Cindy Sheehan has resigned as the "face" of the anti-war movement. You can read her resignation letter on Michael Moore's blog.
Cindy, I want to thank you. And I want to apologize.
Thank you for your continued witness, for speaking truth to power. I am sorry that we let you be our mouthpiece, and then we let you be our scapegoat. We let you speak for us, and we didn't back you up.
Thank you for fighting for peace in our world. And I am sorry that we are a nation bent on war, a country profiting from war at the cost of human life.
Thank you for trying to make our country better, for calling us to live into the values we profess. And I am sorry that we resisted such change, that we continue to play partisan politics and allow the lives of our troops and Iraqi civilians to be used as pawns in the political maneuverings.
Thank you for sharing your grief with us and for reminding us of the very real, human costs of war. And I am sorry that we as a nation, ridiculed you, accused you of being a bad mother, and mocked you in your time of sorrow.
Cindy, I understand why you must step down from this role in which you were cast. We may not be the country you love, but you represent the best of the country I love. And my hope, my prayer, is that we, as a nation, will heed your words, follow your example, and establish true peace with justice in our land.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
Cosmic Wind (redux)
Craig said I was being too hard on the church. Well, he didn't quite say that, but he said that my posts did not reveal my deep love, hope, and commitment to what he knows I believe could be a life-giving force in the world.
So, let me introduce you to the galaxy M82.
So, let me introduce you to the galaxy M82.
This is another amazing photo from the Hubble Space Telescope, this one depicting a starburst galaxy with a supergalactic wind. The deal is, a recent encounter between M82 and another galaxy disturbed M82 and started a massive wave of star formation. The new, hot young stars are creating the cosmic wind (seen here in red) sweeping out into space.
***
Since 2001, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) has started over 500 churches, making us the fastest growing mainline denomination in the United States. (um, actually, we are the only growing mainline denomination).
Here are just a few of the new, hot young stars, I mean, ministers creating this mighty wind sweeping our land:
- Ayanna - Family of Hope Christian Church, Blue Island, IL
- Liz - Church on the Common, Worcester, MA
- Liz - Hope Church, Boston, MA
- Amy - Milagro Christian Church, Pueblo, CO
- Molly - Table of Grace Christian Church, Elk Grove, CA
- Laura - Living Water Christian Church, Kansas City, MO
These are my friends and colleagues. And they do give me hope.
Cosmic Wind
Let me introduce you to the Eskimo Nebula.
This cool photograph was taken by the Hubble Space Telescope, and depicts a glowing shell of gas around this planetary nebula, a star very much like our sun, at the end of its lifetime. You see, as this type of star dies, it runs out of hydrogen and there is no longer enough energy flowing out of the star's core to support it's outer layers. The core begins to contract into itself, and it heats up. Eventually it gets so hot that it blows (not exactly a scientific term, but it conveys the point). You see that "fur"? It looks a bit like the hood of a parka? Well, that's gas and debris being ejected by a mighty cosmic wind blowing off the outer layer of the star.
****
Yesterday was Pentecost, the day in the Christian calendar that we consider to be the "birthday of the church." It was on Pentecost that the original followers of Jesus, a bunch of scared disciples huddling together behind closed doors, exploded into a movement that changed the course of history.
What happened on that day? Well, we know that Pentecost was an obligatory feast day in the Jewish calendar, so people had made the pilgrimage, streaming into Jerusalem from all over the celebrate the feast in that holy city. Everyone was there - Medes and Elamites from the east; Romans from the west; Libyans from the south; and Cappodocians from the north. Only one group was missing, the followers of Jesus, who had locked themselves away. They were scared. Remember what happened on the last feast day, the Passover? Their leader had been arrested and executed! Their fear is understandable. And so is their reaction: they barricaded themselves in their room, believing that their safety lay in sticking together and keeping everybody else out.
Perhaps they would have continued on that way, pulling into themselves, seeking to find safety and security within their own little sanctuary, locking their doors to the outside world in hope of preserving themselves. But such was not the case. No, in Acts 2, we read that a mighty wind blew through that room, blowing off the doors and windows of their dying community, and hurling the followers of Jesus out into the world, ignited and set aflame, their lives to burn as a witness to truth and peace and justice and compassion.
We often fall into the same patterns as those early disciples. The world has become a frightening place for us, and so we lock our doors to barricade ourselves against it, believing that our safety is in sticking together and keeping everyone else out. We call our buildings freaking "sanctuaries"!! And we see Church as a place for threatened, like-minded people to get together and agree on everything that is wrong with the outside while keeping ourselves apart from the scary world in which we live. We decide who gets to join, and often that decision is based on who looks like us, who talks like us, who acts like us,who thinks like us, who loves like us. In fear, we contract into ourselves. And all this reveals that we are dying. We need a mighty cosmic wind to blow through us, to blow off our outer layers of debris, our locked doors and windows, and hurl us out into the world, into the streets, to do the good work that needs to be done: ending war, ending poverty, ending oppression...
And if we cannot let this wind blow, to let God's spirit transform us into a movement that actually participates in the healing of the planet, well then maybe it is time we finally burn out and (at the risk of mixing mythologies) see what rises from the ashes.
****
Yesterday was Pentecost, the day in the Christian calendar that we consider to be the "birthday of the church." It was on Pentecost that the original followers of Jesus, a bunch of scared disciples huddling together behind closed doors, exploded into a movement that changed the course of history.
What happened on that day? Well, we know that Pentecost was an obligatory feast day in the Jewish calendar, so people had made the pilgrimage, streaming into Jerusalem from all over the celebrate the feast in that holy city. Everyone was there - Medes and Elamites from the east; Romans from the west; Libyans from the south; and Cappodocians from the north. Only one group was missing, the followers of Jesus, who had locked themselves away. They were scared. Remember what happened on the last feast day, the Passover? Their leader had been arrested and executed! Their fear is understandable. And so is their reaction: they barricaded themselves in their room, believing that their safety lay in sticking together and keeping everybody else out.
Perhaps they would have continued on that way, pulling into themselves, seeking to find safety and security within their own little sanctuary, locking their doors to the outside world in hope of preserving themselves. But such was not the case. No, in Acts 2, we read that a mighty wind blew through that room, blowing off the doors and windows of their dying community, and hurling the followers of Jesus out into the world, ignited and set aflame, their lives to burn as a witness to truth and peace and justice and compassion.
We often fall into the same patterns as those early disciples. The world has become a frightening place for us, and so we lock our doors to barricade ourselves against it, believing that our safety is in sticking together and keeping everyone else out. We call our buildings freaking "sanctuaries"!! And we see Church as a place for threatened, like-minded people to get together and agree on everything that is wrong with the outside while keeping ourselves apart from the scary world in which we live. We decide who gets to join, and often that decision is based on who looks like us, who talks like us, who acts like us,who thinks like us, who loves like us. In fear, we contract into ourselves. And all this reveals that we are dying. We need a mighty cosmic wind to blow through us, to blow off our outer layers of debris, our locked doors and windows, and hurl us out into the world, into the streets, to do the good work that needs to be done: ending war, ending poverty, ending oppression...
And if we cannot let this wind blow, to let God's spirit transform us into a movement that actually participates in the healing of the planet, well then maybe it is time we finally burn out and (at the risk of mixing mythologies) see what rises from the ashes.
Friday, May 25, 2007
What if?
This weekend is Pentecost in the Christian tradition. Pentecost, though originally a Jewish festival, is held to be the "birthday of the Church" because it was during the festival of Pentecost when the original followers of Jesus received what we in the Church call "the gift of the Spirit". It was this Spirit which transformed that rag tag group of frightened disciples, bereft of a leader, into the founders of a movement which came to be known as Christianity.
So, in a few days, it's time to sing "Happy Birthday" to the Church. But I am not sure if I want to.
If you know me (or if you have read some of my blog entries) you know that I have a love-hate relationship with the institutional Church. I distrust the destructive hierarchies and I deplore the abuses of power. Yet I have such hope and vision that the Church can be so much more than it is. Which is ultimately why I stick with it. If I didn't have such love I would have left this racket ages ago.
Yesterday I was having lunch with my old friend Scott, always a bright and insightful man, but somewhere along the way, he has turned into a brilliant and reflective theologian and ethicist. Anyway, we were talking about my on-again, off-again love affair with the not-so-organized religion of which I am a part. He laughed. He has known me for a long time, and while I have grown much in the years since we first met, I still have the same love and hope for the church I have always had, along with same frustrations because the church fails again and again to be a place of love and and care and justice and compassion and peace and goodwill. [ugh! it drive me crazy! We could be so much, and yet we don't even try!!!] As we were talking, Scott posed a question to me, one he had posed to his students a few weeks back:
"What if we stopped calling ourselves 'the Church', and instead called ourselves 'a community of people who follow Jesus'?"
Now that has got me thinking. What if we did that? What would that mean? What would that look like?
I think I could get behind that. I mean, that is what the church ultimately is, "a community of people who follow Jesus", we've just made it into something icky. When Jesus called disciples, he didn't say, "worship me" or "idolize me" or "commodify me with your mass marketing you call evangelism". No, he said, "Follow". I interpret this to mean, "Follow my way of living. Follow my way of loving. Follow my way of boundary breaking, of opposing systems of oppression, of calling attention to poverty, injustice, and religious hypocracy." I consider myself 'Christian' because I choose the model of living presented in the man Jesus of Nazareth as one I strive to follow.
Another aspect of Scott's question/suggestion I find appealling is the emphasis on community. The Christian faith is not something that can be lived out in isolation. It's not some personal, private affair. Rather, the Christian life is one lived within a group of people who share values and commitments and together try to be faithful to discerning and fulfilling the calling to follow.
So, here we are on the weekend of the Church's birthday, and I am wondering what you think about reframing our understanding of Church and reimagining what it means to "be Church'. I am interested to know how you would answer Scott's question. What if we did that? What would that mean? What would that look like?
What if we stopped calling ourselves "the Church", and instead called ourselves "a community of people who follow Jesus"?
So, in a few days, it's time to sing "Happy Birthday" to the Church. But I am not sure if I want to.
If you know me (or if you have read some of my blog entries) you know that I have a love-hate relationship with the institutional Church. I distrust the destructive hierarchies and I deplore the abuses of power. Yet I have such hope and vision that the Church can be so much more than it is. Which is ultimately why I stick with it. If I didn't have such love I would have left this racket ages ago.
Yesterday I was having lunch with my old friend Scott, always a bright and insightful man, but somewhere along the way, he has turned into a brilliant and reflective theologian and ethicist. Anyway, we were talking about my on-again, off-again love affair with the not-so-organized religion of which I am a part. He laughed. He has known me for a long time, and while I have grown much in the years since we first met, I still have the same love and hope for the church I have always had, along with same frustrations because the church fails again and again to be a place of love and and care and justice and compassion and peace and goodwill. [ugh! it drive me crazy! We could be so much, and yet we don't even try!!!] As we were talking, Scott posed a question to me, one he had posed to his students a few weeks back:
"What if we stopped calling ourselves 'the Church', and instead called ourselves 'a community of people who follow Jesus'?"
Now that has got me thinking. What if we did that? What would that mean? What would that look like?
I think I could get behind that. I mean, that is what the church ultimately is, "a community of people who follow Jesus", we've just made it into something icky. When Jesus called disciples, he didn't say, "worship me" or "idolize me" or "commodify me with your mass marketing you call evangelism". No, he said, "Follow". I interpret this to mean, "Follow my way of living. Follow my way of loving. Follow my way of boundary breaking, of opposing systems of oppression, of calling attention to poverty, injustice, and religious hypocracy." I consider myself 'Christian' because I choose the model of living presented in the man Jesus of Nazareth as one I strive to follow.
Another aspect of Scott's question/suggestion I find appealling is the emphasis on community. The Christian faith is not something that can be lived out in isolation. It's not some personal, private affair. Rather, the Christian life is one lived within a group of people who share values and commitments and together try to be faithful to discerning and fulfilling the calling to follow.
So, here we are on the weekend of the Church's birthday, and I am wondering what you think about reframing our understanding of Church and reimagining what it means to "be Church'. I am interested to know how you would answer Scott's question. What if we did that? What would that mean? What would that look like?
What if we stopped calling ourselves "the Church", and instead called ourselves "a community of people who follow Jesus"?
gas
He was leaning to the left and burping. Not an obnoxious, I'm-trying-to-gross-you-out kind of burp, but instead a burp of the I'm-sorry-but-I-have-gas-and-it-sucks variety. The burping I understand; we had yummy Mexican at Los Nopales for dinner last night. But every time he would burp, he leaned to the left. And this puzzled me.
He saw my quizzical look and said, "I always lean to the left when I burp." And of course, there is a good scientific explanation for this. You see, our stomachs are on the left side of our abdominal cavities. And the esophagus comes down and enters the side of the stomach at a bit of an angle. By leaning to the left, one can align the body so that the esophageal junction is at the top of the stomach instead of the side and thus make it easier for the gas to be expelled.
Okay, it makes sense. But now I am concerned. You see, here I thought I had found myself a good left-leaning liberal. But maybe he's just been gassy all along.
He saw my quizzical look and said, "I always lean to the left when I burp." And of course, there is a good scientific explanation for this. You see, our stomachs are on the left side of our abdominal cavities. And the esophagus comes down and enters the side of the stomach at a bit of an angle. By leaning to the left, one can align the body so that the esophageal junction is at the top of the stomach instead of the side and thus make it easier for the gas to be expelled.
Okay, it makes sense. But now I am concerned. You see, here I thought I had found myself a good left-leaning liberal. But maybe he's just been gassy all along.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
I've been tagged
So, my friend Dawn, a poet who blogs on MySpace, tagged me in an online version of the childhood game called, well, um, tag. Actually, she tagged me over two weeks ago, but I was out of town, and then I have been so very busy being chased that I wasn’t ready to be “it”. But now I am, so here goes:
"The rules are: once you have been tagged, you have to write a blog with six weird, unique or unusual facts or habits about yourself.... at the end, you need to choose six people to be tagged and list their names and why you chose them.... don't forget to send them each a comment that says, "you have been tagged....go read my latest blog...."
So six things about me…
1. Since Dawn’s two reasons for choosing me were that we grew up together and that I am a minister, I will address both my younger years and my calling to the ministry. All in this first statement. I am a minister who was both (a) kicked out of my junior high youth group, and (b) flunked chapel not once, but twice, at Baylor University.
2. Despite having my patriotism questioned repeatedly, it is a fact that I have sung the national anthem at a major league baseball game. Solo. It was an Astros-Reds game. And my darling ‘Stros won. How ‘bout that?
3. I like to put chips in my sandwiches. I delight in the crunchy yumminess they provide. And jalepeño-flavored kettle chips are my favorite. I don’t eat very many sandwiches though. Thus not very many chips either.
4. Strangely enough, though I am an ordained minister in mainline protestant tradition, I distrust and even dislike most institutional hierarchies. In fact, I can’t think of a single one I do like. Or trust. Makes for an interesting fit in the Church.
5. I will only buy my gas at Citgo. I am all about supporting the Venezuelan government. However, I would rather bus, bike, or walk.
6. My favorite word is reciprocity. I enjoy the feeling of it sliding off of my tongue. And the meaning is pretty cool, too. It is something I strive for in my relationships. Mutual dependence. Cooperative interchange. Give and take. It’s a good thing.
Now, who will I tag?
BC – He is one of the most thoughtful (and provocative) bloggers I know. His posts always challenge me. And our society.
new north – My new online friend has such a delightful way of turning a phrase.
REFUGE – Janel, I want you to start blogging again!!! Your writing is so beautiful.
God save us… – Scott is an old friend who just happens to be a brilliant theologian/ethicist blogging on contemporary issues from a fascinating and challenging perspective.
the church down the street – Audrey is a caring pastor. And one of the funniest people I know.
All day to get there - Jason, will you use your paintings to tell us about you?
Nae-nae – Yes, I know this is seven, but I cannot leave out Shannon. This is going to be fun. I can’t wait to read what she has to write.
And the rest of you, please fell free to play along in the comments.
"The rules are: once you have been tagged, you have to write a blog with six weird, unique or unusual facts or habits about yourself.... at the end, you need to choose six people to be tagged and list their names and why you chose them.... don't forget to send them each a comment that says, "you have been tagged....go read my latest blog...."
So six things about me…
1. Since Dawn’s two reasons for choosing me were that we grew up together and that I am a minister, I will address both my younger years and my calling to the ministry. All in this first statement. I am a minister who was both (a) kicked out of my junior high youth group, and (b) flunked chapel not once, but twice, at Baylor University.
2. Despite having my patriotism questioned repeatedly, it is a fact that I have sung the national anthem at a major league baseball game. Solo. It was an Astros-Reds game. And my darling ‘Stros won. How ‘bout that?
3. I like to put chips in my sandwiches. I delight in the crunchy yumminess they provide. And jalepeño-flavored kettle chips are my favorite. I don’t eat very many sandwiches though. Thus not very many chips either.
4. Strangely enough, though I am an ordained minister in mainline protestant tradition, I distrust and even dislike most institutional hierarchies. In fact, I can’t think of a single one I do like. Or trust. Makes for an interesting fit in the Church.
5. I will only buy my gas at Citgo. I am all about supporting the Venezuelan government. However, I would rather bus, bike, or walk.
6. My favorite word is reciprocity. I enjoy the feeling of it sliding off of my tongue. And the meaning is pretty cool, too. It is something I strive for in my relationships. Mutual dependence. Cooperative interchange. Give and take. It’s a good thing.
Now, who will I tag?
BC – He is one of the most thoughtful (and provocative) bloggers I know. His posts always challenge me. And our society.
new north – My new online friend has such a delightful way of turning a phrase.
REFUGE – Janel, I want you to start blogging again!!! Your writing is so beautiful.
God save us… – Scott is an old friend who just happens to be a brilliant theologian/ethicist blogging on contemporary issues from a fascinating and challenging perspective.
the church down the street – Audrey is a caring pastor. And one of the funniest people I know.
All day to get there - Jason, will you use your paintings to tell us about you?
Nae-nae – Yes, I know this is seven, but I cannot leave out Shannon. This is going to be fun. I can’t wait to read what she has to write.
And the rest of you, please fell free to play along in the comments.
Monday, May 21, 2007
An analysis of my coffee mug: revelations into my psyche and the mug's sociological impact on my community
I have become a science blog addict. I guess it comes from spending so much time in the presence of a particular scientist. But reading these blogs, especially the ones that deal with happenings at the intersection of religion and science, has become a bit of an obsession for me.
Probably my favorite science blogger, well my favorite whom I do not know personally, is Pharyngula. Recently, he posted a challenge from another science blogger, David Ng, to reveal and comment upon our coffee mugs. And in a desperate attempt to make these science dudes think I am cool, I am stepping up to the challenge.
So here 'tis...
1. Can you show us your coffee mug?
Yup. This is the one. I have lots of others, but this is my favorite.
Probably my favorite science blogger, well my favorite whom I do not know personally, is Pharyngula. Recently, he posted a challenge from another science blogger, David Ng, to reveal and comment upon our coffee mugs. And in a desperate attempt to make these science dudes think I am cool, I am stepping up to the challenge.
So here 'tis...
1. Can you show us your coffee mug?
Yup. This is the one. I have lots of others, but this is my favorite.
2. Can you comment on it? Do you think it reflects your personality?
Let's see, it a 16 oz (very big, for you non-science folks) mug depicting stargazers sitting around a fire and tracing the constellations with their hands. It was gift from my own stargazer. He picked it up in Calgary when he was at the American Astronomical Society meeting last June. When I requested his help in describing the mug, I specifically asked if he could tell me if it was the summer sky or the winter sky depicted, and if it was the northern hemisphere or the southern. His reply was, "Well, it's no sky I have ever seen." When I asked why he, the astronomer, would purchase a mug that was not scientifically accurate, he replied (somewhat annoyed, I think), "It's poetic." I guess I should have figured out that one...
Does it reflect my personality? Well, it does tell you that I need a major caffeine fix every morning. And it does remind me of my stargazer. :)
Oh, normally it has a piece of masking tape across it that says, "REV'S STARGAZER MUG" because if you don't label your personal items in a co-op, it becomes community property. However, I have been away from my beloved Bowers House for a few months now and the tape has peeled away. I imagine the label will go back on when I return home next week.
3. Do you have any interesting anecdotes resulting from coffee cup commentary?
Most of the stories about others commenting on the mug refer to the sheer size of the mug. Housemates like to point out that I can take the whole pot of coffee to fill my mug (not a very cooperative thing to do) or on my caffeine addiction. Some people like the label. One housemate, Irv, once made a mushy sentimental comment about the mug, it's accompanying label, and my obvious affection for the astronomer who gifted it, indicating that he had picked up on the poetry in the mug, even if I hadn't (though in my defense, I think the label itself reveals that I do appreciate the poetic sentiment of the gift. yes?).
4. Can you try to get others to comment on it?
Oh, I hope so. Please comment on it. Show them that I have friends. Make these science blog guys think that I am cool. Yes, one can be a minister and be cool, too.
***
P.S. PZ, I will be responding to your latest challenge before your deadline. I figure a reverend's perspective might be an interesting addition to the digest.
Friday, May 18, 2007
sick
If I believed in a petty, mean-spirited, sadistic bully of a god who derived pleasure in inflicting pain and small torture upon others, and if I wanted to prove the existence of such a god, you know what evidence I would offer up? The spring cold. Because only a deity who wants to mock and taunt and delight in suffering would think up such a nasty, vile torment.
You know, I have just made it through a Chicago winter. The temperature has been warm, and I have been out walking barefoot along the lake shore, riding my bike through the city, and basking in the coquettish sunshine.
And then I hear it, that snide whine of a voice, calling out to me on the cosmic playground, "So, you made it through winter and you think you're so tough, huh? Well, how 'bout this? How 'bout I slap you with a little cold? How 'bout I cram your ears and your nose with some nasty, coagulated gunk? And oooh, I know, I can send a tickler down your throat to inflict his agonizing torment upon your tonsils. And how 'bout I turn up the heat with a wee bit of a fever?"
"But why?" I ask of the bully god, trying to wiggle free from the unrelenting headlock, knowing the dreadful noogie soon will follow.
"Because I can," says the deified tyrant, then laughs maniacally. Oh, the malevolence!
I guess it is a good thing that I don't believe in a god who delights in the misery of humanity; I'd be in the wrong racket if I did. But I am sick. And it sucks. And with the sun shining out there, beckoning to me, it does seem a little cruel to be knocked out with the yucky cold.
You know, I have just made it through a Chicago winter. The temperature has been warm, and I have been out walking barefoot along the lake shore, riding my bike through the city, and basking in the coquettish sunshine.
And then I hear it, that snide whine of a voice, calling out to me on the cosmic playground, "So, you made it through winter and you think you're so tough, huh? Well, how 'bout this? How 'bout I slap you with a little cold? How 'bout I cram your ears and your nose with some nasty, coagulated gunk? And oooh, I know, I can send a tickler down your throat to inflict his agonizing torment upon your tonsils. And how 'bout I turn up the heat with a wee bit of a fever?"
"But why?" I ask of the bully god, trying to wiggle free from the unrelenting headlock, knowing the dreadful noogie soon will follow.
"Because I can," says the deified tyrant, then laughs maniacally. Oh, the malevolence!
I guess it is a good thing that I don't believe in a god who delights in the misery of humanity; I'd be in the wrong racket if I did. But I am sick. And it sucks. And with the sun shining out there, beckoning to me, it does seem a little cruel to be knocked out with the yucky cold.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
there is irony. and then there's this...
Just when I think nothing about either of these men can surprise me,
Fred Phelps to Protest Jerry Falwell's Funeral
[Alas, I have a project for a class I am taking due tonight, so I cannot comment now. But really, what could I say?]
Fred Phelps to Protest Jerry Falwell's Funeral
[Alas, I have a project for a class I am taking due tonight, so I cannot comment now. But really, what could I say?]
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Jerry Falwell
Jerry Falwell died yesterday. Dr. Scott Paeth has written a profound reflection on the evangelist's passing. Written from a progressive Christian perspective, Paeth's post provides an excellent critical analysis of Falwell's contribution to the role of religion in public discourse while being extremely fair and even gracious to the man himself and to his perspective.
I am proud to claim the author as a friend and colleague. I myself could not have been so kind.
I am proud to claim the author as a friend and colleague. I myself could not have been so kind.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
The Good China: Lessons of Grace and Hospitality
[a belated Mother's Day tribute]
Mom was one who believed in setting out the good china. Dishes are made to be eaten off of, not to sit and look pretty in the china cabinet. So we used the good china. Often. Of course, many plates and bowls and tea cups have been broken along the way, but, according to my mom, these are just things, the important thing is the fellowship that is shared around the table. She wanted everyone who sat at her table to feel special and to feel welcome. So she served up her delicious and nutritious meals. On the good china.
When the bishop came to visit (he raved about Karry Frey’s homemade dinner rolls), she used the good china. And when one of the towns drug dealers stopped by, she used the good china. She welcomed them both. She loved them both. She accepted them as is. And she saw that they had potential to be much more than they were. In the bishop, she saw a man more loving and gracious than he appeared to the world (or in John Shelby Spong’s autobiography). And in the pothead, she saw the kind, charismatic, and imaginative kid who she had the qualities to be a great leader.
When dinner time came, there was always enough to serve our family. And if somebody else dropped by, she’d pull up a chair and serve them a plate, too.
Sometimes we her children would be obnoxious, obstinate, unkind, or naughty. We’d be sent to our rooms until we were “ready to be nice”. Occasionally we wouldn’t be ready to be nice when a mealtime came, so we’d stay in our rooms while our family enjoyed the table fellowship. But a place was always set for us, should we choose to come to the table. And if we didn’t come, both Mom and Dad would tell us how much they had missed us and how dinnertime just wasn’t the same without us.
My own Christian theology and worship center around the communion table, with its open invitation, “Y’all come. Everyone is welcome. Rich, poor, gay, straight, black white, old, young, doubter, believer, saint, sinner. Really, everyone. Come!” And my model for life and ministry is that of the man Jesus of Nazareth, who broke down boundaries, who shared meals with both the high-religious and society’s outcasts.
But such radical hospitality I did not learn from the Christian teaching. No, I first learned it at home, during those first communions of family dinners, at the table where, no matter how much I had messed up, I found a place set for me. With the good china, no doubt.
Mom was one who believed in setting out the good china. Dishes are made to be eaten off of, not to sit and look pretty in the china cabinet. So we used the good china. Often. Of course, many plates and bowls and tea cups have been broken along the way, but, according to my mom, these are just things, the important thing is the fellowship that is shared around the table. She wanted everyone who sat at her table to feel special and to feel welcome. So she served up her delicious and nutritious meals. On the good china.
When the bishop came to visit (he raved about Karry Frey’s homemade dinner rolls), she used the good china. And when one of the towns drug dealers stopped by, she used the good china. She welcomed them both. She loved them both. She accepted them as is. And she saw that they had potential to be much more than they were. In the bishop, she saw a man more loving and gracious than he appeared to the world (or in John Shelby Spong’s autobiography). And in the pothead, she saw the kind, charismatic, and imaginative kid who she had the qualities to be a great leader.
When dinner time came, there was always enough to serve our family. And if somebody else dropped by, she’d pull up a chair and serve them a plate, too.
Sometimes we her children would be obnoxious, obstinate, unkind, or naughty. We’d be sent to our rooms until we were “ready to be nice”. Occasionally we wouldn’t be ready to be nice when a mealtime came, so we’d stay in our rooms while our family enjoyed the table fellowship. But a place was always set for us, should we choose to come to the table. And if we didn’t come, both Mom and Dad would tell us how much they had missed us and how dinnertime just wasn’t the same without us.
My own Christian theology and worship center around the communion table, with its open invitation, “Y’all come. Everyone is welcome. Rich, poor, gay, straight, black white, old, young, doubter, believer, saint, sinner. Really, everyone. Come!” And my model for life and ministry is that of the man Jesus of Nazareth, who broke down boundaries, who shared meals with both the high-religious and society’s outcasts.
But such radical hospitality I did not learn from the Christian teaching. No, I first learned it at home, during those first communions of family dinners, at the table where, no matter how much I had messed up, I found a place set for me. With the good china, no doubt.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Mother's Day
Just a reminder that Mother's Day has not always been a boon for Hallmark. Rather, it was originally a political protest. (Thanks to Sandhya for reminding me.)
Julia Ward Howe's Mother's Day Proclamation - 1870
Arise then...women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:"We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country,
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs.
"From the bosom of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with
Our own. It says: "Disarm! Disarm!
The sword of murder is not the balance of justice."
Blood does not wipe out dishonor,
Nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil
At the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace...
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God -
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality.
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
The company she keeps
My friend April recently told me that this coming election, she will be considering not just the candidates but the people with whom they surround themselves. April believes that this says so much more about the candidate than any of their platforms. hmm... I hadn't thought about that before. But I think April is on to something. This current administration is a prime example. It was never just W in office (I almost wrote "we didn't elect just W", but then I remembered we didn't elect him at all), there was always Chaney, Ashcroft, Rumsfeld, Rove, etc.
This past week, I had the opportunity to gather with 40-50 other members of the clergy and meet with Senator Hillary Clinton. She did an excellent job outlining her domestic agenda (expectedly, she shied away from foreign policy and her history of supporting the Iraq war). She shared her own views on faith and politics. She spoke highly of her opponents in the democratic field (she was in Obama territory, after all). And she demonstrated that she is a woman of amazing intellect, as compelling of a speaker as her husband, and a person who cares deeply for this country. But none of this was especially revelatory.
What was most impressive to me was the announcement that Bob Nash, former chairman of Shore Bank in Chicago, had left his position to work on Hillary Clinton's presidential campaign. Now, I am sure that many bankers have worked on many campaigns, but Shore Bank is not like any other bank I know. While it now has branches on both coasts, Shore Bank is an institution of Chicago's South Side. Shore Bank was founded at a time when racial and economic discrimination was "officially sanctioned" in the banking world and from its inception has worked for economic justice and community revitalization. Shore is committed to the communities in which its branches are located, supporting not-for-profit organizations and extending loans for community development. Shore practices socially responsible investing, extends microcredit in developing countries, and was the very first bank to address environmental issues. Like I said, Shore Bank is not like other banks.
I do not know Bob Nash personally, but I know Shore Bank. I have tremendous respect for the institution he served. And it says a lot to me that he would leave a position with an institution whose motto is "Let's change the world" unless he found another way to make an even greater impact on the world. I find it intriguing that he left Shore Bank to work on Hillary Clinton's campaign instead of that of fellow Southsider, Barack Obama.
The election is still a long way off. And I cannot say that Hillary Clinton will have my vote when that time comes. Her foreign policy votes still concern me. (And Obama is my neighbor - seriously he lives one block away!). But while I cannot say if I will vote for her, I will say this: I like the company she keeps.
This past week, I had the opportunity to gather with 40-50 other members of the clergy and meet with Senator Hillary Clinton. She did an excellent job outlining her domestic agenda (expectedly, she shied away from foreign policy and her history of supporting the Iraq war). She shared her own views on faith and politics. She spoke highly of her opponents in the democratic field (she was in Obama territory, after all). And she demonstrated that she is a woman of amazing intellect, as compelling of a speaker as her husband, and a person who cares deeply for this country. But none of this was especially revelatory.
What was most impressive to me was the announcement that Bob Nash, former chairman of Shore Bank in Chicago, had left his position to work on Hillary Clinton's presidential campaign. Now, I am sure that many bankers have worked on many campaigns, but Shore Bank is not like any other bank I know. While it now has branches on both coasts, Shore Bank is an institution of Chicago's South Side. Shore Bank was founded at a time when racial and economic discrimination was "officially sanctioned" in the banking world and from its inception has worked for economic justice and community revitalization. Shore is committed to the communities in which its branches are located, supporting not-for-profit organizations and extending loans for community development. Shore practices socially responsible investing, extends microcredit in developing countries, and was the very first bank to address environmental issues. Like I said, Shore Bank is not like other banks.
I do not know Bob Nash personally, but I know Shore Bank. I have tremendous respect for the institution he served. And it says a lot to me that he would leave a position with an institution whose motto is "Let's change the world" unless he found another way to make an even greater impact on the world. I find it intriguing that he left Shore Bank to work on Hillary Clinton's campaign instead of that of fellow Southsider, Barack Obama.
The election is still a long way off. And I cannot say that Hillary Clinton will have my vote when that time comes. Her foreign policy votes still concern me. (And Obama is my neighbor - seriously he lives one block away!). But while I cannot say if I will vote for her, I will say this: I like the company she keeps.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Mountains of Hope
"Where does hope come from?" asked my friend and colleague Patty, a hospital chaplainin Houston. Then, answeting her own question, she declared, "Why, hope comes from hopelessness, of course."
Of course.
So often, it is only in the deep silence of despair that we can hear hope's whisper; it is in the night shadows of hopelessness that we can glimpse a glimmering promise of a brighter world.
Lately, and this past month especially, I found found myself in this place of hopelessness. I cannot trust our leaders to work for healing and peace in our world, and I felt as if the little I do - the ministry, the vigils, the advocacy, the writing - I felt that none of it amounted to much, and that my little efforts could not counter the evil being thrust upon our world by the powers that be. But you know what? Just as my friend suggested, it was in this state of hopelessness that I found hope.
Two weeks ago, I attended the Bethany Fellowship retreat. As is the case everytime I gather with this remarkable group of Disciples clergy, I found myself surrounded by excellence, by people making a difference in their little corners of the world, people working for peace and healing and wholeness. And I listened to thier stories, to their struggles and to their successes. And I let these wash over me. And I began to remember that I have stories to tell, too. Stories of sadness and stories of celebrations. And as I began to tell my stories, I heard my own voice declaring that I am doing something to make a difference in the world. And I remembered that this is true.
Then last week, I attended the National Leadership Gathering of The Interfaith Alliance in Denver. And again, I found myself surrounded by excellence, by people making a difference in their little corners of the world, people working for peace and healing and wholeness. The conference was aptly named "Mountains of Hope" - we had the Rocky Mountains just to our west, and hope abounded throughout those days. As I listened to the stories of the affliates working around our country and as I listened to the speakers, I actually found myself not just wanting to hope, but actually daring to do so.
One of the speakers at "Mountains of Hope" was Colorado Governor Bill Ritter, who suggested that in our world today, the fight for justice is a "battle between people who hope and cynics." If this is true, then I want to be on the side of the hopeful. Because I want to believe that a peaceful and just world is possible. And even when I don't believe it, I want to.
Hope comes from hopelessness?
Of course.
So often, it is only in the deep silence of despair that we can hear hope's whisper; it is in the night shadows of hopelessness that we can glimpse a glimmering promise of a brighter world.
Lately, and this past month especially, I found found myself in this place of hopelessness. I cannot trust our leaders to work for healing and peace in our world, and I felt as if the little I do - the ministry, the vigils, the advocacy, the writing - I felt that none of it amounted to much, and that my little efforts could not counter the evil being thrust upon our world by the powers that be. But you know what? Just as my friend suggested, it was in this state of hopelessness that I found hope.
Two weeks ago, I attended the Bethany Fellowship retreat. As is the case everytime I gather with this remarkable group of Disciples clergy, I found myself surrounded by excellence, by people making a difference in their little corners of the world, people working for peace and healing and wholeness. And I listened to thier stories, to their struggles and to their successes. And I let these wash over me. And I began to remember that I have stories to tell, too. Stories of sadness and stories of celebrations. And as I began to tell my stories, I heard my own voice declaring that I am doing something to make a difference in the world. And I remembered that this is true.
Then last week, I attended the National Leadership Gathering of The Interfaith Alliance in Denver. And again, I found myself surrounded by excellence, by people making a difference in their little corners of the world, people working for peace and healing and wholeness. The conference was aptly named "Mountains of Hope" - we had the Rocky Mountains just to our west, and hope abounded throughout those days. As I listened to the stories of the affliates working around our country and as I listened to the speakers, I actually found myself not just wanting to hope, but actually daring to do so.
One of the speakers at "Mountains of Hope" was Colorado Governor Bill Ritter, who suggested that in our world today, the fight for justice is a "battle between people who hope and cynics." If this is true, then I want to be on the side of the hopeful. Because I want to believe that a peaceful and just world is possible. And even when I don't believe it, I want to.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Talkin' about a revolution...
I do not want to be a part of any institution that is more concerned with perpetuating itself than in caring for its members, others, and the world.
The Church is obsessed with its own self-preservation. And that will be its death. You know, it is not our job to save the Church; it is our calling to serve God in the world. Ironically, if we are faithful in our service, the Church will continue on, in one way or another, for another day of loving and caring. Of course, it may not look like the instituations we have now, but the Body will continue in the ministry of Christ.
We need to do away with the heartless, institutional crap. As far as the Church is concerned, I think we are beyond need of reformation. We need revolution. And we need resurrection.
So maybe we need to let the institutional church continue in its self-serving, self-preserving mission. Just let it die. And then the Body of Christ can be resurrected to do some real ministries of justice, compassion, mercy, and passion. Who's with me?
The Church is obsessed with its own self-preservation. And that will be its death. You know, it is not our job to save the Church; it is our calling to serve God in the world. Ironically, if we are faithful in our service, the Church will continue on, in one way or another, for another day of loving and caring. Of course, it may not look like the instituations we have now, but the Body will continue in the ministry of Christ.
We need to do away with the heartless, institutional crap. As far as the Church is concerned, I think we are beyond need of reformation. We need revolution. And we need resurrection.
So maybe we need to let the institutional church continue in its self-serving, self-preserving mission. Just let it die. And then the Body of Christ can be resurrected to do some real ministries of justice, compassion, mercy, and passion. Who's with me?
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