Wednesday, January 30, 2013

February 3 - The Guitar


February 3
Reel Faith using “The Guitar”, a 2007 film recognized at the Sundance Film Festival
Experience: Stripping away and beginning anew


Revelation 21:1-4
Then I saw new heavens and a new earth. The former heavens and the former earth had passed away, and the sea existed no longer. I also saw a new Jerusalem, the holy city, coming down out of heaven from God, beautiful as a bride and groom on their wedding day. And I heard a loud voice calling from the throne, “Look! God’s tabernacle is among humankind! God will live with them; they will be God’s people, and God will be fully present among them. The most high will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and death, mourning, crying and pain will be no more, for the old order has fallen.

I know. “Revelation? Really?” Actually, yes. The book of Revelation is the ultimate testament to starting over. Christians in Rome were facing intense persecution. They could expect to be arrested and then subject to terrible torture and death. The message of Revelation is not that some weird dispensation of God’s justice will take some into paradise and leave others to suffer in some possibly immanent future. It is a message to Roman Christians that even though their lives were festering in despair, the love of God would eventually triumph. Though the world they lived in was falling apart, god was already creating a new one. It took another 150 years, but Christianity did indeed triumph in the Roman Empire. For us, the message of Revelation is again not one of unchanging prophecy, but that God is continually creating the new Jerusalem out of the ruins of our lives.

The movie, “The Guitar” is an obscure indie flick from a few years ago. It explores the disintegrating life of Melody Wilder who at the beginning of the story is diagnosed with inoperable cancer, loses her job, and is unceremoniously dumped by her lover. She completes the razing of her life by renting a new apartment for the 2 months her doctor told her she has left, and then throwing all the vestiges of her old life out the window (including her clothes!). She then reconstructs her environment, filling her credit cards and her new loft with only the best things. She surrounds herself with silk and finery. We see flashbacks to her childhood were she sees a red guitar that captured her heart. She obtains a new red guitar, and embarks on learning to play it. Her heart opens up in unexpected relationships with two different delivery people who arrive at her door. Eventually her credit runs out and she realizes that it is well past the 2 months she was given. Not only that, but physically she is stronger, not weaker. She goes back to her doctor who announces that somehow Melody is now cancer-free. She will live, but how? She has racked up debt and cannot remain where she has been. She sells her luxury items at garage sale prices in an attempt to free herself from their cost. All she keeps is the red guitar she has learned to play in this interim life. Not knowing where to go, she follows 2 young men who were also carrying guitars. They lead her to a park where a number of musicians are busking. She begins to play, hoping to get some handouts as well. Her playing attracts members of a band who stop to listen to her playing. The final scene of the movie shows a joyous Melody playing with the band, and singing along in her restored voice. She is living a life that was unimaginable at the beginning of the story, as is the joy on her face.

I’ve already edited the movie down to a series of clips: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CqQF_MNlWWA&feature=youtu.be  I think these clips will tell enough of the story without everyone having seen the film.

I see us beginning with a threshold of a large painted sitting up front. Without a word, it is approached and painted over with a coat of white, preparing the canvas for a new work of art.
Doing something really new always comes at the cost of the old, and it is often painful. Beginning a new life, as individuals and as a church, is painful. Resurrection comes after death. The new Jerusalem only arrives after the old one is destroyed.

Clip #1   Diagnosis and desolation – Melody receives the news of her disease, loses her job and her lover in a single day.
                What would we do in the face of such news? Would you want to know?
                What affairs would we have to set in order? How would we do that?
Who would we tell? Hopefully, we have better support systems than Melody did – but when have we felt that alone?

Clip #2   New Space – Melody rents the loft and rids herself of her old life. She enters the empty apartment which reflects her emptiness, but also holds the possibility of a new start.
                How would you create your own spiritual womb?
                If your life were a new, empty space how would you fill it?
                What would be the most difficult for you to toss out the window?

Clip #3   Objects that Speak – Melody’s new friend Cookie is awed by the fine things she has surrounded herself with. Since the film’s beginning, this conversation is the closest Melody comes to admitting she will soon die. She says that she has collected these objects because they speak to her. They whisper to her rumors of her redemption.
                Is that why so many of us are attached our objects? Do they whisper to us of our redemption?
                What objects do, or would, we surround ourselves with? How many really speak to us?
                What one object is one that whispers meaning to you?

Clip #4   Healing and Strength – Melody discovers that she is not waning. She has regained the voice the tumor had stolen, and in fact her doctors tell her that the cancer is completely gone. Good news, but hard news. Melody has completely changed her life. What now?
                Would we recognize the signs of our own recovery?
Is it really possible to so change our lives that the metaphorical cancer in us would no longer feel at home? What would those cancers be?

Clip #5   Starting Over – Melody’s sanctuary is as empty as when she arrived. She watches as the last of her treasure is loaded onto the truck. All she has kept is the red guitar she has learned to play in her hiatus. Lost for direction, she follows other musicians to a park where she tries her hand at busking. This leads to her discovery by a band who evidently invites her to play with them. The movie ends with Melody playing with them on stage, smiling and singing joyously.
                Will we have the courage to follow unlikely guides? to play new instruments?
                Can we allow ourselves to be transformed by all the tragedies of life and still come out smiling?

I also like the prayer that is offered here at the end of the film, even if I am still delving its meaning: In art and dream may you proceed with abundance. In life may you proceed with balance and stealth.

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

January 27 - Us


January 27, 2013

Series Title: Me, Us, Them

Anchor:  tetrahedron
Frame:  Us!
Thread:  Phoenix Affirmations

Experience: An invitation to be a part of a sacred and safe community

            When I wrote at the beginning of this series I said: “The transformation of SCUCC into an Urban Abbey is going to take us from a place where like-minded people gather on Sunday morning to experience lively worship into a community of people committed to each other and committed to becoming fully human. Full humanity is what we become when we nurture our best selves, and open ourselves to the Divine presence. It means living our lives in search of a balance, and it means doing this every day of our lives. It is Sunday plus plus plus.The crux of the Urban Abbey is that it is an intentional community. In ancient days (and even today) when someone wished to join the community at an abbey vows were said, clothes were changed, and one’s life was given over to the schedule and rule of the cloister. Our abbey will still invite people to be a part of an intentional community though without the habit, tonsure, or intensive vows! Nonetheless, I believe that the beating heart of the Urban Abbey will be the intention to share our lives in an attitude of deep hospitality as we seek to find creative and vibrant ways to follow Christ in today’s world. The “Us” of the urban Abbey is this community.
1 Corinthians 13:4-13 (The Message [alt.])
Love never gives up. Love cares more for others than for self. Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have. Love doesn’t strut, Doesn’t have a swelled head, Doesn’t force itself on others, Isn’t always “me first,” Doesn’t fly off the handle, Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,  Doesn’t revel when others grovel, Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth, Puts up with anything, Trusts God always, Always looks for the best, Never looks back, But keeps going to the end. Love never dies. Inspired speech will be over some day; praying in tongues will end; understanding will reach its limit. We know only a portion of the truth, and what we say about God is always incomplete. But when the Complete arrives, our incompletes will be canceled. When I was an infant at my mother’s breast, I gurgled and cooed like any infant. When I grew up, I left those infant ways for good. We don’t yet see things clearly. We’re squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won’t be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We’ll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing God directly just as we are known completely! But for right now, until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love.
          We most often hear these verses read at wedding as if Paul were describing the characteristics of a married relationship. But Paul was not writing to a couple getting married. He was writing to a church, a gathering of followers of The Way of Jesus. The best we can do is read between the lines, but it seems Paul felt compelled to write to these people (more than once!) to remind them of what they were striving to be. They came together not to compete with all other associations in society. They didn’t have to be the wealthiest, the biggest, the meanest, or the most successful club in town. They came together to love and be loved. Sometimes we forget that we are called to be different than the rest of the world, and that this difference is love, eternal, unbounded, unimaginable love. Will I like the feel of the Message for this passage I also like the NRSV for verse 7, which reflects the original emphasis of the Greek more clearly: “Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” “All things” declares the universal scope of this love we are talking about. Paul is reminding the believers at Corinth that they are a very special kind of community, one built on and sustained by a Love that transforms them and changes the world.
          And so I hear Paul inviting us at SCUCC back into loving community. Sometimes being part of a church is an almost lackadaisical affair. When asked membership vows the answer seems to be more often “Sure, why not?” than an intentional “I will, with the help of God!” As we move toward evolving into the Urban Abbey, I believe we must ask the question clearly: “We want you to be a part of this particular kind of community. Will you join us in this endeavor?” And not just for newcomers. Maybe more especially for those of us who have been here for years. And that invitation is fulcrum.
          The experience of invitation is the experience of feeling welcomed, truly welcomed and wanted. It is the feeling of being proposed to. It is the feeling of being accepted for every fiber of who you are (and not in spite of who you are!).
Laurel S. shared with a story that captures the essence of this feeling:
Pastor Renee once shared this story of her childhood:
When she was very young, she took cello lessons at school (in the days when music was not only offered but the school would loan you an instrument). The instrument was nearly as tall as she, but Renee gladly hauled it home and back, practicing what she had learned. Her brothers made faces when she would screech out her notes, and she was never sure that the sound she made was the right one.
One day in music class, the teacher asked Renee to play her little piece. Renee was afraid, but she did her best; it didn’t sound great. When she finished, her classmates didn’t seem impressed, but the teacher said, “now, I’d like you to play it again.” Rene was really scared then – had she messed it up? But once again she put bow to strings and began the little melody. Only this time, the teacher accompanied her on piano, adding chords and runs and rhythm. Finally, it was music!
Sometimes we forget that we’re not out there singing a solo. When all we can hear is our own small, unsteady voice, it can sound pitiful! But always, underneath it all, is a whole chorus of other voices singing backup. In reality, of course, we’re all just singing backup, but we've got earplugs that keep the other voices muted. If we listen, we can hear them, and we’ll know that we don’t have to carry the whole production alone.

In this story, Renee’s music was not derided or criticized. The teacher took her music, and added her own talent to it until together it was transformed!  That is the Ministry of Hospitality to a T! The teacher welcomed and honored Renee’s gift as it was. That is the element of community that we are hoping to engender as an Urban Abbey. Paul called it Love.
(I need some help weaving both our tetrahedron and the Phoenix Affirmations into this week’s fabric. Maybe we can build one of those larger pyramids using all of our little ones as a visual metaphor of Us!)
So our challenge this “Us” Sunday is to extend to every person that welcoming, accepting invitation that receives and honors their personhood. That’s all. It’s like a great big, group hug. Can we invite everyone to metaphorically enter the Urban Abbey where hopefully we learn that Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

January 20 - "Them"


January 20, 2013
Series Title: Me, Us, Them

Anchor:  tetrahedron
Frame:  Them
Thread:  Phoenix Principles

Experience: Stretching hearts to welcome others, the “them”

Them
Luke 10:25-37
An expert on the Law stood up to put Jesus to the test and said, “Teacher, what must I do to inherit everlasting life?” Jesus answered, “What is written in the law? How do you read it?” The expert on the Law replied: “You must love the most high God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.”
Jesus said, “You have answered correctly. Do this and you’ll live.”
But the expert on the Law, seeking self-justification, pressed Jesus further: “And just who is my neighbor?” Jesus replied, “There was a traveler going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, who fell prey to robbers. The traveler was beaten, stripped naked, and left half-dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road; the priest saw the traveler lying beside the road, but passed by on the other side. Likewise there was a Levite who came the same way; this one, too, saw the afflicted traveler and passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, who was taking the same road, also came upon the traveler and, filled with compassion, approached the traveler and dressed the wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then the Samaritan put the wounded person on a donkey, went straight to an inn and there took care of the injured one. The next day the Samaritan took out two silver pieces and gave them to the innkeeper with the request, ‘Look after this person, and if there is any further expense, I’ll repay you on the way back.’
“Which of these three, in your opinion, was the neighbor to the traveler who fell in with the robbers?”
 The answer came, “the one who showed compassion.”   Jesus replied, “Then go and do the same.”

                Hospitality transforms the closed heart into one that can welcome the other, the “them.” It seems that Jesus heart was all about those that the good society of his day considered the “thems.” Jesus reached out and welcomed the outcasts, the women, the widows, the foreigners, the poor, even lepers and prostitutes. While it may be somewhat natural for human beings to draw lines between “us” and “them”, for Jesus the work of the Kin-dom was blurring and crossing those lines.
                The oxymoron of church work is that the more we focus on ourselves (we need more members, we need more money, etc.) the weaker we become. It seems that those who follow Christ gain their health and strength from finding the “them” and offering welcome and succor. Healthy attention to the inner being somehow prepares us to be open to strangers and sojourners.
                This is the weekend of the MLK holiday. While over-used, King’s “I Have a Dream” speech talks of a time when the divisions of race are overcome. Still, today there is a huge us-them divide over race in the United States.
                One of the questions facing us in our Urban Abbey process is “Who is the ‘them’ that the Spirit is leading us to?” 

Monday, January 7, 2013

January 13 "Me"


Me, Us, and Them, Installment 2

Mark 12: 30-31
You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.” The second is this, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” There is no other commandment greater than these.’

                The transformation of SCUCC into an Urban Abbey is going to take us from a place where like-minded people gather on Sunday morning to experience lively worship into a community of people committed to each other and committed to becoming fully human. Full humanity is what we become when we nurture our best selves, and open ourselves to the Divine presence. It means living our lives in search of a balance, and it means doing this every day of our lives. It is Sunday plus plus plus.
                In her book, “Radical Hospitality”, Loni Collins Pratt describes the spiritual rhythm of a monastery as making time for Cloister, Community, and Hospitality. She defines these terms in this way:
“Cloister refers to the time a monk is alone, or you are alone. It is the apartness of solitude and silence. Community refers to your closest relationships, the people with whom you share your life. The monk shares life with his community of brother monks. You have friends, family, maybe a spouse or partner. Hospitality refers to your interactions in all other relationships, especially those outside the security of your comfort zone—relationships with the stranger.

OSB, Fr. Daniel; Loni Collins Pratt (2011-11-01). Radical Hospitality (Kindle Locations 1475-1480). Paraclete Press. Kindle Edition.

                SCUCC’s Urban Abbey is not asking everyone to become a monk or a nun. It will require us to adopt intentionality about melding our daily lives and our spiritual lives. Urban Abbey provides people the support, the means, and an opportunity to live a fully human life. To be fully human integrates the aspects of cloister, community and hospitality. Or, to use language more common to us, “Me, Us, and Them.”
                There are six Sundays until Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. That gives us two Sundays each to explore Me, Us, and Them.
                “Me” is the aspect of our interior lives. It involves the spiritual disciplines of solitude, meditation, and prayer. It asks us to engender hospitality for our own selves.  The love Jesus asks of us (to love God, and to love our neighbor as we love ourselves) begins with a love of self that is honest, thorough-going, and unflinchingly grace filled. It means to enter the shadows of our own heart even if we are afraid of the dark. It means to learn to love the ugly parts of our self just as much as the beautiful ones. Knowing ourselves deeply and honestly and meeting God in the depths of our being is the central importance of “Me” time.
                “Us” refers to our common understanding of community. It is nurturing the relationships in which we are supported and support others. It is in the best sense of the word, family. We dream the best for each other in this community and hold each other accountable for those dreams. Community for the monks means taking a vow to live and seek God with those brothers in the order. Our community is just as intentional though much less formal. In this often frightening, painful world we need a community to keep us safe and give us the strength to go on.

                “Them” are the strangers, the others we don’t know yet. Some may be enemies; some may be friends we haven’t met yet. “Them” are the opportunities to practice the hospitality that changes us and the world. They are “them” until we open our hearts to them.

January 13

Theme: Me, Us, and Them (and God)
Anchor: Tetrahedron
Thread: The Phoenix Affirmations
Frame: “Me”

Psalm 63:5-7
My soul is satisfied as with a rich feast,
    and my mouth praises you with joyful lips
when I think of you on my bed,
    and meditate on you in the watches of the night;
 for you have been my help,
    and in the shadow of your wings I sing for joy.

Hospitality for our own self is the beginning place for the transformative journey. To love and accept our deepest self is to experience the grace of the Spirit who loves and accepts us wholeheartedly. The time we spend in solitude may bring us into that fearsome honesty where we have to confront the parts of ourselves we most despise and try our best to hide, but the hospitality we give even to those parts teaches our hearts to love more and more. The love we give ourselves comes from the same well as the love we extend to our neighbor.
                Two thoughts come to me about the journey into the self. The first is Ursula K. LeGuin’s novel about the wizard Sparrowhawk , “A Wizard of Earthsea.” In that book, everyone has a true name that they guard fiercely because one’s true name has power. Sparrowhawk is a powerful wizard but he is haunted by a terrible shadow who destroys all that Sparrowhawk loves. Sparrowhawk finally chases the shade down into the world of the dead where they come face to face. Knowing that the only way to overcome the shadow is to speak its true name, Sparrowhawk finally realizes the source of the shadow’s name. Sparrowhawk speaks the name, “Ged”, his own true name and embraces the shadow, its reign of terror is over. The shadow was a part of himself, something he had inadvertently created in a moment of pride and ignorance.
                The second thought is a quote from vulnerability researcher Brene Brown. She says that the word courage comes from the Latin word for heart, “cor.” Courage originally meant to tell our own story wholeheartedly.
                The “Me” part requires practice and dedication, much more than an occasional visit in solitude.  This Sunday could be seen as an invitation to enter the realm of solitude.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Me, Us, and Them - Spiritual Movements of Hospitality


Me, Us, and Them

Mark 12: 30-31
You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.” The second is this, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” There is no other commandment greater than these.’

                The transformation of SCUCC into an Urban Abbey is going to take us from a place where like-minded people gather on Sunday morning to experience lively worship into a community of people committed to each other and committed to becoming fully human. Full humanity is what we become when we nurture our best selves, and open ourselves to the Divine presence. It means living our lives in search of a balance, and it means doing this every day of our lives. It is Sunday plus plus plus.
                In her book, “Radical Hospitality”, Loni Collins Pratt describes the spiritual rhythm of a monastery as making time for Cloister, Community, and Hospitality. She defines these terms in this way:

“Cloister refers to the time a monk is alone, or you are alone. It is the apartness of solitude and silence. Community refers to your closest relationships, the people with whom you share your life. The monk shares life with his community of brother monks. You have friends, family, maybe a spouse or partner. Hospitality refers to your interactions in all other relationships, especially those outside the security of your comfort zone—relationships with the stranger.

OSB, Fr. Daniel; Loni Collins Pratt (2011-11-01). Radical Hospitality (Kindle Locations 1475-1480). Paraclete Press. Kindle Edition.

                SCUCC’s Urban Abbey is not asking everyone to become a monk or a nun. It will require us to adopt intentionality about melding our daily lives and our spiritual lives. Urban Abbey provides people the support, the means, and an opportunity to live a fully human life. To be fully human integrates the aspects of cloister, community and hospitality. Or, to use language more common to us, “Me, Us, and Them.”

                There are six Sundays until Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. That gives us two Sundays each to explore Me, Us, and Them.

                “Me” is the aspect of our interior lives. It involves the spiritual disciplines of solitude, meditation, and prayer. It asks us to engender hospitality for our own selves.  The love Jesus asks of us (to love God, and to love our neighbor as we love ourselves) begins with a love of self that is honest, thorough-going, and unflinchingly grace filled. It means to enter the shadows of our own heart even if we are afraid of the dark. It means to learn to love the ugly parts of our self just as much as the beautiful ones. Knowing ourselves deeply and honestly and meeting God in the depths of our being is the central importance of “Me” time.

                “Us” refers to our common understanding of community. It is nurturing the relationships in which we are supported and support others. It is in the best sense of the word, family. We dream the best for each other in this community and hold each other accountable for those dreams. Community for the monks means taking a vow to live and seek God with those brothers in the order. Our community is just as intentional though much less formal. In this often frightening, painful world we need a community to keep us safe and give us the strength to go on.

                “Them” are the strangers, the others we don’t know yet. Some may be enemies; some may be friends we haven’t met yet. “Them” are the opportunities to practice the hospitality that changes us and the world. They are “them” until we open our hearts to them.

January 6 – The feast of the Epiphany
Matthew 2:1-12
Common English Bible (CEB)
After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in the territory of Judea during the rule of King Herod, magi came from the east to Jerusalem. They asked, “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We’ve seen his star in the east, and we’ve come to honor him.” When King Herod heard this, he was troubled, and everyone in Jerusalem was troubled with him. He gathered all the chief priests and the legal experts and asked them where the Christ was to be born. They said, “In Bethlehem of Judea, for this is what the prophet wrote:
You, Bethlehem, land of Judah,
            by no means are you least among the rulers of Judah,
            because from you will come one who governs,
            who will shepherd my people Israel.
Then Herod secretly called for the magi and found out from them the time when the star had first appeared. He sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search carefully for the child. When you’ve found him, report to me so that I too may go and honor him.” When they heard the king, they went; and look, the star they had seen in the east went ahead of them until it stood over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they were filled with joy. They entered the house and saw the child with Mary his mother. Falling to their knees, they honored him. Then they opened their treasure chests and presented him with gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  Because they were warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they went back to their own country by another route.

                On the Christian calendar, January 6 – Epiphany – is the last day of the Christmas season. In many parts of the world it is Epiphany that is the big deal, not Christmas. Epiphany (which means “manifestation”) heralds the arrival of the Magi (foreigners, strangers, non-believers) who come and recognize that this nondescript peasant baby is in fact the foretold Messiah.
                I envision this week as an overview of the whole “Me, Us, Them” theme.  Some aspects of this are easy to name: The Magi are the “them,” those who are strangers to us who nevertheless recognize Christ in their own ways.  The “Us” are those of us who already believe in Christ, the community for whom this story holds no surprises. We are the “us” who named this Sunday the Feast of the Epiphany because we have in one way or another already seen the manifestation. The “Me” is a different telling or hearing of the story: we are the Magi, we are the voice of the Gospel writer, and we are the Christ-child. The “Me” recognizes that we are all too often strangers to ourselves and that it is miraculous indeed that we can catch a glimpse of our own Christ-likeness even if only on an obscure church holy day relegated to living in Christmas’ shadow. If we read the story further, we may also discover that there are times we are also Herod himself, hell-bent on killing the Christ we have just found.
                There are lots of examples in recent news reports that tell us how far we are as human beings from being Christ-like. The woman who hated Muslims and Hindus so much she pushed people onto the subway tracks in New York. The shooter at Newtown. Even the ineffectual Congress which plays politics with taxes but can’t seem to offer any real help when it is needed. And if we are honest, every one of us has to own some aspect of these people in our own beings. Saint Benedict’s Rule tells us that every stranger is to be received as Christ. That affirms that there is at least a little bit of Christ in every person, even us.
                So, “Me, Us, and Them” as seen through the eyes of the Wise Men and Women. Where do strangers to the church find Christ in this world? How can Christians make Christ available in surprising and wonderful ways to a world that couldn’t care less about our holidays? How can we see Christ made manifest even in ourselves? Epiphany affirms that there is a Christ waiting to be found, if anyone is looking.

Sunday, November 25, 2012

Saint Brigid's cross surround by elemental water, fire, air , and earth

Advent 2012
Touch Holiness: The Elements of Mystery

Advent is the season in which we prepare for the birth of Christ, the presence of God incarnated in earthly flesh. I am hoping that this season can be a period of discovering the Divine in the varying aspects of our own lives, bodies, and world. Using the classical four elements of ancient tradition, we will offer ways of encountering the Divine in down-to-earth (or air, or fire, or water) ways, using Celtic traditions as framework.
“Mystery” in title does not refer to the Sherlock Holmes kind of mystery: a puzzle to be solved. It speaks of that deep mystery we encounter at a sunrise, the Grand Canyon, or a lover’s embrace. It is the presence of Life that is beyond all words or colors. It is the ineffable that the name “God” in all its hubris tries to contain but cannot.
            Christmas Eve will culminate with an invitation to be midwives at the birth of Christ in our world. Advent is an opportunity to help midwife that birth in ourselves, in our own lives, to touch that mystery within ourselves that links us to the Mystery of the Universe.

Week One: Water – Holy Wells
John 5:1-9
Some time after this, there was a Jewish festival and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. Now in Jerusalem, near the Sheep Gate, there is a pool with five porticoes; its Hebrew name is Bethesda. The place was crowded with sick people—those who were blind, lame or paralyzed—lying there waiting for the water to move.  An angel of God would come down to the pool from time to time, to stir up the water; the first One to step into the water after it had been stirred up would be completely healed. One person there had been sick for thirty-eight years. Jesus, who knew this person had been sick for a long time, said, “Do you want to be healed?” “Rabbi,” the sick One answered, “I don’t have any ne to put me into the pool once the water has been stirred up. By the time I get there, someone else has gone in ahead of me.” Jesus replied, “Stand up! Pick up your mat and walk.” The individual was immediately healed, and picked up their mat and walked away.

            Just as we are beings of fire, we are also water creatures. Our bodies are somewhere around 60% water, and our brains more than 70%. Lack of water, dehydration, can cause illness, hallucinations and eventually death. We are conceived in water, and gestate in water. And like fire, water is a biblical symbol that points to the mystery of the Divine. Water seemingly already exists when the creation story begins in Genesis. Water divides, appears from a rock, is changed into wine, gets walked upon, and waves behave like a well-trained puppy. These are all signs of God’s presence.
            In Irish lore, wells are holy places. The presence of water coming up through the ground is a signpost of spiritual geography. There are many wells throughout the Celt lands that have saints’ names attached to them. One is Saint Brigid’s well.
            Among the stories told of Brigid’s well is this: Brigid grew to be a young woman of surpassing beauty and was much desired by the men of power in her region. She refused to accept marriage and all the limitations, obligations, and constraints that came with it. So determined was she that she disfigured her own face in order to make herself undesirable. She entered the religious life and established the first house at Kildare. When she washed in the well there, her face was healed and her beauty was restored. Brigid became known for her compassion for the poor and her healing touch.
            Water continues to be a sign of the Divine power of healing. I have always imagined that in the story from John just before Jesus asks the person if they want to be healed, that he reached down into the waters and stirred them up himself. Can we touch the holiness of our own makeup, of the waters of our bodies, the wells of our own spirits? Can we allow the coming Christ to stir those waters so that not only may we be healed but that we may become a holy well for the healing of others? Advent may be a season of appreciating the holiness of water, the source of life. We can begin this season of preparation by receiving and offering the healing of water.


Week Two: Fire – Holy Light
Exodus 3:1-5
Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian; he led his flock beyond the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. There the angel of God appeared to him in a flame of fire out of a bush; he looked, and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed. Then Moses said, ‘I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.’ When the Lord saw that he had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, ‘Moses, Moses!’ And he said, ‘Here I am.’ Then he said, ‘Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.’

            Fire is a biblical symbol of the presence of God. The burning bush, the pillar of fire and smoke that led the Israelites through the wilderness, the tongues of flame at Pentecost all indicate that God is present. God is right there.
            We are creatures of fire. Each cell of our bodies is a burning engine. God is present, then, in every cell. Like the individuals candles lit on Christmas Eve, those sparks illuminate the darkness and remind us that God is within us.
            And like those little candles that we hold in our hands on Christmas Eve, fire exists outside of and around us. That fire casts light and helps us discern our path in life. It may even change our path, as did Moses when he turned aside to look at the lights burning in the bush. His whole life turned back to Egypt and eventually toward the wilderness and the lip of the Promised Land. The light of the star steered the Magi from their home in the East toward Israel. The ancient peoples of the British Isles trusted that starlight and even built Stonehenge to gauge and capture it.
            So the question to entertain this Advent is: Can we find the light of God’s presence around us in the busyness of this season, and can we touch that same light and fire in ourselves?


Week Two: Air – Holy Inspiration
John 3:1-8
Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. He came to Jesus by night and said to him, ‘Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.’ Jesus answered him, ‘Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.’ Nicodemus said to him, ‘How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?’ Jesus answered, ‘Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I said to you, “You must be born from above.” The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.’

            In the bible, the Hebrew word “ruach” means breath and wind and spirit. The Greek word “pneuma” means the same thing. These words do not mean one or the other of those things. They mean and, all three, at the same time. Wind is spirit, breath is wind, spirit is breath. It is our Western languages that differentiate the three separate things.
            So there is some actual linguistic room for confusion when Nicodemus has his conversation with Jesus. Jesus might be saying that breath is breath and flesh is flesh, or maybe he is making a Greek dichotomy between earthliness and spiritual things. Likewise there is wiggle room in the Greek words translated as “born from above.” Another accurate translation is “born again.” When the gospel of John was written, “born again” did not have all the evangelical baggage that has weighted it down for the last several generations. I believe that Jesus meant that we must experience another kind of birth, a new creation like that described in Genesis when the wind/breath/spirit of God brooded over the waters. Jesus then tells us that spirit/wind/breath blows where it chooses, untamable, uncontrollable, unpredictable. So it is with everyone who is born of that Wind/Breath/Spirit.
            From our first birth, we are dependent upon air for our lives. Borning cries suck air in and howl it out as we transition from the amniotic world to the atmospheric world. If the Divine Mystery is some way known in wind/spirit/breath, then we draw God close every time we inhale.
            The Celts had a keen sense of the closeness of the physical and the spiritual worlds. They spoke of holy places where the borders of these two worlds became transparent as “thin places.” Thin in the sense that the border had become thin enough to pass through. Thin enough for the winds to blow from one to the other.
            Some Christians tend to tell us that these human bodies are devoid of anything God-like. They are evil and corrupt and in need of a spiritual redemption. But this Advent I propose that our bodies are actually the thin places where flesh and spirit comingle. We are literally born of the breath/wind/spirit every time we breathe. We are invited to become those wild, unpredictable creatures of divine and human Spirit/Wind/Breath, freed to blow where we choose and unconstrained by the expectations of a world addicted to domination and control.
            Can we experience the Divine Mystery in the blowing wind, in our breath, in our bodies as receptacles of breath? How might we embrace the mystery of the Spirit that conceived the life of Jesus, and in that sense our lives as well?


Week Four: Earth – Holy Bodies
Luke 1:26-38
In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. And he came to her and said, ‘Greetings, favored one! God is with you.’ But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said to her, ‘Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Holy One of God, and God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.’ Mary said to the angel, ‘How can this be, since I am a virgin?’ The angel said to her, ‘The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.’ Then Mary said, ‘Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.’ Then the angel departed from her.

            For all the theological machinations that insist upon Jesus’ divine origins, how only a pure and undefiled scion of God could accomplish the atonement of the world, there seems to be a nagging insistence on Jesus’ humanity that the church could never shake. Adam and Eve were the creatures molded of the earth itself, and even Jesus was made of that same mud. I believe that the most important element of the story of Christ’s birth is not that God became enfleshed in human form, but that humanity was the fit and appropriate and even natural place for the Divine to grow. I don’t believe that Jesus was the only Child of God, but that each and every creature on earth is begotten of the Divine Mystery.
            The Celts sensed that Divine Mystery everywhere. They erected menhirs and trilithons wherever they felt the nearness of the holy. They marked the earth because of its inherent holiness.
            The apostle Paul told the people at Corinth that they were temples of God. In biblical times the temple was not seen as just a place dedicated to God, but as a space where God actually dwelt. For them it was God’s literal home, not just metaphorical. So to be a temple was to be God’s home. It was the ultimate affirmation of our bodies. Earth is the elemental home of God.
            And so the birth of Christ is another affirmation of our bodies as holy. We can be understood as God’s menhirs erected as sign of hope and divinity even for generations who may or may not understand what they mean. To proclaim that “Christ is born” (or will be on Christmas) is to proclaim that we are the stuff God choses to be known through. And to accept that our bodies are not the corruption of holiness but are in some deep way the incarnation of divinity is to sit with Mary in the dark of that room ages ago having that unlikely conversation with Gabriel and finding the wherewithal to also say, “Let it be with me…”


Christmas Eve – Midwifing the Holy Birth
Luke 2:1-7
In those days, Caesar Augustus published a decree ordering a census of the whole Roman world. This first census took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All the people were instructed to go back to the towns of their birth to register. And so Joseph went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to “the city of David”—Bethlehem, in Judea, because Joseph was of the house and lineage of David; he went to register with Mary, his espoused wife, who was pregnant. While they were there, the time came for her delivery. She gave birth to her firstborn, a son; she put him in a simple cloth wrapped like a receiving blanket, and laid him in a feeding trough for cattle, because there was no room for them at the inn.

            We began the season with Brigid, and we come to its culmination with her as well. It is told that as a child she worked as a maid and always wore a tattered blue cloak which she loved very much. One winter evening she went out to gather firewood in the forest and though she knew that land intimately, she found herself lost. She wandered for some time until she came upon a rude stable. Outside was a man, beside himself with worry. Brigid asked him what was wrong and he hastily replied that his wife was inside the stable giving birth, that he didn’t know what to do and there was no other woman available to assist her. He asked if Brigid would go into the stable and offer whatever help she could to his wife. Full of trepidation, she went in and found the woman as her husband had described in the full throes of labor. She offered what comfort she could and when the baby was born she used her tattered cloak as a receiving blanket. She called the man inside and together the couple told her that the baby’s name would be Jesus. Somehow the evening had become very thin indeed and Brigid had found herself in Bethlehem! Soon she bid the holy family farewell and went back into the woods to find her way home. She heard her family calling for her, since she had been gone a very long time. They did not believe her tale until she took off her tattered cloak with which she had held the Christ child and they all saw that it was tattered no longer, but its faded blue was restored like the night sky, and it even shone with a thousand stars!
            Now to you and I this is a fanciful tale by far. But for the Celtic Christians, it was one way they connected their beloved St. Brigid to Christ. She became known as the Mary of the Gaels because she had been Jesus’ midwife. For the Celts, little details like time and geography were no obstacles. Their sense of life’s deep mystery and their confidence in the thin places allowed them to weave this story with all its wonder and power.
            For me, the power of that story is that we all may encounter thin places in our lives that will allow us to enter Christ’s story. We can join Brigid and be the midwife of Christ in our lives and in our world. Hopefully, as we have entertained the holiness of ourselves and our world throughout Advent, Christmas Eve can become a thin place again.
            

Sunday, November 4, 2012



Salt, Sage, and an Extra Plate: Hospitality and Thanksgiving
Anchor: The Thanksgiving Table
Frames: Salt as a gift of hospitality; Sage as an element of preparation; an extra plate at the table, ready for unexpected guests
Thread: The Rule of St. Benedict – "Let everyone that comes be received as Christ"

This short series will focus on the Ministry of Hospitality, particularly practiced in our Thanksgiving traditions. The Ministry of Hospitality challenges us to see Thanksgiving as something much more than just a meal for our own family. It is an opportunity to expand our welcome to include the stranger, the outcast, and the marginalized.

I am not sure who wrote this blog entry (here is the web address, if anyone can help me ascertain its author: http://redbooks.wordpress.com/2007/12/19/hospitality-the-rule-of-benedict/) but I find this reflection on hospitality to be compelling. It frames very well my thinking and feeling about the centrality of hospitality for our ministry and mission.
                “Hospitality is the way we come out of ourselves. It is the first step toward dismantling the barriers of the world. Hospitality is the way we turn a prejudiced world around, one heart at a time.”
Everyone—everyone—is received as Christ. Everyone receives a warm answer—on the phone, at the door, in the office. Sarcasm has no room here. Put-downs have no room here. One-upmanship has no room here. Classism has no room here. The Benedictine heart is to be a place without boundaries, a place where truth of the oneness of all things shatters all barriers, a point where all the differences of the world meet and melt, where Jew and Gentile, slave and free, woman and man all come together as equals.
But whatever happens to the heart is the beginning of revolution. When I let strange people and strange ideas into my heart, I am beginning to shape a new world. Hospitality of the heart could change UK domestic policies. Hospitality of the heart could change UK foreign policy. Hospitality of the heart could make my world a world of potential friends rather than a world of probable enemies.
Yet, Benedictine hospitality is more than simply thinking new thoughts or feeling new feelings about people we either thought harshly of before, or, more likely, failed to think about at all. Benedictine hospitality demands that we open our lives to others as well. Benedictine hospitality demands the extra effort, the extra time, the extra care that stretches beyond and above the order of the day. Real hospitality for our time requires that we consider how to take the concerns of the poor, the hungry, the lonely, the dying into our own lives.
It is not enough simply to change our minds about things or to come to feel compassion for something that had never touched us before or even to change our own way of life to let in the concerns of others. Real hospitality lies in bending some efforts to change things, to make a haven for the helpless, to be a voice for the voiceless. Hospitality means we take people into the space that is our lives and minds and our hearts and our efforts. Hospitality is the way we come out of ourselves. It is the first step toward dismantling the barriers of the world. Hospitality is the way we turn a prejudiced world around, one heart at a time.

November 11 - Salt
Matthew 5:13
‘You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled underfoot.
Colossians 4:5-6
Conduct yourselves wisely towards outsiders, making the most of the time. Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer everyone.

                Many a sermon has been preached on how salt adds flavor to food and since we Christians are said to be salt for the earth we are there to enhance the flavor of life. I’ve always thought that was a pretty thin exposition of whatever Jesus meant. There are sources that explain that salt was a sign of hospitality in ancient days. Even in more recent times, in Russia, bread and salt were gifts given to travelers and pilgrims. If salt is indeed a sign of the gift of hospitality, then when Jesus tells us that we are salt for the earth it is we who become a living symbol of Christ’s gift of hospitality for the whole world. We become the gift given as a sign and promise that strangers and even enemies are safe, welcomed, and offered peace. That is a much more challenging role for us as Christians than simply being nice people living piously.
                As we head toward the Thanksgiving holiday, that kind of hospitality expands our traditions beyond just a big meal for our immediate family and friends. The Ministry of Hospitality asks us to make our thanksgiving an event which signals peace and welcome for all people. To be “salt for the earth” goes far beyond simply making sure that there is salt on the table when the turkey is served. Our Studio experience asks us how SCUCC can enliven our experience and understanding of the hospitality that Christ calls us to.


November 18 - Sage
1 John 3:1-3
See what love the Divine has given us that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are. The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know God. Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when Christ is revealed, we will be like Christ, for we will see clearly. And all who have this hope in Christ purify themselves, just as Christ is pure.

                Sage is a common herb on the Thanksgiving table. Many stuffing recipes make us of the flavorful leaves. It is somewhat unique on out tables because of its history being used by many Native American peoples in various rituals. Smudging with sage is an act of purification, of cleansing. It can be seen as a medicine that releases a person or a place from its past, opening to a new, healthier future.
                I have visited the Wounded Knee massacre site in South Dakota. On the top of a hill is a simple chain-link fence that marks the mass grave of the victims of that massacre. On that hill you can see where the soldier stationed their Hotchkiss guns and the gully where the Sioux were trapped in the freezing cold. Also there are the burned out remains of the church destroyed in the 1970’s when the FBI and AIM confronted each other. The whole area still feels somber. And yet sage grows wild on that same hillside, as if it is offering its power to cleanse that area of its violent past.
                The connection between sage and hospitality may seem a little oblique. I see it as a gracious act of hospitality to be released from all in the past that can bind us and blind us. I don’t see it as a moral purification that 1 John refers to, but more of a sage purification. In Christ we are smudged, so to speak, healed and set free for a new life. Hospitality sees the potential for newness, not the fetters of the old.
                As we gather around our tables spread for the Thanksgiving feast, maybe the aroma or the flavor of sage can make that meal one which welcomes the new person and frees us from old patterns. The Ministry of Hospitality asks us to welcome the possibility of who we may yet be as individuals and as a society. How might sage symbolize for SCUCC the hospitable process of purification?

November 25 – An Extra Plate
I don’t have a particular scripture for this week. Instead I am reminded of the Passover tradition where an extra place setting is prepared for Elijah the prophet. Most specifically, an extra wine glass is poured and an extra chair is placed at the table for the prophet. The idea is that the return of Elijah will signal the messianic age where God completes the world in justice and peace. Room is left at the Passover table in case this is the year he arrives. One tradition has the children open the front door to look and see if he is coming. I found on commentator online who expands that tradition:
Once we used to leave an empty seat for Eliyahu Hanavi, for Elijah the Prophet, at the Seder table. Tradition tells us that Elijah will come on Pesach to herald the coming of the Messiah. So we set a place for him and pour out a cup of wine, in case this year he comes. Over the years there are many traditions that have evolved regarding an empty chair at the Passover Seder table.

Do you remember Seder night over 50 years ago? We had empty seats at our family Seders after the Nazi Holocaust.

Do you remember Seder night 20 years ago? We had empty seats in our homes for a Jew in Soviet Russia.

Do you remember Seder night 15 years ago? We had empty seats in our home for a Jew in Iraq or Iran.

The chair and the place setting hold open the possibility that all will be reunited, even as the present grief is acknowledged.
                While I know that Thanksgiving is past by this week, I want to suggest that we add this concept of hospitality for all our celebrations: we set an extra place for whoever might arrive! When we hold a place open, we are prepared for whatever unexpected stranger (or even family member!) may arrive. Blair Frank, (theologian, activist and gardener) says that part of hospitality is making preparation for unexpected guests. For him, gardening is an act of hospitality because it provides the produce to share with whoever may cross his threshold. The extra place setting symbolizes our readiness for any guest at our table. It is an act and a posture of hospitality. What can we do at SCUCC to keep an extra place ready?