prophetic poetry

"They say talk is cheap, and war is expensive...don't think for a second I will not question U.S. Foreign policy, imperial aggression, inventing war for the quenching of the thirst..." 

Consider this...

This is my sermon delivered at Community Congregational Church, Tiburon on Sept. 8, 2013. The scripture was Luke 14:25-33.

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Are you one of those people who waits to make a decision until you’ve exhausted all your options? For those of you who know the Enneagram, I’m a six. If you don’t know the Enneagram, sixes tend to worry. When people ask me what number I am, I typically respond, “Ah, yes, I’m a six. I’m afraid of the world.” However, that fear is typically founded in a worry about something. I’m worried someone will die. I’m worried the sermon won’t be exactly how I want it. I’m worried I will get too overwhelmed.  I’m worried Curran won’t come back. 

Sometimes it’s about little things, like my travel mug purchase this weekend. Sometimes it’s been about bigger things, like a year ago when I was asking: how would I tell my family I’m dating someone of my same gender. Sometimes it’s worry for the sake of worry, but other times it’s actually discernment. When we run through the entire gamut of options considering which will be best, weighing pros and cons, debating for hours, weeks or months, we are actually taking part in an important spiritual practice that helps us see beyond ourselves.

In our passage from Luke 14, we hear Jesus talking to crowds of people and before we know it, he’s floored them all. “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.” I can just imagine the crowd, wide-eyes, jaws dropped… Notice how no one is recorded to have said anything back to Jesus… The thing is, though that Jesus doesn’t actually mean “hate”, like the intense loathing of a person, but rather it’s as if he said, “You need to know, that your relationships with these people will change, they will not be the only thing in your life if you come and follow me.” In this passage, Jesus acknowledges the risk that comes with being his follower. He wants the crowds to know that there are a lot of factors that come into play when making such a big decision as this. It changes the way we understand what we own, the relationships we have to friends and family, and the responsibilities we accept.  Much like any issue today, following Jesus was a multi-layered situation.

You see, Jesus’ earthly ministry was all about helping people discern the ways in which they were going to be a catalyst for the Kin-dom of God on earth. I am convinced that the way in which these verses speak to that ministry today is in the spiritual practice of “considering all the factors.” The Divine calls us to see the situation from a variety of perspectives because our faith is bigger than ourselves. Our faith inspires us to consider this… and this… and that. 

For those of you who have been following the news, Syria is in the midst of a grave national crisis. They have been fighting a civil war for two years and the governing regime under Bashar Al-Assad has now potentially engaged the use of chemical weapons. The political viewpoints are numerous and the questions are countless. The situations in the middle east are messy and complicated and consequently, so is our response. As Christians and as residents of this world, we have to ask ourselves, with 2 million refugees, 1.8 million Syrian people in need of humanitarian aid, 100,000 casualties and chemical weapons on the world’s radar, what are we to do? What is the international community’s role? Could sending strategic missile strikes do more good than harm? Should we meet killing with more killing? How do we hold Assad accountable? And these questions are only the tip of the iceberg.

There are all of the questions, and none of the answers. Well, there are lots of answers but we cannot ever expect to have the absolute right answer. When we claim to have the right or the only answers, we often times get there by dismissing all the other perspectives and opinions around us. We take only our own perspective into account, which is important, but it then also dismisses the needs of those around us. Yes, this Syrian conflict has implications for the U.S. but that is only one way of viewing the situation. As people of God, of the Divine, we are in relationship with the international community. Because of this, we cannot negate the experience of the 1 million children that have become Syrian refugees over the last two years. Because of this, we also cannot negate the worth of Bashar Assad’s life. Because of this, we cannot overlook the implication of chemical weapons. There are many, many complex layers to this situation. And although we, in this room, are not making any decisions about what happens in Syria, we are forming opinions about what should or should not happen in the coming days and weeks. These opinions are guided by our values as they are rooted in our faith.  At General Synod, the national gathering of the United Church of Christ, our denomination, there was a pastor who informed all the delegates that they were not voting their opinion, they were voting God’s opinion. The decisions they were making about the denomination were not of their own view but of how they discerned God would vote.

Jesus’ discourse in Luke 14 asks us this question: Are our values and our relationships congruent with our relationship to the Holy?  We forget that this faithful part of our lives plays a role in the things we believe and therefore the things we do. I wonder if this nation’s political advisors also took a moment to think about whether or not they were considering all the options and voting God’s opinion, if the country would come to different conclusions. I am hopeful that they would.

We are called to constantly discern our values, to discern all of the pieces involved, to look at an issue from every side. As I was thinking about this, I was reminded yesterday of Antoinette Tuff, the bookkeeper at an elementary school in Decatur, GA who talked down an armed gunman. The heavily armed man came in ready to kill young children and teachers, and Antoinette Tuff, while praying silently as she spoke, invited the man to recognize that he was worthy of living this life too. She explained to him that she too had a difficult point in her life but she made it through and was so grateful for the chance to try life again. This woman’s values of life, dignity, and worth were based in her faith in God and they are the same values that helped her talk this young man into surrendering himself to the police. She began a conversation that could have ended in death, but the values she held, in that instance, helped a nation understand that listening can compete with gun laws, and the respect for life can overcome the desire for death.  Antoinette Tuff understands the importance of seeing an issue from all sides.

If we really want the world to change, if we really want the Kin-dom of God to come to fruition, we have to consider all the questions from every side of the issue. We have to take into consideration the perspective of the rich and the poor, the powerful and the vulnerable, the blue-collar worker and the stay at home parent, the history of that nation or the world, the single person and the family down the street, we have to discern both the risks and the rewards.

I am convinced that God is in the plethora. God takes delight in the multiplicity of perspectives any one issue can hold. God is there to help us discern, to help us sort it all out. And the Good News is this: God is there to love us through the process. God is present in the decision making surrounding Syria, and God is in the midst of your process too.

Amen.

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...