Happy Easter!
I hope your Easter Sunday was a joyful one. I had several fun kid experiences:
As Heather notes, a new person has been added to the ranks of the resurrected.
My favorite kid-experience was of a toddler at our evening church. She had beautiful curly hair, and big brown eyes, and she came over to us with her mom, who was toting a basket of big plastic eggs. The little girl reached in and handed each of us an egg, and a big smile lit up her face as soon as we said thank you. She was so happy for the chance to give to us, and was totally unconcerned about wanting some for herself.
Sometimes I think God is like this happy child. She's just so full of joy at the chance to give that she doesn't even consider the cost, but gives without reservation. A beautiful image for your Easter season.
Monday, March 28, 2005
Friday, March 25, 2005
"Good" Friday
A lot of times people get caught up in Jesus' suffering as being necessary for our redemption--that God had to punish someone innocent to make our sins go away. To my mind, what is more important to remember about Good Friday is that God, in human form, never stepped out of the experience to say "I don't have to go through this suffering, I'll use my divine powers to get out of it." God suffered with us then, and in our deepest pain suffers with us now. That's the good news of "Good" Friday.
A lot of times people get caught up in Jesus' suffering as being necessary for our redemption--that God had to punish someone innocent to make our sins go away. To my mind, what is more important to remember about Good Friday is that God, in human form, never stepped out of the experience to say "I don't have to go through this suffering, I'll use my divine powers to get out of it." God suffered with us then, and in our deepest pain suffers with us now. That's the good news of "Good" Friday.
Feet
Last night my church had a communion and footwashing service to celebrate Maundy Thursday. This is to follow the story of the last supper as told in the gospel of John. Jesus, the night before he's about to die, gets down on his hands and knees and washes the feet of all the disciples. Even though Jesus is their teacher, and therefore their superior, he takes on the role of their servant and cares for them in a very direct, physical way.
The worship service was very powerful for me. It is quite an experience to have someone else wash your feet--there is a tremendous sense of caring and love, really. But it takes some daring, too, to let somebody handle something so ordinary and ugly as our feet. It takes vulnerability and strength to accept being loved without judgement this way. And it was a gift, too, to wash someone else's feet and recognize that the work of ministry takes a similar approach--sensitive hands, a willingness to get dirty, and awe in the presence of God.
On Maundy Thursday Jesus takes the commonplace--again--and turns it into a deep expression of love and community.
Last night my church had a communion and footwashing service to celebrate Maundy Thursday. This is to follow the story of the last supper as told in the gospel of John. Jesus, the night before he's about to die, gets down on his hands and knees and washes the feet of all the disciples. Even though Jesus is their teacher, and therefore their superior, he takes on the role of their servant and cares for them in a very direct, physical way.
The worship service was very powerful for me. It is quite an experience to have someone else wash your feet--there is a tremendous sense of caring and love, really. But it takes some daring, too, to let somebody handle something so ordinary and ugly as our feet. It takes vulnerability and strength to accept being loved without judgement this way. And it was a gift, too, to wash someone else's feet and recognize that the work of ministry takes a similar approach--sensitive hands, a willingness to get dirty, and awe in the presence of God.
On Maundy Thursday Jesus takes the commonplace--again--and turns it into a deep expression of love and community.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Bread and Wine
Today is Maundy Thursday, according to the Western Christian Calendar. What the heck is that? you may well wonder. In the story of Jesus' arrest, death, and resurrection, Maundy Thursday is the calm interlude before the storm of violence that ends with Jesus' death. On that night, Jesus gathers with the disciples to eat a Passover meal with them, and at the end of this meal commemorating Israel's escape from slavery in Egypt he holds up a loaf of bread, blesses it and gives it to his friends, telling them to remember him whenever they eat it. Then he says a final blessing over the cup of wine that comes at the end of the dinner, and gives it to his friends telling them to remember him whenever they drink it.
It never fails to surprise me to see how God makes use of the ordinary to communicate eternity. A loaf of bread becomes a reminder of Jesus' life, the very physicality of his nature, and the friendship he shared with his followers. The cup of wine becomes a testament not just to good times shared, but to the new agreement made between God and the people through Jesus, that everlasting life that begins in this world. These are the kinds of things we have sitting around the house, the kinds of things that some people eat every day. In choosing these simple elements, Jesus is pointing out something profound: there is divinity in the day-to-day. What seems ordinary can be the most important thing. What would it mean to live on this principle, looking for the extraordinary in each day's normal occurances? Accepting God's nourishment of our bodies as the miracle that it is, and sharing the joys of life freely and gratefully.
Blessings on your Maundy Thursday
Today is Maundy Thursday, according to the Western Christian Calendar. What the heck is that? you may well wonder. In the story of Jesus' arrest, death, and resurrection, Maundy Thursday is the calm interlude before the storm of violence that ends with Jesus' death. On that night, Jesus gathers with the disciples to eat a Passover meal with them, and at the end of this meal commemorating Israel's escape from slavery in Egypt he holds up a loaf of bread, blesses it and gives it to his friends, telling them to remember him whenever they eat it. Then he says a final blessing over the cup of wine that comes at the end of the dinner, and gives it to his friends telling them to remember him whenever they drink it.
It never fails to surprise me to see how God makes use of the ordinary to communicate eternity. A loaf of bread becomes a reminder of Jesus' life, the very physicality of his nature, and the friendship he shared with his followers. The cup of wine becomes a testament not just to good times shared, but to the new agreement made between God and the people through Jesus, that everlasting life that begins in this world. These are the kinds of things we have sitting around the house, the kinds of things that some people eat every day. In choosing these simple elements, Jesus is pointing out something profound: there is divinity in the day-to-day. What seems ordinary can be the most important thing. What would it mean to live on this principle, looking for the extraordinary in each day's normal occurances? Accepting God's nourishment of our bodies as the miracle that it is, and sharing the joys of life freely and gratefully.
Blessings on your Maundy Thursday
Monday, March 21, 2005
The Fight Over Terri Schiavo
So Congress has put together some plans for keeping a woman in Florida from having her feeding tube removed. She's had brain damage for 15 years and hasn't recovered from it, although her parents and sister talk about being able to have small interactions with her. Her husband is now living with another woman, with whom he has some children. Different courts and legislative bodies have allowed and then disallowed the removal of her feeding tube, with the result that she has almost starved to death a couple of times. And now, most recently, the US Congress has gotten into the act, in a rush for the door to prove they are in favor of "life."
Here's a very good blogsite on the case--it seems to lay the issues out in a pretty neutral way.
There are several troubling aspects to this tragic story:
1. That someone could have a heart attack like this from being bulemic and drinking too much ice tea.
2. That Congress is using extraordinary measures to prevent a woman's peaceful death, in contradiction with what a court found to be clear and compelling evidence that she would make the decision for herself otherwise.
3. That this is not necessarily out of concern for the woman involved. From what I can tell, she's being used as a political football.
4. That the woman's parents are unable to come to grips with the reality that their daughter is never going to recover.
To me, this last problem is what instigates all the others. Blinded by love or something like it, her parents take small signs of connection to mean something other than simple reflexes. So they hold onto hope against all odds, and because she was young and her body was strong when tragedy struck, her physical death can be prolonged for a long time. Should it be prolonged until her parents can accept it? How many parents would willingly accept the death of a child?
A few questions this situation raises:
What makes life worth living? If Terri is experiencing a dreamlike state of comfort and pleasant sensations, life might not be a burden to her. However, not having any conscious thoughts or feelings and not being able to understand her situation may make her life painful and difficult to bear. Is the life of the body worth preserving if there is no mind to go along with it?
How can families learn to avoid difficult conflicts like this one? Is it possible to be reasonable and forgiving in the face of a terrible loss--the loss of a child? What are Terri's parents' expectations for her? What could prevent them from making terrible accusations against her husband in an attempt to discredit him?
What does this teach us about healing and disability? Some people call Terri a disabled woman wrongly sentenced to death. But clearly there is a difference between being brain dead and having a disability. God blesses and loves people who have disabilities, and I believe God loves Terri, but sometimes healing comes through death rather than restored health.
So Congress has put together some plans for keeping a woman in Florida from having her feeding tube removed. She's had brain damage for 15 years and hasn't recovered from it, although her parents and sister talk about being able to have small interactions with her. Her husband is now living with another woman, with whom he has some children. Different courts and legislative bodies have allowed and then disallowed the removal of her feeding tube, with the result that she has almost starved to death a couple of times. And now, most recently, the US Congress has gotten into the act, in a rush for the door to prove they are in favor of "life."
Here's a very good blogsite on the case--it seems to lay the issues out in a pretty neutral way.
There are several troubling aspects to this tragic story:
1. That someone could have a heart attack like this from being bulemic and drinking too much ice tea.
2. That Congress is using extraordinary measures to prevent a woman's peaceful death, in contradiction with what a court found to be clear and compelling evidence that she would make the decision for herself otherwise.
3. That this is not necessarily out of concern for the woman involved. From what I can tell, she's being used as a political football.
4. That the woman's parents are unable to come to grips with the reality that their daughter is never going to recover.
To me, this last problem is what instigates all the others. Blinded by love or something like it, her parents take small signs of connection to mean something other than simple reflexes. So they hold onto hope against all odds, and because she was young and her body was strong when tragedy struck, her physical death can be prolonged for a long time. Should it be prolonged until her parents can accept it? How many parents would willingly accept the death of a child?
A few questions this situation raises:
What makes life worth living? If Terri is experiencing a dreamlike state of comfort and pleasant sensations, life might not be a burden to her. However, not having any conscious thoughts or feelings and not being able to understand her situation may make her life painful and difficult to bear. Is the life of the body worth preserving if there is no mind to go along with it?
How can families learn to avoid difficult conflicts like this one? Is it possible to be reasonable and forgiving in the face of a terrible loss--the loss of a child? What are Terri's parents' expectations for her? What could prevent them from making terrible accusations against her husband in an attempt to discredit him?
What does this teach us about healing and disability? Some people call Terri a disabled woman wrongly sentenced to death. But clearly there is a difference between being brain dead and having a disability. God blesses and loves people who have disabilities, and I believe God loves Terri, but sometimes healing comes through death rather than restored health.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Happy St. Patrick's Day!
Sure I'm not Catholic, so I technically don't celebrate most saint's days. But on the other hand, I am a quarter Irish like half the country, and so I wish you the best, and don't overdo the green dye.
A thought for you: As I understand it, St. Patrick was the first to evangelize Ireland and is credited with driving all the snakes out. I wonder, though, if it was a good idea to drive out all the snakes. Snakes are creepy to some people, and some of them are poisonous, but on the other hand some are harmless and they eat bugs, helping to keep nature in balance.
What personal snakes are you trying to drive out without first considering their beneficial side? What parts of our souls seem undesirable at first, but on second glance turn out to be important, or even strangely beautiful?
Sure I'm not Catholic, so I technically don't celebrate most saint's days. But on the other hand, I am a quarter Irish like half the country, and so I wish you the best, and don't overdo the green dye.
A thought for you: As I understand it, St. Patrick was the first to evangelize Ireland and is credited with driving all the snakes out. I wonder, though, if it was a good idea to drive out all the snakes. Snakes are creepy to some people, and some of them are poisonous, but on the other hand some are harmless and they eat bugs, helping to keep nature in balance.
What personal snakes are you trying to drive out without first considering their beneficial side? What parts of our souls seem undesirable at first, but on second glance turn out to be important, or even strangely beautiful?
Monday, March 14, 2005
Friday, March 11, 2005
A-Theism and Belief
This is what I get for wandering into online chat rooms. One of the threads I was reading started out innocently enough: somebody (presumably Christian) asks in a not-so-subtle way "Hey atheists, why don't you believe what I do?" (Well, it was more subtle than that, but not by much) and he actually got some good answers.
Some people thought, for example, that science would eventually explain everything, since it has been widening our knowledge about the universe for many years now. Other people decided that the evidence for God was shaky at best, and that the counterweighing evidence of evil in the world was more than enough proof against God's existence.
One post suggested taking a week to live in the shoes of an atheist--to try to figure out why they would believe what they would believe, and where they would find meaning in their lives. I have a hard time even imagining how to do this. Which I think brings me to a question about belief. Just as I am stymied (and a little nervous) in the face of taking on atheist beliefs, I can imagine that someone who really doesn't believe in God's existence would have a very hard time suddenly choosing to accept God's active work in the world as a certainty.
But belief is a funny thing. Coming from my own framework, I would call it a gift from God. It's not something we can choose. It's more something that develops as we evaluate our own experiences and the experiences of others. The development of belief is not a one-time shot, but an ongoing process. Religion gives us a framework for understanding the more mystical of our experiences, but it's not like I can decide today to trade in one framework for another. Belief is something more to be discerned than decided on, and one of my favorite questions will continue to be: What do I really believe?
This is what I get for wandering into online chat rooms. One of the threads I was reading started out innocently enough: somebody (presumably Christian) asks in a not-so-subtle way "Hey atheists, why don't you believe what I do?" (Well, it was more subtle than that, but not by much) and he actually got some good answers.
Some people thought, for example, that science would eventually explain everything, since it has been widening our knowledge about the universe for many years now. Other people decided that the evidence for God was shaky at best, and that the counterweighing evidence of evil in the world was more than enough proof against God's existence.
One post suggested taking a week to live in the shoes of an atheist--to try to figure out why they would believe what they would believe, and where they would find meaning in their lives. I have a hard time even imagining how to do this. Which I think brings me to a question about belief. Just as I am stymied (and a little nervous) in the face of taking on atheist beliefs, I can imagine that someone who really doesn't believe in God's existence would have a very hard time suddenly choosing to accept God's active work in the world as a certainty.
But belief is a funny thing. Coming from my own framework, I would call it a gift from God. It's not something we can choose. It's more something that develops as we evaluate our own experiences and the experiences of others. The development of belief is not a one-time shot, but an ongoing process. Religion gives us a framework for understanding the more mystical of our experiences, but it's not like I can decide today to trade in one framework for another. Belief is something more to be discerned than decided on, and one of my favorite questions will continue to be: What do I really believe?
Thursday, March 10, 2005
The Convergence of Science and Religion
Thanks to Tara for sending me an interesting article about a physicist who's received a prize for advancing knowledge about theology.
Thanks to Tara for sending me an interesting article about a physicist who's received a prize for advancing knowledge about theology.
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Serendipity
So I've been praying over and thinking over and working over the development of a new ministry for young adults, and lately I've been having strange little coincidences happen.
For example, I had a meeting at a Chinese restaurant with some church folks to talk about the idea, and my fortune at the end was "You are headed in the right direction."
Or, a few weeks ago I had an idea for working with existing churches to do outreach with the people in their neighborhoods (a change from my earlier approach). A few days later when I was praying, I decided to read my preaching text for two weeks from now, and all of the texts were focused on resurrection. One in particular on the resurrection of Israel.
I find these things encouraging, but at the same time don't know how much stock to put in them. Does God really work this way? Manuevering a fortune cookie through many random transfers to come to my plate? Deciding which lectionary texts I'll be preaching for so that I can read them at the right time? Or am I getting the messages because I am particularly primed to accept them?
A pleasing puzzle--to try to decide whether God sends love-notes.
So I've been praying over and thinking over and working over the development of a new ministry for young adults, and lately I've been having strange little coincidences happen.
For example, I had a meeting at a Chinese restaurant with some church folks to talk about the idea, and my fortune at the end was "You are headed in the right direction."
Or, a few weeks ago I had an idea for working with existing churches to do outreach with the people in their neighborhoods (a change from my earlier approach). A few days later when I was praying, I decided to read my preaching text for two weeks from now, and all of the texts were focused on resurrection. One in particular on the resurrection of Israel.
I find these things encouraging, but at the same time don't know how much stock to put in them. Does God really work this way? Manuevering a fortune cookie through many random transfers to come to my plate? Deciding which lectionary texts I'll be preaching for so that I can read them at the right time? Or am I getting the messages because I am particularly primed to accept them?
A pleasing puzzle--to try to decide whether God sends love-notes.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Likes: SOH
Heather e-mailed this to me from this week's Blacklist
"FINALLY, A COOL CHURCH: I won't go into why I like going to church. I know it's uncool, but I do. The problem is finding a church that suits my personality. So after many abortive attempts with racist, sexist and intolerant churches, I found one that seemed to suit me. Great music, down-to-earth preaching and all done in under an hour. Even better, there's a Saturday service, "Same music, same message, sleep in on Sunday." I think we've got a winner here. So last Saturday found me at church. The A/V featured Dilbert cartoons, and I was getting the impression that there was something pleasingly subversive going on. When the pastor got up to deliver the message, he pointed to the mocked up "cubicles" on the stage and said, "They're perfect, aren't they? Right down to the TPS report covers." A small giggle swept the congregation. "Come on, you've seen Office Space, haven't you? It's only the BEST movie ever made about working." Finding a church where not only is there no hellfire and damnation, but a pastor with a great sense of humor. A"
Must... use... Dilbert... in... next... sermon...
Heather e-mailed this to me from this week's Blacklist
"FINALLY, A COOL CHURCH: I won't go into why I like going to church. I know it's uncool, but I do. The problem is finding a church that suits my personality. So after many abortive attempts with racist, sexist and intolerant churches, I found one that seemed to suit me. Great music, down-to-earth preaching and all done in under an hour. Even better, there's a Saturday service, "Same music, same message, sleep in on Sunday." I think we've got a winner here. So last Saturday found me at church. The A/V featured Dilbert cartoons, and I was getting the impression that there was something pleasingly subversive going on. When the pastor got up to deliver the message, he pointed to the mocked up "cubicles" on the stage and said, "They're perfect, aren't they? Right down to the TPS report covers." A small giggle swept the congregation. "Come on, you've seen Office Space, haven't you? It's only the BEST movie ever made about working." Finding a church where not only is there no hellfire and damnation, but a pastor with a great sense of humor. A"
Must... use... Dilbert... in... next... sermon...
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