...I hope you like crap. These inflatable things were everywhere in Florida. I'm sorry I just think they are tacky. But the inflatable creche I'd have to say is the tackiest.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Happy Birthday Jesus...
...I hope you like crap. These inflatable things were everywhere in Florida. I'm sorry I just think they are tacky. But the inflatable creche I'd have to say is the tackiest.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Merry Christmas
This is a picture taken of one of the side dishes from Christmas lunch. I opened the can myself and then sliced it. Mmm. Fortunately everything else was delicious.
Today was a hard day but fortunately it is over.
Peace out!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Question?
So I'm in Florida for Christmas. What this means is that I'm up well past everyone else and I'm usually watching things on TV I might not normally watch. (I mean it is 10 PM and everyone has already been in bed for hours.) So tonight I was watching the Luther College Christmas Concert. Really amazing. But they did a little Luther college commercial in the middle. It was sort of like the kind of college commercials they do at televised college sporting events only it was for a concert. During the little infomercial they said that of the 2500 students 1000 are members of the music program. So here is my question: Does that mean there is a higher percentage of gay men at Luther than there are at other campuses of similar size?
I think it probably does. But I be interested to hear your answers. I also am pretty sure that some of you actually went to Luther and can give me a first hand account.
My hope is to blog a little more while I'm here. So keep checking back.
Merry Christmas!
I think it probably does. But I be interested to hear your answers. I also am pretty sure that some of you actually went to Luther and can give me a first hand account.
My hope is to blog a little more while I'm here. So keep checking back.
Merry Christmas!
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Today's Sermon:
Throw Open Your Windows
Well we have reached the final Sunday of advent. Let's take stock of where we have been these past four weeks. In week one we discovered all that had clouded over our windows. We took note of the dust and cobwebs that build up in our heart and our souls over the course of a year or a lifetime. It may be greed or anger or jealousy. Violence or injustice. Whatever it is it prevents us from seeing a story of hope. Instead we see a story of fear. Remember we talked about the apocalypse and how that story that was intended to be one of hope of a second coming has been turned into one that makes us fear the very return of the light. It turned this story of a little baby being born into a manger into one that is dreaded because it involves shopping and cards and baking and family. There is much in our lives that clouds over our windows, obscuring what is beautiful.
In week two we sought ways to clean off those windows. We heard that in order to look forward we had to look back. We looked back to John the Baptist who looked back to Isaiah and to Elijah. We looked back to all the valleys that needed to be lifted up. We looked to the sin, both personal and corporate. And we looked at how that sin was not necessarily the dancing and drinking that many of our parents had said. Perhaps sin was the ways that we had focused solely on ourselves instead of focusing on the world around us, the people around us. The ways we had "tried to protect others" but in reality were merely protecting ourselves. The ways our ego prevent us from being fully who God wants us to be and caring for the people in our lives and in our world. And we looked at cleaning those cobwebs away by being fully human, by pointing all people toward the beauty and joy in the world. The calling that we all have to be artists, priests, window washers. Clearing away the dirt and decay and pointing instead to the love and life.
Then last week we lit a candle in our windows. We sang songs and read words that pointed us to the light. We lit a candle to remember. As we place a candle in our windows in solidarity with the victims, the missing, the returning. We place candles in our windows as beacons of sort. It is an anticipation of a homecoming. And it is a way of saying we have not forgotten. We have told the story and we will continue to tell the story.
This week we return to the window. And finally this week we get to a character that we recognize. Actually one of the main characters in the story that we have been building up to. We get to talk about Mary. Mary who will be the wife of Joseph. Mary who will be the mother of Jesus. Mary, the one who will stand at the foot of the cross as her son is crucified. This is the character that we are introduced to today. She is someone who I think is a little more complex than we give her credit for. Usually the way she is described is a virgin, meek and mild. We see her as the chosen one. The one who is fated to this deed and passively goes along with whatever is expected of her. But I really think that is not quite an accurate depiction. We have to believe that she had some freedom of choice, some free will. I mean otherwise she is not human right. And we hold to the fact that Jesus came from human and that he was fully human so Mary had to be also. Right? She gave birth like every other woman before and after her. She raised children--which means she probably potty trained and cleaned up all sorts of bodily fluids. She was a mother and a wife. She did the things that wives and mother did during that time. And she did the things that were expected of women of her day. She was a human.
So we have to assume that she had a choice in the matter. And I wonder how many times had the angel been there before. Was this the first time or had he asked before? Had she been too afraid? I mean that would certainly be understandable. Remember I just said she was a woman of her day. So there were ways that things were done. And getting pregnant before you were fully married to your husband was not one of them. And really who is going to believe that you were impregnated by God? Certainly not the man you are supposed to be married to. He would be fully within his right to turn you out or even worse. And what was a woman without a husband? She was destitute and alone. Disgraced. Out on the street.
I've been watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer on DVD. This was a television series that aired from the mid to late nineties until oh 2003 or so. I had friends who watched but I had never seen an episode until recently. It is really good. There is a character named Angel who was a terrible vampire but eventually he was cursed with a soul and so could no longer kill. He also fell in love with Buffy. Ironic, eh? Well anyway at some point in the second season the curse was broken and he lost his soul again. So in order to prevent him from entering their house Buffy had to seal the doors and place crosses and garlic etcetera at the windows, the primary place he had entered the house. Incantations and the whole shebang. I've only made it through season two so I can't really tell you how it all turns out. But this felt very familiar to me. And I think it would feel pretty familiar to Mary as well. She was afraid. Perplexed it says. And the first words that the angel said were do not be afraid. You do not have to close me out. What I bring you is good news.
We all are at times like Mary and like Buffy. We are trying to protect ourselves. So we lock our windows. We might even cover them up. We let jealousy and anger and our egos cover up our windows. Because at least inside in our protective cocoons we are safe. The world is a dangerous place. We can get hurt out there. But if we just stay in here then we are okay right? And we are right to believe that the world out there is a dangerous place. It is risky to step out.
I heard a story a few years ago about a transgender woman who decided she wanted to look for a church. So she visited a church in Tennessee where she lived. And while she was living her life as a woman, I don't know what sorts of surgeries she had had, but she still had some mannish features. And so she walked into a church, a church that she had grown up believing would offer her God's love and acceptance. She walked in and sat down in the back row, and inconspicuous place, a place where she might blend in. As she was waiting for the service to begin she noticed that a group of people had circled up and were having what looked like a fairly intense conversation. And eventually the conversation broke up and one of the people came over to speak to her. The man informed her that she would have to leave because her presence in the service was too disruptive. Just being there was too disruptive! Stepping out into the world is risky. You run the risk of being hurt and rejected. So it is easier to just stay inside and board up the windows.
But something happens when you board up windows. The air begins to become stale. Dust begins to settle on the furniture. Things begin to decay. You become more and more afraid of the outside world. The plants don't have light to survive and they begin to wither and die. You become more and more afraid of other people And pretty soon you are merely a ghost of your former self. The kids in the neighborhood view your house as the one to be afraid of. In the end you stop living--you stop loving. You begin to die.
And so Mary had a choice. She finally opened her window. And let the angel in to bring the good news. She knew it was risky, but she knew that was the only way of living, of loving. That woman in Tennessee that I told you about eventually left her house again and went to another church, a church where she was fully accepted. A church where she was able to be real and to be loved. She was telling this story in a large group of people gathered for the Alliance of Baptist Convocation. She was no longer sitting on the back row trying to blend in, no now she was telling her story. She was telling the good news to others. But first she had to throw open her window and risk being loved by someone else.
Today we are being called to throw open our windows. To risk being loved. To risk living. Because it is only when we do that are we able to fully see what is beautiful. That is the only way to let the fresh air in. That is where all the new growth happens. That is where new life happens. The flower blooms outside the window. You become more of what God desires you to be. You bare the gospel for a hurting world. Throw open your window. It is scary and risky. But it is also full of beauty. It is full of love. It is full of life. This season of advent has been leading us to a decision. We must make it every year, every day, every minute. Will we choose darkness or light? Will we choose war or peace? Will we choose despair or joy? Will we choose hatred or love? Will we choose death or life? What will we choose? What will you choose? What do you say that this year, this day, this minute, we choose life? Amen.
Well we have reached the final Sunday of advent. Let's take stock of where we have been these past four weeks. In week one we discovered all that had clouded over our windows. We took note of the dust and cobwebs that build up in our heart and our souls over the course of a year or a lifetime. It may be greed or anger or jealousy. Violence or injustice. Whatever it is it prevents us from seeing a story of hope. Instead we see a story of fear. Remember we talked about the apocalypse and how that story that was intended to be one of hope of a second coming has been turned into one that makes us fear the very return of the light. It turned this story of a little baby being born into a manger into one that is dreaded because it involves shopping and cards and baking and family. There is much in our lives that clouds over our windows, obscuring what is beautiful.
In week two we sought ways to clean off those windows. We heard that in order to look forward we had to look back. We looked back to John the Baptist who looked back to Isaiah and to Elijah. We looked back to all the valleys that needed to be lifted up. We looked to the sin, both personal and corporate. And we looked at how that sin was not necessarily the dancing and drinking that many of our parents had said. Perhaps sin was the ways that we had focused solely on ourselves instead of focusing on the world around us, the people around us. The ways we had "tried to protect others" but in reality were merely protecting ourselves. The ways our ego prevent us from being fully who God wants us to be and caring for the people in our lives and in our world. And we looked at cleaning those cobwebs away by being fully human, by pointing all people toward the beauty and joy in the world. The calling that we all have to be artists, priests, window washers. Clearing away the dirt and decay and pointing instead to the love and life.
Then last week we lit a candle in our windows. We sang songs and read words that pointed us to the light. We lit a candle to remember. As we place a candle in our windows in solidarity with the victims, the missing, the returning. We place candles in our windows as beacons of sort. It is an anticipation of a homecoming. And it is a way of saying we have not forgotten. We have told the story and we will continue to tell the story.
This week we return to the window. And finally this week we get to a character that we recognize. Actually one of the main characters in the story that we have been building up to. We get to talk about Mary. Mary who will be the wife of Joseph. Mary who will be the mother of Jesus. Mary, the one who will stand at the foot of the cross as her son is crucified. This is the character that we are introduced to today. She is someone who I think is a little more complex than we give her credit for. Usually the way she is described is a virgin, meek and mild. We see her as the chosen one. The one who is fated to this deed and passively goes along with whatever is expected of her. But I really think that is not quite an accurate depiction. We have to believe that she had some freedom of choice, some free will. I mean otherwise she is not human right. And we hold to the fact that Jesus came from human and that he was fully human so Mary had to be also. Right? She gave birth like every other woman before and after her. She raised children--which means she probably potty trained and cleaned up all sorts of bodily fluids. She was a mother and a wife. She did the things that wives and mother did during that time. And she did the things that were expected of women of her day. She was a human.
So we have to assume that she had a choice in the matter. And I wonder how many times had the angel been there before. Was this the first time or had he asked before? Had she been too afraid? I mean that would certainly be understandable. Remember I just said she was a woman of her day. So there were ways that things were done. And getting pregnant before you were fully married to your husband was not one of them. And really who is going to believe that you were impregnated by God? Certainly not the man you are supposed to be married to. He would be fully within his right to turn you out or even worse. And what was a woman without a husband? She was destitute and alone. Disgraced. Out on the street.
I've been watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer on DVD. This was a television series that aired from the mid to late nineties until oh 2003 or so. I had friends who watched but I had never seen an episode until recently. It is really good. There is a character named Angel who was a terrible vampire but eventually he was cursed with a soul and so could no longer kill. He also fell in love with Buffy. Ironic, eh? Well anyway at some point in the second season the curse was broken and he lost his soul again. So in order to prevent him from entering their house Buffy had to seal the doors and place crosses and garlic etcetera at the windows, the primary place he had entered the house. Incantations and the whole shebang. I've only made it through season two so I can't really tell you how it all turns out. But this felt very familiar to me. And I think it would feel pretty familiar to Mary as well. She was afraid. Perplexed it says. And the first words that the angel said were do not be afraid. You do not have to close me out. What I bring you is good news.
We all are at times like Mary and like Buffy. We are trying to protect ourselves. So we lock our windows. We might even cover them up. We let jealousy and anger and our egos cover up our windows. Because at least inside in our protective cocoons we are safe. The world is a dangerous place. We can get hurt out there. But if we just stay in here then we are okay right? And we are right to believe that the world out there is a dangerous place. It is risky to step out.
I heard a story a few years ago about a transgender woman who decided she wanted to look for a church. So she visited a church in Tennessee where she lived. And while she was living her life as a woman, I don't know what sorts of surgeries she had had, but she still had some mannish features. And so she walked into a church, a church that she had grown up believing would offer her God's love and acceptance. She walked in and sat down in the back row, and inconspicuous place, a place where she might blend in. As she was waiting for the service to begin she noticed that a group of people had circled up and were having what looked like a fairly intense conversation. And eventually the conversation broke up and one of the people came over to speak to her. The man informed her that she would have to leave because her presence in the service was too disruptive. Just being there was too disruptive! Stepping out into the world is risky. You run the risk of being hurt and rejected. So it is easier to just stay inside and board up the windows.
But something happens when you board up windows. The air begins to become stale. Dust begins to settle on the furniture. Things begin to decay. You become more and more afraid of the outside world. The plants don't have light to survive and they begin to wither and die. You become more and more afraid of other people And pretty soon you are merely a ghost of your former self. The kids in the neighborhood view your house as the one to be afraid of. In the end you stop living--you stop loving. You begin to die.
And so Mary had a choice. She finally opened her window. And let the angel in to bring the good news. She knew it was risky, but she knew that was the only way of living, of loving. That woman in Tennessee that I told you about eventually left her house again and went to another church, a church where she was fully accepted. A church where she was able to be real and to be loved. She was telling this story in a large group of people gathered for the Alliance of Baptist Convocation. She was no longer sitting on the back row trying to blend in, no now she was telling her story. She was telling the good news to others. But first she had to throw open her window and risk being loved by someone else.
Today we are being called to throw open our windows. To risk being loved. To risk living. Because it is only when we do that are we able to fully see what is beautiful. That is the only way to let the fresh air in. That is where all the new growth happens. That is where new life happens. The flower blooms outside the window. You become more of what God desires you to be. You bare the gospel for a hurting world. Throw open your window. It is scary and risky. But it is also full of beauty. It is full of love. It is full of life. This season of advent has been leading us to a decision. We must make it every year, every day, every minute. Will we choose darkness or light? Will we choose war or peace? Will we choose despair or joy? Will we choose hatred or love? Will we choose death or life? What will we choose? What will you choose? What do you say that this year, this day, this minute, we choose life? Amen.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Weekend wrap-up
I'm sitting at the coffee shop and I thought I should probably catch you all up. I have been crazy busy--well crazy busy for me--working through the four Sundays of Advent. This is the last week and then next week I'm off to Florida for a week with family.
But this weekend I took off for Vegas to celebrate the birthday of my friend Justin. There were 12 of us total. It was really, really fun. Albeit exhausting. I am still tired. We arrived on Friday afternoon. I had lost the amount I set as my cap for Friday by 7. It was super fun playing the slot machine Village People Party. If you got Village, People, and Party on the screen at the same time then you got to have a party in the upper screen complete with dancing village people and Macho, Macho Man song blaring. Believe when I tell you that there was no one in that casino who had any questions about our sexual orientation whenever any of our crew got to have a dance party. There was gasping, clutching of pearls, and applause, in short full out merriment. Some of our group actually won some money. I was not one of them.
That night we went to a bar off the strip called Fun Hog Ranch. It is a gay bar and a new gay bar to the city. It was a great local bar in a part of our town that our cabbie was concerned about. He thought the neighborhood was a little sketchy. However, I'm fairly certain that we might have been the unseemly sorts that he was concerned about. It was a great bar. The mixed drinks were $3 and served in pint glasses. And honestly I think beers were $5 and served in gallon mugs. (Okay maybe not gallons but they were pretty big.) It would probably not be an overstatement that some of our group consumed at least a half keg or keg a piece. (Remember, I don't drink beer so this was not me.) We rolled into the hotel room around 3 AM. (I don't remember the last time I was out that late.)
Then on Saturday we went to...wait for it....wait for it... to the Live Price is Right Show. That's right I said the Price is Right. Complete with the Show Case Showdown, the big wheel, the Mountain Climber game, and OMG, Plinko. Four of our twelve people got called up to guess prices. One of our folks got to spend the big wheel. But in the end all that anyone of us won was a conciliation t-shirt. But it was really fun. I mean really, really fun. Then that afternoon I lost what I had planned to lose for Saturday in about an hour. Both days my loss was on the table game Let it Ride with a few twenties lost on the VP Dance Party. That night we went out to a great restaurant to celebrate Justin's birthday.
At midnight we all got in the taxi line, me to return to the hotel and the rest to go to a new gay club called Krave on the strip at the Planet Hollywood casino. It is the first gay club on the strip--Vegas is not the biggest gay destination, although they are trying to recruit more gays. They know we have more expendable income. Anyway. I got to bed about 1 AM. I was leaving on a plane early Sunday morning to get back for church. Well at 4:10, 5 minutes before my alarm was to go off, my roommates rolled in from the club. So as I was leaving they were just turning out the lights to go to sleep.
I headed to the airport where I boarded a plane with the hookers who were also leaving Las Vegas early. Now I don't know they were hookers because I recognized them, but just because I could tell.
There was also this incredibly loud woman sitting across the aisle from me. Now I slept a good bit of the flight, but in the time I was not asleep, this is what I learned about her: she was recently divorced; even though her husband promised never to leave her he did for a younger woman and I'm adding this part I'm guessing a less annoying woman; she was there in Vegas because she had taken some additional contract jobs to make ends meet; she had two kids and several animals including I think an iguana; she got the house in Cheyene, WY; her brother was an optometrist and commuted 45 minutes to work every day; her sister-in-law was a teacher and had extensive education but left teaching because she was tired of it and was now the talker's brother's, the woman's husband's office manager. The woman's ex-brother-in-law was a school a principle. The woman had tried to get on an earlier flight but they would charger her to re-route even though there was available space on the flights. She was supposed to go to Nebraska that afternoon to go shopping with he mother but she just didn't know if she was going to do that now. And, and here is the kicker she was going to sleep on her next two hour flight. WTF?!? Boundaries lady. And why couldn't she sleep on the flight that everyone else was trying to sleep on? I really feel sorry for the people who were trapped in the two seats beside her. Come on people, no talking to strangers on airplanes. Maybe after you have landed and are taxiing to the terminal, then perhaps it is okay to strike up a conversation, but never ever before.
So that is it. I made it to church in plenty of time, but I was dragging. But I just acknowledged where I had been and went on from there. Then I slept for four hours that afternoon and eleven hours that night.
But all in all a great trip. So Happy Birthday Justin! Here's to a great year.
Peace out!
But this weekend I took off for Vegas to celebrate the birthday of my friend Justin. There were 12 of us total. It was really, really fun. Albeit exhausting. I am still tired. We arrived on Friday afternoon. I had lost the amount I set as my cap for Friday by 7. It was super fun playing the slot machine Village People Party. If you got Village, People, and Party on the screen at the same time then you got to have a party in the upper screen complete with dancing village people and Macho, Macho Man song blaring. Believe when I tell you that there was no one in that casino who had any questions about our sexual orientation whenever any of our crew got to have a dance party. There was gasping, clutching of pearls, and applause, in short full out merriment. Some of our group actually won some money. I was not one of them.
That night we went to a bar off the strip called Fun Hog Ranch. It is a gay bar and a new gay bar to the city. It was a great local bar in a part of our town that our cabbie was concerned about. He thought the neighborhood was a little sketchy. However, I'm fairly certain that we might have been the unseemly sorts that he was concerned about. It was a great bar. The mixed drinks were $3 and served in pint glasses. And honestly I think beers were $5 and served in gallon mugs. (Okay maybe not gallons but they were pretty big.) It would probably not be an overstatement that some of our group consumed at least a half keg or keg a piece. (Remember, I don't drink beer so this was not me.) We rolled into the hotel room around 3 AM. (I don't remember the last time I was out that late.)
Then on Saturday we went to...wait for it....wait for it... to the Live Price is Right Show. That's right I said the Price is Right. Complete with the Show Case Showdown, the big wheel, the Mountain Climber game, and OMG, Plinko. Four of our twelve people got called up to guess prices. One of our folks got to spend the big wheel. But in the end all that anyone of us won was a conciliation t-shirt. But it was really fun. I mean really, really fun. Then that afternoon I lost what I had planned to lose for Saturday in about an hour. Both days my loss was on the table game Let it Ride with a few twenties lost on the VP Dance Party. That night we went out to a great restaurant to celebrate Justin's birthday.
At midnight we all got in the taxi line, me to return to the hotel and the rest to go to a new gay club called Krave on the strip at the Planet Hollywood casino. It is the first gay club on the strip--Vegas is not the biggest gay destination, although they are trying to recruit more gays. They know we have more expendable income. Anyway. I got to bed about 1 AM. I was leaving on a plane early Sunday morning to get back for church. Well at 4:10, 5 minutes before my alarm was to go off, my roommates rolled in from the club. So as I was leaving they were just turning out the lights to go to sleep.
I headed to the airport where I boarded a plane with the hookers who were also leaving Las Vegas early. Now I don't know they were hookers because I recognized them, but just because I could tell.
There was also this incredibly loud woman sitting across the aisle from me. Now I slept a good bit of the flight, but in the time I was not asleep, this is what I learned about her: she was recently divorced; even though her husband promised never to leave her he did for a younger woman and I'm adding this part I'm guessing a less annoying woman; she was there in Vegas because she had taken some additional contract jobs to make ends meet; she had two kids and several animals including I think an iguana; she got the house in Cheyene, WY; her brother was an optometrist and commuted 45 minutes to work every day; her sister-in-law was a teacher and had extensive education but left teaching because she was tired of it and was now the talker's brother's, the woman's husband's office manager. The woman's ex-brother-in-law was a school a principle. The woman had tried to get on an earlier flight but they would charger her to re-route even though there was available space on the flights. She was supposed to go to Nebraska that afternoon to go shopping with he mother but she just didn't know if she was going to do that now. And, and here is the kicker she was going to sleep on her next two hour flight. WTF?!? Boundaries lady. And why couldn't she sleep on the flight that everyone else was trying to sleep on? I really feel sorry for the people who were trapped in the two seats beside her. Come on people, no talking to strangers on airplanes. Maybe after you have landed and are taxiing to the terminal, then perhaps it is okay to strike up a conversation, but never ever before.
So that is it. I made it to church in plenty of time, but I was dragging. But I just acknowledged where I had been and went on from there. Then I slept for four hours that afternoon and eleven hours that night.
But all in all a great trip. So Happy Birthday Justin! Here's to a great year.
Peace out!
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
2 things
(1) I love those energy efficient long lasting light bulbs. I've been slowly swapping out the regular bulbs as the regular ones blow. Well I finally replaced one in my bathroom. And I love it. Do you want to know why? Well I'll tell you. The reason is that it takes a little while for them to warm up. Which means that the initial light is kind of dim. Well in the bathroom this is great because when I go to the bathroom in the middle of the night instead of getting this bright light blinding me I get a nice soft initial light. And that is with only one energy efficient bulb. Just wait until both bulbs are changed. It's great, and I'm helping the planet. Woo hoo!
(2) I went to a Christmas concert with a parishioner on Sunday evening. It wasn't great, but the parishioner has been kind of lonely lately so I did it for him. Anyway on the way back somehow he started telling me about the fact that vanity and narcissism were too different things. I think it started with him telling me about some quote he had read in the paper: "I'm not narcissistic. I'm just vain. There is a difference." So then he started telling me that the difference is that someone who is narcissistic is turned on by themselves. Then he told me that he thinks he is a little bit narcissistic because when he was younger and dressed in leather he would look in the mirror and get off. And then he told me that his late partner also like for him to dress in leather and then the partner would watch him get off and that the partner would also get off. Now here is the thing, I don't really care about the leather getting off stuff. I'm not into leather, but alright, whatever. But what icks me out just a little is that he told me about it. Ewww. I have learned things about my parishioners that I never ever wanted to know.
(2) I went to a Christmas concert with a parishioner on Sunday evening. It wasn't great, but the parishioner has been kind of lonely lately so I did it for him. Anyway on the way back somehow he started telling me about the fact that vanity and narcissism were too different things. I think it started with him telling me about some quote he had read in the paper: "I'm not narcissistic. I'm just vain. There is a difference." So then he started telling me that the difference is that someone who is narcissistic is turned on by themselves. Then he told me that he thinks he is a little bit narcissistic because when he was younger and dressed in leather he would look in the mirror and get off. And then he told me that his late partner also like for him to dress in leather and then the partner would watch him get off and that the partner would also get off. Now here is the thing, I don't really care about the leather getting off stuff. I'm not into leather, but alright, whatever. But what icks me out just a little is that he told me about it. Ewww. I have learned things about my parishioners that I never ever wanted to know.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Today's Sermon: A little better than the draft. UPDATED
Here we are back at the window. And in this second week of Advent we find ourselves also back at a river, back with John the Baptist. Much of Advent is revisiting stories that we have heard before looking again at characters we have seen many times before. And of characters in the Bible John is definitely one of the wildest. He is quite a character as my daddy would say. This usually means that he is odd, an odd bird, a few bricks short of a full load, long on dry wall short on studs. In other words, crazy! And to be sure ol' John the Baptist is a bit crazy. And what is even crazier is that Mark chooses the Baptist as the beginning of the story of the good news.
He does not begin his narrative by letting us linger in a manger, like Matthew and Luke do. He doesn't even begin with the philosophical grandeur that John does. He starts with John the Baptist. And not even a baby John the Baptist or fetal John the Baptist leaping in the womb of Elisabeth at the entrance of Mary and the in utero Jesus. No instead Mark begins with a brief fanfare and the entrance of a fully formed adult John the Baptist. And John is performing baptisms and pointing the way to someone else. People are coming to him, coming to him to be baptized, to join a movement. And what is he doing? He is saying, eh, I'm not that great Now can you imagine this? Think about if Barack Obama had appeared on the scene this election season (not back when he gave the speech at the convention four year ago) and said I am here to tell you about a new way of being, the poor will be made rich, the sick will be made well, the week will be made strong. Come join this movement. Sign up. Donate. Tell your friends. Oh and by the way I'm not actually the leader. Someone else is. Someone who is a lot better than I am. So get on board but I'm not the one. No we cannot really imagine this at all, because the leaders we know pump themselves up. They aren't trying to pave the way for someone else. They are usually trying to pave the way for themselves.
But not John the Baptist he is pointing to a future leader, a future savior, a future messiah. But first Mark is doing something else. Because in reality he is not starting the story of the beginning of the good news with John the Baptist. No he is pointing us forward by pointing us back. He is pointing us back to the prophet Isaiah. Those words that we read earlier from Isaiah Mark then uses as the brief fanfare that I mentioned. "See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way, the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight." Now the one Isaiah is pointing to is Elijah. And to be honest, Mark wants us to make that connection as well. Because his depiction of this raggedy haired bug eating prophet closely resembles the descriptions of Elijah. It gives him credibility, John is a new Elijah, pointing the people to the messiah.
But Mark is also making an important statement. Before we look forward we have to look back. Before we can see the Messiah we have to look back, we have to take note of the low places, the valley's that need lifting up, the uneven ground that needs to be leveled. As I mentioned last week, we have to take note of the streaks and smudges.
And it is at this point that I most often get stuck. When I was young and got to this point it was pretty easy. I had a litany of things that I had done or thought that would be streaks and smudges. Although, in reality I probably had very little to confess, very little to clean away, or very little to repent of. But the point is that I thought I did. I'm sure I would have thought getting angry with my brother would have been a smudge. Or thinking about another boy in that way would have been a big ol’ smudge. Or not doing a chore around the house would have been a streak. But as I got older I realized that perhaps profanity and dancing and drinking weren't as awful as I thought they were. And that sometimes getting angry is actually healthy rather than an abomination to God. Then I went to seminary and those streaks and smudges became larger issues. The way we treat the poor was our sin, the homeless on the street was our corporate stain, war was our uneven place that needed to be leveled out. So we were all sinners, but we were sinners in a larger communal way. There was no real individual personal issue to be concerned with.
But neither of these understandings of sin and the stains and smudges that prevent us from looking forward is really sufficient. Because the first puts too much emphasis on fairly benign and sometimes healthy actions and emotions. And the latter gives me the opportunity to never reflect on the ways that I am clouding the windows of my heart and my soul.
And so finally what I have come to see as sins are those actions that prevent us from seeing clearly the heart and mind of God. The ways that we become more concerned about our own desires our own selves. In short the ways that our egos get in the way. The times when we lose sight of the rest of the world to attend solely to ourselves. The ways we try to protect ourselves from feeling, from living. The times when we treat others as less than human. The times when we think we are protecting the person by not being fully truthful when in reality we are only protecting ourselves. In general the times when we think it is all about us. And it is these words of Isaiah that come to us, "the grass withers, the flowers fade." We are the grass, we are the flowers. Now here is the thing the grass and the flowers are still beautiful, but they are only here for a season. But God's word, God's heart, God's desire for humankind and the world we inhabit remains forever.
So how do we go about repenting. I've called this sermon "Window washers wanted." How do we become window washers? I've been reading a book by Madeleine L'Engle titled "A Severed Wasp." In it the main character reconnects with a man from her past. A man who is now a retired bishop. But in her first meeting she had been told that he was a violinist. But he introduces himself as a "window cleaner" To which she responds, "A window cleaner and a violinist?"
" 'No and. Music is my window cleaning.' And he had gone on, with unexpected passion for one who seemed so languorously wan, to talk about the human isolation 'in this fragile bag of bones, where all our windows have been so fouled with futility and folly that we can't see out. So there have to be window cleaners.' Artists, he said, would clean the muddied windows with the purity of their art’
When they met up again, she says "Is becoming a bishop a way of becoming a window cleaner?" And he says "Becoming a priest. That was my hope."
Art takes us out of ourselves and points us toward what is beautiful. It clears away the muddy places. It invites us to let go of our egos and our desire of what we want it to be and instead allow it to be what it is. Sculptors and painters often talk about listening to the stone or the clay or the canvas for what it is saying it wants to be. But I think what the priest was saying in the end is that art is not the only thing that does that. For him it was becoming a priest. A priest was a window cleaner of sorts because he too was pointing people towards something greater and more beautiful than themselves, something pure.
But we are all window cleaners--whenever we live out our passion. Whenever, we are faithful and true to the person we were created to be. Whenever we point out what is beautiful to someone else. Whenever we invite others to be present to the immediate beauty in their lives. We are not John the Baptist pointing the way to the messiah. Not paving our own way like the politician, but instead paving the way for the Christ. We are all window cleaners.
This advent season we are invited to look back, to take notice of the ways we have pointed to ourselves. The ways we have focused too intensely on our own withering lives and failed to see the beauty all around us. The ways our ego has gotten in the way of caring for the people and the world around us. And then we are being invited to turn around, turn out. To wipe away those smudges and look for the beauty that is just outside our windows. To become window washers stepping out of our fragile bag of bones of isolation, wiping away the futility and the folly and seeing clearly the pure and beautiful. Amen.
He does not begin his narrative by letting us linger in a manger, like Matthew and Luke do. He doesn't even begin with the philosophical grandeur that John does. He starts with John the Baptist. And not even a baby John the Baptist or fetal John the Baptist leaping in the womb of Elisabeth at the entrance of Mary and the in utero Jesus. No instead Mark begins with a brief fanfare and the entrance of a fully formed adult John the Baptist. And John is performing baptisms and pointing the way to someone else. People are coming to him, coming to him to be baptized, to join a movement. And what is he doing? He is saying, eh, I'm not that great Now can you imagine this? Think about if Barack Obama had appeared on the scene this election season (not back when he gave the speech at the convention four year ago) and said I am here to tell you about a new way of being, the poor will be made rich, the sick will be made well, the week will be made strong. Come join this movement. Sign up. Donate. Tell your friends. Oh and by the way I'm not actually the leader. Someone else is. Someone who is a lot better than I am. So get on board but I'm not the one. No we cannot really imagine this at all, because the leaders we know pump themselves up. They aren't trying to pave the way for someone else. They are usually trying to pave the way for themselves.
But not John the Baptist he is pointing to a future leader, a future savior, a future messiah. But first Mark is doing something else. Because in reality he is not starting the story of the beginning of the good news with John the Baptist. No he is pointing us forward by pointing us back. He is pointing us back to the prophet Isaiah. Those words that we read earlier from Isaiah Mark then uses as the brief fanfare that I mentioned. "See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way, the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight." Now the one Isaiah is pointing to is Elijah. And to be honest, Mark wants us to make that connection as well. Because his depiction of this raggedy haired bug eating prophet closely resembles the descriptions of Elijah. It gives him credibility, John is a new Elijah, pointing the people to the messiah.
But Mark is also making an important statement. Before we look forward we have to look back. Before we can see the Messiah we have to look back, we have to take note of the low places, the valley's that need lifting up, the uneven ground that needs to be leveled. As I mentioned last week, we have to take note of the streaks and smudges.
And it is at this point that I most often get stuck. When I was young and got to this point it was pretty easy. I had a litany of things that I had done or thought that would be streaks and smudges. Although, in reality I probably had very little to confess, very little to clean away, or very little to repent of. But the point is that I thought I did. I'm sure I would have thought getting angry with my brother would have been a smudge. Or thinking about another boy in that way would have been a big ol’ smudge. Or not doing a chore around the house would have been a streak. But as I got older I realized that perhaps profanity and dancing and drinking weren't as awful as I thought they were. And that sometimes getting angry is actually healthy rather than an abomination to God. Then I went to seminary and those streaks and smudges became larger issues. The way we treat the poor was our sin, the homeless on the street was our corporate stain, war was our uneven place that needed to be leveled out. So we were all sinners, but we were sinners in a larger communal way. There was no real individual personal issue to be concerned with.
But neither of these understandings of sin and the stains and smudges that prevent us from looking forward is really sufficient. Because the first puts too much emphasis on fairly benign and sometimes healthy actions and emotions. And the latter gives me the opportunity to never reflect on the ways that I am clouding the windows of my heart and my soul.
And so finally what I have come to see as sins are those actions that prevent us from seeing clearly the heart and mind of God. The ways that we become more concerned about our own desires our own selves. In short the ways that our egos get in the way. The times when we lose sight of the rest of the world to attend solely to ourselves. The ways we try to protect ourselves from feeling, from living. The times when we treat others as less than human. The times when we think we are protecting the person by not being fully truthful when in reality we are only protecting ourselves. In general the times when we think it is all about us. And it is these words of Isaiah that come to us, "the grass withers, the flowers fade." We are the grass, we are the flowers. Now here is the thing the grass and the flowers are still beautiful, but they are only here for a season. But God's word, God's heart, God's desire for humankind and the world we inhabit remains forever.
So how do we go about repenting. I've called this sermon "Window washers wanted." How do we become window washers? I've been reading a book by Madeleine L'Engle titled "A Severed Wasp." In it the main character reconnects with a man from her past. A man who is now a retired bishop. But in her first meeting she had been told that he was a violinist. But he introduces himself as a "window cleaner" To which she responds, "A window cleaner and a violinist?"
" 'No and. Music is my window cleaning.' And he had gone on, with unexpected passion for one who seemed so languorously wan, to talk about the human isolation 'in this fragile bag of bones, where all our windows have been so fouled with futility and folly that we can't see out. So there have to be window cleaners.' Artists, he said, would clean the muddied windows with the purity of their art’
When they met up again, she says "Is becoming a bishop a way of becoming a window cleaner?" And he says "Becoming a priest. That was my hope."
Art takes us out of ourselves and points us toward what is beautiful. It clears away the muddy places. It invites us to let go of our egos and our desire of what we want it to be and instead allow it to be what it is. Sculptors and painters often talk about listening to the stone or the clay or the canvas for what it is saying it wants to be. But I think what the priest was saying in the end is that art is not the only thing that does that. For him it was becoming a priest. A priest was a window cleaner of sorts because he too was pointing people towards something greater and more beautiful than themselves, something pure.
But we are all window cleaners--whenever we live out our passion. Whenever, we are faithful and true to the person we were created to be. Whenever we point out what is beautiful to someone else. Whenever we invite others to be present to the immediate beauty in their lives. We are not John the Baptist pointing the way to the messiah. Not paving our own way like the politician, but instead paving the way for the Christ. We are all window cleaners.
This advent season we are invited to look back, to take notice of the ways we have pointed to ourselves. The ways we have focused too intensely on our own withering lives and failed to see the beauty all around us. The ways our ego has gotten in the way of caring for the people and the world around us. And then we are being invited to turn around, turn out. To wipe away those smudges and look for the beauty that is just outside our windows. To become window washers stepping out of our fragile bag of bones of isolation, wiping away the futility and the folly and seeing clearly the pure and beautiful. Amen.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Slumdog Millionaire
Today I saw a movie that was really, really, really good. My friend Todd had recommended it and I had seen some other press. It is the story of an Indian man who grew up in the slums of Bombay/Mumbai and then went on to compete on the Indian version of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. I am in love with this movie for a whole host of reasons.
(1) The way they tell the story of his life is such a clever device. It is through the questions on the show and that is as much as I'll tell you fearing that I'd give too much away by saying more. I like it when a story is told in an unconventional way. It reminds me of the movie Short Bus and the way that story was told through sex. (Different movies and devices but similar in their unconventional nature.)
(2) It gives what it is I'm guessing an accurately tragic view of life in the slums of India. I'm guessing there is some fictionalization of the setting, and since I've never been to India I can't say for sure, but I'm thinking it is fairly horrible.
(3) The children in the movie are really delightful. Well all the actors I think are really great. The children are just particularly cute. The lead actor who plays the adult lead is subtle and great.
(4) It is a movie that is full of hope and delight in the middle of tragedy and despair. An overcoming of great odds.
All in all, I loved it!!! If it is playing near you it is worth seeing. Go as date night or in the middle of the afternoon hooky from work playing activity. Just go. I give it two thumbs up. If I had three thumbs I'd give it three thumbs up. (Granted then I would be disfigured and probably would compensate by trying to hide the third finger, but it would still be sticking up.)
(1) The way they tell the story of his life is such a clever device. It is through the questions on the show and that is as much as I'll tell you fearing that I'd give too much away by saying more. I like it when a story is told in an unconventional way. It reminds me of the movie Short Bus and the way that story was told through sex. (Different movies and devices but similar in their unconventional nature.)
(2) It gives what it is I'm guessing an accurately tragic view of life in the slums of India. I'm guessing there is some fictionalization of the setting, and since I've never been to India I can't say for sure, but I'm thinking it is fairly horrible.
(3) The children in the movie are really delightful. Well all the actors I think are really great. The children are just particularly cute. The lead actor who plays the adult lead is subtle and great.
(4) It is a movie that is full of hope and delight in the middle of tragedy and despair. An overcoming of great odds.
All in all, I loved it!!! If it is playing near you it is worth seeing. Go as date night or in the middle of the afternoon hooky from work playing activity. Just go. I give it two thumbs up. If I had three thumbs I'd give it three thumbs up. (Granted then I would be disfigured and probably would compensate by trying to hide the third finger, but it would still be sticking up.)
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Today's Sermon: Cutting it close today
"I Don't Do Windows"
I suppose you are probably wondering about the windows hanging all around. What do they have to do with Advent or Christmas or anything really? Well it all started with the painting that is on the cover of the bulletin today. It is a painting by Salvador Dali, which if you know his work it is probably his later work and it is very different than this rather tame painting. It is called Girl in the Window. Phillip, Gini and I planned the services for the season together. And after we read all the texts for this season we began looking through various resources that I had. One of which is a coffee table book that I have used before in various ways. It is on display in the back. And on the first day for this Advent we came across this painting. And it seemed to take off from there. We started thinking about hanging windows from the space, and it took asking one person to find a whole assortment of windows. And then as I was searching for another poem by Wendell Berry I found the entire collection titled Window. Window. And it seemed to be rich for our exploration of the season.
As you all know windows are used for both looking in and looking out. And this season is all about what is inside or here already, and what is outside or not yet. During the season of Advent we begin retelling a story that has already happened many years ago. It is a story of prophecy that pointed to a young girl and her espoused traveling to Bethlehem and having a baby that they would name Jesus. It has shepherds and magi and angels. And that story happened 2000 years ago. That story is read in houses all over the world on the night that we celebrate a birth. That story is retold when we put up a tree in our homes and lights in our windows It is retold when we unwrap again the individual pieces of our nativity scenes that are crafted out of wood or paper or ceramic. And we once again try and figure out just how we are going to suspend that angel up over the manger.
And yet what we find in our advent texts is not this story. There are no stars in this story, at least not yet. As a matter of fact in today's gospel lesson the stars have fallen out of the sky. This advent story is about something that hasn't happened yet. It is about something out there, beyond the horizon. It is the story of an apocalypse. A second coming. Or better still an end to the world as we know it. The story Linus in the Peanuts cartoon tells begins with "and there were shepherds abiding in the field…." This one begins, "But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give it s light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken." This is not the story that can be told by some animated character. Or at least not the way I've heard it. The apocalypse is something that is scary. Well when I was growing up it was frightening for those who had not become Christians. But there was also the fear that perhaps I had done something that would prevent me from being taken up in the clouds with Jesus. I would be …duh, duh, duh…left behind. And I did not want to be left behind. And I have to say that even the idea of just being taken up in the clouds was a little frightening to me as a child. I remember a friend of mine had in their house a painting that was a depiction of the second coming. It had Jesus at the top of the painting in a cloud. And he was looking down on a city. And the scene was of car crashes and abandoned vehicles and then humans flying up out of their cars to meet Jesus in the sky. Which reminds me of my favorite bumper sticker, "In case of rapture, can I have your car?" And while that is funny to me now, as a child the apocalypse was no laughing matter. So in a story that ends with angels proclaiming to shepherds to "fear not." What does this Gospel story have to do with Advent?
Well it helps to start by looking at the context in which Mark’s gospel was written. Most scholars agree that Mark was written before Matthew, Luke or John, somewhere around the year 70. These were troubled times for the early believers. In Rome, Nero had initiated a campaign of terror against Christians, and soon after that the Romans completely quashed a Jewish rebellion. Violence and persecution abounded; things were not going well.
On top of all that, the one they believed had come to change their fortunes, their Messiah, was long gone. Before getting the death penalty, which wasn’t exactly what they had hoped for in a leader, he had promised he would be right back. And for a while, against all odds, they believed him. They didn’t make any long range plans. They focused all their energy on waiting for his return. They had, to use some big words from seminary, an “apocalyptic eschatological expectation.” The professor who taught me those terms told his students if we ever found ourselves losing a theological argument, we could instantly regain the upper hand by saying that phrase loudly and with confidence: “Apocalyptic Eschatological Expectation!” Big words, but it just means people thought Jesus was coming back soon, gathering faithful believers into his kingdom.
But now, decades after Jesus’ death, things were looking pretty grim. Most of the people who had actually seen Jesus had died. The stories being told about him were now mostly hearsay, not firsthand accounts. People were discouraged and finding it hard to find faith. The urgency and expectation that marked the believers’ lives decades before had diminished. It is in this context that the gospel of Mark is written.
In this situation, it’s not enough just to recount the story of Jesus. As one of my favorite preachers and writers, Barbara Brown Taylor, puts it, the authors of the first gospels had to “tell it to people who were frightened and tired of waiting—people who desperately wanted to know whether Jesus’ delay was part of the master plan or whether he was missing in action.” The answer they are given, not just in Mark, but included in Matthew and Luke as well, is this “little apocalypse.” In it, the people are assured that Jesus will indeed return with such power and glory that the very order of the cosmos will be disrupted—the sun and moon will be darkened; the stars will fall from the sky. Jesus will return, he promises, during the lifetime of his listeners. But, he adds, no one really knows when it will happen, not even Jesus himself. Only God knows, so don’t waste your time trying to calculate the day. And don’t get discouraged. Just pay attention every day, and be ready. Keep alert, stay awake, pay attention.
So in this context this apocalypse was not a story that brought about fear but instead hope--a hope that had been obscured by too much fear and too much time and well too much of everything. They thought the messiah would bring about an end to the war and violence that was being inflicted on the world. And instead that was not happening. They were still suffering and still being persecuted. And what Mark is saying is that this too will pass. So wake up. There is hope. This is a hopeful story. No need to lie down and die, never to wake up to living.
And that is what we have done isn't it? We have taken a story of hope and turned it into a story of loneliness, anger, despair, and fear. Think about it. The story of a baby born to bring good news to all people, has become a season that many of us dread. I mean not only is this often a season of real loneliness and depression for people, but it becomes for many a real chore. So many people say things like I can't wait for the holidays to be over. It is so hectic. We go from party to party. We have to get out the Christmas cards. We have to bake the cookies. We have to buy gifts. And in this time of economic crisis it is even more of a trial. All we have to do is look at the tragedy that happened at the Wal-mart store on Friday when an employee was trampled to death all so that the hordes of shoppers might get a deal on a plasma TV. We call the day after a day that we give great thanks as black Friday. The day that we point to as the official kick-off of the holiday season in the commercial world is seen as a day of chaos.
So it does seem appropriate that we turn to this "little apocalypse" as an introduction into this season. Because it invites us to reframe the story. To look not to despair and fear and chaos but instead to hope. It invites us to wipe away the cobwebs and the dirt from our windows. And look out not with anxiety but instead anticipation. With anticipation as I believe this woman is looking out the window in this painting.
But in order to look out the window we have to discover what it is that is blocking our view. What are the cobwebs? What is the dust? What are the smudges? What has turned our season of hope into a season of despair? Scott Cairns' has this great poem titled Advent: ("Advent," Compass of Affection, Scott Cairns.)
What is on your window? What is this one candle we lit illuminating for you? Let us take this moment, this day to wake up. To be alert. To notice. To notice what is lurking around our windows, our minds, our hearts. Amen.
I suppose you are probably wondering about the windows hanging all around. What do they have to do with Advent or Christmas or anything really? Well it all started with the painting that is on the cover of the bulletin today. It is a painting by Salvador Dali, which if you know his work it is probably his later work and it is very different than this rather tame painting. It is called Girl in the Window. Phillip, Gini and I planned the services for the season together. And after we read all the texts for this season we began looking through various resources that I had. One of which is a coffee table book that I have used before in various ways. It is on display in the back. And on the first day for this Advent we came across this painting. And it seemed to take off from there. We started thinking about hanging windows from the space, and it took asking one person to find a whole assortment of windows. And then as I was searching for another poem by Wendell Berry I found the entire collection titled Window. Window. And it seemed to be rich for our exploration of the season.
As you all know windows are used for both looking in and looking out. And this season is all about what is inside or here already, and what is outside or not yet. During the season of Advent we begin retelling a story that has already happened many years ago. It is a story of prophecy that pointed to a young girl and her espoused traveling to Bethlehem and having a baby that they would name Jesus. It has shepherds and magi and angels. And that story happened 2000 years ago. That story is read in houses all over the world on the night that we celebrate a birth. That story is retold when we put up a tree in our homes and lights in our windows It is retold when we unwrap again the individual pieces of our nativity scenes that are crafted out of wood or paper or ceramic. And we once again try and figure out just how we are going to suspend that angel up over the manger.
And yet what we find in our advent texts is not this story. There are no stars in this story, at least not yet. As a matter of fact in today's gospel lesson the stars have fallen out of the sky. This advent story is about something that hasn't happened yet. It is about something out there, beyond the horizon. It is the story of an apocalypse. A second coming. Or better still an end to the world as we know it. The story Linus in the Peanuts cartoon tells begins with "and there were shepherds abiding in the field…." This one begins, "But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give it s light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken." This is not the story that can be told by some animated character. Or at least not the way I've heard it. The apocalypse is something that is scary. Well when I was growing up it was frightening for those who had not become Christians. But there was also the fear that perhaps I had done something that would prevent me from being taken up in the clouds with Jesus. I would be …duh, duh, duh…left behind. And I did not want to be left behind. And I have to say that even the idea of just being taken up in the clouds was a little frightening to me as a child. I remember a friend of mine had in their house a painting that was a depiction of the second coming. It had Jesus at the top of the painting in a cloud. And he was looking down on a city. And the scene was of car crashes and abandoned vehicles and then humans flying up out of their cars to meet Jesus in the sky. Which reminds me of my favorite bumper sticker, "In case of rapture, can I have your car?" And while that is funny to me now, as a child the apocalypse was no laughing matter. So in a story that ends with angels proclaiming to shepherds to "fear not." What does this Gospel story have to do with Advent?
Well it helps to start by looking at the context in which Mark’s gospel was written. Most scholars agree that Mark was written before Matthew, Luke or John, somewhere around the year 70. These were troubled times for the early believers. In Rome, Nero had initiated a campaign of terror against Christians, and soon after that the Romans completely quashed a Jewish rebellion. Violence and persecution abounded; things were not going well.
On top of all that, the one they believed had come to change their fortunes, their Messiah, was long gone. Before getting the death penalty, which wasn’t exactly what they had hoped for in a leader, he had promised he would be right back. And for a while, against all odds, they believed him. They didn’t make any long range plans. They focused all their energy on waiting for his return. They had, to use some big words from seminary, an “apocalyptic eschatological expectation.” The professor who taught me those terms told his students if we ever found ourselves losing a theological argument, we could instantly regain the upper hand by saying that phrase loudly and with confidence: “Apocalyptic Eschatological Expectation!” Big words, but it just means people thought Jesus was coming back soon, gathering faithful believers into his kingdom.
But now, decades after Jesus’ death, things were looking pretty grim. Most of the people who had actually seen Jesus had died. The stories being told about him were now mostly hearsay, not firsthand accounts. People were discouraged and finding it hard to find faith. The urgency and expectation that marked the believers’ lives decades before had diminished. It is in this context that the gospel of Mark is written.
In this situation, it’s not enough just to recount the story of Jesus. As one of my favorite preachers and writers, Barbara Brown Taylor, puts it, the authors of the first gospels had to “tell it to people who were frightened and tired of waiting—people who desperately wanted to know whether Jesus’ delay was part of the master plan or whether he was missing in action.” The answer they are given, not just in Mark, but included in Matthew and Luke as well, is this “little apocalypse.” In it, the people are assured that Jesus will indeed return with such power and glory that the very order of the cosmos will be disrupted—the sun and moon will be darkened; the stars will fall from the sky. Jesus will return, he promises, during the lifetime of his listeners. But, he adds, no one really knows when it will happen, not even Jesus himself. Only God knows, so don’t waste your time trying to calculate the day. And don’t get discouraged. Just pay attention every day, and be ready. Keep alert, stay awake, pay attention.
So in this context this apocalypse was not a story that brought about fear but instead hope--a hope that had been obscured by too much fear and too much time and well too much of everything. They thought the messiah would bring about an end to the war and violence that was being inflicted on the world. And instead that was not happening. They were still suffering and still being persecuted. And what Mark is saying is that this too will pass. So wake up. There is hope. This is a hopeful story. No need to lie down and die, never to wake up to living.
And that is what we have done isn't it? We have taken a story of hope and turned it into a story of loneliness, anger, despair, and fear. Think about it. The story of a baby born to bring good news to all people, has become a season that many of us dread. I mean not only is this often a season of real loneliness and depression for people, but it becomes for many a real chore. So many people say things like I can't wait for the holidays to be over. It is so hectic. We go from party to party. We have to get out the Christmas cards. We have to bake the cookies. We have to buy gifts. And in this time of economic crisis it is even more of a trial. All we have to do is look at the tragedy that happened at the Wal-mart store on Friday when an employee was trampled to death all so that the hordes of shoppers might get a deal on a plasma TV. We call the day after a day that we give great thanks as black Friday. The day that we point to as the official kick-off of the holiday season in the commercial world is seen as a day of chaos.
So it does seem appropriate that we turn to this "little apocalypse" as an introduction into this season. Because it invites us to reframe the story. To look not to despair and fear and chaos but instead to hope. It invites us to wipe away the cobwebs and the dirt from our windows. And look out not with anxiety but instead anticipation. With anticipation as I believe this woman is looking out the window in this painting.
But in order to look out the window we have to discover what it is that is blocking our view. What are the cobwebs? What is the dust? What are the smudges? What has turned our season of hope into a season of despair? Scott Cairns' has this great poem titled Advent: ("Advent," Compass of Affection, Scott Cairns.)
What is on your window? What is this one candle we lit illuminating for you? Let us take this moment, this day to wake up. To be alert. To notice. To notice what is lurking around our windows, our minds, our hearts. Amen.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
A couple of things
First, I saw a screening of the new movie, "Milk," last night. It is about the first gay elected official Harvey Milk and his subsequent assassination. It stars Sean Penn as Harvey Milk. The movie is really good and Sean Penn is amazing. It is a great telling of one of gay histories biggest heroes. It is also amazing that to learn that we are still fighting the same arguments of hate that were being fought 30 years ago. Go see it when it comes to a theater near you.
Second, and completely unrelated, tonight I learned something new about my apartment. I learned that when the blinds are down in my apartment and the lamp beside the couch is on people on the street can see into the apartment. As I've probably said before in this blog I am naked or nearly naked in my apartment a lot. So this means that my neighbors and passer-byes have seen a lot more than they expected to see. Now I'm not that modest but I'm not an exhibitionist either so this leaves me with a bit of a dilemma. But I'm guessing I won't change my behavior because I think people would actually have to stand outside and stare in to see anything and if someone is doing that then they are trying to see in. So they deserve to see whatever they happen to see.
Do you think I've become the recurring Friends character ugly naked guy?
Second, and completely unrelated, tonight I learned something new about my apartment. I learned that when the blinds are down in my apartment and the lamp beside the couch is on people on the street can see into the apartment. As I've probably said before in this blog I am naked or nearly naked in my apartment a lot. So this means that my neighbors and passer-byes have seen a lot more than they expected to see. Now I'm not that modest but I'm not an exhibitionist either so this leaves me with a bit of a dilemma. But I'm guessing I won't change my behavior because I think people would actually have to stand outside and stare in to see anything and if someone is doing that then they are trying to see in. So they deserve to see whatever they happen to see.
Do you think I've become the recurring Friends character ugly naked guy?
Friday, November 21, 2008
Coffee House Rambling
I have had a crappy week--in the sense that I have received a lot of crappy information. Information that isn't necessarily about me per se, but it is feeling hard for me not to worry about. And it just feels like this year, one thing after the next has happened to the people around me, either in my family of origin or my family of choice. And I'm tired. Tired of people being sick. Tired of people facing difficult financial futures. And in some cases I'm tired of struggling with how I am or am not able to help the situation. I don't want to nor in most cases can I come to the rescue, but I still feel like I'm taking on the weight of it. So my question is how do I put down the weight of the world that is not mine. I feel a little like May in The Secret Life of Bees. She loses her twin and then is unable to fully cope with the great suffering in the world. Now I don't think I'm completely where May is. I'm not going to put a big rock on my chest and lay down in the river behind my house. But I get it. I feel the weight of sorrows that aren't mine. Maybe I need my own wailing wall like May had. Some place to let go of what I'm trying to hold on to.
Jazz is playing over the speaker in the coffee shop right now. I think the saxophone is a sad instrument. And at this moment it somewhat reflect the melancholy I'm in.
I'm trying to think about worship on Sunday where I want to talk about gratitude. I'm quoting someone who said "Life is a gift; despair is presumptous." Boy is it hard for me to see life as a gift right now.
Jazz is playing over the speaker in the coffee shop right now. I think the saxophone is a sad instrument. And at this moment it somewhat reflect the melancholy I'm in.
I'm trying to think about worship on Sunday where I want to talk about gratitude. I'm quoting someone who said "Life is a gift; despair is presumptous." Boy is it hard for me to see life as a gift right now.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Nothing
Several times this week I have thought about things that I would blog about and then by the time I get home I've forgotten. So I really have nothing to talk about. I can tell you about some movies I've seen lately.
Quantum of Solace: It was fine. I really didn't like it all that much. I hadn't seen the one before this one and apparently it is a sequel. But I missed the gadgets from the old James Bond movies. Also I'm willing to suspend disbelief in movies and such. But there are a couple of times when I just said, "You want me to believe this?!?" And all I'll say so that I don't spoil anything is--big ol' rickety ass boat.
Role Models: Funny. Very funny! Crude and irreverant and totally predictable and hilarious! Not for the easily offended. Paul Rudd is so funny and so cute. I love Paul Rudd. He can move right in tomorrow. So if you know him let him know that I'm available.
Zack and Mirri Make a Porno: Also funny and crude and foul. Also, not for the easily offended. It is classic Kevin Smith movie-making. But also kind of sweet in the end. And when I say crude I mean crude. Jay of Jay and Silent Bob is in it as well as Randall from the Clerks movies. Excellent.
So I guess that is it. I'll blog again if I remember any of the random musings I thought of during the day.
Peace out!
Quantum of Solace: It was fine. I really didn't like it all that much. I hadn't seen the one before this one and apparently it is a sequel. But I missed the gadgets from the old James Bond movies. Also I'm willing to suspend disbelief in movies and such. But there are a couple of times when I just said, "You want me to believe this?!?" And all I'll say so that I don't spoil anything is--big ol' rickety ass boat.
Role Models: Funny. Very funny! Crude and irreverant and totally predictable and hilarious! Not for the easily offended. Paul Rudd is so funny and so cute. I love Paul Rudd. He can move right in tomorrow. So if you know him let him know that I'm available.
Zack and Mirri Make a Porno: Also funny and crude and foul. Also, not for the easily offended. It is classic Kevin Smith movie-making. But also kind of sweet in the end. And when I say crude I mean crude. Jay of Jay and Silent Bob is in it as well as Randall from the Clerks movies. Excellent.
So I guess that is it. I'll blog again if I remember any of the random musings I thought of during the day.
Peace out!
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Today's Sermon
I struggle with this story from the gospel lesson for today. It feels to me like I've witnessed a crime, a travesty of justice, an overreaction of the greatest degree. Third strike punishment for a first strike offense. So let's see if we have all of our facts straight.
A land owner, an apparently rich land owner, decides he is going to take a long trip. A really long, long trip--so long that it requires dividing up his assets so that they'll be protected while he is away. This apparently would not have been all that uncommon. So he is going on a trip and he summons three of his slaves to him. We don’t know if these are his only slaves or if they are merely his most trusted or his top three. But there are three. He divides up his assets this way. He gives the first slave 5 talents. He gives the second slave 2 talents and he gives the third slave one talent. (I'm guessing that many of us have heard this sermon preached as talent meaning any gift that we possess, such as playing the piano, singing ability, or the ability to beat Drextel Robinson in the 100 yard dash. Maybe that last one was just me. But no in this story Jesus means that the talents were actual money. A talent would have been roughly equivalent to 15 years wages. So 5 talents would have been equal to 75 years ways and 2 equal to 30 years wages. That is a lot of money! More money than any of the slaves would have ever seen before.) So he divides up the assets and he heads off.
After a while he returns and he calls the three slaves back together so that he can get back his money. The first slave, the one who had been given 5 talents, returned having doubled his 5 talents. That means the slave went down to the market place and bartered and traded until he had doubled his masters assets. Now remember this is a slave. This is someone who is uneducated dealing with sums of money that he has never seen before. This would be someone like my father, a blue collar worker. He dropped out of high school in the ninth grade. He finally got his GED when I was in grade school. But he was largely uneducated. This would be like him taking a million dollars and investing it in the stock market and doubling his money. The likelihood of this happening is not impossible but it is highly unlikely, highly unlikely. So essentially this slave got lucky. And he was rewarded for it. Likewise the second slave came to the master and he too had doubled his money. Again, he basically got lucky! Or let's not even diminish what the first two slaves did. Let's assume that they did not just get lucky, but they actually had some street smarts. They had watched the landowner do business and had learned a few things. But still the likelihood that they would actually double the money is pretty slim. But both the first and second slaves were rewarded. The master said to them "Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master." Now all in all up to this point in the story, I’m still with him. Doesn't necessarily seem all that fair but it at least seems satisfactory. No harm, no foul.
Then comes the third slave. This is the one who was given one talent. A lot of money, but not as much as the first two slaves. And I'll give you that this was probably not the smartest way to explain to the master his results. He basically says I know you are mean and hateful and I was really afraid of losing all your money so I didn't invest it. And he held out his hand and gave the master back the one talent he had been given, the one talent that was probably still covered somewhat in the dirt from the hole in which the slaved had buried it. That's right he buried it. Now I sort of understand this. There are people in the world who are risk takers--like the first two slaves. They are willing to roll the dice and take the chance that there work and investment will be rewarded. Then there are people like the third slave who are more cautious. People who know that playing the market is risky. The person who believes that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. At least you have the one talent. There is no chance that you are going to lose it. You will return the talent to the master exactly as he left it. So he wasn’t a risk taker, is that really such a crime? Well apparently to the master it is. Because this is what he says, "You wicked and lazy slave! You knew, did you, that I reap where I did not sow, and gather where I did not scatter? Then you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and on my return I would have received what was my own with interest." Then he says that the one talent should go to the first slave who had 10 talents and that the slave should be thrown out into the darkness where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. This is the point where I say, "whoa." Come on, wicked and lazy? I'll give you maybe lazy, but wicked. It seems to me that he is protecting the master's assets. And should he really be cast out into the darkness--basically the master said, "you can go to hell."
Now if the parable is to speak to a great truth what is it? Is the master God? And I really wanted to use this sermon to talk about money, which is how it is often used. It is placed in November because this is when most churches are doing their stewardship campaigns. But the problem with that is that all throughout the Bible we have God siding with the poor and not the rich. This parable cannot possibly be about money, because if it is then what it is saying is that if you invest your money in God's kingdom then it will be returned to you two-fold. Isn't that the message many of you have heard before--I know I have. It's what folks who preach a gospel of prosperity say all the time. Just send in your 10 dollars or your 100 dollars or your 1000 dollars now and God will double it. My grandmother's church several years ago did this thing where they gave everyone one dollar and told them this was God's dollar and that they should take it away invest it and bring back the results at the end of the month. My grandmother used it to buy flour and eggs and baked cakes that people then bought. As I remember it my mother and sister were there too and they all three pooled their funds--my sister and mother becoming the salespeople. And their investment was fruitful.
Or if you are not paid back in money then it will be returned to you in other ways. So give your tithes to the church and it will be returned to you in generosity, love, etc. But all of this still points to the rich getting richer. It also suggests that only part of it belongs to God to begin with. That one dollar is God's dollar but all the other dollars you have those actually belong to you. I heard an author on the Daily Show this week talking about ways that we can address the energy crisis in the United States by decreasing our dependence on foreign oil. And you all have heard the suggestions, natural gas, electricity, and wind. And he actually said that we should reduce our dependence on foreign oil by using only these things that belong to us, our natural gas, our wind. Our wind? Can we really say that the wind belongs to us? That is about as ridiculous as saying our air space. Actually it is more ridiculous than saying our air space. In the end none of it belongs to us. It all belongs to God.
So that brings us back to this parable. What does it all mean? If it is not about how we invest God's money then what is it about? To which I'll say I don't know fully. But I can offer a suggestion. If we look at the gospel parable right after this and the gospel parable right before this then we might have a clue. The story right before this is about a bridegroom who comes looking for the bridesmaids and finds that only half of them are prepared. And the gospel parable after this is the familiar story of the separation of the sheep and the goats. You know the I was naked and you clothed me, hungry and you fed me, and so forth and so on. And right in the middle of this you have today's story, a story about extravagant generosity and incredible responsibility. The bridegroom can come at any moment--he may meet us as a prisoner, or as a hungry person, or as even the person sitting next to you and when he comes to you remember that you have been granted a generous portion or love or wealth or whatever it is that is being asked of you. And instead of burying and hoarding that love and wealth away, give it away. You'll still have enough left over, as a matter of fact you'll have more than enough left over. And in the end I think this for us is a little about money. Jim Wallace says that budgets are moral documents. They reflect our values and our beliefs. That is budget, both governmentally and locally and personally. How we spend our money reflects what we believe. Particularly as we enter a season that has been often seen as a time of gross over-consumption, what are we saying about what we are buying. How much we are spending? I realize that people are feeling a financial crisis these days. We saw this week that retail spending was down. So people are saying we are spending less, but are they thinking any more about what they are spending on. Or are they merely burying their talents in the ground because they are afraid of losing it all? As to the weeping and gnashing of teeth, into the darkness. I'd say we often cast ourselves out into the darkness. We chose to live in the place of fear. We choose to live in a place where we are so hardened that we can't love or be loved. It is our choice. Let us choose love. Let us choose generosity. Let us choose our neighbor. Let us choose one another. Let us choose God. Amen.
A land owner, an apparently rich land owner, decides he is going to take a long trip. A really long, long trip--so long that it requires dividing up his assets so that they'll be protected while he is away. This apparently would not have been all that uncommon. So he is going on a trip and he summons three of his slaves to him. We don’t know if these are his only slaves or if they are merely his most trusted or his top three. But there are three. He divides up his assets this way. He gives the first slave 5 talents. He gives the second slave 2 talents and he gives the third slave one talent. (I'm guessing that many of us have heard this sermon preached as talent meaning any gift that we possess, such as playing the piano, singing ability, or the ability to beat Drextel Robinson in the 100 yard dash. Maybe that last one was just me. But no in this story Jesus means that the talents were actual money. A talent would have been roughly equivalent to 15 years wages. So 5 talents would have been equal to 75 years ways and 2 equal to 30 years wages. That is a lot of money! More money than any of the slaves would have ever seen before.) So he divides up the assets and he heads off.
After a while he returns and he calls the three slaves back together so that he can get back his money. The first slave, the one who had been given 5 talents, returned having doubled his 5 talents. That means the slave went down to the market place and bartered and traded until he had doubled his masters assets. Now remember this is a slave. This is someone who is uneducated dealing with sums of money that he has never seen before. This would be someone like my father, a blue collar worker. He dropped out of high school in the ninth grade. He finally got his GED when I was in grade school. But he was largely uneducated. This would be like him taking a million dollars and investing it in the stock market and doubling his money. The likelihood of this happening is not impossible but it is highly unlikely, highly unlikely. So essentially this slave got lucky. And he was rewarded for it. Likewise the second slave came to the master and he too had doubled his money. Again, he basically got lucky! Or let's not even diminish what the first two slaves did. Let's assume that they did not just get lucky, but they actually had some street smarts. They had watched the landowner do business and had learned a few things. But still the likelihood that they would actually double the money is pretty slim. But both the first and second slaves were rewarded. The master said to them "Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master." Now all in all up to this point in the story, I’m still with him. Doesn't necessarily seem all that fair but it at least seems satisfactory. No harm, no foul.
Then comes the third slave. This is the one who was given one talent. A lot of money, but not as much as the first two slaves. And I'll give you that this was probably not the smartest way to explain to the master his results. He basically says I know you are mean and hateful and I was really afraid of losing all your money so I didn't invest it. And he held out his hand and gave the master back the one talent he had been given, the one talent that was probably still covered somewhat in the dirt from the hole in which the slaved had buried it. That's right he buried it. Now I sort of understand this. There are people in the world who are risk takers--like the first two slaves. They are willing to roll the dice and take the chance that there work and investment will be rewarded. Then there are people like the third slave who are more cautious. People who know that playing the market is risky. The person who believes that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. At least you have the one talent. There is no chance that you are going to lose it. You will return the talent to the master exactly as he left it. So he wasn’t a risk taker, is that really such a crime? Well apparently to the master it is. Because this is what he says, "You wicked and lazy slave! You knew, did you, that I reap where I did not sow, and gather where I did not scatter? Then you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and on my return I would have received what was my own with interest." Then he says that the one talent should go to the first slave who had 10 talents and that the slave should be thrown out into the darkness where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. This is the point where I say, "whoa." Come on, wicked and lazy? I'll give you maybe lazy, but wicked. It seems to me that he is protecting the master's assets. And should he really be cast out into the darkness--basically the master said, "you can go to hell."
Now if the parable is to speak to a great truth what is it? Is the master God? And I really wanted to use this sermon to talk about money, which is how it is often used. It is placed in November because this is when most churches are doing their stewardship campaigns. But the problem with that is that all throughout the Bible we have God siding with the poor and not the rich. This parable cannot possibly be about money, because if it is then what it is saying is that if you invest your money in God's kingdom then it will be returned to you two-fold. Isn't that the message many of you have heard before--I know I have. It's what folks who preach a gospel of prosperity say all the time. Just send in your 10 dollars or your 100 dollars or your 1000 dollars now and God will double it. My grandmother's church several years ago did this thing where they gave everyone one dollar and told them this was God's dollar and that they should take it away invest it and bring back the results at the end of the month. My grandmother used it to buy flour and eggs and baked cakes that people then bought. As I remember it my mother and sister were there too and they all three pooled their funds--my sister and mother becoming the salespeople. And their investment was fruitful.
Or if you are not paid back in money then it will be returned to you in other ways. So give your tithes to the church and it will be returned to you in generosity, love, etc. But all of this still points to the rich getting richer. It also suggests that only part of it belongs to God to begin with. That one dollar is God's dollar but all the other dollars you have those actually belong to you. I heard an author on the Daily Show this week talking about ways that we can address the energy crisis in the United States by decreasing our dependence on foreign oil. And you all have heard the suggestions, natural gas, electricity, and wind. And he actually said that we should reduce our dependence on foreign oil by using only these things that belong to us, our natural gas, our wind. Our wind? Can we really say that the wind belongs to us? That is about as ridiculous as saying our air space. Actually it is more ridiculous than saying our air space. In the end none of it belongs to us. It all belongs to God.
So that brings us back to this parable. What does it all mean? If it is not about how we invest God's money then what is it about? To which I'll say I don't know fully. But I can offer a suggestion. If we look at the gospel parable right after this and the gospel parable right before this then we might have a clue. The story right before this is about a bridegroom who comes looking for the bridesmaids and finds that only half of them are prepared. And the gospel parable after this is the familiar story of the separation of the sheep and the goats. You know the I was naked and you clothed me, hungry and you fed me, and so forth and so on. And right in the middle of this you have today's story, a story about extravagant generosity and incredible responsibility. The bridegroom can come at any moment--he may meet us as a prisoner, or as a hungry person, or as even the person sitting next to you and when he comes to you remember that you have been granted a generous portion or love or wealth or whatever it is that is being asked of you. And instead of burying and hoarding that love and wealth away, give it away. You'll still have enough left over, as a matter of fact you'll have more than enough left over. And in the end I think this for us is a little about money. Jim Wallace says that budgets are moral documents. They reflect our values and our beliefs. That is budget, both governmentally and locally and personally. How we spend our money reflects what we believe. Particularly as we enter a season that has been often seen as a time of gross over-consumption, what are we saying about what we are buying. How much we are spending? I realize that people are feeling a financial crisis these days. We saw this week that retail spending was down. So people are saying we are spending less, but are they thinking any more about what they are spending on. Or are they merely burying their talents in the ground because they are afraid of losing it all? As to the weeping and gnashing of teeth, into the darkness. I'd say we often cast ourselves out into the darkness. We chose to live in the place of fear. We choose to live in a place where we are so hardened that we can't love or be loved. It is our choice. Let us choose love. Let us choose generosity. Let us choose our neighbor. Let us choose one another. Let us choose God. Amen.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
coffee shop musings
I'm sitting in my favorite coffee shop, Farley's. I call it my east office--It's east of my house and my church office. And in an effort to put off actually working I thought I'd blog just a bit.
(1) Despite the fact that I come in here frequently the cute "barista" (Is someone still a barista if it is not a Starbucks?) still does not recognize me. I just want to scream out when he asks, "It is always going to be a cup of Earl Grey for here!!!!"
(2) I asked also for a chocolate chip cookie--maybe he is confused by my inconsistent sweet order. But they were out of regular chocolate chip cookies. They just had vegan chocolate chips cookies. And I passed and instead chose a peanut butter cookie. Why? What did I think the vegan chocolate chip cookie was going to taste like? Did I think it was going to be so grossly inferior that I would prefer a cookie that I wouldn't initially have chosen over that one? I don't know. But I'm enjoying my animal based peanut butter cookie all the same.
(3) I heard on the radio on my way over that today the European Union lifted its ban on irregularly shaped fruits and vegetables. Apparently throughout the EU it was illegal to sell "nobbley carrots" in shops. I mention the carrots because over and over people interviewed said they really didn't mind nobbley carrots. But you know what this means, now not only do chickens have better rights than I do but so do nobbley carrots. I think I'm going home and make a pot pie made from chickens that are kept in tiny cages and perfectly shaped carrots. That'll show em.
Peace out!
(1) Despite the fact that I come in here frequently the cute "barista" (Is someone still a barista if it is not a Starbucks?) still does not recognize me. I just want to scream out when he asks, "It is always going to be a cup of Earl Grey for here!!!!"
(2) I asked also for a chocolate chip cookie--maybe he is confused by my inconsistent sweet order. But they were out of regular chocolate chip cookies. They just had vegan chocolate chips cookies. And I passed and instead chose a peanut butter cookie. Why? What did I think the vegan chocolate chip cookie was going to taste like? Did I think it was going to be so grossly inferior that I would prefer a cookie that I wouldn't initially have chosen over that one? I don't know. But I'm enjoying my animal based peanut butter cookie all the same.
(3) I heard on the radio on my way over that today the European Union lifted its ban on irregularly shaped fruits and vegetables. Apparently throughout the EU it was illegal to sell "nobbley carrots" in shops. I mention the carrots because over and over people interviewed said they really didn't mind nobbley carrots. But you know what this means, now not only do chickens have better rights than I do but so do nobbley carrots. I think I'm going home and make a pot pie made from chickens that are kept in tiny cages and perfectly shaped carrots. That'll show em.
Peace out!
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
some rambling
So as you all have noticed I haven't been writing much lately. I can't explain it. I loved blogging and I still sort of do. And I know you regular readers also enjoy reading my stuff. But I just haven't had much energy to sit down and write anything. So I'll not make any promises to do better. I will continue posting my sermons each Sunday. And I'll post as often as I have energy until I have the energy to do more.
I don't have a lot of energy today. I almost passed out at the end of my pilates/yoga class today. That has never happened before. I think I got too hot. It was really hot in there today. And then they tried to give me orange juice because they thought it was a low blood sugar thing--they thought this largely because my hands were shaking. But my hands shake a lot so I think it was unrelated but I was too out of it to explain to them about my little benign tremor, or as some of you say my parkinsons disease or my palsy. So I drank the orange juice. It was good orange juice--he clearly buys that fresh stuff not the Tropicana Pure Premium that I buy. But then when I was able to walk without thinking I was going to fall over I walked home, drank some water and took a nap. And then I have just been a little groggy all day. This afternoon I went to McDonald's and bought a Sweet Tea. It is my newest obsession. It's a little bit of home and it is sugar and cafeine and it is cold. I prefer a cold drink over a hot drink. But the problem with the McDonald's sweet tea is that it doesn't always taste quite right. Today it tasted a little like coffee grounds. Which doesn't make any sense, but it was a little gross. I never drink a whole cup so the rest of it is in the refrigerator--I think I'm hoping that the next time I drink some it wont taste like coffee grinds.
I also have been just dragging a bit the last week. I'm having some sinus/drainage issue. I wake up in the middle of the night with a dry mouth. I mean dry--lips stuck to my teeth. And I wake up every hour or so after that to drink water and put on chapstick. And then last week was an emotionally draining week with Barack Obama winning and then Proposition 8 being passed. So while I would have liked to celebrate the civil rights milestone for one group I was too overwhelmed by the pain of being denied one of my own civil rights. Hard week.
So all in all I'm just a bit out of sorts. And now I've shared it with all of you. Hope you are doing better.
Peace out!
I don't have a lot of energy today. I almost passed out at the end of my pilates/yoga class today. That has never happened before. I think I got too hot. It was really hot in there today. And then they tried to give me orange juice because they thought it was a low blood sugar thing--they thought this largely because my hands were shaking. But my hands shake a lot so I think it was unrelated but I was too out of it to explain to them about my little benign tremor, or as some of you say my parkinsons disease or my palsy. So I drank the orange juice. It was good orange juice--he clearly buys that fresh stuff not the Tropicana Pure Premium that I buy. But then when I was able to walk without thinking I was going to fall over I walked home, drank some water and took a nap. And then I have just been a little groggy all day. This afternoon I went to McDonald's and bought a Sweet Tea. It is my newest obsession. It's a little bit of home and it is sugar and cafeine and it is cold. I prefer a cold drink over a hot drink. But the problem with the McDonald's sweet tea is that it doesn't always taste quite right. Today it tasted a little like coffee grounds. Which doesn't make any sense, but it was a little gross. I never drink a whole cup so the rest of it is in the refrigerator--I think I'm hoping that the next time I drink some it wont taste like coffee grinds.
I also have been just dragging a bit the last week. I'm having some sinus/drainage issue. I wake up in the middle of the night with a dry mouth. I mean dry--lips stuck to my teeth. And I wake up every hour or so after that to drink water and put on chapstick. And then last week was an emotionally draining week with Barack Obama winning and then Proposition 8 being passed. So while I would have liked to celebrate the civil rights milestone for one group I was too overwhelmed by the pain of being denied one of my own civil rights. Hard week.
So all in all I'm just a bit out of sorts. And now I've shared it with all of you. Hope you are doing better.
Peace out!
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Today's Sermon
Here we are once again reading the story of the Isrealites. We break it out every so often to remind us of from where we have come. It began with Joseph and a family feeling some responsibility to Pharaoh, a kind and generous leader. But eventually that kind and generous pharaoh died and was replaced by someone else, someone who didn't know Joseph. And then instead of feeling responsible to pharaoh they were slaves to pharaoh. And the work became harder and the treatment harsher, until the oppression was greater than any human should know. Pharaoh was ordering all male babies be killed. But there were nursemaids, Shiprah and Puah, who refused to kill the infants that they delivered. And there was a boy who lived, his mother in order to protect him floated him in a basket down the river in hopes that an Egyptian woman would find him and care for him. And that is what happened, but not just any woman, Pharaoh's daughter. And Pharaoh's daughter raised Moses as her own son, in the palace. Then when Moses grew up he heard God's call to lead the Israelites out of slavery. Despite plague after plague Pharaoh held out until one last plague that killed all the first born Egyptian males. And so the Israelites fled Egypt, but right on their back was the Egyptian army. When they made it to the red sea they feared that they would be slaughtered by the army. But instead the red sea opened up and they were able to cross to the other side and the Egyptian army was drowned by the returning of the sea. One would think that would be the end--the struggle would be over. But instead the struggle lasted a long time. The Israelites rebelled--they moaned and they groaned, they took more than they needed, and they worshipped other gods. And so what should have been a short trip to the Promised land became a forty year journey followed by another forty year journey. And only then did they make it to the promised land. But Moses and all those others who first left Egypt did not live to see this new land. Moses did get a glimpse, when he stood on the mountaintop but only a glimpse. There story was long but it moved toward promised land. This is their story but this is also our story.
And then this week we also relived another story. There was a group of people who lived peaceably on a continent called Africa. They lived there until one day a group of men came and put them on a boat. They arrived in a land that for many before them had been a place of refuge, a place of freedom, but for them would be a place of slavery and oppression. And for many years they worked on plantations, picking white people’s cotton, cleaning white people’s houses, and raising white people’s children. This practice of owning people, of treating people as second class was to last a long time, longer than the people who were owned ever imagined. It lead to a war, a battle that was waged between people of the same country, men from the north fought men from the south. Brother against brother. All over whether it was okay to own another human being, whether it was alright to treat one person as less than another person. But justice eventually won out and slaves were freed, these Africans would no longer be owned. That however was not the end. Instead the movement towards freedom would take longer. There would still be oppression, though citizens they weren't allowed to vote. Though citizens they would still be relegated to different lines, different water fountains, different places on the bus. It would take leaders to lead them closer to the promised land. It would take a woman who refused to sit at the back of the bus. It would take college students sitting down at a lunch counter. It would take a preacher from Georgia who had a dream. It would take acts of peace and love in the face of anger and hate. And even then he would utter these words: “I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go to the mountain. And I've looked over, and I've seen the promised land! I may not get there with you, but I want you to know tonight that we as a people will get to the promised land. It would be 40 years from when he uttered those words that we would reach a day where the dream was fulfilled that someone would be judged not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. This is their story. This is our story.
That same man who had a dream and who went to the mountaintop also talked about the moral arc of history bending at the elbow towards justice. It is long, the stories take longer than we would ever expect but they bend towards justice, they bend towards the promised land. Have those folks who traveled through the desert finally arrived in the promised land of peace? No. Have those folks who traveled across the ocean finally arrived in the promised land of freedom? No. But they are closer. We are closer. And yet this week we also landed smack dab in the middle of a story that feels more like Egypt and the plantation than like the other side of the red sea or the front of the bus. But it is the same story. It is still the story that is bending towards justice. It is still a story that begins with a people trapped in a closet. Trapped in darkened alleys of abuse and self hatred. There were a group of people who decided they were too tired to stay in the darkness any longer. People who stepped out of a bar called Stonewall and said we won't allow ourselves to be silenced anymore. A people who claimed their journey towards the promised land as well. It is a story that expands from gay ghetto to gay ghetto all over the country. It has its plague but it also has its heroes too. It is a story where a gay man could become a city supervisor--the first elected office for a gay person anywhere in the United States. But like Moses and Martin before him he would not live to see the promised land. Nor would any of those people who first left the walls of that Stonewall oppression. This is their story. This is our story.
And like those before us we are still being told to wait, told that we are not worthy of full equality. That we can't have the promised land yet. And this week we pushed back. We faced loss. In the journey towards the promised land we met resistance. And we are wondering if like the Israelites we've just been brought out here to die? Will we ever see the promised land? Are we merely the ones who left Egypt, who got freed from the plantation? Will we ever know true freedom? The grief is great, because we see hope after hope dieing. Del Martin did not see the promised land. Will Phyllis see the promised land? Will you or I see the promised land? Is there any hope or will this story's arc really bend toward justice?
To which I'll say Yes, there is hope. I'll say it loudly and again, "yes, there is hope." You say it with me, "yes there is hope" This story will lead to justice too. As Paul says we can grieve but not without hope. We have and continue to see signs of hope, signs of hope that are greater than any campaign sign.
Here is a story. My friend Mary Sue, straight mother of two, worked tirelessly in San Diego to defeat Proposition 8. She worked phone banks, She talked to press. She held signs. She spoke at inter-faith services. She did this because she knew that their story is our story. That as long as one person isn't free no one is free. She did this because whether or not she ever sees the promised land she hopes that her children and her grandchildren will.
She saw signs of hope on election day. She got up at 5 AM and went to stand on a street corner in the pouring rain--unusual for San Diego. She did this in hopes that she might sway someone's vote. But the distance they were from the polling station prevented them from really being seen by anyone. She was cold and she was wet and she was frustrated. And finally one couple drove by and spoke to them--they were opposed to proposition 8 as well and so they thanked Mary Sue and the people she was standing with. Then a little while later the couple returned with an umbrella and offered to go buy them coffee. Not because they had to but because they knew too that as long as one person is not free none of us are free.
We are living in a different country. A man who would have been forced to live in a plantation can now live in the White House. There are signs of hope all around us. Grieve, there is much loss in the world, but hope because there is much hope too.
We see signs of hope. We know that God's arc of history bends towards justice. We know that God walks with us, along side of us, in the midst of the celebrations and in the midst of the times of grief. So today we grieve but not as those without hope. And we grieve but we know that this is not just our story this is their story too. This is those drag queen’s story, this is Harvey's story, this is Del's story. When we do reach the promised land, they reach the promised land. Our hope is their hope.
This is my No on Prop 8 sign. But it is only a piece of paper. The words on it are only words, but they represent something great. They represented a hope we had for full equality. But we also know that there are still signs of hope, signs of God’s hope for a reconciled people, a people that are fully valued. What are your signs of hope. In this election season where did you see signs of hope? Was it an interaction with someone at work, someone at school, someone distributing fliers on the street? Take some time now and create a new sign of hope.
I kept my No on 8 sign in my window as a reminder for those who passed by. Take this sign with you for times when you need to be reminded of the hope that is still available in our world. Their hope. Our hope. Amen.
And then this week we also relived another story. There was a group of people who lived peaceably on a continent called Africa. They lived there until one day a group of men came and put them on a boat. They arrived in a land that for many before them had been a place of refuge, a place of freedom, but for them would be a place of slavery and oppression. And for many years they worked on plantations, picking white people’s cotton, cleaning white people’s houses, and raising white people’s children. This practice of owning people, of treating people as second class was to last a long time, longer than the people who were owned ever imagined. It lead to a war, a battle that was waged between people of the same country, men from the north fought men from the south. Brother against brother. All over whether it was okay to own another human being, whether it was alright to treat one person as less than another person. But justice eventually won out and slaves were freed, these Africans would no longer be owned. That however was not the end. Instead the movement towards freedom would take longer. There would still be oppression, though citizens they weren't allowed to vote. Though citizens they would still be relegated to different lines, different water fountains, different places on the bus. It would take leaders to lead them closer to the promised land. It would take a woman who refused to sit at the back of the bus. It would take college students sitting down at a lunch counter. It would take a preacher from Georgia who had a dream. It would take acts of peace and love in the face of anger and hate. And even then he would utter these words: “I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go to the mountain. And I've looked over, and I've seen the promised land! I may not get there with you, but I want you to know tonight that we as a people will get to the promised land. It would be 40 years from when he uttered those words that we would reach a day where the dream was fulfilled that someone would be judged not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. This is their story. This is our story.
That same man who had a dream and who went to the mountaintop also talked about the moral arc of history bending at the elbow towards justice. It is long, the stories take longer than we would ever expect but they bend towards justice, they bend towards the promised land. Have those folks who traveled through the desert finally arrived in the promised land of peace? No. Have those folks who traveled across the ocean finally arrived in the promised land of freedom? No. But they are closer. We are closer. And yet this week we also landed smack dab in the middle of a story that feels more like Egypt and the plantation than like the other side of the red sea or the front of the bus. But it is the same story. It is still the story that is bending towards justice. It is still a story that begins with a people trapped in a closet. Trapped in darkened alleys of abuse and self hatred. There were a group of people who decided they were too tired to stay in the darkness any longer. People who stepped out of a bar called Stonewall and said we won't allow ourselves to be silenced anymore. A people who claimed their journey towards the promised land as well. It is a story that expands from gay ghetto to gay ghetto all over the country. It has its plague but it also has its heroes too. It is a story where a gay man could become a city supervisor--the first elected office for a gay person anywhere in the United States. But like Moses and Martin before him he would not live to see the promised land. Nor would any of those people who first left the walls of that Stonewall oppression. This is their story. This is our story.
And like those before us we are still being told to wait, told that we are not worthy of full equality. That we can't have the promised land yet. And this week we pushed back. We faced loss. In the journey towards the promised land we met resistance. And we are wondering if like the Israelites we've just been brought out here to die? Will we ever see the promised land? Are we merely the ones who left Egypt, who got freed from the plantation? Will we ever know true freedom? The grief is great, because we see hope after hope dieing. Del Martin did not see the promised land. Will Phyllis see the promised land? Will you or I see the promised land? Is there any hope or will this story's arc really bend toward justice?
To which I'll say Yes, there is hope. I'll say it loudly and again, "yes, there is hope." You say it with me, "yes there is hope" This story will lead to justice too. As Paul says we can grieve but not without hope. We have and continue to see signs of hope, signs of hope that are greater than any campaign sign.
Here is a story. My friend Mary Sue, straight mother of two, worked tirelessly in San Diego to defeat Proposition 8. She worked phone banks, She talked to press. She held signs. She spoke at inter-faith services. She did this because she knew that their story is our story. That as long as one person isn't free no one is free. She did this because whether or not she ever sees the promised land she hopes that her children and her grandchildren will.
She saw signs of hope on election day. She got up at 5 AM and went to stand on a street corner in the pouring rain--unusual for San Diego. She did this in hopes that she might sway someone's vote. But the distance they were from the polling station prevented them from really being seen by anyone. She was cold and she was wet and she was frustrated. And finally one couple drove by and spoke to them--they were opposed to proposition 8 as well and so they thanked Mary Sue and the people she was standing with. Then a little while later the couple returned with an umbrella and offered to go buy them coffee. Not because they had to but because they knew too that as long as one person is not free none of us are free.
We are living in a different country. A man who would have been forced to live in a plantation can now live in the White House. There are signs of hope all around us. Grieve, there is much loss in the world, but hope because there is much hope too.
We see signs of hope. We know that God's arc of history bends towards justice. We know that God walks with us, along side of us, in the midst of the celebrations and in the midst of the times of grief. So today we grieve but not as those without hope. And we grieve but we know that this is not just our story this is their story too. This is those drag queen’s story, this is Harvey's story, this is Del's story. When we do reach the promised land, they reach the promised land. Our hope is their hope.
This is my No on Prop 8 sign. But it is only a piece of paper. The words on it are only words, but they represent something great. They represented a hope we had for full equality. But we also know that there are still signs of hope, signs of God’s hope for a reconciled people, a people that are fully valued. What are your signs of hope. In this election season where did you see signs of hope? Was it an interaction with someone at work, someone at school, someone distributing fliers on the street? Take some time now and create a new sign of hope.
I kept my No on 8 sign in my window as a reminder for those who passed by. Take this sign with you for times when you need to be reminded of the hope that is still available in our world. Their hope. Our hope. Amen.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
In Memoriam: Today's Sermon
I always liken the sermon for today to the segment of every awards show that I refer to as "Oh that guy died." It is the in memoriam section and it usually includes a picture and thir name and usually their contribution to the entertainment industry. This is the day in the life of the church when we have our own in memoriam tribute. We celebrate and remember all those who have gone before us. In the Catholic church it is a specific person who is named a saint and there are various requirements for someone's canonization. However, in the protestant church we have a different view of what makes someone a saint. A saint is anyone and everyone who has gone before us, who has represented a Christian life in all its joy and its sadness, celebration and failure, death and resurrection.
And normally I use this sermon to shine a light on famous people who have died this past year. And that has included Rosa Parks, Coretta Scott King, Brother Roger of Taize, and Pope John Paul. Pretty easy for us to sing their praise and remember their merits. This year the list includes Bernie Mac and Isaac Hayes, William F. Buckley and George Carlin. People to whom I'm sure their family loved and miss deeply; however, not necessarily the easiest people to draw from for my purpose in this sermon. Since the last time we observed All Saints Day Ike Turner also died. Ike Turner. You know the one who beat Tina Turner. One of the websites that I check for people who died each year summed him up this way, "Wasted a potentially great career." Can you imagine your entire life being reduced down to spouse abuser and a waste? He, as many others this year did, died of a drug overdose. Over and over I read about people who died of an overdose, accidental or otherwise. Christopher Bowman, Brad Renfroe, Heath Ledger known less for how they lived and more for how they died.
But there are a few notable exceptions. Evel Knievel died the end of last year, but since the last All Saints Day. He was definitely someone who lived life fully--granted he also lived life somewhat stupidly, but he was full of adventure. He is someone who will be remembered for the life they lived. Sir Edmund Hillary , the first person to reach the top of Mt. Everest, died this year. Now why anyone in the world would ever want to do this is beyond me but he did. He saw the challenge and accepted it. Proving that the mind and the body and the will are powerful things. Many of life's challenges can be overcome with will power. Most of us will never attempt to jump over the Grand Canyon or climb Mount Everest but we can challenge ourselves to get out and live life.
Paul Newman also died this year. A quote from Newman is on the cover of the bulletin this morning. He willed be remembered as an actor, as an icon of the film industry. But when you ask people in their 20s and younger who he is they really only know him as the voice of a race car in Cars and that guy whose face was on the salad dressing bottles. The day he died I was in performances for the opera I did this fall and as I was getting dressed I said to folks in the dressing room "Paul Newman died." And someone who is in their 20s said "Oh I loved that song he wrote for Toy Story." I said "not Randy Newman, Paul Newman!!!" But I and many others will remember Paul Newman for something else other than acting and salad dressing. He was a great philanthropist. All the profits from the food company went to charities that he supported. He was quoted as saying that the happiest day of the year for him was when he got to write a big fat check. He did what he was passionate about and then he gave in appreciation of a life well lived. He lived out of these verses from what we refer to as the beatitudes. He knew that we were called to care for the poor and the meek, to be peacemakers, those who seek justice. But for some of us this year was about losses that were more personal. Both Cecil and Michael's mothers died this year. And my brother died. And I just want to tell one little story about my brother. It is one that I have held onto for a long time. We were young, probable 10 or 11 and we had gone on a trip with our church Sunday school class to some semi-amusement park. I say semi-amusement because it was some old west reenactment kind of place. Anyway at the end of the day we were gathered together and the chaperone said that my brother had asked if he could use some of his money to buy us all a piece of candy. I hope that my life lives up to that example.
Today we remember the ones whose shoulders we are standing on. Those who have taught us by their example how to be better Christians and how to be better brothers and sisters to one another. They are the stepping stones that point us on our journey towards each other and towards God. May we live up to their examples. Amen.
And normally I use this sermon to shine a light on famous people who have died this past year. And that has included Rosa Parks, Coretta Scott King, Brother Roger of Taize, and Pope John Paul. Pretty easy for us to sing their praise and remember their merits. This year the list includes Bernie Mac and Isaac Hayes, William F. Buckley and George Carlin. People to whom I'm sure their family loved and miss deeply; however, not necessarily the easiest people to draw from for my purpose in this sermon. Since the last time we observed All Saints Day Ike Turner also died. Ike Turner. You know the one who beat Tina Turner. One of the websites that I check for people who died each year summed him up this way, "Wasted a potentially great career." Can you imagine your entire life being reduced down to spouse abuser and a waste? He, as many others this year did, died of a drug overdose. Over and over I read about people who died of an overdose, accidental or otherwise. Christopher Bowman, Brad Renfroe, Heath Ledger known less for how they lived and more for how they died.
But there are a few notable exceptions. Evel Knievel died the end of last year, but since the last All Saints Day. He was definitely someone who lived life fully--granted he also lived life somewhat stupidly, but he was full of adventure. He is someone who will be remembered for the life they lived. Sir Edmund Hillary , the first person to reach the top of Mt. Everest, died this year. Now why anyone in the world would ever want to do this is beyond me but he did. He saw the challenge and accepted it. Proving that the mind and the body and the will are powerful things. Many of life's challenges can be overcome with will power. Most of us will never attempt to jump over the Grand Canyon or climb Mount Everest but we can challenge ourselves to get out and live life.
Paul Newman also died this year. A quote from Newman is on the cover of the bulletin this morning. He willed be remembered as an actor, as an icon of the film industry. But when you ask people in their 20s and younger who he is they really only know him as the voice of a race car in Cars and that guy whose face was on the salad dressing bottles. The day he died I was in performances for the opera I did this fall and as I was getting dressed I said to folks in the dressing room "Paul Newman died." And someone who is in their 20s said "Oh I loved that song he wrote for Toy Story." I said "not Randy Newman, Paul Newman!!!" But I and many others will remember Paul Newman for something else other than acting and salad dressing. He was a great philanthropist. All the profits from the food company went to charities that he supported. He was quoted as saying that the happiest day of the year for him was when he got to write a big fat check. He did what he was passionate about and then he gave in appreciation of a life well lived. He lived out of these verses from what we refer to as the beatitudes. He knew that we were called to care for the poor and the meek, to be peacemakers, those who seek justice. But for some of us this year was about losses that were more personal. Both Cecil and Michael's mothers died this year. And my brother died. And I just want to tell one little story about my brother. It is one that I have held onto for a long time. We were young, probable 10 or 11 and we had gone on a trip with our church Sunday school class to some semi-amusement park. I say semi-amusement because it was some old west reenactment kind of place. Anyway at the end of the day we were gathered together and the chaperone said that my brother had asked if he could use some of his money to buy us all a piece of candy. I hope that my life lives up to that example.
Today we remember the ones whose shoulders we are standing on. Those who have taught us by their example how to be better Christians and how to be better brothers and sisters to one another. They are the stepping stones that point us on our journey towards each other and towards God. May we live up to their examples. Amen.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
A Baptist on Write to Marry Day
So I'm not planning to get married any time soon. I mean first I would have to find someone to date and I'm no where close to that. However, I would one day like to. And in California we are currently in a battle to protect my right to do just that. People of faith are pouring millions of dollars into the campaign in support of Proposition 8. Millions of dollars!!!! Dollars that could be used to fight hunger, poverty, cancer--you name it and it could be helped with the money that is being donated to Yes on 8,a proposition that I believe couldn't be farther from what God desires for the world. Not only do I believe that the proposition is far from what God desires, I believe the tactics that are being used are far from what God desires, tactics that include lies, exploitation, and fear. For us Christians wasn't it the angel of God that said "fear not?" Fear not!
I'm guessing that this will only be read by people who support this cause. And even if it was read by someone who supported Proposition 8 it would just be ignored or scorned as another liberal, gay agenda. So I don't even know really why I'm writing it. Except that today is Write to Marry Day and perhaps if enough people put this message out into the universe and the blogosphere that it will combat all the hate that is being tossed about. Hate that would prevent me from the same rights that heterosexuals all across the country are granted every day.
And also those against Proposition 8 need to know that the people traveling around on buses claiming to be God's sole voice on this planet are not. I'm often reluctant to say what God does or doesn't want, because much of the atrocities of the world have been perpetrated with a claim of God's blessing or authority; however, I want to say that God is always on the side of love and always on the side of justice. As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said "The moral arc of the universe bends at the elbow of justice." May it be so next Tuesday.
If you live outside the state of California. Send this post or posts like it to everyone you know who might live in California or who knows someone who lives in California. Or you might like to donate to the No on Proposition 8 campaign at www.noonprop8.com. If you don't know anyone else that would be affected by this then just do this for me. Do it because it is right. And then for goodness sake find me someone to marry already.
I'm guessing that this will only be read by people who support this cause. And even if it was read by someone who supported Proposition 8 it would just be ignored or scorned as another liberal, gay agenda. So I don't even know really why I'm writing it. Except that today is Write to Marry Day and perhaps if enough people put this message out into the universe and the blogosphere that it will combat all the hate that is being tossed about. Hate that would prevent me from the same rights that heterosexuals all across the country are granted every day.
And also those against Proposition 8 need to know that the people traveling around on buses claiming to be God's sole voice on this planet are not. I'm often reluctant to say what God does or doesn't want, because much of the atrocities of the world have been perpetrated with a claim of God's blessing or authority; however, I want to say that God is always on the side of love and always on the side of justice. As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said "The moral arc of the universe bends at the elbow of justice." May it be so next Tuesday.
If you live outside the state of California. Send this post or posts like it to everyone you know who might live in California or who knows someone who lives in California. Or you might like to donate to the No on Proposition 8 campaign at www.noonprop8.com. If you don't know anyone else that would be affected by this then just do this for me. Do it because it is right. And then for goodness sake find me someone to marry already.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Tomorrow's Sermon Draft: Hunger FINAL
My brother died on a Friday and the people started pouring in almost immediately. And I don't mean the people that I am closest to. My mother has three sisters and them, and their kids and my brother and sister and I are all very close. I am as close to my cousins almost as I much as I am to my brother and sister. We have taken family vacations and celebrated all our holidays together. And you've all heard about the weddings. I don't mean them. I mean the other ones. Now my mother or my grandmother might disagree with this, but I mean all the extra relatives. The funeral was going to be on Tuesday. My grandmother's sister Sarah and their niece Julia showed up I think on Friday. (And now let me say I'm sure they were a great comfort to my grandmother.) Julia is almost as old as my grandmother and her sister because Julia is the oldest daughter of their oldest sister. Anyway Aunt Sarah and Julia were staying with us. Then there were the ones who weren't staying with us. The nieces and nephews of my grandmother--the cousins of my mother. And there are a lot of them. On Saturday some cousins came and sat for a good 4 hours--four hours! Made me nuts! I did not want them around I just wanted to be alone. So I found myself escaping a lot. If I could I would lock myself in the backroom, but sometimes that wasn't even enough. One night I had to take my Aunt Janey back to my cousin Janelle's house. So we left and even though there was a house full of food we went to Chili's. We had margaritas and some food that I don't even really remember that we didn’t really even eat. We did drink the margaritas though--you know we didn't want to be wasteful. But we did this because we had to get away. Then on Sunday night, I had been at my parents house and as I was pulling up to my grandmother's house I could see that the driveway was full, so I called my mother and had her call my grandmother to find out who was there and then to call me back. So she did. And I didn’t even go up to the driveway, I did a u-turn and left. I didn’t know where I was going, I just knew I had to get away. So I thought I would go to Macy's and buy a new tie for the funeral, but it was Easter so on account of the resurrection Macy's was closed. So I ended up at a Sonic Drive-In eating a chili dog and drinking a lemonade. It was kind of gross and king of fantastic, because it wasn't funeral food and I was alone.
So I get what Jesus was doing. Jesus was going out on his own. He wanted to be alone with the people he knew and loved the most. He had just found out that his cousin, John the Baptist, was dead. He was grieving and he just couldn't be with anyone right then. But eventually he had to go back and when he got back to shore they were still there. And they still needed his help. They were still hurting too. And so he healed the ones of them who were sick. And then after a long day everyone started to get hungry. And so the disciples came up to Jesus and told him this and said for him to send them away. All the people needed to go down the hill, maybe to the local bakery and get themselves a sandwich, something to eat. But Jesus said no we have plenty here. Now the disciples knew what they had. They knew they had five measly loves of bread and two little ol' fish. There was no way that was going to feed five thousand men, plus all the women and children. But Jesus knew they had enough. Despite the pain he was in over the loss of his cousin he knew he still had to feed all these folks too. When people would come over to our house, my mother would still shoot into the caregiver role that she plays so well and immediately start asking them if she could get them something to eat. She knew we had plenty and she wanted to take care of the other folks.
But again we had a refrigerator full of chicken--we really did have enough--the disciples only had that bread and those fish. That was not enough, or was it?
This is one of the many miracles that Jesus performed. And it is possible that when Jesus blessed the bread and the fish that something extraordinary happened and that bread and those fish just continued to multiply and multiply until there was enough, more than enough. So much more that there was left over. But what if it was a miracle of a different sort. Remember I said that it was 5000 men, plus women and children. Well think about the women and children. How many mothers do you know that leave the house without something to eat for their children? When I was with my friends Tracy and Dave last week it took an additional 15 minutes for Tracy to make up snack bags before we could leave the house. Those of you who were at Dave and Jeff's wedding a few weeks ago remember how precious Taylor was eating his cheerios during the wedding. After the wedding before the food was brought out I went scavengering through Jacob's bag looking for something to put in my stomach. It is quite possible that something magical happened with the fish and bread but the greater miracle to me seems to be that those women noticed that people around them needed to eat. And so they opened up their bags and they started looking at what they had. If we were to do this today we most likely wouldn't find bread and fish, but we would find goldfish crackers and cheerios, fruit roll ups, puffed wheat and we'd probably find enough sippy cups full of water and milk that we wouldn't be thirsty either.
When Jesus looked to heaven and blessed that bread and those fish. He was inviting the people around him to look up to heaven as well. And when they had looked to heaven, suddenly they were looking at things differently, they were looking with the eyes of God. And their eyes saw only a few fish and some loaves of bread but God's eyes saw more. Their eyes only saw their immediately family, but God's eyes saw more. Their eyes only saw their needs, but God's eyes saw the needs of the many. And when they were looking through God's eyes they couldn't ignore the many any longer.
Most of us are like the disciples, we want to send people away. Our society tends to send hungry people away to someone else or some other agency. We're hurting too, let someone else tend to the hungry. Let Glide feed people, let the soup kitchens feed people, let the food pantry feed people. Let the politicians decide how we can eliminate hunger and poverty and homelessness. We don't have enough ourselves. We only have a few fish and a few loaves of bread. We see our needs. We see a crashing stock market. We see our 401ks and pensions dropping. But God sees something else.
God sees the 862 million people across the world who are considered hungry, up 10 million from last year.
God sees the 1.4 billion people living below the poverty level of $1.26 per day.
God sees the 820 million people in the developing world who are undernourished.
God sees the children who are not growing and developing because of malnutrition.
God sees the 9.7 million children who died in 2006 in places that also have the highest rates of hunger and malnutrition.
God sees the 20 million low-birth rate babies born every year.
God sees all of this and much more.
I said this a few weeks ago, we cannot wait for our government to start talking about the poor and the hungry, because they are not. I wish there was a candidate talking about the poor and the hungry. But they aren't. We cannot send away these people to fend for themselves. We have to do it. We are hurting too, but we have to feed the hungry as well. We have to stand up for the children and the poor. We have to open our bags and see what we have laying around. We have to share our cheerios and our juice boxes. Our grief and our pain is not diminished. But as I mentioned yesterday at Cecil and Rubens wedding we must choose life. We must get out of the boat and have compassion on the ones on the shore. Vote with a heart for the poor. But more than that let us act for the poor and the hungry. Let us look not through the eyes of Barack Obama or John McCain or Joe the Plumber or even our eyes, but instead through the eyes of the one who sees differently. Let us look through the eyes of the ones who were still wet with his own tears at the loss of his cousin and still saw people in need. Let us look through God's eyes. Amen.
So I get what Jesus was doing. Jesus was going out on his own. He wanted to be alone with the people he knew and loved the most. He had just found out that his cousin, John the Baptist, was dead. He was grieving and he just couldn't be with anyone right then. But eventually he had to go back and when he got back to shore they were still there. And they still needed his help. They were still hurting too. And so he healed the ones of them who were sick. And then after a long day everyone started to get hungry. And so the disciples came up to Jesus and told him this and said for him to send them away. All the people needed to go down the hill, maybe to the local bakery and get themselves a sandwich, something to eat. But Jesus said no we have plenty here. Now the disciples knew what they had. They knew they had five measly loves of bread and two little ol' fish. There was no way that was going to feed five thousand men, plus all the women and children. But Jesus knew they had enough. Despite the pain he was in over the loss of his cousin he knew he still had to feed all these folks too. When people would come over to our house, my mother would still shoot into the caregiver role that she plays so well and immediately start asking them if she could get them something to eat. She knew we had plenty and she wanted to take care of the other folks.
But again we had a refrigerator full of chicken--we really did have enough--the disciples only had that bread and those fish. That was not enough, or was it?
This is one of the many miracles that Jesus performed. And it is possible that when Jesus blessed the bread and the fish that something extraordinary happened and that bread and those fish just continued to multiply and multiply until there was enough, more than enough. So much more that there was left over. But what if it was a miracle of a different sort. Remember I said that it was 5000 men, plus women and children. Well think about the women and children. How many mothers do you know that leave the house without something to eat for their children? When I was with my friends Tracy and Dave last week it took an additional 15 minutes for Tracy to make up snack bags before we could leave the house. Those of you who were at Dave and Jeff's wedding a few weeks ago remember how precious Taylor was eating his cheerios during the wedding. After the wedding before the food was brought out I went scavengering through Jacob's bag looking for something to put in my stomach. It is quite possible that something magical happened with the fish and bread but the greater miracle to me seems to be that those women noticed that people around them needed to eat. And so they opened up their bags and they started looking at what they had. If we were to do this today we most likely wouldn't find bread and fish, but we would find goldfish crackers and cheerios, fruit roll ups, puffed wheat and we'd probably find enough sippy cups full of water and milk that we wouldn't be thirsty either.
When Jesus looked to heaven and blessed that bread and those fish. He was inviting the people around him to look up to heaven as well. And when they had looked to heaven, suddenly they were looking at things differently, they were looking with the eyes of God. And their eyes saw only a few fish and some loaves of bread but God's eyes saw more. Their eyes only saw their immediately family, but God's eyes saw more. Their eyes only saw their needs, but God's eyes saw the needs of the many. And when they were looking through God's eyes they couldn't ignore the many any longer.
Most of us are like the disciples, we want to send people away. Our society tends to send hungry people away to someone else or some other agency. We're hurting too, let someone else tend to the hungry. Let Glide feed people, let the soup kitchens feed people, let the food pantry feed people. Let the politicians decide how we can eliminate hunger and poverty and homelessness. We don't have enough ourselves. We only have a few fish and a few loaves of bread. We see our needs. We see a crashing stock market. We see our 401ks and pensions dropping. But God sees something else.
God sees the 862 million people across the world who are considered hungry, up 10 million from last year.
God sees the 1.4 billion people living below the poverty level of $1.26 per day.
God sees the 820 million people in the developing world who are undernourished.
God sees the children who are not growing and developing because of malnutrition.
God sees the 9.7 million children who died in 2006 in places that also have the highest rates of hunger and malnutrition.
God sees the 20 million low-birth rate babies born every year.
God sees all of this and much more.
I said this a few weeks ago, we cannot wait for our government to start talking about the poor and the hungry, because they are not. I wish there was a candidate talking about the poor and the hungry. But they aren't. We cannot send away these people to fend for themselves. We have to do it. We are hurting too, but we have to feed the hungry as well. We have to stand up for the children and the poor. We have to open our bags and see what we have laying around. We have to share our cheerios and our juice boxes. Our grief and our pain is not diminished. But as I mentioned yesterday at Cecil and Rubens wedding we must choose life. We must get out of the boat and have compassion on the ones on the shore. Vote with a heart for the poor. But more than that let us act for the poor and the hungry. Let us look not through the eyes of Barack Obama or John McCain or Joe the Plumber or even our eyes, but instead through the eyes of the one who sees differently. Let us look through the eyes of the ones who were still wet with his own tears at the loss of his cousin and still saw people in need. Let us look through God's eyes. Amen.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
The Beach and I don't mean the Leonardo DiCaprio movie
Today was a beautiful sunny day in San Francisco. Our warm weather tends to come in the fall--just another reason we aren't the "real America." So I went to the beach and I saw two things I wanted to share:
(1) Tons of dolphins, or two really active playful dolphins. Although, I think I may have said this before but why do we always think dolphins are playing? Maybe they are just swimming from one low paying dolphin job to another. We don't really know.
(2) I saw a naked man looking for metal. How do I know he was looking for metal? That is a very good question I asked for you. Well i know he was looking for metal because he was walking around with a metal detector. But he was also wearing a nail apron--I guess in which to put the metal he may find. And he was carrying a large aluminum can. I don't know what the can was for. So picture it, a naked man wearing a nail apron carrying a large can looking for metal. Now if that isn't the real America then I don't know what is.
Peace out!
(1) Tons of dolphins, or two really active playful dolphins. Although, I think I may have said this before but why do we always think dolphins are playing? Maybe they are just swimming from one low paying dolphin job to another. We don't really know.
(2) I saw a naked man looking for metal. How do I know he was looking for metal? That is a very good question I asked for you. Well i know he was looking for metal because he was walking around with a metal detector. But he was also wearing a nail apron--I guess in which to put the metal he may find. And he was carrying a large aluminum can. I don't know what the can was for. So picture it, a naked man wearing a nail apron carrying a large can looking for metal. Now if that isn't the real America then I don't know what is.
Peace out!
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Her identity went up in smoke.
So I just got back from a big ol' family wedding in Lanett, Alabama. I want to share just a few things about the event.
(1) Another woman gave away her identity. What do I mean? Well both the bride and the groom, my cousin, have ranks in the Air Force. They are both pilots. The bride's dad is a general in the Air National Guard. When the invitation was sent out my cousin's rank was listed, the Generals' rank was listed, but the brides was not. Then during the wedding they lit a unity candle, a ritual that I really hate, but can deal with except when the couple blow out their individual candles which in this case they did. So apparently now they are just one being. And that one being is my cousin Jonathan. Because when they were introduced at the end of the service they were introduced as Capt. & Mrs. Jonathan Ballard. And in the program their future address was listed as Capt. & Mrs. Jonathan Ballard. I wanted to scream out her name is Emily. But apparently she doesn't care.
(2) The toilets in the women's bathroom at the country club where the reception held stopped working. And the light bulb blew. Apparently the water pressure of washing dishes was too much for the system. So what did they do? They brought in a bucket of water to pour into the tanks. And my aunt took in some candles. So in a dimly lit room, in semi-formal attire women had to pour a bucket of water into the toilets. How awesome is that?
(3) Finally, on the flight back. I get on the airplane and there is a woman in my seat. And I say to her you are in my seat. She says no. Now I know what seat I am supposed to be in. I select my seats in advance. I always select an aisle seat. So I say to her yes I am on the aisle. (It is a two seat row, window and aisle.) I show her my ticket. And it eventually becomes evident to me that she doesn't speak much English if any. She is dressed in what I think is probably African dress--don't know what country. Anyway she pulls out her ticket and sure enough she is supposed to be in the window seat. So I point to the window seat and she moves over. And then I get settled and sit down in my seat. That is when it happened. She hit my knee. Not with her knee or her purse, she reached over and slapped my knee. Now it could have been considered an I-don't-speak-English-nice-little-apology pat, but I think she was actually hitting me. (My friend Blythe might suggest that I'm living in judgement instead of grace, but I think she was hitting me.) Then the whole flight she was a complete armrest hog.
Those are not necessarily the highlights of the trip. But they are definitely some of the most memorable.
(1) Another woman gave away her identity. What do I mean? Well both the bride and the groom, my cousin, have ranks in the Air Force. They are both pilots. The bride's dad is a general in the Air National Guard. When the invitation was sent out my cousin's rank was listed, the Generals' rank was listed, but the brides was not. Then during the wedding they lit a unity candle, a ritual that I really hate, but can deal with except when the couple blow out their individual candles which in this case they did. So apparently now they are just one being. And that one being is my cousin Jonathan. Because when they were introduced at the end of the service they were introduced as Capt. & Mrs. Jonathan Ballard. And in the program their future address was listed as Capt. & Mrs. Jonathan Ballard. I wanted to scream out her name is Emily. But apparently she doesn't care.
(2) The toilets in the women's bathroom at the country club where the reception held stopped working. And the light bulb blew. Apparently the water pressure of washing dishes was too much for the system. So what did they do? They brought in a bucket of water to pour into the tanks. And my aunt took in some candles. So in a dimly lit room, in semi-formal attire women had to pour a bucket of water into the toilets. How awesome is that?
(3) Finally, on the flight back. I get on the airplane and there is a woman in my seat. And I say to her you are in my seat. She says no. Now I know what seat I am supposed to be in. I select my seats in advance. I always select an aisle seat. So I say to her yes I am on the aisle. (It is a two seat row, window and aisle.) I show her my ticket. And it eventually becomes evident to me that she doesn't speak much English if any. She is dressed in what I think is probably African dress--don't know what country. Anyway she pulls out her ticket and sure enough she is supposed to be in the window seat. So I point to the window seat and she moves over. And then I get settled and sit down in my seat. That is when it happened. She hit my knee. Not with her knee or her purse, she reached over and slapped my knee. Now it could have been considered an I-don't-speak-English-nice-little-apology pat, but I think she was actually hitting me. (My friend Blythe might suggest that I'm living in judgement instead of grace, but I think she was hitting me.) Then the whole flight she was a complete armrest hog.
Those are not necessarily the highlights of the trip. But they are definitely some of the most memorable.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
A few things
First I won on Sarah Palin Bingo tonight, don't know what I'm talking about? Go to this link http://www.palinbingo.com/. (I hope it is still up when you get there.) I won with Alaska/Special Needs/Air Space/Hockey Mom and Terrorists. I thought the debate was fine. i was hoping that she would completely implode like she did in the Katie Couric interview. i actually found myself liking her somewhat. I just don't think she is qualified to be Vice President, or possibly any elected office. Maybe PTA president. She should try that at the school where her brother teaches.
I also have some pictures from the opera. I'm just going to post one of them tonight and I'll post some others later when i write more about the opera. But right now it is time to watch Ugly Betty and try and wipe the stump answers to original questions from my mind.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Completely lax in my posting
I really don't know what is going on with my blogging. I've been kind of busy, but that really is no excuse. I want to write about the opera, but I want to write about it when I attach a picture. Alan O took pictures on our last night, so I'll post them soon with a recap of the whole event.
Last night I went to see The Bonesetter's Daughter, an opera based on the Amy Tan book by the same name. She wrote the libretto. I only stayed through the first half because I was kind of bored to be honest. Two things (1) I don't really think I like opera all that much. I enjoyed singing in an opera but as far as holding my interest not so much. and (2) there was a character with the most annoying high pitched voice ever. Now probably it was a fairly accurate Chinese singing voice and technique that if I were more culturally sensitive I might have been able to appreciate. But all I could do was wish she would just shut up. So the friend i was with wanted to go and I was more than happy to go too.
Spent some time today at Farley's, my favorite coffee shop, where the music today was awesome. They played Say a Little Prayer. You know the Dionne Warwick song that was also used in one of my favorite movies, My Best Friend's Wedding. But while I was there I overheard two women talking, on and on about there various troubles which for one of them sounded like a lot. But the other one was was very positive. The one sad woman was talking about how she feels like she has too much to do. And the other woman was all about check marks. Check marks you may say? Yes apparently she makes a list of all the things she has to do and then check off the things as she does them. And then when she looks back at all she has done that week she feels so good about herself. First of all I don't think that would help someone who things they are already doing too much. And Second, I just don't want to get my sense of worth from how much I accomplish in a week. But maybe that is just me.
Its late. i just finished watching Project Runway. I can't believe Kenley is still around.
Alright, until next time. Peace out!
Last night I went to see The Bonesetter's Daughter, an opera based on the Amy Tan book by the same name. She wrote the libretto. I only stayed through the first half because I was kind of bored to be honest. Two things (1) I don't really think I like opera all that much. I enjoyed singing in an opera but as far as holding my interest not so much. and (2) there was a character with the most annoying high pitched voice ever. Now probably it was a fairly accurate Chinese singing voice and technique that if I were more culturally sensitive I might have been able to appreciate. But all I could do was wish she would just shut up. So the friend i was with wanted to go and I was more than happy to go too.
Spent some time today at Farley's, my favorite coffee shop, where the music today was awesome. They played Say a Little Prayer. You know the Dionne Warwick song that was also used in one of my favorite movies, My Best Friend's Wedding. But while I was there I overheard two women talking, on and on about there various troubles which for one of them sounded like a lot. But the other one was was very positive. The one sad woman was talking about how she feels like she has too much to do. And the other woman was all about check marks. Check marks you may say? Yes apparently she makes a list of all the things she has to do and then check off the things as she does them. And then when she looks back at all she has done that week she feels so good about herself. First of all I don't think that would help someone who things they are already doing too much. And Second, I just don't want to get my sense of worth from how much I accomplish in a week. But maybe that is just me.
Its late. i just finished watching Project Runway. I can't believe Kenley is still around.
Alright, until next time. Peace out!
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Sermon for Tomorrow
I'm done a little early with my sermon draft today because it is closing night for Aida. So I have to get ready and go soon and won't be home until late. I'm also hoping to take a picture of my in my costume tonight to post on the blog. And I know I have been lax in posting lately, but don't give up on me, I'm sure I still have a lot to say, i'm just going through a bit of a dry spell and a particularly busy time. I know you don't believe me on the busy part but it is true. Anyway here is the draft of tomorrow's sermon. I gave it a title with I don't normally do. It is called Chotchkes or Cairns. Enjoy.
Think for a moment about the vacations you have taken in your life, the places you have gone. Places you have visited with family, friends, or even just by yourself. The locations might be far off and exotic or close and familiar. You may have traveled to another state to spend time with relatives or you may have traveled to another country to experience something beautiful or historic. As you think about these trips think about a souvenir that you bought or picked up while you were traveling. You may have paid a lot for it or you may have gotten it for free. It may be a piece of furniture or a postcard, an item of clothing or a collectable, a book or a baseball. (Moment to think.) Now I’d invite anyone to share what that souvenir is.
We bring back souvenirs to remember our travels, to remember these special vacations. They serve as reminders of these moments in our lives. I love being a tourist. I love to travel. I haven’t done nearly enough of it, but I love visiting new places. Trying new things. And I want to see it all. I remember a Designing Women episode where Julia and Suzanne were going to Japan because Suzanne was going to buy a car. And on the airplane Julia remarked that she wanted to see the real Japan. To which Suzanne responded, “As for seeing the “Real Japan”, I’ve noticed that whenever people start talking about seeing the “real” anything, what they’re talking about basically, is hanging around with poor people. Now I say, I don’t hang around with poor people at home, why should I do it on vacation?” I am with Julia essentially, that I want to experience the “real” wherever I am going. I don’t need to take a bus tour or walk up to the top of the statue of liberty. But I do want to have a pint in a British pub or eat a slice in a pizza parlor that only the locals know about. I also want to somewhat blend in. That mean’s no fanny packs or I “heart” new york t-shirts, no garish American university sweatshirts in the middle of Paris, and no loud boisterous talking. I essentially want to be a tourist without looking like a tourist.
And one of the things I really love doing is visiting old churches, cathedrals and the like. Drop me in the middle of Westminster Abbey or St. Paul’s Cathedral and I will be happy as a clam. Diana Butler Bass, the author of Christianity for the Rest of Us, the book that you all read during my Sabbatical, writes this in one of her early books, From Nomads to Pilgrims, “Not long ago, I was at Trinity Church, Wall Street, one of the oldest churches in the United States, and the church that sits right on the edge of the site of the World Trade Center. Since 2001 the congregation has seen more than two million visitors a year pass through its historic doors. The clergy and I were talking about the spiritual tourists… “I’ve got tourists galore,” sighed the Reverend Dr. Jim Cooper, Trinity’s senior clergyperson. “They come in droves. But I don’t want them to leave as tourists. I want them to become pilgrims. I want them to connect, to know that there is something more.”
I’ve been thinking about this idea of pilgrims and more specifically pilgrimage a lot lately. Specifically since I returned from my Sabbatical and my trip to Iona. I haven’t been able to get the idea out of my head. The past three weeks I’ve been preaching on the ideas that you all had for names for our congregation. Today I want to add another phrase to our ideas—not because we need yet another name to decide between, but instead because I think it adds to what I believe is as the very heart of our purpose as a congregation. This idea of pilgrims and pilgrimage.
It is very easy to come to church and to worship as tourists. I’d say this is the way most people show up every day. The idea is that I’ll step out of my routine and see something different. I may take pictures. I may engage in some of the activities of the locals. I may eat some of the local cuisine, eat their bread and drink their wine. But I won’t engage fully. And my intention is to leave much the same as I began. Yes I’d like to hear good music and nice words, but I don’t want to be changed in any way.
But pilgrimage is something different. The intention of the pilgrimage is to be changed. To leave different than you came. And pilgrims connect. Tourists don’t connect with fellow tourists. Often, like me, tourists don’t even want to see other tourists. My friend Tracy who lived in England for a year tells a story about being homesick and getting excited when she would meet a fellow resident of the United States. But the feeling was not always mutual. Usually the person who she met was a little disappointed and put out—they did not fly all the way across the ocean to meet someone from New Jersey. But pilgrims connect with the other pilgrims. Pilgrimage is by its very nature connectional, and not just connecting with the pilgrims that are on the present journey with you, but all the pilgrims who have traveled that way before. Millions of people have made the haj, the pilgrimage to Mecca, and will continue to make the haj. Thousands upon thousands have made the Iona pilgrimage that I made. Millions of people over the centuries have traveled to Iona on pilgrimage. They have come “seeking healing, inspiration, and new beginnings (Iona Abbey Worship Book, 2001).” Iona has long been considered a thin place where little separates the sacred from the earthly. And for many years every Tuesday pilgrims have met to journey across the Island of Iona, seeking to connect and to be changed. And as I traveled along the 7 miles around the Island there was a sense that this way had been traveled before. One just has to take a few steps to realize that the path has been worn by many pilgrims. A friend talks about walking the labyrinth at Chartre Cathedral, another famous place of pilgrimage, in France and so many people have walked the labyrinth that there are grooves in the stone floor of the cathedral. Then at one point the Iona pilgrimage brought us to Columba’s bay. Columba was the person who is believed to have first set up a monastery on Iona. He traveled from Ireland in a small leather boat, and supposedly landed at this particular bay. It was beautiful. A large grassy area that ends on a beach of stones. Supposedly Columba and the monks who came with him to Iona climbed up a hill in order to confirm that they could no longer see Ireland from Iona and when it was confirmed it also clearly marked their leaving behind of Ireland and embarking on a new beginning. We were invited to pick up two rocks one that we would leave behind symbolizing something that we wanted to leave behind and one that we would take with us symbolizing a new beginning. Many chose to toss their rock in the ocean and many chose to leave it in one of many piles or cairns that had been established already on the beach. Cairns are just that piles of rocks. But they are more than that. Cairns may have originated as burial mounds marking the end of a life. But they have also been used as path markers pointing other travelers on their way. And they reflect a long line of pilgrims as more and more pilgrims add stones to them. Pilgrimage is not about taking away a souvenir, it is about leaving something behind and embarking on a new beginning or continuing on a chosen path. It is about marking a path for future pilgrims, guiding them on their way.
The Bible is full of people on pilgrimage. The greatest story of pilgrimage we heard a part of today. The Isrealites were leaving behind the oppression of Egypt in search of a new beginning, a promised land. And in this section of the story we read today we see that they are traveling on a path that has been traveled before as well. God says to Moses to go ahead of the people with some of the other elders and that God would be waiting there for them. God was saying lead the way for the pilgrims that will come behind you. And out in front of them waiting on them was God. Through all the trials of their pilgrimage, God would be there waiting. Their pilgrimage was not easy and it lasted longer than they expected and it certainly wasn’t what they expected—but throughout it all God was there waiting.
Pilgrims go seeking to have an experience with the divine. They go seeking God. And by God’s grace they return changed. They return as new people—seeking to live life differently. My pilgrimage to Iona left me with a desire to live life differently. I felt a connection to the earth and creation like I have never felt before. We took a day trip to an Island where we were able to see puffins—puffins up very close as close to or closer than I am to all of you. And what we learned was that we were their protectors. Most often they stay in the water to protect themselves from their natural enemy, the seagull. But when humans are on the Island they are able to come up on land because we are there to keep the seagulls away. Most of the time I see humans as destroyers of creation instead of protectors but in this instance I saw how we fit into the web of creation. And that gave me the ability to see a trip to the beach in a different way. I decided on our last day on Iona that I wanted to go swimming—many others in our group had already been in but I hadn’t—so I took a hike out to what I had heard was a beautiful place to swim. I hiked out over the vast patch of grass passed cows and into this rock passage down to the beach. As I was walking through the passage I noticed a baby lamb had died. It didn’t look like it had been attacked but instead had just gone to die. When I got to the beach I was laying on my towel and a mother sheep and her lamb came up and were on the beach with me. And I wondered were they like me. Were they mourning the loss of the lamb I had passed, a son and a brother? Were we both experiencing a similar loss? Were they grieving the loss of a brother like I was grieving the loss of mine? Were they feeling as lost and unmoored as I was? In that moment we were all connected. We were no longer nomads but pilgrims. And I have come away with a desire to care even more for the world in which we live. To be more of its protector.
Pilgrimage calls us to live life differently. We don’t come back with souvenirs. If anything we leave something there. This is the purpose of church, of worship. At our best we invite people to come in, put down their cameras, learn the language, engage in our rituals, to leave behind that which is holding them down, that which causes them pain and suffering, that which causes them grief. We invite people to travel a path that has been traveled for thousands of years before and will be traveled with all hope for thousands of years to come. We invite people to connect with their fellow pilgrims. And to know that whatever occurs on our pilgrimage, whatever hurdle we face, God will be there going before us, traveling with us, and waiting on us. Let us invite people to not be tourists but pilgrims. Let us all leave here changed. Amen.
Think for a moment about the vacations you have taken in your life, the places you have gone. Places you have visited with family, friends, or even just by yourself. The locations might be far off and exotic or close and familiar. You may have traveled to another state to spend time with relatives or you may have traveled to another country to experience something beautiful or historic. As you think about these trips think about a souvenir that you bought or picked up while you were traveling. You may have paid a lot for it or you may have gotten it for free. It may be a piece of furniture or a postcard, an item of clothing or a collectable, a book or a baseball. (Moment to think.) Now I’d invite anyone to share what that souvenir is.
We bring back souvenirs to remember our travels, to remember these special vacations. They serve as reminders of these moments in our lives. I love being a tourist. I love to travel. I haven’t done nearly enough of it, but I love visiting new places. Trying new things. And I want to see it all. I remember a Designing Women episode where Julia and Suzanne were going to Japan because Suzanne was going to buy a car. And on the airplane Julia remarked that she wanted to see the real Japan. To which Suzanne responded, “As for seeing the “Real Japan”, I’ve noticed that whenever people start talking about seeing the “real” anything, what they’re talking about basically, is hanging around with poor people. Now I say, I don’t hang around with poor people at home, why should I do it on vacation?” I am with Julia essentially, that I want to experience the “real” wherever I am going. I don’t need to take a bus tour or walk up to the top of the statue of liberty. But I do want to have a pint in a British pub or eat a slice in a pizza parlor that only the locals know about. I also want to somewhat blend in. That mean’s no fanny packs or I “heart” new york t-shirts, no garish American university sweatshirts in the middle of Paris, and no loud boisterous talking. I essentially want to be a tourist without looking like a tourist.
And one of the things I really love doing is visiting old churches, cathedrals and the like. Drop me in the middle of Westminster Abbey or St. Paul’s Cathedral and I will be happy as a clam. Diana Butler Bass, the author of Christianity for the Rest of Us, the book that you all read during my Sabbatical, writes this in one of her early books, From Nomads to Pilgrims, “Not long ago, I was at Trinity Church, Wall Street, one of the oldest churches in the United States, and the church that sits right on the edge of the site of the World Trade Center. Since 2001 the congregation has seen more than two million visitors a year pass through its historic doors. The clergy and I were talking about the spiritual tourists… “I’ve got tourists galore,” sighed the Reverend Dr. Jim Cooper, Trinity’s senior clergyperson. “They come in droves. But I don’t want them to leave as tourists. I want them to become pilgrims. I want them to connect, to know that there is something more.”
I’ve been thinking about this idea of pilgrims and more specifically pilgrimage a lot lately. Specifically since I returned from my Sabbatical and my trip to Iona. I haven’t been able to get the idea out of my head. The past three weeks I’ve been preaching on the ideas that you all had for names for our congregation. Today I want to add another phrase to our ideas—not because we need yet another name to decide between, but instead because I think it adds to what I believe is as the very heart of our purpose as a congregation. This idea of pilgrims and pilgrimage.
It is very easy to come to church and to worship as tourists. I’d say this is the way most people show up every day. The idea is that I’ll step out of my routine and see something different. I may take pictures. I may engage in some of the activities of the locals. I may eat some of the local cuisine, eat their bread and drink their wine. But I won’t engage fully. And my intention is to leave much the same as I began. Yes I’d like to hear good music and nice words, but I don’t want to be changed in any way.
But pilgrimage is something different. The intention of the pilgrimage is to be changed. To leave different than you came. And pilgrims connect. Tourists don’t connect with fellow tourists. Often, like me, tourists don’t even want to see other tourists. My friend Tracy who lived in England for a year tells a story about being homesick and getting excited when she would meet a fellow resident of the United States. But the feeling was not always mutual. Usually the person who she met was a little disappointed and put out—they did not fly all the way across the ocean to meet someone from New Jersey. But pilgrims connect with the other pilgrims. Pilgrimage is by its very nature connectional, and not just connecting with the pilgrims that are on the present journey with you, but all the pilgrims who have traveled that way before. Millions of people have made the haj, the pilgrimage to Mecca, and will continue to make the haj. Thousands upon thousands have made the Iona pilgrimage that I made. Millions of people over the centuries have traveled to Iona on pilgrimage. They have come “seeking healing, inspiration, and new beginnings (Iona Abbey Worship Book, 2001).” Iona has long been considered a thin place where little separates the sacred from the earthly. And for many years every Tuesday pilgrims have met to journey across the Island of Iona, seeking to connect and to be changed. And as I traveled along the 7 miles around the Island there was a sense that this way had been traveled before. One just has to take a few steps to realize that the path has been worn by many pilgrims. A friend talks about walking the labyrinth at Chartre Cathedral, another famous place of pilgrimage, in France and so many people have walked the labyrinth that there are grooves in the stone floor of the cathedral. Then at one point the Iona pilgrimage brought us to Columba’s bay. Columba was the person who is believed to have first set up a monastery on Iona. He traveled from Ireland in a small leather boat, and supposedly landed at this particular bay. It was beautiful. A large grassy area that ends on a beach of stones. Supposedly Columba and the monks who came with him to Iona climbed up a hill in order to confirm that they could no longer see Ireland from Iona and when it was confirmed it also clearly marked their leaving behind of Ireland and embarking on a new beginning. We were invited to pick up two rocks one that we would leave behind symbolizing something that we wanted to leave behind and one that we would take with us symbolizing a new beginning. Many chose to toss their rock in the ocean and many chose to leave it in one of many piles or cairns that had been established already on the beach. Cairns are just that piles of rocks. But they are more than that. Cairns may have originated as burial mounds marking the end of a life. But they have also been used as path markers pointing other travelers on their way. And they reflect a long line of pilgrims as more and more pilgrims add stones to them. Pilgrimage is not about taking away a souvenir, it is about leaving something behind and embarking on a new beginning or continuing on a chosen path. It is about marking a path for future pilgrims, guiding them on their way.
The Bible is full of people on pilgrimage. The greatest story of pilgrimage we heard a part of today. The Isrealites were leaving behind the oppression of Egypt in search of a new beginning, a promised land. And in this section of the story we read today we see that they are traveling on a path that has been traveled before as well. God says to Moses to go ahead of the people with some of the other elders and that God would be waiting there for them. God was saying lead the way for the pilgrims that will come behind you. And out in front of them waiting on them was God. Through all the trials of their pilgrimage, God would be there waiting. Their pilgrimage was not easy and it lasted longer than they expected and it certainly wasn’t what they expected—but throughout it all God was there waiting.
Pilgrims go seeking to have an experience with the divine. They go seeking God. And by God’s grace they return changed. They return as new people—seeking to live life differently. My pilgrimage to Iona left me with a desire to live life differently. I felt a connection to the earth and creation like I have never felt before. We took a day trip to an Island where we were able to see puffins—puffins up very close as close to or closer than I am to all of you. And what we learned was that we were their protectors. Most often they stay in the water to protect themselves from their natural enemy, the seagull. But when humans are on the Island they are able to come up on land because we are there to keep the seagulls away. Most of the time I see humans as destroyers of creation instead of protectors but in this instance I saw how we fit into the web of creation. And that gave me the ability to see a trip to the beach in a different way. I decided on our last day on Iona that I wanted to go swimming—many others in our group had already been in but I hadn’t—so I took a hike out to what I had heard was a beautiful place to swim. I hiked out over the vast patch of grass passed cows and into this rock passage down to the beach. As I was walking through the passage I noticed a baby lamb had died. It didn’t look like it had been attacked but instead had just gone to die. When I got to the beach I was laying on my towel and a mother sheep and her lamb came up and were on the beach with me. And I wondered were they like me. Were they mourning the loss of the lamb I had passed, a son and a brother? Were we both experiencing a similar loss? Were they grieving the loss of a brother like I was grieving the loss of mine? Were they feeling as lost and unmoored as I was? In that moment we were all connected. We were no longer nomads but pilgrims. And I have come away with a desire to care even more for the world in which we live. To be more of its protector.
Pilgrimage calls us to live life differently. We don’t come back with souvenirs. If anything we leave something there. This is the purpose of church, of worship. At our best we invite people to come in, put down their cameras, learn the language, engage in our rituals, to leave behind that which is holding them down, that which causes them pain and suffering, that which causes them grief. We invite people to travel a path that has been traveled for thousands of years before and will be traveled with all hope for thousands of years to come. We invite people to connect with their fellow pilgrims. And to know that whatever occurs on our pilgrimage, whatever hurdle we face, God will be there going before us, traveling with us, and waiting on us. Let us invite people to not be tourists but pilgrims. Let us all leave here changed. Amen.
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