On the Seventh Day ...

I rested, and so should you. Heck, if it was good enough for God ...

In the Garden

The invitation for today, Saturday, is to free-form prayer, to be with God in whatever way feels free and joyous. It was a beautiful day today, and I spent most of it outside. We spent several hours in the garden, preparing soil, clearing the ends of last year's growth, pulling early weeds and spotting the first sprouts of mums. As Wendell Berry says, good work done kindly and well is prayer. I prayed in the dirt all day. A very fine way to step into spring.

Why Christian?

A word, from the context of the Christian Peace Witness for Iraq, from Ken Sehested, the founding director of the Baptist Peace Fellowship:
"Finally, a belated word of thanks to the CPWI group. I remember overhearing, from a distance, some of the controversy which surrounded the group's forming some years ago — basically, pretty caustic criticism for organizing a 'Christian' group. At the time I meant to write a strong endorsement for this strategy--against the cosmopolitanites and idealists who believe they can hang in mid-air, free of history and angles of vision, finding a location that transcends all social locations. This is the dark side of liberalism: the desire to reduce and distill everything to supposed 'universal' principles. This, too, is part of the domination system which must be resisted. This is not at all to deny the urgent need to do interfaith work, and to become sufficiently 'bilingual' to engage with people of no explicit faith commitment. But we must keep in mind the long history of dominant groups who want to say, 'we're all just alike.'"
I am reminded, when I hear vague references to a higher power, that it does matter greatly just what higher power we are talking about. After all, from where I sit here in Arlington, the Pentagon is a higher power, the White House is a higher power, the Congress is a higher power. Each of those higher powers does have the capacity to reduce us all to the same, to obliterate our histories and make of us creatures in their own particular images.
To follow Jesus is, first and foremost, to resist that power to reduce others to our own image, including the image of followers of Jesus. The cross is most abused when it is captive to the empire and becomes a sign of triumph rather than an invitation to compassion -- to suffering with.
Hm, so I wrote the above this morning. This afternoon I come to the Lenten exercise where today we are asked to read Luke 9:18-27, in which Jesus asks Peter, "who do you say that I am?"
The heading for today's exercise is, "What difference does it make that I'm a Christian?"
Clearly this afternoon is speaking to this morning. It does make a difference what higher power one calls upon, one sits with, one listens for. If God is made known in Jesus then what do we know of God? The passage from Luke is instructive. Just before Jesus asks the great Christological question he feeds 5,000 hungry souls and stomachs. Just after he asks it, he reminds his followers that the nature of discipleship is defined by the cross. Then, he continues his ministry of healing.
God feeds us. God desires our wholeness. God heals.
What difference does it make to put Jesus at the center of my devotion? It points me clearly toward that God. It draws me into relationship with that God.
None of which is an argument for exclusivity, but rather a recognition that I am a finite human being, situated in a particular culture and moment in history. I cannot follow every path, but I can follow the one before me with as much faithfulness as I am willing to risk.
Pictured? Oh, that's a window from my church. I call that one "peace Jesus."

Praying With ...

A two-fer today, as I try to catch up. Does unbinding my heart this rapidly pose risks?
Anyway, the invitation for today is praying for children. As father of three, this is nothing new under the sun. I feel like I spend half my life as parent following Rabbi Heschel's advice that we "pray with our feet." I'm always chasing children.
Coincidentally, this evening was parent-teacher conference night for our elementary school one. This morning was the presbytery's social justice committee meeting. The connection?
We focused this morning on the economic crisis and the host of theological questions that the church should be posing in its midst. The first question, it seems to me, for the North American church must be: what is the richest country in the history of the world called to do at this moment. While sitting in the meeting, I ambled over to Global Rich List to see where I fall on the list of the world's richest people. My present salary (which is less than ten percent higher than the minimum for a pastor in National Capital Presbytery) puts me in the richest .88 percent of the global population. Number 53,205,017 to be precise.
We live in what passes for the working class section of Arlington and our youngest child goes to the school in the county that serves the highest percentage of free lunches and has the lowest scores on standardized tests. Yet it has the richest learning environment of any school that our three children have been in (in four states and several incredibly affluent school systems).
If we are to be honest in assessing the financial crisis we must first be honest in assessing our own wealth. If we are to be honest in praying for the children of the world, we must first be honest in confessing how much more we could be doing for them if we worried less about the state of our 401Ks and recognize the ridiculous abundance that we have at our disposal.
So, I see the great Rabbi's walking prayer and raise him one. We need to be praying with our checkbooks, too.
The image? I found that when I image-searched "praying with our checkbooks." So my final prayer of the day: thank you God for the world wide web!

Thanksgiving

Yesterday's invitation was to gratitude, so I give thanks for a moment this afternoon to reflect. I am thankful for the folks who came out last night to talk about what it means to become part of a congregation and to take a step in that direction with respect to our little community.
Of course, that meeting was what got in the way of this spiritual "discipline" last night. Tonight, a parent-teacher conference will get in the way.
Real life tends to get in the way of spiritual practice, at least to the extent that we admit a distinction into our understanding.
We are talking this Lent at Clarendon about embodied faith, and we began the conversation reflecting that Jesus' Judaism did not include the mind/body, spirit/body dualism of the Greeks, and that, to the extent that Western Christianity adopted that dualism that denigrates the body in favor of the spirit it departs from its authentic roots.
So, the challenge of a spiritual practice of gratitude may lie simply in understanding how one could follow Paul's charge to "give thanks in all circumstances." In the midst of every moment -- the staff meeting you sat through today, the traffic on the way home, the hurried dinner plans, the homework, the bedtime, the sunrise wake up tomorrow -- in every moment give thanks.
I'm pretty sure I'm not up for that! On the other hand, Henri Nouwen once observed that gratitude is the fundamental attitude common to all authentic religious expression. So, if you want to get religion -- and, of course, who doesn't! -- give thanks.
Picture: gratitude in a bottle -- I'll drink to that!

Altars, Stones and Sacrifices

Today's invitation is to read from Genesis the call of Abram to journey toward a land of promise, and, once on the outskirts of that land to build an altar. Reading it I thought of the various altars that we all build to the various gods that we worship. The god of money, lately toppled from its heaven, we worship now in desperation at the debris of the altar of the market. The god of family we worship at the hearths we build. The god of knowledge is worshiped at the high temple of the university. The god of freedom we worship often in the garage altars that honor our cars. The god of power is honored at the massive five-sided altar just up the road from here.
One of the central symbolic acts of the Reformation was to do away with the altar -- the place of sacrifice -- and replace it with the table -- the place of welcome and gathering in the community, the place of revelation in the breaking of bread as opposed to in the breaking of bodies upon the stone of sacrifice. The reformers wanted to draw attention to Jesus and away from the notion of offering sacrifices to please God. Of course, there was a great deal more to their theological and political and architectural thinking than that one sentence pretends to capture.
Still, something in me resists altar-building. On the other hand, I love to collect stones from places that seem sacred to me. I carry the smallest of those around in my guitar case, and will from time to time use them in worship settings. The larger stones tend to find a place in my garden. I suppose I could think of that as an altar, but I prefer the simplicity and the symbolism of the garden. After all, that's where Jesus went to pray and if it's good enough for Jesus, then it's good enough for me.
So, I did the reading and offered the prayer of this day, but I'll leave the altar building to others. Me, I'll wait a bit longer for the coming of spring and then I'll go into my garden to pray amidst the stones.
Oh, the picture is a Mayan altar for sacrifices.

In the Details

Our Lenten journey this year is gathering round Martha Grace Reese's Unbinding Your Heart. The first day of the 40 days of spiritual practice and prayer invites you to read Psalm 139 -- O, Lord you have searched me and known me. The psalmists feels God's presence everywhere, from dawn to dusk, from highest heaven to the pits of Sheol.
One imagines that Mies van der Rohe understood God this way. "God is in the details," the architect famously said.
Such a God does not, it would seem to me, much care how we practice our spirituality. Being all present, it would seem to be a question of our presence to God much more so than God's presence to us.
So, the question for 40 days of intentional drawing of one's self into relation with God is, what opens you to that presence.
It was with such lofty thoughts that I stepped across the room to pick up a Bible to read Psalm 139 ... and stepped squarely into a pile of dog vomit. Seems that the chocolate birthday cake that the dog got into this afternoon did not sit well!
So I'm left to contemplate the details in which one finds God. Even in the pit of Sheol?
I have been there, and, indeed, felt the presence of the spirit of shalom. So a little mess to clean up ... or several ... is nothing. In fact, perhaps this was just another reminder from the canines that dog is in the details, too.
The spiritual life is not for the faint of heart.
Indeed, as our preaching together at Clarendon during Lent is stressing, Christianity is, or ought to be, an embodied faith. It is grounded in the earthiness of early Judaism. The gospel stories -- especially the synoptics -- are full of stories that include eating, healing, touching, listening and seeing. The texts we read together yesterday -- Luke's account of feeding the five thousand and the Numbers story of manna in the wilderness -- are all about food and the ridiculous abundance of God's economy.
While just now I am wishing that my dog's had not experienced ridiculous abundance this afternoon, even in these messy details I can detect ... well, perhaps divine laughter.

Rereading

Got a call from a young friend this week looking for a bit of guidance for responding to a church person who went on a public rant about gays in the church. I pointed him in all the usual directions (More Light Presbyterians, Covenant Network, Walter Wink, and so forth), and then I sent him this article by a preacher who has changed his mind on these issues. In the article linked above, the writer details how a rereading of scripture in an emerging context of shifting attitudes about faithful gay and lesbian persons led him the rethink and, ultimately, revise his position.
As I read his reflections, I was reminded once again that religion, to be faithful, must always look two directions at once: backward and forward. The word, itself, hints at this. The Latin roots of religion are tangled up in two distinct meanings and trajectories. Lige, from which we get our word ligament, means to tie our bind, and thus suggests a meaning of religion pointing backward -- binding us back to a tradition or story that we have inherited. Lege, from which we get legible, means to read again or reread, and thus suggests a meaning of religion point forward to new readings of tradition or text.
Jesus seemed to grasp this intuitively. In the Sermon on the Mount he tells his listeners, "you have heard it said ..., but I say ..." and thus rereads his own tradition.
For example, when he says, "you have heard it said, 'an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth,' but I say 'if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other one also.'"
While I love Walter Wink's reading of this as a profoundly subversive and tactical text, I think it is first, clearly, a rereading. We tend to miss the power of the rereading of those words because we don't think too highly of the notion of trading one eye for another. But when that ancient Israeli law was codified in scripture it represented a great advance in the cause of justice from a social setting in which an injury inflicted by a member of one tribe on a member of another -- even accidental -- could result in wholesale slaughter.
Jesus had a new mind for a new time. He understood that changed social circumstances and attitudes created space for rereading the tradition and its foundational texts in ways that would advance peace and underscore the power of nonviolence. As the picture here (taken last month in DC) suggests, the threat of violence remains quite real in the lives of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered persons.
As the church struggles to hear the Spirit's voice through its traditions and texts in a radically new social context, I keep thinking, "if rereading was good enough for Jesus, then it might be good for us, too."

In the Light

Tomorrow is a significant day in the life of the broader church as 15 Presbyteries hold votes on the General Assembly's proposed amendment to the Book of Order to change G-6.060106b to open the door to a more just and inclusive denomination. Of the Presbyteries that vote tomorrow, 10 voted "no" on a similar proposal in 2001 (the last time the Presbyteries acted on ordination). As of this afternoon, with the affirmative vote of Tres Rios Presbytery (Midland, Texas), 11 Presbyteries that voted no in 2001 have vote yes this time around. To approve the change, more than 40 Presbyteries need to change their vote from no to yes. While it is a long and steep climb, thus far Presbyteries in western North Carolina, eastern Tennessee, central Alabama, and west Texas have changed. The spirit is moving in the church. Please hold the Presbyteries below in the light of love, grace, welcome and reconciliation tomorrow.
East Iowa
Eastern Oregon
Giddings-Lovejoy
Greater Atlanta
Homestead
John Knox
Lake Erie
Mid-Kentucky
New Hope
North Alabama
Ohio Valley
Sacramento
The James
Tropical Florida
Utah

Open Space with the Quakers

I've been at Stony Point Center for the past several days with a group of 50 or so folks called together to talk about beginning an intentional, dispersed, Christian community focused on nonviolence and justice interrelated with the community at Stony Point.
Lots of powerful moving of the spirit in our midst and some interesting things being born, and I'm sure to be reflecting on this for weeks and months to come.
But right now I'm still pondering the process we used: a mix of open-space technology and Quaker discernment.
It was a fascinating experience -- sometimes tortuous, never linear, occasionally ponderous. It was interesting to see the process get bogged down in the same ways and places that Presbyterian parliamentary procedures tend to: community wordsmithing, for example. But closing the discussion was done with so much more gentleness that "calling for the question" -- no less finality, just more grace.
As we Presbyterians seek more spirit-led ways to make decisions, we can learn from our Quaker friends and from the people who create open space as well.

Blowing in the Wind on Marriage Equality Day

Seventeen of us, from at least four congregations, gathered in the very blustery plaza of the Arlington County Courthouse yesterday. We shared an interfaith liturgy of prayers and readings, and then proceeded to the sixth floor offices of the county clerk, Paul Ferguson. Mr. Ferguson met us and welcomed us to the office. Meanwhile, Claire and Rebecca, who are members of the Rock Spring United Church of Christ, filled out the on-line form to apply for a license. As they filled in all of the requisite family data, Mr. Ferguson explained the state of the law in Virginia.
When the form was completed, the person staffing the window requested proper ID, and gave Claire and Rebecca a copy of the application to check for accuracy. When they confirmed the information, the staff person apologized and said, "I cannot grant you a license."
Mr. Ferguson looked straight at Claire and Rebecca and said, "I am truly sorry."
Looking at the rest of us, he said, "thank you for being here." He told us that our presence was important because it allowed him to report to the state that same-gender couples are requesting licenses.
Then each of us laid a flower on the window in honor of various couples who cannot be married here. As I laid my flower on the window I honored Ron and James. If I had a bouquet, it would be to honor each of the people in my congregation for their continued faithful witness that God's love knows no bounds and that what God blesses should receive the equal protection of the law.
There was much more that was moving and powerful, as well as simple and interesting during our hour witness, but those details will have to wait.

Too much, too soon, too bad

I found myself writing this note on camp to a friend from another Presbytery this afternoon.
The Meadowkirk situation is ugly. It's been brewing for several years, and it's all about the money. I think that there's plenty of blame to go around on all sides, and it probably doesn't do anybody much good to sort that out at this point. In a strange way, the economic downturn may save the camp because it cannot be sold right now, and too much of the Presbytery's money is tied up in it to take the losses. I do think that pieces of it will be sold as soon as there's a market for the lots. That won't destroy the integrity of the camp, but it's unfortunate.
With the 20-20 of hindsight, it's clear that we built too much too fast and did it with too much borrowed money leveraging too many Presbytery assets on use projections that were far too rosy. I remain hopeful about the viability of the ministry, but I think it will be a good day for everyone when it is more disconnected from Presbytery.
The question is: can it survive long enough to make that happen? I really don't think anyone knows. I do not think it will survive on the old model of hosting church retreats, small groups and then the various kinds of summer programs for youth.
I'd like to see it work to become a smaller scale Montreat for the mid-Atlantic and Northeast, but that would require building a capacity for programs, marketing and hospitality that simply don't exist right now. I can also imagine it hosting all kinds of gatherings that are resourced out of the DC office -- focusing on the spiritual foundations of policy work rather than simply going to the Hill as usual. But any alternative vision takes birthing and there's not much good will around here for that process.
That's my two cents -- not that it's worth even that much in today's economy.
I suppose the only "word to the wise" from all of this is don't spend money that you don't have. Of course, none of us in DC operate that way!

Faith and Values

A few random "Monday morning thoughts" delayed till Tuesday!
Sunday morning at Clarendon we talked about finding our voice. We had a brief "popcorn" conversation during worship in which folks named the values that shape and undergird what we say.
It was both easy to anticipate and, at the same time, illuminating in what was on the list: love, welcome, faith, hope, peace, acceptance, justice, compassion, forgiveness; and in what was not named. I wonder how long we would have talked before we got to values such as righteousness and truth and how we would have spoken of them.
It's not that those are unimportant, but rather that their meanings are contested and thus the subject of deeper exploration instead of being on the top of the list of easy to name and agree upon values.
I wonder, also, how the list would have read if we had be talking about practices of faith, as distinct from values that frame our understanding.

Brace yourselves

"The man with a toothache thinks everyone happy whose teeth are sound. The poverty-stricken man makes the same mistake about the rich man."
So said George Bernard Shaw, making me wonder would you rather be a rich man with a tooth ache than a poor man with good teeth? Chew on that for a while ... there seems to be rather a decay of good humor here as we wait for a bridge to a better blog.
Not much to sink your teeth into here today, although somehow the combination of a trip to the dentist and a snow day reminded me of my favorite wee tale about my paternal grandmother who lost her dentures sledding down a huge hill near her home in Chattanooga when my father was a little boy. She never found the teeth, and never lived down the tale.

thought for the day

The mind of a bigot is like the pupil of the eye. The more light you shine on it, the more it will contract.
- Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr.
A thought for a day one which four of the five of us had eye doctor appointments. Tomorrow we go to the dentist. Wonder what thoughts that will inspire?

Inaugural Post

I walked in the streets in DC again this weekend. I’ve done that many times before, but for the first time I walked in them to celebrate for something rather than agitate against something. I spoke with several others in the streets or on the Metro who were sharing the same realization. It’s an interesting sensation, and one I’d like to have again someday.
The whole family went down yesterday to join the millions in the throng for President Obama’s (that was fun to write; I think I’ll do it again: President Obama’s) inauguration. We couldn’t see much, but we could certainly feel the excitement and joy as we celebrated the peaceful transfer of power that marks a great democracy moving more fully into its promise of “all people.”
Oddly enough, I got interviewed again. I’m not sure why this happens, but I’ve been a “person-on-the-street” interview at least four times in D.C. with media outlets ranging from al Jazeera (I kid you not) to the CBS Evening News. Yesterday it was Ebony.
The reporter asked us what the inauguration meant to us and how it made us feel. My nine-year-old daughter, remembering afternoons spent walking the canvas routes with me, said, “excited and proud that I helped to get the first African-American president elected.”
Never having learned the actor’s adage to avoid dogs and children because they will upstage you every time, I dived in, too.
President Obama’s inauguration prompted me to think back to my Southern childhood. I was born in Alabama in 1959, and probably had my diapers changed in Whites Only restrooms – certainly not change you can believe in!
The arc of the moral universe is long, but it does bend toward justice. It has been bent dramatically, by the faithful work of thousands of committed hands, in my lifetime.
The journey toward a more perfect union is endless, but we have travelled – marched, walked, freedom rode – a great distance, and yesterday was a time to celebrate not only the election of a leader with phenomenal gifts and potential, but also that national journey.
Nothing else could explain why 2 million people would brave the cold, the wind, and the inconvenience of being on the Mall. I still don’t know exactly what the president said because the words echoing off the Washington Monument were often muddled and sometimes drowned out by the flags whipping in the wind. But there is no place in the world that I would rather have been.

Prayer for the Obama Years

O God of our many understandings, we pray that you will…
Bless us with tears – for a world in which over a billion people exist on less than a dollar a day, where young women from many lands are beaten and raped for wanting an education, and thousands die daily from malnutrition, malaria, and AIDS.
Bless us with anger – at discrimination, at home and abroad, against refugees and immigrants, women, people of color, gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people.
Bless us with discomfort – at the easy, simplistic “answers” we’ve preferred to hear from our politicians, instead of the truth, about ourselves and the world, which we need to face if we are going to rise to the challenges of the future.
Bless us with patience – and the knowledge that none of what ails us will be “fixed” anytime soon, and the understanding that our new president is a human being, not a messiah.
Bless us with humility – open to understanding that our own needs must always be balanced with those of the world.
Bless us with freedom from mere tolerance – replacing it with a genuine respect and warm embrace of our differences, and an understanding that in our diversity, we are stronger.
Bless us with compassion and generosity – remembering that every religion’s God judges us by the way we care for the most vulnerable in the human community, whether across town or across the world.
And God, we give you thanks for your child Barack, as he assumes the office of President of the United States.
Give him wisdom beyond his years, and inspire him with Lincoln’s reconciling leadership style, President Kennedy’s ability to enlist our best efforts, and Dr. King’s dream of a nation for ALL the people.
Give him a quiet heart, for our Ship of State needs a steady, calm captain in these times.
Give him stirring words, for we will need to be inspired and motivated to make the personal and common sacrifices necessary to facing the challenges ahead.
Make him color-blind, reminding him of his own words that under his leadership, there will be neither red nor blue states, but the United States.
Help him remember his own oppression as a minority, drawing on that experience of discrimination, that he might seek to change the lives of those who are still its victims.
Give him the strength to find family time and privacy, and help him remember that even though he is president, a father only gets one shot at his daughters’ childhoods.
And please, God, keep him safe. We know we ask too much of our presidents, and we’re asking FAR too much of this one. We know the risk he and his wife are taking for all of us, and we implore you, O good and great God, to keep him safe. Hold him in the palm of your hand – that he might do the work we have called him to do, that he might find joy in this impossible calling, and that in the end, he might lead us as a nation to a place of integrity, prosperity and peace. AMEN.
-- Bishop Gene Robinson

If This Is a Dream, Don't Wake Me

No, that's not a terrorist! It's my middle child, Martin, bundled against the chill this afternoon at the pre-inaugural concert on the Mall -- waiting for that quintessential American, Bono, to perform! Hey, if the Irish can claim "O'bama" then we can claim U2.
We've got a house full for the inauguration and King Day festivities in DC this weekend. As I watched the concert this afternoon (from our "front row" place at the base of the Washington Monument ... no more than, oh, about a mile from the stage at the base of the Lincoln Memorial), I thought of Dr. King's speech in Lincoln's shadow, and his dream of a day when white men and black men, Protestants and Catholics, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slaveholders would be able to join hands. Our house is hosting this week Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, black and white, gay and straight, North American and Latino, young and not so young, men and women. We don't look quite as diverse as the crowd on the Mall this afternoon, but it's a fine mix of America that has found its way to our living room this week to celebrate King Day and the inauguration of President Obama. I think Dr. King would be smiling.

Uh, No, Actually, It Wasn't,

Yesterday afternoon I flipped on the TV to see if there were any details about the plane that landed in the Hudson.
Blog-post interruption: Every time I fly, when the flight attendant says, "in the unlikely event of a water landing ..." I think to myself, "water landing? Wouldn't that be a crash?" Now I know better.
I don't actually know what station I was watching, but as soon as I turned to a news station there were the remarkable pictures of the plane floating in the river. The talking head said, "your first thought when you hear the news is: was it terrorism?"
Uh, no, actually it wasn't.
Planes crash. Machines break. Birds fly into engines. All of these things are much more common and overwhelmingly more likely than terrorism. Only because we have been conditioned, almost commanded, to live in fear for the past seven years could a thoughtless talking head, reflecting an all-too-unreflective culture, say such a thing.
On the scale of things we need to fear as individuals, terrorism falls somewhere way down the line from slipping in the tub and cracking your head open. Yet our individual lives are disrupted in dozens of small and not so small ways in deference to those who want us to fear terrorism.
On the scale of things we need to fear as a society, terrorism still does not top the list. A lot more of us have died prematurely due to our broken health care system than due to terrorism.
Oh, to be sure, unless you've been living in a cave for the past decade you know that there are people living in caves out there who want to do us harm. They are real, and they are dangerous.
But sitting at the laptop and eating bonbons is far more of a threat to my health and safety than the terrorists.
Yes, it's the bonbons. They are out to get us.

No Ordinary Failure

From Jacob Weisberg, in Newsweek, comes the quote of the day on the Bush legacy: "Once the country is rid of Bush, perhaps we can start developing a more nuanced understanding of how his presidency went astray. His was no ordinary failure, and he leaves not just an unholy mess but also some genuine mysteries."
No ordinary failure -- sounds like a book title, but I don't anticipate it as anyone's autobiography.
The past eight years have reminded me many times of why the apocryphal Chinese curse, "may you live in interesting times," is considered a curse. These have been extraordinary times, and perhaps no one leading through these years would have been even an ordinary success.
That is as charitable a thought as I can muster just now.