s annoying.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-55811769194531616812007-12-19T16:02:00.000-06:002007-12-19T16:06:23.380-06:00The Subtle Beauty of the PositiveThe amazing popularity of the “health and wealth” gospel, evidenced by the continuing appearance of books on the shelf by mega-church preachers (like Joel Osteen), is troubling, to say the least. This perverted good news is that good things will come to us, if only we have enough faith. The more we trust in God and have faith, then the more we will do well in this life. It's as simple as that. Perhaps the most heretical aspect of this sort of God-talk is that the assumption that the reverse is also true – the rich and successful people in the world are that way because God has specifically blessed them, and, thus, <span style="font-style: italic;">poor people are poor for the exact same reason.</span><br /><br />No, I’m not a fan of the “prosperity” gospel. But, I want to give a shoutout to the people who are positive in this life. Currently, I am typing this as my train speeds through the snow-covered countryside of northwestern Illinois. The sun just set, and that glow of red is reminding us of its recent departure. I’m at a table with a huge window overlooking it all. It’s beautiful.<br /><br />You wouldn’t have guessed that, however, if you were listening to the conversations of people around me. The people sitting across from me have begun the popular ritual of strangers on trains – complaining. At least, this is how it seems to me. For the past hour, they have connected on a human level by pointing out all the ways in which this train is horrible, train travel in general is horrible, the snow sucks, their life sucks, and how much it will suck when they arrive at their station late (a common feature of riding on Amtrak in the US). Now, I could easily relate to some of their complaints (especially the snow one), but I just don’t have the energy. I’m finding positivism to be much more life-giving.<br /><br />A recent report in <span style="font-style: italic;">Newsweek</span> commented on the overwhelming optimism of people in Afghanistan, six years after their country was bombed mercilessly in payment for 3,000 lives on 9/11. A recent poll found that close to 80% of people are “optimistic about their future.” <span style="font-style: italic;">Eighty percent</span>. If that was a report of the USA, the most obscenely rich superpower in human history, I would assume it was a joke article in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Onion</span>. There’s no way we’d be that optimistic. But here’s Afghanistan, where life has probably not gotten that much better, especially with the resurgence of the Taliban, and its people continue to believe in a better future. That is nothing short of inspiring. And it makes the grumbling I hear next to me all the more annoying.<br /><br />Of course, it’s easy to go to the other end, and be naïve and blind-eyed optimists. That’s not a solution in our broken world, either. At least these people are being honest. And, I recognize my own extremely limited patience with the people next to me. I am, conveniently, complaining about people who complain. I need to practice what I preach.<br /><br />But, still. Get over it, people. Let’s work on finding the good in situations, and maybe more good will come of it. It’s worth a try.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-28653869585383856772007-11-24T16:10:00.000-06:002007-11-24T16:28:09.957-06:00Soft Words for a Cold SeasonIt has become clear that I cannot supply this blog with my words all of the time. So, I should make it a point to use someone else's when I find myself too swamped, too busy, etc...<br /><br />As the winter falls upon us:<br /><br /><br />"Late October"<br /><br />Carefully<br />the leaves of autumn<br />sprinkle down the tinny<br />sound of little dyings<br />and skies sated<br />of ruddy sunsets<br />of roseate dawns<br />roil ceaselessly in<br />cobweb greys and turn<br />to black<br />for comfort.<br /><br />Only lovers<br />see the fall<br />a signal end to endings<br />a gruffish gesture alerting<br />those who will not be alarmed<br />that we begin to stop<br />in order simply<br />to begin<br />again.<br /><br />|Maya Angelou|<br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><br />Amen.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17774540.post-36952278939608164762007-10-20T10:26:00.000-05:002007-11-24T16:28:33.461-06:00A Long Time<span style="font-family:georgia;">Ok, yes. It has been forever. I realize this.<br /><br />The last time I wrote to you, I was quoting the Sufi mystic poet Hafiz in the midst of my Clinical Pastoral Education experience in San Francisco.<br /><br />Now I am back in Chicago, on the ground running through my second year in seminary. I work part-time, go to school full-time, spend at least 7 hours/week in a church, co-lead two groups on campus, and sleep...occasionally.<br /><br />This time next year, I will be living and working at an actual church as an intern - this whole pastor thing is becoming more and more a reality. Crazy.<br /><br />I continue to hope that this blog stays current, and is a way for me to continue connecting to people, even when I am extraordinarily busy. We'll see if that holds true...<br /><br /><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00289401259041958499noreply@blogger.com0