hints of grace//doubt

It is no surprise that I highlighted and underlined the majority of this chapter called "Doubt." Because of that, I have 50 different ideas for a blog post in my head and I'm not sure that I want to pick one, so I may just say all the things... then again, perhaps it will come around to a common thread...

The first thing that came to mind as I was reading this chapter was the sermon that our Field Education Director (Odette) gave yesterday in closing orientation worship. It was briefly summarized by a friend who wrote: "Faith is not certainty. Certainty is idolatry."Can you imagine how different our world would look if we became more concerned about worshipping certainty? There are too many fringe groups (and some dominant groups too) that hang their faith on knowing the Truth.

Instead of being Truth-claimers, let's become doubt-claimers. There are some people in this world who think they have all the answers. And I know, churches have really done a disservice in this arena, particularly over the last couple hundred years. Even the congregationalists who understood there was "yet more light and truth to break forth" from scripture laid a truth-claim once in a while. At the same time, though, truth claims aren't all bad. For example: Everyone needs to be loved and feel a sense of belonging. That's a truth claim. It's a tenet of my faith and I will take it to the grave. So perhaps it's more about when our truth-claims become destructive that we don't want to hang on to them. Because I do believe that hanging on to truth-claims is sometimes the only thing that gets us through the day, and if it's the only thing, then by all means, I am not one to take that away. (This is the essence of a much larger conversation regarding pastoral care...)

But most days, let's turn to doubt, because doubt turns us to wonder. "Doubt... is the mother of conviction. Once we have pursued our doubts to the dust we forge a strong, not a weaker, belief system" (15). It is doubt that helps us go beyond the words on a page and helps us not only ask the questions that are between the lines, but the questions around the margins of the page. While truth "reduces God to the exercises of a theological athletic field" (14), doubt allows us think more deeply, widely, abstractly, awe-somely, and wonder-fully about the mysterious God in whom we (sometimes) believe. When we limit ourselves to certain aspects of God we do more harm than good. No one person is limited to the ways in which they are perceived by others because we are all made up of many layers, stories, histories, and emotions. So too, God is unknowable. Instead of trying to give concrete labels to God, what if we opened ourselves up to believing that at every turn we were discovering something new about God-- just like when we are getting to know our partner... something new everyday!

Chittister finishes the chapter by writing this:

...Only the doubt that opens our hearts to what we cannot comprehend, only the doubt hta tmakes us rabidly pursue the ruth, only the doubt tha tmoves us beyond complacency, only the doubt that corrects mythologies is not worhty of faith can lead us to the purer air of spiritual truth. (17)

Take heart, take trust, and take faith in that God-- the one who continually surprises us and leaves us turning to wonder day after day.

hints of grace//faith

The second chapter of Uncommon Gratitude is called "Faith."

Wow, that was a boring first sentence. Let's try this again.

In one sentence, Joan Chittister implicitly explains how "Spritual but not religious" became a vocalized and seemingly legitimate thing.

In this second chapter, Chittister explores the chasm between faith and religion. She explains that in the wake of 9/11, we suddenly faced the question: "Is religion the answer or is religion the problem?" (5). Without doing their homework on Islamic extremism, some Christians quickly blamed all Muslims for this act of terror. Instead of clinging to the faith of the "one True God" of the Abrahamic faith traditions (Christianity, Islam, and Judaism), suddenly the Christian God could no longer be the Islamic God. Instead of asking questions, America(n Government) got defensive and offensive. Some cowered in fear and some got militant. "Whatever faith told us was true-- that God was love and peace, justice and human community, that we were accountable for our behavior, that there would be an eternal judgment not based on political goals but on God's will for all humanity-- religion told us was only really real for our side" (7).

I would venture to guess that this event is one point on the timeline where folks who claim "spiritual but not religious" say: Religions kill people. Denominations exclude people. I don't want to be a part of that because they have done too much harm and I don't want to be a part of it.

But as Chittister says, "The truth is that faith requires the awareness that God is and that God is holding all of us responsible for the other." Being spiritual but not religious does not give you a pass from this. Believing in God-- who is both transcendent and imminent, too big to comprehend and yet seen in the face of a kind stranger, compassionate and yet critical of our ways-- means believing that we are on God's side, not that God is on our side (6). God creates covenant with her people over... and over... and over again in scripture. That covenant is not always just about God loving us and protecting us and caring for us and looking out for us and solving our problems for us; but rather, we too must love God and look out for God's people and empower each other and hold God accountable when terrible stuff happens. Covenants are not a one-way street.

We could all use to take a minute and find the heartbeat of humanity, for I believe it is there that we find God. It is faith, not religion, that gives us the capability to find that heartbeat and to follow along.

Today I was anointed into leadership at Community Congregational Church. This is the same church I have been interning at since September of last year, but today was my pastor-mentor's last Sunday before she leaves for a three month Sabbatical. I am honored by the amount of trust she puts in me and am very thankful for the retired and current clergy folks that live in our congregation, for their hands will be of utmost importance in these coming months. I was bestowed with the permission to make mistakes. This is not only a major learning curve, but I also realized that it is a great act of faith. My position in the church (religion) calls me to specific tasks and responsibilities. But it is my faith-- my faith in God, myself, and this congregation-- that allows me to take risks beyond the tasks. Those risks may lead to great failures, in which case I will ask forgiveness, offer myself grace, and learn from them. But they may also lead to great success (which was also conferred upon me this morning).

Faith is having the ability to take the risk and know that all will be well (cf. my tattoo).

Faith is recognizing that there is a Holy One beyond me that sees my journey and both weeps and celebrates with me.

Faith is giving up the need to understand God, and finding the ability to stand with God.

Faith "is the firm foundation under everything that makes life worth living." (Heb. 11:1, MSG)

hints of grace//Intro

So I read the introduction to Uncommon Gratitude. I recognized immediately one thing that I may constantly bump up against: the fact that there are millions of people on this planet who live in such dreadful conditions that squeaking out an "alleluia" must take a lot of energy. Chittister wrote, "...is the human condition a bundle of gifts wrapped in darkness, the life task of which is to learn to recognize Goodness/Godness in all its misty forms?" (viii) This makes me nervous. 'Learning to recognize' is in and of itself a matter of privilege. To learn is a human right. But learning to recognize good when you can hardly feed your family, or when your family has been killed by the latest war, seems like something of little import. It's something to do in your spare time. But then Chittister wrote this:

...To deal with the meaning of alleluia in life means to deal with moments that do not feel like alleluia moments at all. But how is it possible to say alleluia to the parts of life that weigh us down, that drain our spirits dry, that seem to deserve anything but praise? (ix)

So I don't know. Maybe I'm not going to bump up against it as much as I think. I have to say, I just finished a class a couple weeks ago with Miguel de la Torre. He is a Christian Ethicist who teaches at Iliff School of Theology in Denver, CO. He has recently developed a theology of hopelessness. Now, I know what you're thinking, "Isn't the gospel all about the hope of the Kin-dom come to earth!?" Well, not totally. This is his topic to take on and not mine, but his espousal of this hopelessness has caused me great reason to rethink what it means to be an "Easter People."I'm not so convinced that we are.  (However, this is a whole different blogpost/book in itself....)  The other contextual piece of this is that Joan Chittister is known in the religious world for her work with death-row inmates. Because she knows the suffering of those beloved people,  I would anticipate a little less of what I call "silver-lining" theology. I guess we'll have to see as the book goes on. Perhaps Rowan Williams will offer something a little different.

I will do my best to keep this perspective of the author's privilege in perspective as I go through the book... after all, there will certainly be good stuff alongside my critique.

And above is a gift for your listening pleasure. It is the choral version of Whitacre's orchestra piece entitled "October," which I played when I was in high school band. It's incredible...

New Blogging Series// hints of grace

So I have decided to re-enter the blogging world. And every time I come back, I give it a facelift. So here we are with a new design, colors, and layout. That being said, I have returned for good reason. My mentor-pastor is going on Sabbatical. For those of you who are new to this world of church/seminary life, that means that the pastor with whom I am interning is taking an intentional break from her role. It is common for pastors to take a sabbatical every 5-7 years. Curran will be off on Sabbatical during September, October, and November. This means that I, with the help of several retired clergy and current chaplains, will be doing pastor-y things at church. [[That word (pastor-y) lacks a lot of authority, but I have yet to figure how to say that without saying "... will be running the church," because in the United Church of Christ, the pastor does not "run the church."]]

On top of three classes and life, these three months are going to be challenging-- I have no doubts about that. This is why I've decided to get back into blogging. Though it is time consuming, it is life-giving. It is one of three practices that I am committing myself to throughout these coming months. My self-care ritual will require that I do one of three things each day: meditate/pray, read and blog, or exercise. I have also given myself permission to shift this ritual if there comes a time when it becomes less life-giving than I need it to be. However, for now, I'm sticking to it.

The first book I will be reading and blogging about is called Uncommon Gratitude by Joan Chittister, OSB and former Archbishop Rowan Williams. It's an exploration of the use and meaning of the word "alleluia."

Lastly, I'm taking suggestions. I want to have a common title for my blog posts for the next three months like I did during JVC (e.g. Finding God:...) Comment here or on facebook and give me suggestions! And then keep posted. I should be blogging at least a couple times a week.