Category: faith

In These Tough Times…

by William M Lyons

Ours is a world “no longer experienced as stable, predictable, or even comprehensible.”[1] Fear, anxiety and hopelessness have become hallmarks of how Americans feel these days, if not for ourselves, for our family members, our friends, or our neighbors. The question in our Gospel text is indeed the question of our day: What is this?!

In these tough times, Psalm 111 invites us to return to our spiritual center, focusing on the attributes and accomplishments of God.

“I give thanks to God with everything I’ve got—” writes the Psalmist. “Wherever good people gather, and in the congregation. God’s works are so great, worth a lifetime of study—endless enjoyment!

Splendor and beauty mark [God’s] craft; …generosity [that] never gives out, miracles [that make a lasting] memorial [to] this God of Grace, this God of Love.

[God] gave food to [ones] who fear him, remember[ing] to keep the ancient promise.

[God] proved to [Israel] that [what God said, God could really do]:

Hand them [a place and a home] on a platter—a gift!

[… manufacture] truth and justice;

[Everything God does is] guaranteed to last—Never out-of-date, never obsolete, rust-proof. All that God makes and does is honest and true: [paying] the ransom for his people, [ordering] God’s Covenant [be] kept forever. [God is] so personal and holy, worthy of our respect.

The good life begins in the fear of God—Do that and you’ll know the blessing of God. His Hallelujah lasts forever![2]

We may not see these qualities in our national or local leaders, but certainly God is:

  • Honorable
  • Majestic
  • Gracious
  • Merciful
  • Powerful
  • Faithful
  • Just
  • Trustworthy
  • Holy
  • Awesome

Because God is all those things and more, God does certain things. Psalm 111 calls them “wonderful deeds.” You can recount some of them; I know you can.

  • Creation
  • Leading the people out of Egypt
  • Giving them manna and quail in the wilderness
  • David triumphing over Goliath
  • Repeatedly saving the people from what appeared would be certain defeat
  • And the list goes on…

“The Hebrew word in Psalm 111 translated “wonderful deeds” is niphla’oth.” It means “something that I simply cannot understand,” or “something different, striking, remarkable; something transcending the power of human intelligence and imagination.” [3] Something that makes us say to ourselves and to others, “What is this?!”

If we must be caught up in what feels unstable, unpredictable, or even incomprehensible, then at least let us choose what things those will be! Both Psalm 111 and our Gospel story today invite us to choose the attributes and works of God as the center of our attention. There goes the oppression of powerlessness and hopelessness and anxiety -did you feel it start to lift?! If we must be caught up in what feels unstable, unpredictable, or even incomprehensible, then let us choose what things those will be: the honorable attributes and wonderful works of God!

In these tough times, we don’t see those honorable attributes or wonderful deeds in our most visible leaders, and so we find ourselves grieving our loss of those expectations and past experiences. And yet, honorable attributes and wonderful deeds are alive and well in our God. God invites us today and each day to center ourselves in God’s instability, God’s unpredictability, in God’s incomprehensibility, for there we find all that is holy and just, gracious and merciful, majestic and honorable, powerful, faithful, and awesome!

When the people in our Gospel story asked themselves and one another, “What is this?!” they weren’t crying out against their political or religious leaders, or their hopeless circumstances, or their own insecurities. They were raising their voices in awe for what Jesus was doing in their midst: speaking with authority, taking on evil, silencing accusing, judgmental, disruptive and divisive voices, calling out demons, and restoring wholeness to ones who were caught up in brokenness through no fault of their own.

As Karoline Lewis points out, Jesus’s Gospel dared to stand up to supposed authorities. His Gospel challenged assumed power which had never been earned. His Gospel ripped apart the barriers and boundaries and borders that separated people from God. His Gospel tore down walls rather than insisting on ways to build them. With His Gospel the dead didn’t even stay dead! [4]

But “there are risks in identifying the forces of evil and of God in contemporary struggles…,” writes Cynthia Briggs Ketteridge, “specifically, [and] particularly if one assumes oneself and ones’ own “people” to be on the side of God.” [5]  Ones of us preaching out of positions of privilege or into communities with political and economic power must be careful about making that assumption. As Kettridge points out, “the community that performed and heard Mark’s gospel, was powerless and poor in a country occupied by a powerful empire. The theological imagination of the victory of God’s power over illness, disability, and danger was for them, lifesaving good news.”[6] The mere reminder that we can choose what kind of unpredictability, instability, and incomprehensibility we let ourselves get caught up in is for our time lifesaving good news!

But there is another risk. “…[ones] of us who decide to go about in the world, insisting that God is even for the unclean spirits, or for [ones] whom others have determined are unclean, will be suspect. After all, once God is really for everybody, well, there goes merit-based immigration. There goes regulation of pulpits. There goes justified discrimination. And there goes our own deep desire to make claims about God that are created in our own image.”[7]

Our Scripture readings today “provoke us to stop assuming that “the way things are” must always equal “the way things have to be.” The reign of God promises more, whether the “more” can be realized now”[8]

“In this first skirmish, Jesus prevails, but not without the unclean spirit protesting and acting out.”[9] By the end of Mark, the forces of evil launch an all-out campaign to silence and immobilize Jesus in death. “… the world’s response was to crucify that Gospel.” [10] But Jesus won’t stay dead, because who God is (attributes) and what God does is wonderful, and powerful, and bigger than death!

Psalm 112 reminds Israel that the same honorable attributes and wonderful works that characterize God should also characterize them.

In John 14:12 Jesus told his followers, “The person who trusts me will not only do what I’m doing but even greater things, because I, on my way to the Father, am giving you the same work to do that I’ve been doing. You can count on it.[11]

So why are we so afraid to take on demons – our own, or the forces of evil in the world? Why are we willing to give ones who act for evil so much power – power they’ve not earned, and that God’s people have the authority to call out?

As it did in Jesus’ day, the cosmic conflict between good and evil has a socio-political dimension. We can be sure that if we are on the side of the powerless and poor, the marginalized and the oppressed, we are on God’s side. God has a long history or championing the cause of the disadvantaged, the suffering and the victimized, of siding with ones who have lost “their ability to control their movements and their voices” and are being “immobilized”[12]

“What is this?!” really is the question of our time.  Let us live in ways that put skin on the honorable attributes and wonderful works of God! When ones around us see what we are up to and how we are going about it, let them be amazed and exclaim, ““What is this?!” And we will reply, “This is what the Good News of Jesus for our day looks like!”

1 Praise the Eternal [One]! How blessed are [ones] who revere [God],
who turn from evil and take great pleasure in [God’s] commandments.
2 Their children will be a powerful force upon the earth;
this generation that does what is right in God’s eyes will be blessed.
3 [Their] houses will be stocked with wealth and riches,
and [God’s] love for justice will endure for all time.
4 When life is dark, a light will shine for [ones] who live rightly—
[ones] who are merciful, compassionate, and strive for justice.
5 Good comes to all who are gracious and share freely;
they conduct their affairs with sound judgment.
6 Nothing will ever rattle them;
the just will always be remembered.
7 They will not be afraid when the news is bad
because they have resolved to trust in the Eternal One.
8 Their hearts are confident, and they are fearless,
for they expect to see their enemies defeated.
9 They give freely to the poor;
their righteousness endures for all time;[b]
their strength and power is established in honor.
10 The wicked will be infuriated when they see [good people] honored!
They will clench their teeth [pause] and dissolve to nothing;
and when they go, their wicked desires will follow.[13]

 

[1] Watkins, Mohr, and Kelly. Appreciative Inquiry: Change at the Speed of Imagination. p. 2

[2] Language made inclusive and adapted from Peterson, E. H. (2005). The Message: the Bible in contemporary language (Ps 111:1–10). Colorado Springs, CO: NavPress.

[3] Nancy deClaissé-Walford. https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=232

[4] Adapted from Karoline Lewis. http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=5047

[5] Cynthia Briggs Kittredge. http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3535

[6] Cynthia Briggs Kittredge. http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3535

[7] Karoline Lewis. http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=5047

[8] Matt Skinner. http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2343

[9] Cynthia Briggs Kittredge. http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3535

[10] Adapted from Karoline Lewis. http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=5047

[11] Peterson, E. H. (2005). The Message: the Bible in contemporary language (Jn 14:12). Colorado Springs, CO: NavPress.

[12] Cynthia Briggs Kittredge. http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3535

[13] Psalm 112, The VOICE

There Is Hope for The Last Jedi… and for All of Us

by Ryan Gear

Reviews of the latest installment of the Star Wars saga The Last Jedi are as mixed as U.S political opinions, but one thing is certain. As much as the  galaxy far, far away needs hope, we need it too. With a culture war raging in the U.S. and a resurgence of fascism in Europe, the Dark Side seems to be winning in our world at the moment.

As a people, we seem to be aware that we are trapped in a tragic time in history, and we need a spark of hope. Like the seven previous episodes, The Last Jedi is a great modern example of Greek tragedy. In his foundational work on drama, Poetics, Aristotle instructs that one of the features of a tragedy is that the main character possesses a tragic flaw.

The tragic flaw is a character deficiency or a mistake that leads to the main character’s downfall, and that downfall creates suffering both in the character’s life and usually in the lives of those around them. The first six episodes of Star Wars follow the life trajectory of Anakain Skywalker who becomes known as Darth Vader. His tragic flaw is obvious— for a combination of reasons he turns to the Dark Side of the Force. Brilliantly, he is also a physically flawed character who is so deformed by his choices that he needs his suit to live, move, and breath. Those first six episodes could be titled “The Tragedy of Anakin Skywalker.”

Similarly, in the latest two episodes, like his grandfather before him, Kylo Ren is a character with a tragic flaw. He wants to follow in the footsteps of his grandfather, Anakin, and a turn to the Dark Side is a necessary choice. In The Last Jedi, we see Kylo Ren’s tragic flaw contrasted primarily with the pure character and choices of Rey.  She is a light to his path, and we can’t tell whether he is in love with her or only wants to use her power to accomplish his plans. The tragedy of Kylo Ren is unfolding in a way that will make Episode 9 interesting, and possibly just as controversial.

Aristotle’s Greek word for this tragic flaw is hamartia (pronounced Ha-MAR-tia). It was originally an archery term for when an arrow misses its mark and falls short of its target (an ancient form of an “airball” in basketball). About 400 years after Aristotle, the word finds its way into the books and letters of the New Testament, also written in Greek. English translations of the Bible translate hamartia as the word “sin.” And like a basketball feels heavy to a child who can’t even make it reach the rim, sin is a heavy word.

Hamartia can be both individual and collective. A woman in a church I pastored shared with me one time that she was the “sinner of her family.” She grew up in a church-going, 1950s, pure-as-the-driven-snow environment, but she was the black sheep who transgressed the boundaries. In other words, she had sex before marriage and a child out of wedlock.

She felt like the worst person in the world because the people she loved the most defined her by a decision she made in her youth. It’s as if she wore a scarlet letter to all family functions, and the word sin became a soul crushing word that made her wince whenever she heard it in a sermon (despite her family’s disappointment, she was a regular church attender all of her life).

Collective hamartia is a description of the human condition. We live in a fallen world of conflict, turmoil, and an uncertain future, and we all play a role in the drama. Yes, our world leaders influence global conditions far more than the common person, but we all share collective responsibility more than we would like to admit— as voters, as citizens, and as “actors” in our everyday lives.

If you feel like the sinner of your family, or if in your most reflective moments you feel heavy guilt and wonder if there is hope for your spiritual life, the biblical meaning of hamartia might be helpful here. In the same way, an understanding of collective hamartia and its role in our society might also be the spark that gives hope to our galaxy.

In Aristotle’s definition of a tragedy, and in the Bible, the tragically flawed character is not the worst person in the story. Think about it— Emperor Palpatine is the evil, Satan-like presence in the first six Star Wars films. Compared to the Emperor, Darth Vader is a sympathetic character. In fact, we feel pity for Darth Vader throughout the series, because he is a man who was deceived and manipulated by Palpatine. Even in his rage and hatred for rebels, Darth Vader loves his children. He protects them from the Emperor, and in that climactic moment in The Return of the Jedi, he turns to the Light and throws Emperor Palpatine into a reactor to save his son. The conflict within Kylo Ren is just as pronounced, and we feel pity for him compared to the absolute evil of Supreme Leader Snoke.

I’m going to guess you’ve never murdered an entire village with a lightsaber, so you’re no Darth Vader or Kylo Ren, let alone the Emperor or Snoke. Maybe you transgressed the moral boundaries of your family or your church. Like every human being alive, you have not always acted in love toward your fellow humans. You’ve made mistakes, just like I have, and just like every other person. Those flaws and choices are damaging. They are serious, and they do have consequences. However, the tragic flaw does not mean that you are irredeemable or a hopeless case.

Similarly, the collective hamartia of our world is an outgrowth of individuals missing the mark, the cumulative brokenness of all of us throwing up moral and spiritual airballs. If individual hamartia does not make one an irredeemable monster, then collective hamartia does not damn our world to repeat the same needless conflicts that create the same absurd misery for so many.

An understanding of hamartia insists our world is not a hopeless case. In The Last Jedi, while Luke Skywalker has resigned himself to Kylo Ren’s turn to the Dark Side, Rey protests his fatalism by saying, “His choice is not made. He can be turned.” Regardless of how Kylo turns out, perhaps we as a people are not doomed to wallow in a cyclical view of history that expects a return to fascism every few generations.

The New Testament author who is most known for his use of the word hamartia is Paul. He observes both the individual and collective definition of hamartia. In Romans 3:23 he argues that “all have sinned (hamartia)” and in Romans 5 that the consequences affect all people collectively because of it.

Paul experienced personal redemption. According to the New Testament accounts, prior to his conversion he presided over the arrest and even murder of Christians he persecuted. Hamartia does not mean you have to wear a scarlet letter to family functions or view yourself as an evil character God cannot stomach. You are not the devil. Sometimes even Lebron James tosses up an airball, and the hamartia in your life means that you’re human in need of God’s grace.

In the same way, the human race is not evil incarnate either. Our future is not decided. Our choice is not made. World history can be turned. From a Christian perspective, Paul insists that Jesus Christ’s “righteous act resulted in justification and life for all people,” and that gives us a continual hope that things can made better[i]

Basketball players can increase their field goal percentage. Darth Vader can turn to the Light. Kylo Ren might too— we’ll see. Like the once-controversial The Empire Strikes Back, eventually most Star Wars fans will probably approve of The Last Jedi (there is even hope for flawed movies). In an atmosphere of forgiveness, grace, and resulting self-acceptance, we as individuals can learn to make better choices over time, and we are redeemed, both personally and collectively.

So, as we enter the New Year, here’s to holding out hope for all of us. Hamartia is a tragic flaw in otherwise decent people, and together we can write our comeback story. Yes, our world condition is serious… and for a Christian that is exactly what makes the Good News such great news, in fact. It is the great news that redemption is possible for even the most flawed of characters. It’s even greater news that redemption is available to all of us together, and consequently, there is hope for our world.

[i] Romans5:18b

Younger Generations Uninterested in Organized Religion Not Missing Out

by Greg Gonzales

Never did I think I’d find God on the internet, but I did toward the end of December 2017. On Radio Garden, a radio station streaming service, I found a Dubai station called Ananaz that played awesome song after awesome song that I’d never heard before — I learned Paul Mauriat covered the “Godfather” theme and that a band called Banda Do Sul covered “Evacuate the Dance Floor.” Each song I learned about helped me branch out to discover more artists, more songs, and to fill my playlists for my own radio show. Those connections, that branching out, is one way I experience God; rather than a being, it’s the process of being, of participating in the world, of moving forward and bursting forth into the future as an effect of an infinite preceding cause, part of the nonstop cosmic evolution. To many, that kind of spirituality is nothing more than hippie-dippie hocus-pocus, but it’s central to my mode of living.

Turns out I’m not alone. A third of Millennials surveyed by Pew Research Center said they don’t affiliate with a religion, but two-thirds of that third said they still believe in a God, or some sort of universal spirit. Adults 18 to 25 apparently aren’t fans of traditional congregations, and I’m one of them. Though I grew up in a Disciples of Christ church, I never have liked the way a service comes off like a performance, or the way some people use church like a way to wash themselves of their wrongdoings. I appreciate the divinity in music, community, and ancient texts, but I don’t feel a need to have all those things bundled for me. I get all of those things in my daily life, through my volunteer work at the radio station, through sharing my homemade wine with friends and family, and by exploring the works of every philosopher from Ancient Greece to post-modern France. For me, choosing non-religious spirituality means not expecting anyone to curate these things for me, and more freedom to explore when I feel inspired (it’s not really acceptable to pull out my phone during the sermon to follow up on a Bible verse, for example).

That’s not the only reason my age group is turning away from organized religion. Some of them are indeed atheists. But the main reasons have more to do with feeling left out of the picture. We feel left out of traditional institutions, but find the same love and divine presence when we get in touch with our bodies at the gym or in yoga, when we join strangers at dinner or in support groups to share honestly our griefs and joys, or get to know our own minds through meditation — we get to become something larger than ourselves without the guidebook. We get to write our own books.

And isn’t the point of that word, gospel, is that it means good news? Those pages have some dust for good news. Though I don’t believe in magical miracles, I do believe in miracles of great fortune, of divine experience, and unconditional love — and those miracles happen every day. As we connect to each other, as we listen to each other’s stories and use those lessons to grow, we gather our own “good news.” Perhaps the only reason the Judeo-Christian traditions are so important still is because the people who lived out those stories bothered to write them down. This generation, and the generations who inspired us, have new gospels to write for a new era.

The Womb of the Night

by Karen MacDonald

Morning meditation, chanting/singing “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” on my Hindu prayer beads. A phrase in the sixth stanza struck a chord:

“Love stir within the womb of night….”

The dark nights of winter can seem depressing. These long nights can also be a time of renewing, resting, of taking care of our selves. Like bears hibernating.

These times seem dark and frightening, with such deep polarization, self-centeredness, greed, hatred, fear. We have lost our selves.

In the womb of this social night, what love might stir? What love might we nourish to birth in this night? How may we, individually and collectively, take care in this night and come to our selves? Like a baby in a woman’s womb.

“Love stir within the womb of night….”

Love being born in us, even in the night. Feel it stirring?

A Piece of Fruit and a Serpent: A Different Perspective

by Tony Minear

“I want a drink of that.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s hot and you might burn your tongue.”
“Please.”
“I said, ‘No’.”
“Why?”

“Look at all these fruit trees. Yummy.”
“They are, aren’t they. You can eat from any tree you want except one, the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.”
“Why not?”
“Because on the day you eat of it, you will die.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“But why?”

In the Genesis 3 story God gives a simple command to Adam and Eve. It is much like one given to a three-year-old. You don’t need to think about it. It isn’t an ethical quandary of right and wrong or good and evil. You need to simply obey.

When the curtain opens on Genesis 3, we recognize three characters from the previous scene (Genesis 2): God, Adam, and Eve. In this scene, a new character appears, a serpent. The narrator does not provide much insight into this creature. This particular serpent is the most “subtle” creature God created. It possesses a special form of wisdom. The narrator’s silence allows us to assume that this serpent, like the rest of God’s creatures, is “very good.” Despite the stinginess of our narrator, the information we are provided is enough for us to hear the coming dialogue between the serpent and Eve.

The serpent begins by intimating to Eve that God is holding back some valuable insight and capabilities from her and Adam. The forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil will not kill them. In fact, it will make them like God in that they will have the ability to discern good from evil. They will become wise. Impressed with the serpent’s grand wisdom along with the lure of the fruit, Eve decides to take a bite. The serpent is right. It tastes exquisite and she does not die. For the first time her eyes are opened and she can perceive evil.

When God discovers what has happened, God is displeased. Until this moment Adam and Eve could perceive only good. For them there was no evil. Only God knew of it. When they disobeyed God’s simple command, they acquired the ability to know evil along with good. Now they could make a choice between the two. However, because God does not believe it wise that these two live forever with this new skill set, God removes them from the garden and sets up security to protect the Tree of Life from any poachers.

Adam and Eve find themselves outside their utopian garden of Eden and along with their new ability, they each carry a curse, his and hers. As they journey through life they will face choices between good and evil. As we watch their lives unfold, we discover they don’t always make the right decision. Okay, they usually don’t get it right. Every choice, however, right or wrong, is an opportunity for them to grow and learn. They will continue to evolve.

This understanding of Genesis is probably new to the majority of Christians and many may find it objectionable. The popular reading is that Adam and Eve’s disobedience led to their “fall.” They along with all future generations are sinful. The results of this are devastating. We are born with a sinful nature and are unable to live without sinning. No matter how many times we make good choices, we will eventually choose evil.

This other way of reading implies a “rising up” of humankind rather than a falling when we disobey God. Adam and Eve were created spiritually immature, much like a three-year-old. All they are asked to do is obey a simple command. With their disobedience, they take the first step on a journey that will last a lifetime. This is a journey of spiritual maturation. With each choice, they will grow and evolve. As their descendants, we too are given opportunities to spiritually evolve and mature.

The next time you hear or read the story, I imagine you might recall this alternative reading. If you do, you will either ignore it or perhaps consider its merits. No matter your choice, please understand, how you read this story has implications on how you will view yourself, others, and especially God. I choose to read the story as one of a “rising up.” It works well with my understanding of Jesus. Jesus through his actions and words modeled for us how to make wise choices between good and evil. I, like Adam and Eve, make wrong decisions. I learn from them and take another step forward. Life is a journey of becoming the person God ordained me to be.

All Pointed in the Same Direction: Body Acceptance, Grace, Nonviolence, and Our Whole Lives

by Karen Richter

Advent is short this year, y’all. Because Christmas Eve morning is the fourth Sunday in Advent, the season is 6 days shorter than usual! It’s a great time to do something pondering on the incarnation. I like the incarnation as a metaphor to help us have a healthier understanding of sexuality.

I’ve heard lots of people talk about incarnation as a one-time, limited engagement kind of thing – that it’s just about Jesus. I’ve heard lots of people use the incarnation as an exclusionary doctrine to clobber people who believe differently. And I’m not interested in that at all.

I want to make a case for keeping the incarnation… not in a literal “special Jesus” way but in a life-giving metaphorical way.

The shame around sexuality and BODIES in our culture is the best reason to keep the theology of incarnation! The Word became flesh and lived among us for a time (John 1.14)! Full of grace and truth :: when Jesus was fully human he was full of grace and truth. WE ARE TOO. We are full of grace and truth! Who is full of grace and truth? You are, friend!

We know this. This is not new to us… except sometimes this is new to us.

Living it out  – living INCARNATIONALLY – means having a different relationship with our bodies than we are accustomed to. Living it out means treating ourselves and everyone around us in ways that our culture thinks is downright odd.

Living INCARNATIONALLY means “have you lost weight?” is not a compliment. Yeah, you heard me.

Living INCARNATIONALLY means that “I hate my thighs” goes against my faith.

Living INCARNATIONALLY means shoving your 5 year old forward with instructions to “Go kiss Auntie Jean” tears down that child’s body autonomy.

Living INCARNATIONALLY means that a school dress code that shames young women and holds them responsible for the learning environment is offensive and just plain wrong. “What was she wearing?” is always the wrong question… whether the setting is a darkened alley or a college party or a public school classroom.

On the positive side, Living INCARNATIONALLY means that when we show up for one another in embodied ways… with hugs or casseroles, on yoga mats or in the dugout, with fist bumps or shared tears, with birthgiving and diapering and nurturing, and yes, with sexual intimacy…  holy space is created.

Living incarnationally means that when we say God loves everybody… we MUST mean that God loves Every. Body. including our own… or we are liars. I like to say it like this: “God loves Every PERIOD! Body PERIOD!”

OWL - Our Whole LivesSo… The United Church of Christ and the Southwest Conference support Our Whole Lives. We do this for wonderfully practical reasons: because we value our young people, we want them whole and healthy. We want them to experience sexuality as part of God’s good gifts of embodiment and creation. And OWL does a great job at teaching sexual decision-making, values, safer sexual behaviors, and consent. In so many congregations, there are these awesome trained facilitators… they live this out, showing up for our students. At Our Whole Lives here at Shadow Rock, we eat together, we ask questions… we do many ridiculous role plays… It’s so fantastic.

BUT HERE TODAY, I WANT TO TAKE IT FURTHER. I want to move Our Whole Lives, and bodies, and incarnation, and sexuality to the heart of my own faith.

We believe that each human person is unique and unrepeatable. So in the OWL classroom and beyond, we foster a culture of consent… moving through the world in such a way that each person’s individuality is honored.

When consent become part of our basic operating system – when consent is entrenched as part of our core value of JUSTICE – when anything other than consent is anathema to us… we begin to move through the world in a non-harming way.

Consent and body autonomy are part of nonviolence for me. Nonviolence is not just nice (‘nice’ being a pretty low bar) – nonviolence is even beyond kindness (although kindness gets us closer). It’s a way of being – a kind of showing up – that’s marked by life-giving interactions with other earthlings.

Life-giving interactions with other earthlings. I have SO MUCH WORK TO DO on this. My way of showing up is way too often characterized by materialism and greed and arrogance.

But continuing to lead Our Whole Lives, even when the students are a little squirrelly… this helps.

Remembering that at my best, I too am full of grace and truth – this helps.

Being here, with you all in the Southwest Conference, being part of a group of OWL facilitators and trainers that embodies the Our Whole Lives values of Self-Worth, Sexual Health, Responsibility and Justice & Inclusivity… this helps.

Knowing in my heart in my bones that God loves me – that I am part of Every. Body. … this helps.

Our Whole Lives

So in this season of Advent, I invite you to be gentle, to remember how this idea of incarnation  – of the Word becoming flesh – makes us all siblings together, God’s children, full of grace and truth. Amen!

 

Giving Thanks in the Midst of Turmoil

by Abigail Conley

Having lived in a few different iterations of church, my song knowledge is skewed. The older hymns considered essential by many WASPs elude me; a slice of time in evangelical praise songs are well known. One of those songs remains a favorite, “Blessed Be Your Name.” The first version seems to be released by Matt Redman. These are the opening lyrics:

Blessed be your name
In the land that is plentiful
Where the streams of abundance flow
Blessed be your name

And blessed be your name
When I’m found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed be your name

The song continues, going back and forth between the good and the bad, still claiming, “Blessed be the name of the Lord.” It is a beautiful, ongoing confession that God remains present, even attentive in the worst times.

This week, I received an end of the year email from my accountant. Normally, they provide end of year tax reminders and advice. This year, the email was a professional version of, “We have no idea what’s going to happen.” Choose something and we can have much the same conversation.

It is our strange calling to still proclaim and trust in God’s goodness. We are not alone. God’s people did this through the destruction of temples, through exile, through persecution. God’s people trusted in God’s faithfulness through plague, famine, and war. With this cloud of witnesses, we still give thanks.

And so I give thanks.

I give thanks for the 7-year-old who invited me to her school’s Thanksgiving program. Unprompted by parents, I received thanks and hugs afterward.

I give thanks for the teacher who skillfully taught kids, more than a hundred second graders, songs like “Tommy, the Thanksgiving Turkey.” It’s sung to the tune of “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” if you’re wondering. The ones with speaking parts excitedly came to the microphone, too.

I give thanks for the woman who said, “If they need socks and underwear, they should get socks and underwear. It shouldn’t count as a present,” as we went over the wish list of the family our church sponsoring.

I give thanks for the people checking in with the elderly, the recently moved, the single adults, making sure they have a place to eat Thanksgiving dinner.

I give thanks for the people who say, “Yes,” against all odds.

I give thanks, because it is Thanksgiving. The holiday is secular, but for people of faith, the call is holy.

Because even as the turmoil threatens to turn to chaos, still we say, “Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

For the Lord will surely be faithful.  

Guns and God: A Progressive Christian View

by Tony Minear

I own a hand gun. It is a 22 Ruger revolver single action with a 6-inch barrel. I received it from my dad on my 18th birthday. I even bought a genuine leather western-style holster in Tijuana to go with it. The next two summers I played cowboy while working at a church summer camp. I haven’t shot that gun for over twenty years. I go back and forth between selling it or some day giving it to one of my grandchildren. However, the possibility of one of my grandchildren or any individual doing harm to themselves or someone else, intentional or unintentional, frightens me. Occasionally, I contemplate literally carrying out the Hebrew scripture, “Hammer your swords into plowshares and your spears into pruning hooks.” I could have my pistol melted down to a pile of metal. Maybe even molded into a miniature plow. Not sure how the grandchild would like receiving a plow as an heirloom.

With the recent church shooting in Vegas and now Texas, the topic of gun control is once more front and center in our conversations. What can Progressive Christianity bring to the table in this arena? I offer an entrée, food for thought, for your culinary pleasure. What one believes about God can inform one’s stance on gun control.

Would Jesus under any circumstance condone a human being taking the life of another? No. Would one human being inflicting violence upon another ever be present in the realm of God’s will, which Jesus envisioned, either now or in a future “heaven?” No.

My understanding of Jesus’ view of the Kingdom of God, or God’s will for humanity, is centered around God’s love and value of life. Yet some stories in the Bible seem to contradict this. God is said to have ordered the genocide of groups of non-Hebrews. Justification? They are evil. Yet God admits to using a wicked people (The Hebrews), who are slightly less evil, as executioners. This doesn’t compute. Perhaps our willingness, and at times, desire, to use violence influences how we interpret God’s will and imagine God. For me this does compute. If God is inclined to acts of violence, no wonder we are too.

Wasn’t it God who established and decreed that the results of sin are death? Wasn’t it God who desired daily sacrifices for enjoyment and appeasement? Isn’t it God who continues to use the threat of death as a means to shape our beliefs and control our behavior? If God constructed a system of justice based upon death and violence, is it any wonder that some Christians and nations are comfortable turning to violence to resolve their problems or punish evildoers? Is it any wonder that some Christians carry a gun and are willing to use it to protect themselves or their family? Is it any wonder that efforts to legislate laws to limit certain guns in our communities, to decrease the chances of such weapons ending up in the hands of unstable individuals, or to take steps promoting gun safety in homes, are opposed by some Christians?

What if this picture and understanding of God as violent and using violence is incorrect? What if what the historical Jesus taught about God and God’s kingdom being encapsulated in one word, “love,” is right? I choose to believe it is. For this reason, I read all of scripture through the filter of love. It is my bias. It is the presupposition I bring to my study of the Bible. It is the reason why I choose not to have ammunition for my gun in the house. It is the reason I continue to ponder the validity of a pacifist life for myself and what that might look like. It is the reason why I’m googling metal artists who can take a gun and turn it into a plow.

Sacred Courage

by Davin Franklin-Hicks

I greeted the morning by taking our beloved pit-bull Lu out for a walk. We encountered a wounded owl in distress, flailing, unable to fly, but still trying.

Lu didn’t really react. I wasn’t sure she noticed as I didn’t approach the owl, just observed, and then brought Lu back inside as I worked with some neighbors to get the owl some help.

When animal rescue workers got there, I went inside and got Lu, intending to take her on a walk again, since we had to cut the first walk short. I was nervous Lu would react so I started walking the other way, trying to distract her as they helped the owl. She definitely noticed this time. She was transfixed, but not making any sound. I kept trying to have her walk with me but she was not having it. We stayed far enough away to not interfere and I just let Lu be. She stared. And then laid down. She was calmly and silently watching. It took about ten minutes and she remained.

When the owl was removed I expected her to want to walk. She continued to just lay there in this restful, peace-filled way. It took my breath away. There was something happening and it really felt sacred to see, but I wasn’t sure why I was having that response.

During my prayer and meditation time I sat with this some.

Why did that matter so much?
Why was I moved by her complete and full presence in that moment?
Why is there a need for bearing witness?
Why do we sit endlessly with loved ones as they die?
Why is this sacred?

Empathy.

Our mirror neurons in our brain make us able to climb into the lived experience we are watching. As we witness the lived experience of others we see ourselves.

That scares the ever living stuffing out of us at times.

If we acknowledge suffering exists, we cannot deny that suffering is a part of all of this living. We cannot deny suffering will happen to us. And we hate that.

It takes courage to admit our fragility, our limitations, and our mortality. It’s hard to live a life that we know will one day end. It feels impossible to live while also accepting that we will one day flail where we used to fly.

What was the invitation for the sacred moment I experienced? Was it in the watching? We have all kinds of motivations to watch all kinds of things. In and of itself I don’t think the sacredness was in the watching.

I think the sacredness was invited the moment we realized we were seeing suffering. The sacredness was that we stayed.

Wisdom to know the difference

 

You may frequently pray, as I do, the Serenity Prayer in which you ask for serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference. And of course the wisdom to know the difference makes all the difference!

I see spiritual direction as a wisdom practice.

I go to spiritual direction to get a “perception check” on knowing the difference. For example, I have one support person in my life–a mental health practitioner–who has advised me to stop watching and listening to the news because “politics will always be full of rancor and conflict, and natural disasters will always be horrible.” She wants me to accept how little control I have in matters of national and international importance. Then I have other people in my life, friends and encouragers I call my “dream team,” who tell me we can make a difference if only we do X, Y or Z. Perhaps both are right, but even so, I need the wisdom to know the difference between shutting the news off and just going about my life as if all is well, and staying informed and making my voice heard.

I haven’t figured it all out. I haven’t found my wisdom. And my spiritual director doesn’t tell me what wisdom is, but he’s quite good at noticing when I have located my own wisdom in this question. And I hope I do that for those who come to me for spiritual direction.

What is wisdom? In one sense, it is the female biblical figure, Sophia, described as God’s helper who was present at the origin of the world. Every now and then I like to dig into the Apocryphal book, Wisdom of Solomon, to reflect on the nature of Wisdom.

“Wisdom is a reflection of eternal light.
She is a spotless mirror of the working of God.”
Wisdom 7:26-27

“Wisdom reaches mightily from one end of the earth to the other,
and she orders all things well.”
Wisdom 8:1

As spiritual directors, we seek to hold this metaphorical Wisdom mirror up to our directees so that they can see the working of God in their lives. So that they can develop “the wisdom to know the difference” in their own lives.

As for my question, wisdom tells me to stay informed without becoming overloaded, to cut through the boarishness of political discourse and keep my eyes instead on the issues that affect people’s daily lives. I’ll use my voice when I can and hope for the best. Most of all, I will work on trusting that Wisdom orders all things well!