At the Navigate Conference in Florence, KY this week, DG Hollums asked these questions at the end of his talk:
Does this expect them to come to us? Is there sending involved?
How are relationships forming outside our walls?
Does this promote the kingdom or ourselves/churches?
Are people’s lives being transformed through relationships? Is the community you live in being transformed?Can this become a movement that you no longer control? Is the spirit in control?
I'm going to use these for prayer foci, bible study questions, house church conversation, vestry/council challenge.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
discipling college students
Did you know "disciple" is a verb?
Friend and office-mate Chris asked some folk for thoughts on "simple steps for discipling college students." Keeping them simple as asked, here are my thoughts:
Friend and office-mate Chris asked some folk for thoughts on "simple steps for discipling college students." Keeping them simple as asked, here are my thoughts:
- Meet them where they are. So where are they? Go there.
- Provide free food but don't stop there.
- Listen. Really listen. Don't tell them what to do.
- Have clear expectations of their journey--don't refrain from challenging them.
Friday, October 02, 2009
overly-sentimental or needful realism?
I just put Abby to bed. She was sleepy enough to go gracefully, which doesn't always happen, and so adorable as she rubbed her eyes and blinked at me. Just before I'd read her Pajama Time and Mama, Do You Love Me? and before that I'd changed her into clean diaper and PJs and fed her potatoes and carrots and zucchini for dinner, which she loved.
And all I can think about right now is all the babies in the world right this moment who have none of that. The vegetables, the clean diapers, the books, the love, the intention. And I'm stuck between being aware of my mama-hormones which make me more susceptible to flights of emotion and of the world's deep need.
Recently NPR reported on the Cameron Todd Willingham case in Texas. A number of years ago, Mr. Willingham's house burned down, killing his three small children. He was tried, convicted, and executed for arson and murder. Years later, it's coming to light that the forensic evidence used to convict him was based on folklore, evidence which even at the time was considered laughable. What killed me was a reporter noting that witnesses on the night of the fire said they saw Mr. Willingham on his porch, covered in soot, screaming, "My babies are burning up!" I can't even imagine. No, that's wrong. I can imagine, and that's the problem.
Children have no way of raising themselves, of protecting themselves, of making their own decisions. It could be said that they make decisions all the time. Sure, we're in agreement about that when it comes to which block to pick up or whether something should be chewed or later whether someone is a friend or an enemy. But children are basically helpless, little people in a world of big, violent, forgetful, selfish people.
It could also be said that, particularly in America, we coddle our kids too much. That we protect them from things far beyond reasonable measures. And that every argument falling from a politician's mouth includes something about protecting the children. All true as far as they go.
BUT the painful truth is that there are millions of children in the world whose parents don't or can't take care of them. Who eat junk food or even garbage. Who hear only "don't" and never "good job." Who never hear Pajama Time or Mama, Do You Love Me?. Whose understanding of life is insecurity and hunger and fear. And that's a sin.
I'm feeling increasingly called to consider these issues. If you have thoughts on the subject or agencies already in existence you'd like to share, please do so on this blog's original site: http://justusetpeccator.blogspot.com.
And all I can think about right now is all the babies in the world right this moment who have none of that. The vegetables, the clean diapers, the books, the love, the intention. And I'm stuck between being aware of my mama-hormones which make me more susceptible to flights of emotion and of the world's deep need.
Recently NPR reported on the Cameron Todd Willingham case in Texas. A number of years ago, Mr. Willingham's house burned down, killing his three small children. He was tried, convicted, and executed for arson and murder. Years later, it's coming to light that the forensic evidence used to convict him was based on folklore, evidence which even at the time was considered laughable. What killed me was a reporter noting that witnesses on the night of the fire said they saw Mr. Willingham on his porch, covered in soot, screaming, "My babies are burning up!" I can't even imagine. No, that's wrong. I can imagine, and that's the problem.
Children have no way of raising themselves, of protecting themselves, of making their own decisions. It could be said that they make decisions all the time. Sure, we're in agreement about that when it comes to which block to pick up or whether something should be chewed or later whether someone is a friend or an enemy. But children are basically helpless, little people in a world of big, violent, forgetful, selfish people.
It could also be said that, particularly in America, we coddle our kids too much. That we protect them from things far beyond reasonable measures. And that every argument falling from a politician's mouth includes something about protecting the children. All true as far as they go.
BUT the painful truth is that there are millions of children in the world whose parents don't or can't take care of them. Who eat junk food or even garbage. Who hear only "don't" and never "good job." Who never hear Pajama Time or Mama, Do You Love Me?. Whose understanding of life is insecurity and hunger and fear. And that's a sin.
I'm feeling increasingly called to consider these issues. If you have thoughts on the subject or agencies already in existence you'd like to share, please do so on this blog's original site: http://justusetpeccator.blogspot.com.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
some thoughts about week 1
- I recently heard that if you're not exhausted by the end of the first week of classes in the campus ministry game, you're not doing it right. It's Wednesday and I've been exhausted for at least two days.
- But it has been phenomenal! At The Edge House at UC, Sunday evening's Make-Your-Own Sundae drew about 70 students throughout the two hours and Monday's Mini-Masterpieces and pizza at least 80. Last night's Theology Throwdown (thanks DG for the name) drew about 15 or so and we had a feisty, quickly-moving conversation. It's amazing to finally be doing the thing I've been preparing for for months.
- AND my boss, the lovely and vivacious Larry, told me that what I'm doing--house revamp, ministry reboot--is what he's been dreaming fondly about for years.
- And what's maybe more amazing is my co-planners. Co-ministers? Let's go with friends. Jamie and Chris have been gifts to me in my stumbling around in the campus ministry dark. We're all new or relatively new to the party and are leaning on one another for many things. Absolutely no way I could have survived this week without them. And we're only half-way there.
- I read Benson Hines' campus ministry blog and feel...lazy. Or amateur. He's got such great stories and ideas, most culled from ministries around the country, and I wonder if I'll ever be in a position to do what he writes about. But that's just the exhausted part of me. The other, energetic part says, "let's go!"
Thursday, September 17, 2009
today I am doing a new thing
I've figured out what's got me running so scared about campus ministry. I know, I put forth this air of utter competence and joyous energy--how could I possibly have doubts? Well, I do. Don't you?
It's not meeting people. It's not doing cool programs and/or worship. It's not interacting with faculty and administration. It's the students.
More specifically, it's empowering the students to be leaders. Everyone who's anyone at the campus ministry party says the key to successful (however you define that) ministry is a student-owned and -run operation. I'm all for it. It's all about the priesthood of all believers, about empowering the laity, about the priest/minister/grand poobah not being in charge but just another guy with a specific set of skills. It's about community sustainability. Again, I'm all for it. I'm just not sure I'm all about it.
Do I, extroverted and sometimes control-adjacent Alice, have the skills and gifts for giving the power to someone else? Looking back at five years in my previous parish, I wonder. I created an elected youth council to govern and vision for the youth group and many of the youth were active in planning and encouraging others. But they weren't where I had hoped. But process theology tells me that we never truly arrive--we're always on the way. It's less about hitting a particular, self-inflicted goal and more about how you exist and change in relationship.
Pray for me and for officemates Chris and Jamie that we stay semi-sane and feel the breath of God periodically.
It's not meeting people. It's not doing cool programs and/or worship. It's not interacting with faculty and administration. It's the students.
More specifically, it's empowering the students to be leaders. Everyone who's anyone at the campus ministry party says the key to successful (however you define that) ministry is a student-owned and -run operation. I'm all for it. It's all about the priesthood of all believers, about empowering the laity, about the priest/minister/grand poobah not being in charge but just another guy with a specific set of skills. It's about community sustainability. Again, I'm all for it. I'm just not sure I'm all about it.
Do I, extroverted and sometimes control-adjacent Alice, have the skills and gifts for giving the power to someone else? Looking back at five years in my previous parish, I wonder. I created an elected youth council to govern and vision for the youth group and many of the youth were active in planning and encouraging others. But they weren't where I had hoped. But process theology tells me that we never truly arrive--we're always on the way. It's less about hitting a particular, self-inflicted goal and more about how you exist and change in relationship.
Pray for me and for officemates Chris and Jamie that we stay semi-sane and feel the breath of God periodically.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
someone else's blog
In my continuing, in-depth series of posts of other people's blogs, check out officemate Chris Bean the Nazarene (say it out loud)'s recent post.
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
excellent article
Wonderful opinion piece about whitewater and American willful ignorance.
Only you can prevent stupidity.
Only you can prevent stupidity.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
today's sermon--Song of Songs 2.8-13
Grace and peace to you, brothers and sisters, from the mission field of University of Cincinnati. A mission field, I say, because it is ripe, not for the harvest, but for discovery. I am poised and ready for discovering how the good news already present, where God’s already acting. This is sharing the good news—not my sharing with them, but their sharing with me and one another how God has acted in their lives. Evangelism is about that—joy and excitement in our life together, pleasure in seeing where God’s acting in mysterious ways. Evangelism is about sharing our delight with other people. It’s like falling in love with God and God’s creation.
Let me ask you a question: What’s it like for you to be in love? Think about it—think about a time you fell in love. Could be any age—your Kindergarten sweetheart, your high school crush, your first boyfriend or girlfriend, your spouse—what was it like? In the beginning, you get that heart-pounding, skin-tingling anticipation, longing to be with the object of your desire. Later, there’s deep, abiding trust, comfort in one another’s skins and minds and continual challenge. And even later, you become like one another, like a man grows to look like his dog.
And everything in your life changes because of that love. You changed your schedule so you could catch a glimpse, changed your hair so he or she would catch a glimpse of you. You changed how you spoke, how you dressed, how you thought—whether you knew it or not. Love changes everything. Now, hold that feeling in your heart, and now think about a time you fell in love with God—this church, this denomination, this people, this Christianity. What was that heart-pounding moment? When did you long to be a part of it? Have you reached the stage of trust and comfort and challenge with the people of Roselawn Lutheran? How often have you fallen in love with the church? How many times have you fallen in love with Jesus? And everything in your life changed because of that love, or had the potential to change, anyway. You changed your schedules so you could be present in the community on Sunday, you changed how you talked or dressed or acted, you changed your reaction to a panhandler or a grocery clerk or your partner, you sacrificed and you rejoiced—whether you knew it or not. It wasn’t rules or rationalism which made you stay—it was love. Love changes everything.
You may think I mean metaphorically “in love”—like being overcome with compassion and connection with a community and thought it was neat. All great things, but I’m talking about really being in love—like, you like us like us, you know? Let me give you an example. There are two choices for the Hebrew Scripture lesson for today. The lesson chosen for this parish on this day was from Deuteronomy—you just heard it read a moment—“you must neither add anything to what I command you nor take anything away from it but keep the commandments of the Lord your God with which I am charging you.” It’s simple, clear, directive…sterile? “Don’t add or take away anything”—implies no interpretation, no change, no vitality. There are many folk who take comfort in rules, laws, clarity. Our Jewish brothers and sisters would say the Law is a gift from the God who loves us. They’re right—God is indeed already active in the Law. But God is a living God, a God of surprises and mysteries, a God who cannot be contained by our words. Remember Abram wheedled with God to save Sodom—God changed his mind. Jesus changed his mind when the Syro-Phonecian woman showed him her faith. Could God also be a God who changes? Could God need us… for deeper relationship? Could God need us to requite God’s love?
The other option for the Hebrew Scripture lesson was from the Song of Songs. We rarely get to read from Song, I’m not sure why—too challenging? too sexy? too inappropriate? Yet we’re all obsessed with sex—whether we’re doing it right, how to have it more often, who other people are having it with, how they feel about it, what it looks like (sexy or icky), whether our kids should know about it—and here it is in the Bible in glorious, beautiful words:
8
The voice of my beloved! Look, he comes,
leaping upon the mountains, bounding over the hills.
9My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag. Look, there he stands behind our wall,
gazing in at the windows, looking through the lattice.
10My beloved speaks and says to me:
‘Arise, my love, my fair one,
and come away; 11for now the winter is past, the rain is over and gone.
12The flowers appear on the earth;
the time of singing has come,
and the voice of the turtle-dove
is heard in our land.
13The fig tree puts forth its figs,
and the vines are in blossom;
they give forth fragrance.
Arise, my love, my fair one,
and come away.
“Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away” and later “my beloved is mine, and I am his” and later “I will seek him whom my soul loves. I sought him and found him not” and still later, passages which might make you blush. “My beloved”—Jesus used that phrase when talking to his disciples. “My beloved”—this is unashamed love poetry—maybe like the stuff you and I both wrote to our teen loves—maybe more like Shakespeare, but love poetry nonetheless. The first narrator, a woman in love, is unashamed of her love, longing to be with him, searching the streets for him, showing him with everything that she has and everything that she is that he is her beloved. And the second narrator, a man in love, does the same—it’s a mutual, requited passion. They are complete in the other and love changes everything for them.
Great. Lovely. What’s it doing in the Bible? There’s no mention of God here. And it’s, you know, PG13. Scholars have been arguing for centuries about the Song of Songs. Some say it is a love song about the sacredness of romantic or erotic love, that in Creation, God created us not just for procreation but for joy, for delight in one another, for love. Others say it’s an allegory, a story that clearly shows the Church as the woman in love with God, the man, that it illustrates the spiritual joy we find in God. Another authority who hasn’t gotten much press—maybe as little as the Song of Songs itself—is a 13th c. Dutch mystic named Hadewijch (I know, hang on). Like other mystics, she had visions of God, and these visions were both visual and tactile; unlike many mystics, she often wrote about her experiences in unabashedly sexual terms. Her poetry is what we might call the romance novel of her day. She called God minne which means “Love.” Hadewijch found ways to describe her experience of God, in terms common to all people, drawing comparisons between spiritual and physical ecstasy; she developed a theology of knowing and loving God which is physical and mutual. Physical and mutual. In other words, Hadewijch said, just as we long for God, so God longs for us. God longs for us. God wants us to love God back. Love changes everything.
So, the joy we find in this church, the delight we have in one another’s company, yes, even the challenge we offer one another, is love. Is God active and moving in our midst. AND God is in love with us. God desires us. God wants us to share our love stories with others. Wants us to change our ways and live that love. God, dare I say it, writes soppy love poetry to us in the form of the Bible. Because what else could our scriptures be, with all our faults and all of God’s forgiveness, what else could our scriptures be but a long, complicated love story?
Jesus looked at the crowds and he loved them.
God so loved the world that he gave his only son.
God loved the world so much that he made it in the first place.
Love.
Love. Changes. Everything.
Monday, August 24, 2009
book thoughts
It is fascinating to me just how bad Twilight is. This from a veteran romance novel reader. I've read them since I was a pre-teen, sneaking them from the piles in my Grandma's room and reading 3 or 4 of the single-complication, Harlequin variety a day. It's a guilty and perhaps dubious pleasure. And despite a few titles and authors who've made something interesting of the genre, and despite the educated and highly entertaining ladies over at Smart Bitches, Trashy Books, Romance novels are Not Very Good. Twilight by Stephanie Meyer is a romance novel. Sort of.
The problems are threefold:
~the hero, Edward Cullen, is perfect
In some contexts, this might be an overstatement. In the world of Twilight, it is an understatement. Your typical romance novel hero needs flaws: a scar from a gun fight years ago which gives him a rugged charm; an emotional wound dating from his mother's death; a weakness to Kryptonite. Typically he has all three, making him all the more attractive, something to "fix", am I right, ladies? Edward Cullen has no flaws. He's model gorgeous, which the narrator (cypher for Ms Meyer?) never ceases to let us forget. He's smart. He's funny. He's caring. He's always right. And he's boring. The supposed flaw that his skin glitters in the sunlight not only doesn't make him interesting, it makes him kind of campy. Even the imminent danger he poses to the heroine because of his vampiric nature doesn't save him from dullness.
~the heroine, Bella Swan, has no personality
The book begins promisingly enough, suggesting that Bella is a sarcastic, vaguely artsy introvert. She is clearly clever and willing to strike out on her own, moving to the overcast and provincial town where her father lives. "Excellent," the reader thinks, "An acerbic, independent woman, crippled by her shyness but with a core of moxy." Absolutely not. Bella faints at the sight of blood, gets nauseous at the drop of a hat, and immediately succumbs to Edward's overbearing statements that he can't get too worked up around her. Thus, not only is he boring and she wimpy, they don't even have real chemistry. All the characterization exists in phrases like "'What do you mean?' he challenged." or "'I like that dress,' I opined." If the reader has to be told that Bella is being sarcastic, she's not.
~there is no real conflict
Meyer's protestations of Bella's blood pounding and Edward's longing gazes to the contrary, they never really get it on. To be sure, it's pleasant not to read smutty bits in a teen novel, but the plot is so chaste as to make me question Meyer's intent. Is this, or is this not a romance novel? When Edward has managed to secret himself in Bella's bedroom one evening and they've been cuddling and canoodling for a bit, he asks, "What do you want to do?" She, still breathless from his perfect presence in her humble room, considers and says, "I don't know." You don't know? Really? The "action" sequences are few and peppered between large swaths of Edward and Bella sitting around and talking. The villains of the novel are either easily avoided or easily defeated. Even the early uncertainty between Edward and Bella, the part where they either hate one another or misunderstand each other's actions has a certain inevitability about it. What is there to overcome?
The movie version of the book has a certain fascination about it, probably explained solely by Edward's (Robert Pattinson) ridiculously gorgeous looks. The book, too, is fascinating--fascinating that it holds such fascination for so many women.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
today's sermon--Ephesians 6.10-20
I feel very uncomfortable with this Ephesians passage. About as uncomfortable as when I read the earlier parts of Joshua where the Israelites destroy all the people in Canaan, the Promised Land. And about as uncomfortable as when I read parts of Ezekiel—the violent, explicit bits where God doesn’t come off so well. It’s not like war or violence have no precedent in history or scripture—it’s just that they seem so over-the-top and so…predictable.
Jesus himself was prone to dramatic, violent gestures—he overturned tables and screamed at vendors in the Temple, maybe even whipped them, according to some; he cursed a fig tree for not bearing fruit when he knew full well that it wasn’t fig season. Yet we all know Jesus’ words and life to be overflowing with love and compassion, at odds with his zeal. So battle-ready images seem out of place, especially in church, am I right? Let’s hold hands and sing “Seek Ye First” and eat cookies and coffee instead.
Yet it is a struggle, this faith we claim. For some more than others, but a struggle all the same. Maybe we don’t like the language of war or maybe we’re too comfortable with it, but either way, it’s a constant in our lives. Instead of ignoring it, can we coopt it for our spiritual lives? Become Prayer Warriors? I think Jesus might have liked that term, because at its base, it doesn’t make sense. Instead of cherry-picking the parts of Scripture we like, can we struggle with this passage for a moment, dwell in that place of discomfort to see if maybe God has something to say to us?
Consider what the writer of the letter to the Ephesians says we’re going to face: rulers, authorities, and powers of this present darkness, spiritual forces of evil. All called in theological shorthand “powers and principalities”—what’s this about?
The text says it’s the spiritual forces of evil that we fight, not the flesh and blood ones—which is odd, because I could have sworn that war has a physical toll. I would have thought Jesus’ words about justice for the dispossessed and captives meant some sort of call to earthly justice. But Ephesians insists on the spiritual aspect of warfare, the principalities and powers which rule in our hearts instead of God. What are these principalities and powers now? I suppose one obvious answer might be politicians and the political system—massaging the message to mean what they need it to mean—but also might mean corporate greed or indifference. Those who work for corporations sometimes pushed to make the unethical choice and those who buy the products encouraged not to think about where those products come from. Powers and principalities might be greed, or accumulation—our houses cease being homes and become receptacles to keep our stuff safe. Or distance created by technology meant to help but which can create yet another barrier, another shield. Maybe it’s fear—of being alone, of having nothing, of seeing ourselves clearly. The powers and principalities you have to fight will be different than mine and one another’s—but seeing them clearly ought to be the first step—what is taking the place of God in your heart?
Now, consider what we’re supposed to do about it: put on the armor of God—what’s that? When I go to work as a campus minister at University of Cincinnati, I wear armor. Not literally, of course, that’d be weird. But I do wear the Converse All-Stars of self-expression, the laptop bag of welcome, and the clergy shirt of tradition. It’s armor of a sort, preparing me for the complex conversations I’ll have, for the battles I fight each day.
This passage is not about sitting passively—armor is not for just sitting still on your horse in an empty field. But neither is it about forcing conversions at the end of a sword. Certainly God does the heavy lifting—but we have to get ready. I wonder if we’re talking less of war imagery and more of preparedness, of transformation. At the time the letter was written, much of the Near East was under the heel of Rome, occupied by foreigners, invaded. Those invaders were, for all intents and purposes, in control. I wonder if the writer of Ephesians chose the look of a Roman soldier, not only because folk would recognize it, but also as a subtle transformation of who was in charge. Their armor is just metal, but ours is made of Justice, Truth, Righteousness, and the Word of God! Transformation from one thing to another is not just living our normal, comfortable lives with a little Jesus thrown in here and there but a soul-deep understanding of God’s love and our thanksgiving for it. To truly change your heart and mind away from an attitude of apathy or entitlement and towards one of compassion and sacrifice requires a huge change—we must be transformed in our preparation for battle. Consider what you wore to worship today, or how you dress for school or work: the two-piece suit of action, the necktie of willingness to talk to strangers about the weather, the backpack of compassion, the iPod of delight in others’ accomplishments, the earrings of really listening…
I mentioned my discomfort about this scripture passage on my Facebook status. A friend commented that the part of the passage that had always struck him was the bit about putting on your feet “whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace”. What makes you ready to live the life you’re called to? What makes you ready to take on even a corner of the powers and principalities of the world you live in? What makes you ready to speak about your faith or about the joy you find in this place?
In the end, it’s about trust—trust in one another in community, trust in God—the armor we put on is not about offense or defense but about putting on God like a garment. God, who loved the world so much that God gave us God’s only son—God, who wanted us so much that God created the world in the first place—God is already out on the field of your battle, waiting for you. God is already in your math class and your 8am conference call and your marriage and your next-door neighbor’s house. God forged the iron of your breastplate of righteousness, wove the poly-cotton blend of your dress shirt of patience, knitted your socks of humility. So go out after our holy lunch here, filled and prepared to do something and trust that God will be with you.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
today's sermon
Larry preached today and two things struck me:
- perhaps God is less interested in how the film turns out in the end than in how the dailies look.
- when I was giving birth, my mother held my hand and repeated "exhale, just remember to exhale--your body will inhale for you--just exhale." we need to remember to exhale/let go of our worry/sin and God will fill us with breath--just exhale.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
location, location, location
When I mentioned to my former supervisor that I now wear my clerical collar most days at work as a campus minister, he rolled his eyes. This is, of course, because he had to practically force me to wear it when I worked with him in a parish church. And that's what I have been musing about this afternoon: why the difference?
In the parish church, in theory, most folks know that I'm a priest--they hired me, after all, and see me celebrate on Sundays. Being a youth minister means you can get away with more casualness but, in turn, casualness might also say something about the worship or theology of the place. Certainly it could say, "I don't value this place" or "I don't know enough to dress up" but for many folk, it said, "Bring yourself as you are" or "It's not as staid as all that." In other words, there are expectations of looking and acting a certain way in church or at the church building and looking different can help complicate those expectations in a good way.
Similarly, there are expectations about what campus ministers look like: Birkenstocks, crazy hair, tattoos, nerdy-chic glasses...wait a minute, that sounds familiar. My point is that folk assume a much more casual attitude and image on campuses and perhaps a way to complicate those expectations is to be a bit more formal. Thus, I wear my black and white most days. With Chucks. But that's a tangent.
I'm remembering a casual Eucharist that my house church held recently. We were on retreat in Hocking Hills and at dinner one evening, we read a little scripture, chatted about it a bit, said a brief (but theologically sound) eucharistic prayer, and shared the Meal with our meal. We prayed together and shared remembrances with one of our number who would be leaving for a new life in Boston at the end of the retreat. The Eucharist itself was simple and meaningful, I think, particularly as it was our own Last Supper as the group was currently made up. And, though we all knew that the bread and wine were just as sacred in that place as they were in the Big Church at home, there was a lot of giggling and conversation as they were passed. I'm not certain I would have wanted absolute silence either, but I wonder if I should have been a bit more formal myself? That is, if I as the celebrant had been less nervous and more confident, perhaps noting somehow the casualness of the evening contrasted with the reverence of the Meal, I wonder if it might have been a bit smoother?
The point being, some formality is needed and desired in a situation of extreme casualness just as some casualness is in a formal situation. Like Chucks with a tuxedo. It's a question of what your desired effect is--for me, right now, I want to show folks something new that they hadn't thought of. That worship can be more spontaneous or that it can be more reverential; that church should be fun, or that God is present on a secular campus.
In the parish church, in theory, most folks know that I'm a priest--they hired me, after all, and see me celebrate on Sundays. Being a youth minister means you can get away with more casualness but, in turn, casualness might also say something about the worship or theology of the place. Certainly it could say, "I don't value this place" or "I don't know enough to dress up" but for many folk, it said, "Bring yourself as you are" or "It's not as staid as all that." In other words, there are expectations of looking and acting a certain way in church or at the church building and looking different can help complicate those expectations in a good way.
Similarly, there are expectations about what campus ministers look like: Birkenstocks, crazy hair, tattoos, nerdy-chic glasses...wait a minute, that sounds familiar. My point is that folk assume a much more casual attitude and image on campuses and perhaps a way to complicate those expectations is to be a bit more formal. Thus, I wear my black and white most days. With Chucks. But that's a tangent.
I'm remembering a casual Eucharist that my house church held recently. We were on retreat in Hocking Hills and at dinner one evening, we read a little scripture, chatted about it a bit, said a brief (but theologically sound) eucharistic prayer, and shared the Meal with our meal. We prayed together and shared remembrances with one of our number who would be leaving for a new life in Boston at the end of the retreat. The Eucharist itself was simple and meaningful, I think, particularly as it was our own Last Supper as the group was currently made up. And, though we all knew that the bread and wine were just as sacred in that place as they were in the Big Church at home, there was a lot of giggling and conversation as they were passed. I'm not certain I would have wanted absolute silence either, but I wonder if I should have been a bit more formal myself? That is, if I as the celebrant had been less nervous and more confident, perhaps noting somehow the casualness of the evening contrasted with the reverence of the Meal, I wonder if it might have been a bit smoother?
The point being, some formality is needed and desired in a situation of extreme casualness just as some casualness is in a formal situation. Like Chucks with a tuxedo. It's a question of what your desired effect is--for me, right now, I want to show folks something new that they hadn't thought of. That worship can be more spontaneous or that it can be more reverential; that church should be fun, or that God is present on a secular campus.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
sunday's sermon [notes]
for John 6:35-51--make of them what you will
> my comfort foods [Ham Glop, etc.]
> what’s your favorite comfort food? why? memories associated?
> Ratatouille moment w/critic [SPOILER]
> Manna as comfort food
> Eucharist as comfort food
> Jesus is the bread of life
> anamnesis, Passover
> not just comfort but challenge
> get back on the bike
> the meal is waiting for you
> food for the journey
> my comfort foods [Ham Glop, etc.]
> what’s your favorite comfort food? why? memories associated?
> Ratatouille moment w/critic [SPOILER]
> Manna as comfort food
> Eucharist as comfort food
> Jesus is the bread of life
> anamnesis, Passover
> not just comfort but challenge
> get back on the bike
> the meal is waiting for you
> food for the journey
Saturday, August 08, 2009
haiku status updates
For your convenience, all the haiku status updates via Twitter thus far:
Aching left shoulder/must have slept on it funny/while dreaming of you.
11:12 AM Aug 3rd from txt
EDIT: Breaking news--driving/north on interstate, canoe/still attatched to roof.
1:04 PM Jul 31st from txt
Driving north on the/interstate--good company,/good car snacks, good times.
1:01 PM Jul 31st from txt
Rainy Saturday,/snoozing baby, full teacup--/still dissatisfied.
9:38 AM Jul 25th from txt
Partying like a/rock star-if rock stars sit in/the nose bleed section.
2:40 PM Jul 19th from txt
Baby babbling/reminds me of childhood and/glossolalia.
10:31 AM Jul 16th from txt
My cell phone contract/stinks to high heaven and will/expire July 8.
3:56 PM Jun 25th from txt
Down from the mountain./Filled with glorious fresh air/and intense knee pain.
8:11 AM Jun 24th from txt
Driving by myself./Delicious freedom made more/so by those at home.
10:07 AM Jun 18th from txt
RT from Threadless.com: haikus are easy/but sometimes they don't make sense/refrigerator
8:10 AM Jun 17th from txt
In motel room with/baby, husband, and cable./Life is beautiful.
7:42 AM Jun 16th from txt
Last service on my/last Sunday at Redeemer./Going to bed soon.
5:33 PM Jun 7th from txt
Just had productive/and joyful meeting. Is that/an oxymoron?
6:36 PM Jun 5th from txt
Crack in the windshield/zigs and zags, creeping ever/closer to ruin.
10:25 AM Jun 1st from web
I've been playing Four-/Square since before you were born./I still suck at it.
8:05 PM May 10th from txt
Other signs of spring:/coughing,sneezing, runny eyes/and nose, itchy skin.
12:11 PM May 2nd from txt
Signs of spring: crocus/blooming, bright green leaves, tent worms/falling on my head. #haiku
4:00 PM May 1st from txt
Getting more done now,/ironically, than before/advent of baby.
11:35 AM Apr 28th from txt
Big celebration:/Abby has successfully/rolled herself over!
9:39 AM Apr 27th from txt
Four deceased raccoons./Its disturbing and not a/little expensive.
10:59 AM Apr 26th from txt
Freaking gorgeous day./I mean, seriously, it/is. Have you seen it?
10:10 AM Apr 26th from txt
Haiku for homeless/simulation: weather is/too damn nice for this.
2:06 PM Apr 25th from txt
Late returning film./Have now spent two whole dollars/on The Mummy 3.
4:10 PM Apr 24th from txt
A morning without/the baby. Whatever will/I do with myself?
7:57 AM Apr 23rd from txt
Hail hits my windshield/suddenly and disappears/just as suddenly.
10:54 AM Apr 21st from txt
revision courtesy of Loving Husband: Night. Max & Erma's./Carry-out takes about as/long as dining in.
8:25 PM Apr 20th from txt
Night. Max & Ermas./Delicious burgers coming./All's right with the world.
8:22 PM Apr 20th from txt
Making up a dish/for dinner tonight. Let's hope/it doesn't kill us.
4:53 PM Apr 15th from txt
My week of working/very little has gotten/off to a bad start.
4:18 PM Apr 14th from txt
Is talking to the/baby justification/for talking to self?
3:31 PM Apr 13th from txt
Post-Easter let-down/made worse by overcast sky/and pile of laundry.
2:39 PM Apr 13th from txt
The Resurrection/is about justice. God wants/repentance and love.
6:55 AM Apr 12th from txt
Jesus desperate,/moments from agony. Says/Pilate, "What is truth?"
7:25 AM Apr 10th from txt
Maundy Thursday is/hard, empty-making, joyful,/flat, and exhausting.
5:05 PM Apr 9th from txt
kielbasa shortcakes/for dinner: they are not as/bad as they sound, yo.
6:28 PM Apr 7th from txt
Post box near my house:/convenient, reliable,/and now, strangely, gone.
10:12 AM Apr 7th from txt
Snow in Holy Week:/appropriate, no? and yet/my heart longs for spring.
10:56 AM Apr 6th from txt
might finish digging/up the front garden before/dark. Or she might not.
5:36 PM Apr 4th from txt
Deep breath in and out,/pleasant aches. Morning yoga,/how i have missed you.
8:19 AM Apr 3rd from txt
Shaky from hunger./Tomato soup and caesar/salad hit the spot.
12:50 PM Apr 2nd from txt
Pushing your daughter/on a swing and her laughing./What could be better?
6:28 PM Apr 1st from txt
Preschooler made me/rethink stance on cookies: ice/cream's portable, too.
2:34 PM Apr 1st from txt
Why must you always/interrupt me when I'm in/the middle of a-
7:06 PM Mar 31st from txt
Back aches, sun in my/eyes, stomach heavy with fried egg./best commute ever
6:23 PM Mar 30th from txt
To do: laundry, walk,/consolidate grad school loans,/become Enlightened.
5:01 PM Mar 30th from txt
It's going to get/worse before it gets better./The truth just hit me.
4:12 PM Mar 30th from txt
Walking home, cold wind./Should have brought a jacket. Still,/invigorating.
11:24 AM Mar 28th from txt
McKay's used book store/is a labyrinth of joy/minus minotaur.
1:00 PM Mar 26th from txt
To do: catch up on/reading, eat salad, make art,/let go of expectations.
9:36 AM Mar 25th from txt
hardees for breakfast/cinnamon raisin biscuits/make me weep with joy
7:52 AM Mar 24th from txt
Yardwork is thankless./except for new shoots and buds/which are quite polite.
4:32 PM Mar 22nd from txt
Early spring, freezing./Traffic a block over. Birds/chanting early mass.
6:30 AM Mar 22nd from txt
Sitting on the porch,/watching cars and trucks go by./Abby is enthralled.
4:10 PM Mar 20th from txt
No haiku today/too exhausted to compose/cleaning house instead.
8:42 AM Mar 19th from txt
Left screaming baby/with Nana. Feeling guilty/and also relieved.
9:00 AM Mar 18th from txt
Up early. It's still/dark and silent. Abby's eyes/open, silence flees.
6:57 AM Mar 17th from txt
The moneychangers/and Jesus in the Temple:/Law as fence or door.
4:31 PM Mar 15th from txt
away from home, full/night's sleep, no midnight feeding./I miss the baby.
7:59 AM Mar 14th from txt
haman taschen and/tea for breakfast, pie for lunch,/regret for dinner.
7:32 AM Mar 13th from txt
Steam rises from my/teacup like souls to heaven/or flies from rotten meat
7:03 AM Mar 12th from txt
Aesthetic splendor:/sunset, Van Gogh, Beethoven,/and paisley trousers.
6:50 PM Mar 11th from txt
Folding diapers in/the morning is like praying/God is here with me.
5:38 AM Mar 10th from txt
Hot buttered biscuits/peach preserves and country ham/Need a bigger belt.
12:52 PM Mar 9th from txt
Rain is immanent/clouds hang like dropped ceiling/clothes still on the line?
7:30 PM Mar 8th from txt
Jesus is awesome/ditto Buddha and Moses/Who me? I'm okay.
6:01 AM Mar 8th from txt
Aching left shoulder/must have slept on it funny/while dreaming of you.
11:12 AM Aug 3rd from txt
EDIT: Breaking news--driving/north on interstate, canoe/still attatched to roof.
1:04 PM Jul 31st from txt
Driving north on the/interstate--good company,/good car snacks, good times.
1:01 PM Jul 31st from txt
Rainy Saturday,/snoozing baby, full teacup--/still dissatisfied.
9:38 AM Jul 25th from txt
Partying like a/rock star-if rock stars sit in/the nose bleed section.
2:40 PM Jul 19th from txt
Baby babbling/reminds me of childhood and/glossolalia.
10:31 AM Jul 16th from txt
My cell phone contract/stinks to high heaven and will/expire July 8.
3:56 PM Jun 25th from txt
Down from the mountain./Filled with glorious fresh air/and intense knee pain.
8:11 AM Jun 24th from txt
Driving by myself./Delicious freedom made more/so by those at home.
10:07 AM Jun 18th from txt
RT from Threadless.com: haikus are easy/but sometimes they don't make sense/refrigerator
8:10 AM Jun 17th from txt
In motel room with/baby, husband, and cable./Life is beautiful.
7:42 AM Jun 16th from txt
Last service on my/last Sunday at Redeemer./Going to bed soon.
5:33 PM Jun 7th from txt
Just had productive/and joyful meeting. Is that/an oxymoron?
6:36 PM Jun 5th from txt
Crack in the windshield/zigs and zags, creeping ever/closer to ruin.
10:25 AM Jun 1st from web
I've been playing Four-/Square since before you were born./I still suck at it.
8:05 PM May 10th from txt
Other signs of spring:/coughing,sneezing, runny eyes/and nose, itchy skin.
12:11 PM May 2nd from txt
Signs of spring: crocus/blooming, bright green leaves, tent worms/falling on my head. #haiku
4:00 PM May 1st from txt
Getting more done now,/ironically, than before/advent of baby.
11:35 AM Apr 28th from txt
Big celebration:/Abby has successfully/rolled herself over!
9:39 AM Apr 27th from txt
Four deceased raccoons./Its disturbing and not a/little expensive.
10:59 AM Apr 26th from txt
Freaking gorgeous day./I mean, seriously, it/is. Have you seen it?
10:10 AM Apr 26th from txt
Haiku for homeless/simulation: weather is/too damn nice for this.
2:06 PM Apr 25th from txt
Late returning film./Have now spent two whole dollars/on The Mummy 3.
4:10 PM Apr 24th from txt
A morning without/the baby. Whatever will/I do with myself?
7:57 AM Apr 23rd from txt
Hail hits my windshield/suddenly and disappears/just as suddenly.
10:54 AM Apr 21st from txt
revision courtesy of Loving Husband: Night. Max & Erma's./Carry-out takes about as/long as dining in.
8:25 PM Apr 20th from txt
Night. Max & Ermas./Delicious burgers coming./All's right with the world.
8:22 PM Apr 20th from txt
Making up a dish/for dinner tonight. Let's hope/it doesn't kill us.
4:53 PM Apr 15th from txt
My week of working/very little has gotten/off to a bad start.
4:18 PM Apr 14th from txt
Is talking to the/baby justification/for talking to self?
3:31 PM Apr 13th from txt
Post-Easter let-down/made worse by overcast sky/and pile of laundry.
2:39 PM Apr 13th from txt
The Resurrection/is about justice. God wants/repentance and love.
6:55 AM Apr 12th from txt
Jesus desperate,/moments from agony. Says/Pilate, "What is truth?"
7:25 AM Apr 10th from txt
Maundy Thursday is/hard, empty-making, joyful,/flat, and exhausting.
5:05 PM Apr 9th from txt
kielbasa shortcakes/for dinner: they are not as/bad as they sound, yo.
6:28 PM Apr 7th from txt
Post box near my house:/convenient, reliable,/and now, strangely, gone.
10:12 AM Apr 7th from txt
Snow in Holy Week:/appropriate, no? and yet/my heart longs for spring.
10:56 AM Apr 6th from txt
might finish digging/up the front garden before/dark. Or she might not.
5:36 PM Apr 4th from txt
Deep breath in and out,/pleasant aches. Morning yoga,/how i have missed you.
8:19 AM Apr 3rd from txt
Shaky from hunger./Tomato soup and caesar/salad hit the spot.
12:50 PM Apr 2nd from txt
Pushing your daughter/on a swing and her laughing./What could be better?
6:28 PM Apr 1st from txt
Preschooler made me/rethink stance on cookies: ice/cream's portable, too.
2:34 PM Apr 1st from txt
Why must you always/interrupt me when I'm in/the middle of a-
7:06 PM Mar 31st from txt
Back aches, sun in my/eyes, stomach heavy with fried egg./best commute ever
6:23 PM Mar 30th from txt
To do: laundry, walk,/consolidate grad school loans,/become Enlightened.
5:01 PM Mar 30th from txt
It's going to get/worse before it gets better./The truth just hit me.
4:12 PM Mar 30th from txt
Walking home, cold wind./Should have brought a jacket. Still,/invigorating.
11:24 AM Mar 28th from txt
McKay's used book store/is a labyrinth of joy/minus minotaur.
1:00 PM Mar 26th from txt
To do: catch up on/reading, eat salad, make art,/let go of expectations.
9:36 AM Mar 25th from txt
hardees for breakfast/cinnamon raisin biscuits/make me weep with joy
7:52 AM Mar 24th from txt
Yardwork is thankless./except for new shoots and buds/which are quite polite.
4:32 PM Mar 22nd from txt
Early spring, freezing./Traffic a block over. Birds/chanting early mass.
6:30 AM Mar 22nd from txt
Sitting on the porch,/watching cars and trucks go by./Abby is enthralled.
4:10 PM Mar 20th from txt
No haiku today/too exhausted to compose/cleaning house instead.
8:42 AM Mar 19th from txt
Left screaming baby/with Nana. Feeling guilty/and also relieved.
9:00 AM Mar 18th from txt
Up early. It's still/dark and silent. Abby's eyes/open, silence flees.
6:57 AM Mar 17th from txt
The moneychangers/and Jesus in the Temple:/Law as fence or door.
4:31 PM Mar 15th from txt
away from home, full/night's sleep, no midnight feeding./I miss the baby.
7:59 AM Mar 14th from txt
haman taschen and/tea for breakfast, pie for lunch,/regret for dinner.
7:32 AM Mar 13th from txt
Steam rises from my/teacup like souls to heaven/or flies from rotten meat
7:03 AM Mar 12th from txt
Aesthetic splendor:/sunset, Van Gogh, Beethoven,/and paisley trousers.
6:50 PM Mar 11th from txt
Folding diapers in/the morning is like praying/God is here with me.
5:38 AM Mar 10th from txt
Hot buttered biscuits/peach preserves and country ham/Need a bigger belt.
12:52 PM Mar 9th from txt
Rain is immanent/clouds hang like dropped ceiling/clothes still on the line?
7:30 PM Mar 8th from txt
Jesus is awesome/ditto Buddha and Moses/Who me? I'm okay.
6:01 AM Mar 8th from txt
Sunday, July 26, 2009
today's sermon--2 Samuel 11:1-15
Please pardon the bizarre formatting--I don't feel like making it into paragraphs.
A sort of procedural note before I begin today
I will be making many references to some excellent TV shows in the coming years
So, to make sure we’re all on the same page
It might be best for y’all to go ahead and
Put a bunch of them on your Netflix queues or order from Amazon
If you’d like a simple syllabus,
they’ll be available in the lobby after worship…
there’s a science-fiction sho on the BBC you may have heard of,
a spin-off of Dr. Who (that’s on the list)
called Torchwood—this last week was an experimental 5-episode season
instead of 12 episodes over several months,
it was essentially 5 short movies
anyway, no spoilers here, but in the end, the hero Captain Jack Harkness
commits an unforgivable act
Jack the hero
Jack the lovable con man
Jack the savior of humanity
Jack goes from hero to villain in five seconds
Fans are asking, “How can we watch the show anymore?”
Knowing what he does,
Regardless that it was necessary to save the Earth,
Knowing one piece of information can ruin a relationship
and you can’t un-know it
This story about David—it’s the same thing
David’s the greatest King of Israel
He’s named as the writer of 150 Psalms,
bringer of decency and faithfulness to Israel
he’s the spunky little boy who brought down Goliath with a slingshot
and according to St. Matthew, he’s also Jesus’ granddaddy generations back,
an idea that brings Jesus legitimacy
David was a Good King, a hero—a hero’s hero
So it was wartime—
Soldiers fought other soldiers for freedom and honor and oil and…well…
whatever it is people have been fighting for since the beginning
And our heroic David, victor of many battles, was sitting at home,
watching reality tv and reruns of Touched by an Angel (not on the list)
Well, there must have been a good reason
for the king not to be with the army
—I mean, it was 3000 years ago—
we don’t know what it was like
I’m sure he wasn’t being lazy or anything
So he looks out his window and sees a woman bathing on her roof,
Naked as we all are when we bathe
—“nice” he thinks—
and then he thinks, “am I or am I not the King
—I don’t have to just look…”
[it’s going to get a little sexy here—a little PG-13]
and when she arrives, the object of his desire
David finds out that she’s already married
—oh, good—he’ll do the right thing, send her home—
he’s a hero’s hero after all, right?
He wouldn’t…yeah, he does
[Now, as an aside,
we don’t know how Bathsheba was feeling about this
Was she terrified for her life and that of her beloved husband?
Was she annoyed to have the phone ring while she’s in the bath,
to be summoned to the king’s side?
Was she thrilled by the illicit pleasure of being with the king?
Who by all accounts was very handsome?
Was it rape?]
So, David takes Bathsheba to bed and then sends her home
—he’s taken what he wanted—
And to add insult to injury,
the story says Bathsheba was in the time of cleansing after her period
—she was, according to the Law anyway, unclean
No one, not even her husband, was allowed to touch her
I’m not feeling very good about David right now,
but I suppose we all falter
Even heroes have Achilles’ heels, right?
Y’all watch TV, too, I know.
Sp even if you hadn’t already heard the story, you could guess
what happens after the King takes a married woman to bed
She’s pregnant. Of course.
Well now David has a serious problem—now there’s proof of his indiscretion.
No—let’s lay it on the line, his sin.
He has screwed up, so focused on his wanting and his taking
that the consequences haven’t crossed his mind.
Now something has to be done.
Since he’s a hero, a Good King, he’ll certainly own up to his sin
—make reparation, take care of the child, something.
That’s what heroes do,
they help the helpless, protect the widows and orphans.
He sends for Bathsheba’s husband Uriah the Hittite
who’s out fighting in the war
—that war that David should be leading right now?—
he brings Uriah back from the front lines,
covered in sweat and dirt and the smell of death and says,
“go wash your feet”
—which of course doesn’t mean “wash your feet”—
it means “go sleep with your wife”
Go sleep with your wife so that when you find out she’s pregnant,
you’ll be thrilled to be a new father,
you’ll assume the baby is your own,
though he has rather Davidic features…
Devious, yes. Still forgivable, I suppose.
Who hasn’t tried to cover up an indiscretion
—how many of us have tried not to get caught in something we shouldn’t be doing?
Maybe told a white lie to avoid suspicion?
Uriah, though, seems to have more integrity than the good King David…
he says, “no, how could I take comfort and relax
in my home with my wife
while the army is still camped in tents,
in harm’s way, in the thick of a war?
They have no wives to go to, no soft bed to sleep on
—how could I take what I want when they have nothing?”
And he sleeps on the floor of the palace.
So David gets him drunk,
thinking that will make Uriah want to go visit his wife.
No dice.
And so David, in a desperate desire not to be discovered in his sin
(because clearly at this point he knows what he’s done)
takes the unforgivable option
He goes from hero to villain
in the 5 seconds it takes to write a note.
“Eyes only: General Joab, deploy Uriah the Hittite to the front line of the next battle. Ensure he’s the first over the top and a casualty of enemy fire.”
How can David be a Good King? How can he be a hero?
I can’t unknow this—I can’t look at him the same way anymore.
He’s not a hero—he’s a Bad King—he’s a creep.
Jesus’ granddaddy is a murderer and an adulterer and a slimy git.
And that’s the end of the reading.
What are we supposed to do with this?
Let me turn this conversation over to you:
what do you make of the story? How do you feel about David? About Bathsheba? About Uriah? Do you see any connection to your own life? Where is God in this story? What is God telling us through this story?
How would you think about the story
if I told you that, in just a few verses, David will marry Bathsheba?
And that later on, she bears him a second son named Solomon?
Does that justify it? Does it make it worse?
We see these sorts of sins in the news all the time
—governors and secret trips to mistresses,
cigarette companies deceiving the public about addiction,
teens posting inappropriate videos on youtube and denying responsibility
And we live it
—when was the last time
you bought something that you really wanted
but perhaps couldn’t really afford or didn’t really need?
Something that you had to justify to yourself as you were paying?
When was the last time
you tried to hide something you’d done so that others wouldn’t find out,
so that you could keep the thing you wanted, that you took, that you have?
If no one knows, it’s not a sin, right?
There’s got to be some grace here—we’re a church of the good news, after all
The real end of the story is something we’ll read next week—
I’ll give you a sneak preview.
It’s a wonderful, complete about-face.
The prophet Nathan, a wily and intense man,
shows David the hurt he’s caused,
shows him the wrongness of his path
and David listens and repents.
He doesn’t pull the politician’s card of the non-apology
—“I’m sorry people were hurt by my actions.
I did not have complete information.”—
but says “Have mercy on me a sinner.”
He sees in full the consequences of his actions,
feels grief and remorse in his soul, and repents.
He turns away from his wrong-doing and towards God.
we speak of saints and sinners as easily and neatly divided like sheep and goats,
but we all know in our hearts that doesn’t work.
Maybe that’s the point, the lesson we should draw from this story—
David, greatest king of Israel, forefather of our Lord Jesus the Christ—
David was human and messed up just like the rest of us.
He performed amazing deeds and he made terrible mistakes
He is a Good King and a Bad King, saint and sinner.
We, too, are both saint and sinner, good king and bad king.
Our victories and our failures may not be as dramatic
—few of us lead armies, or decide the fates of nations—
but they are just as important in the eyes of God
All of us give in to sin from time to time, and rationalize our choice,
telling ourselves and others that what we did wasn’t really so bad
It can be hard—it is always hard—but we need to catch ourselves
and say, “I messed up.”
No justifications. No excuses. “I messed up, and I am sorry.”
We are always in need of repenting
and always in need of celebrating the spark of divinity within us
being both saints and sinners means that the story doesn’t end here
it means we were created by God,
we are beloved by God,
and we are redeemed by God
Amen.
A sort of procedural note before I begin today
I will be making many references to some excellent TV shows in the coming years
So, to make sure we’re all on the same page
It might be best for y’all to go ahead and
Put a bunch of them on your Netflix queues or order from Amazon
If you’d like a simple syllabus,
they’ll be available in the lobby after worship…
there’s a science-fiction sho on the BBC you may have heard of,
a spin-off of Dr. Who (that’s on the list)
called Torchwood—this last week was an experimental 5-episode season
instead of 12 episodes over several months,
it was essentially 5 short movies
anyway, no spoilers here, but in the end, the hero Captain Jack Harkness
commits an unforgivable act
Jack the hero
Jack the lovable con man
Jack the savior of humanity
Jack goes from hero to villain in five seconds
Fans are asking, “How can we watch the show anymore?”
Knowing what he does,
Regardless that it was necessary to save the Earth,
Knowing one piece of information can ruin a relationship
and you can’t un-know it
This story about David—it’s the same thing
David’s the greatest King of Israel
He’s named as the writer of 150 Psalms,
bringer of decency and faithfulness to Israel
he’s the spunky little boy who brought down Goliath with a slingshot
and according to St. Matthew, he’s also Jesus’ granddaddy generations back,
an idea that brings Jesus legitimacy
David was a Good King, a hero—a hero’s hero
So it was wartime—
Soldiers fought other soldiers for freedom and honor and oil and…well…
whatever it is people have been fighting for since the beginning
And our heroic David, victor of many battles, was sitting at home,
watching reality tv and reruns of Touched by an Angel (not on the list)
Well, there must have been a good reason
for the king not to be with the army
—I mean, it was 3000 years ago—
we don’t know what it was like
I’m sure he wasn’t being lazy or anything
So he looks out his window and sees a woman bathing on her roof,
Naked as we all are when we bathe
—“nice” he thinks—
and then he thinks, “am I or am I not the King
—I don’t have to just look…”
[it’s going to get a little sexy here—a little PG-13]
and when she arrives, the object of his desire
David finds out that she’s already married
—oh, good—he’ll do the right thing, send her home—
he’s a hero’s hero after all, right?
He wouldn’t…yeah, he does
[Now, as an aside,
we don’t know how Bathsheba was feeling about this
Was she terrified for her life and that of her beloved husband?
Was she annoyed to have the phone ring while she’s in the bath,
to be summoned to the king’s side?
Was she thrilled by the illicit pleasure of being with the king?
Who by all accounts was very handsome?
Was it rape?]
So, David takes Bathsheba to bed and then sends her home
—he’s taken what he wanted—
And to add insult to injury,
the story says Bathsheba was in the time of cleansing after her period
—she was, according to the Law anyway, unclean
No one, not even her husband, was allowed to touch her
I’m not feeling very good about David right now,
but I suppose we all falter
Even heroes have Achilles’ heels, right?
Y’all watch TV, too, I know.
Sp even if you hadn’t already heard the story, you could guess
what happens after the King takes a married woman to bed
She’s pregnant. Of course.
Well now David has a serious problem—now there’s proof of his indiscretion.
No—let’s lay it on the line, his sin.
He has screwed up, so focused on his wanting and his taking
that the consequences haven’t crossed his mind.
Now something has to be done.
Since he’s a hero, a Good King, he’ll certainly own up to his sin
—make reparation, take care of the child, something.
That’s what heroes do,
they help the helpless, protect the widows and orphans.
He sends for Bathsheba’s husband Uriah the Hittite
who’s out fighting in the war
—that war that David should be leading right now?—
he brings Uriah back from the front lines,
covered in sweat and dirt and the smell of death and says,
“go wash your feet”
—which of course doesn’t mean “wash your feet”—
it means “go sleep with your wife”
Go sleep with your wife so that when you find out she’s pregnant,
you’ll be thrilled to be a new father,
you’ll assume the baby is your own,
though he has rather Davidic features…
Devious, yes. Still forgivable, I suppose.
Who hasn’t tried to cover up an indiscretion
—how many of us have tried not to get caught in something we shouldn’t be doing?
Maybe told a white lie to avoid suspicion?
Uriah, though, seems to have more integrity than the good King David…
he says, “no, how could I take comfort and relax
in my home with my wife
while the army is still camped in tents,
in harm’s way, in the thick of a war?
They have no wives to go to, no soft bed to sleep on
—how could I take what I want when they have nothing?”
And he sleeps on the floor of the palace.
So David gets him drunk,
thinking that will make Uriah want to go visit his wife.
No dice.
And so David, in a desperate desire not to be discovered in his sin
(because clearly at this point he knows what he’s done)
takes the unforgivable option
He goes from hero to villain
in the 5 seconds it takes to write a note.
“Eyes only: General Joab, deploy Uriah the Hittite to the front line of the next battle. Ensure he’s the first over the top and a casualty of enemy fire.”
How can David be a Good King? How can he be a hero?
I can’t unknow this—I can’t look at him the same way anymore.
He’s not a hero—he’s a Bad King—he’s a creep.
Jesus’ granddaddy is a murderer and an adulterer and a slimy git.
And that’s the end of the reading.
What are we supposed to do with this?
Let me turn this conversation over to you:
what do you make of the story? How do you feel about David? About Bathsheba? About Uriah? Do you see any connection to your own life? Where is God in this story? What is God telling us through this story?
How would you think about the story
if I told you that, in just a few verses, David will marry Bathsheba?
And that later on, she bears him a second son named Solomon?
Does that justify it? Does it make it worse?
We see these sorts of sins in the news all the time
—governors and secret trips to mistresses,
cigarette companies deceiving the public about addiction,
teens posting inappropriate videos on youtube and denying responsibility
And we live it
—when was the last time
you bought something that you really wanted
but perhaps couldn’t really afford or didn’t really need?
Something that you had to justify to yourself as you were paying?
When was the last time
you tried to hide something you’d done so that others wouldn’t find out,
so that you could keep the thing you wanted, that you took, that you have?
If no one knows, it’s not a sin, right?
There’s got to be some grace here—we’re a church of the good news, after all
The real end of the story is something we’ll read next week—
I’ll give you a sneak preview.
It’s a wonderful, complete about-face.
The prophet Nathan, a wily and intense man,
shows David the hurt he’s caused,
shows him the wrongness of his path
and David listens and repents.
He doesn’t pull the politician’s card of the non-apology
—“I’m sorry people were hurt by my actions.
I did not have complete information.”—
but says “Have mercy on me a sinner.”
He sees in full the consequences of his actions,
feels grief and remorse in his soul, and repents.
He turns away from his wrong-doing and towards God.
we speak of saints and sinners as easily and neatly divided like sheep and goats,
but we all know in our hearts that doesn’t work.
Maybe that’s the point, the lesson we should draw from this story—
David, greatest king of Israel, forefather of our Lord Jesus the Christ—
David was human and messed up just like the rest of us.
He performed amazing deeds and he made terrible mistakes
He is a Good King and a Bad King, saint and sinner.
We, too, are both saint and sinner, good king and bad king.
Our victories and our failures may not be as dramatic
—few of us lead armies, or decide the fates of nations—
but they are just as important in the eyes of God
All of us give in to sin from time to time, and rationalize our choice,
telling ourselves and others that what we did wasn’t really so bad
It can be hard—it is always hard—but we need to catch ourselves
and say, “I messed up.”
No justifications. No excuses. “I messed up, and I am sorry.”
We are always in need of repenting
and always in need of celebrating the spark of divinity within us
being both saints and sinners means that the story doesn’t end here
it means we were created by God,
we are beloved by God,
and we are redeemed by God
Amen.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
book thoughts
Moo, Baa, La La La by Sandra Boynton
One of the greatest books I've ever read. It's educational (sounds animals make), silly ("three singing pigs"--genius!), and open-ended ("what do you say?"). It even has ambiguity, both in its open-ended-ness and, more importantly, in the representations of the characters. Boynton's art style offers animals whose attitudes are far from clear. What might look like sadness on the surface might, upon further contemplation, suggest despair or confusion. A face alight with glee might also be one of manic loss-of-control. A pig uttering its species-appropriate "oink" looks strangely disgruntled, perhaps even filled with longing for the days of show-biz.
What more could you ask from great literature?
One of the greatest books I've ever read. It's educational (sounds animals make), silly ("three singing pigs"--genius!), and open-ended ("what do you say?"). It even has ambiguity, both in its open-ended-ness and, more importantly, in the representations of the characters. Boynton's art style offers animals whose attitudes are far from clear. What might look like sadness on the surface might, upon further contemplation, suggest despair or confusion. A face alight with glee might also be one of manic loss-of-control. A pig uttering its species-appropriate "oink" looks strangely disgruntled, perhaps even filled with longing for the days of show-biz.
What more could you ask from great literature?
Sunday, July 12, 2009
sermon idea only barely related to the lessons
One of my many charms is a predilection for preaching a completely different sermon to myself while listening to someone else preach. Today was one of those occasions. In a move which could only be described as provocative (or maybe blood-thirsty), the Revised Common Lectionary assigned the fantastic story of Salome's dancing for her step-father and her asking for the head of John the Baptist on a platter as a reward. It's awful and awe-ful and unfair, as the preacher rightly pointed out. Where is the good news here? She began speaking about how unfair all of our lives are, but my mind turned in a different direction altogether.
Last night, Loving Husband and I watched Ratatouille and, while the movie was pretty darned great, one moment struck me. [I should note that there will be a SPOILER in this post. Won't ruin the movie for you, but proceed at your own risk. Or just go watch the movie right now and we'll wait for you.]
So near the end of the film, the restaurant critic is waiting ominously in the dining room while chaos and artistry vie for supremacy in the kitchen. We know the critic to be a dour, excessively disapproving sort--one who delights in writing negative reviews. And we know that the fate of the restaurant and of our two heroes--their identities, really--hang on the critic's experience of the food. Because we're all smart people here, I don't mind saying it's a foregone conclusion that the critic will come around, but how? With such build-up, it seems impossible for anything to change his mind, much less for the animators to be good enough to capture it. And yet they do so with one of the most graceful and most beautiful of moments I've seen on film.
The chef prepares a "peasant dish" of ratatouille, a simple vegetable stew, unremarkable to anyone. Of course he puts his own spin on it--what can it be? There's no way for us to know except through the critic's experience. Because when the plate--elegantly stacked as all haute cuisine is these days--arrives on his table and he takes his first sneering bite, he pauses. He pauses mid-chew and is, with us, catapulted into a childhood memory of having wrecked his bicycle, needing his mother to comfort him, and her serving him a dish of comforting ratatouille. And just as suddenly, we're catapulted back into that restaurant where the critic's face is shining with joy. It is a revelation, both to him and to us. No words could do the moment justice, no argument could convince the critic of the food's worth, but the memory does.
I've had that kind of moment. Loving Husband and I went to dinner at Hollyhock Hill in Indianapolis. When they brought out the sixth pre-dinner dish of food, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. But it was when I noticed that there were both cottage cheese and apple butter on the table that I swooned. I used to mix the two when I was small and called it "Witches' Brew." I spooned equal amounts into my salad bowl and stirred them with anticipation mounting. With the first bite there came a moment like the critic's when my taste buds remembered the smell of grass and the grain of the paneling in my neighbor's house. It was a taste that I had forgotten and which revealed to me my youth.
And that, my friends, is what the book of Revelation is about. I'm not certain about all the seals and the 144,000, but that moment of seeing clearly, of physically remembering something forgotten but pivotal and even simple, that is what John of Patmos' Revelation is about.
Last night, Loving Husband and I watched Ratatouille and, while the movie was pretty darned great, one moment struck me. [I should note that there will be a SPOILER in this post. Won't ruin the movie for you, but proceed at your own risk. Or just go watch the movie right now and we'll wait for you.]
So near the end of the film, the restaurant critic is waiting ominously in the dining room while chaos and artistry vie for supremacy in the kitchen. We know the critic to be a dour, excessively disapproving sort--one who delights in writing negative reviews. And we know that the fate of the restaurant and of our two heroes--their identities, really--hang on the critic's experience of the food. Because we're all smart people here, I don't mind saying it's a foregone conclusion that the critic will come around, but how? With such build-up, it seems impossible for anything to change his mind, much less for the animators to be good enough to capture it. And yet they do so with one of the most graceful and most beautiful of moments I've seen on film.
The chef prepares a "peasant dish" of ratatouille, a simple vegetable stew, unremarkable to anyone. Of course he puts his own spin on it--what can it be? There's no way for us to know except through the critic's experience. Because when the plate--elegantly stacked as all haute cuisine is these days--arrives on his table and he takes his first sneering bite, he pauses. He pauses mid-chew and is, with us, catapulted into a childhood memory of having wrecked his bicycle, needing his mother to comfort him, and her serving him a dish of comforting ratatouille. And just as suddenly, we're catapulted back into that restaurant where the critic's face is shining with joy. It is a revelation, both to him and to us. No words could do the moment justice, no argument could convince the critic of the food's worth, but the memory does.
I've had that kind of moment. Loving Husband and I went to dinner at Hollyhock Hill in Indianapolis. When they brought out the sixth pre-dinner dish of food, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. But it was when I noticed that there were both cottage cheese and apple butter on the table that I swooned. I used to mix the two when I was small and called it "Witches' Brew." I spooned equal amounts into my salad bowl and stirred them with anticipation mounting. With the first bite there came a moment like the critic's when my taste buds remembered the smell of grass and the grain of the paneling in my neighbor's house. It was a taste that I had forgotten and which revealed to me my youth.
And that, my friends, is what the book of Revelation is about. I'm not certain about all the seals and the 144,000, but that moment of seeing clearly, of physically remembering something forgotten but pivotal and even simple, that is what John of Patmos' Revelation is about.
Monday, July 06, 2009
open source church
This is a thought-provoking article from Episcopal Cafe. She articulates very well what I've been thinking recently, particularly the bit about needing fewer cathedrals and more bazaars.
And, yes, I am catching up on my blog reading--why do you ask?
And, yes, I am catching up on my blog reading--why do you ask?
supervising sex
In the ongoing religious conversation about sex, comedian Lynn Lavner has this to say:
Click here for the [brief] Episcopal Cafe article from which I stole it.
The Bible contains six admonishments to homosexuals and 362 admonishments to heterosexuals. That doesn’t mean that God doesn’t love heterosexuals. It’s just that they need more supervision.
Click here for the [brief] Episcopal Cafe article from which I stole it.
Sunday, July 05, 2009
book thoughts
Began reading (or skimming, really) the new Evangelical Lutheran Worship today. There's good stuff in there--prayers, liturgies, music--but I was most interested in the illustrations. I know, went to school for three years and all she can talk about is the pictures.
There's one at the beginning which is an image of Jesus as the cycle of the year--it's stunning. Very simple and clean-lined but clearly evocative of the cycle of life and death and of Jesus' part in it. And on the first page of the Psalms is a marvelous image of the tree by the stream of living water which plays such a large role in Jewish poetry. These images speak to me, perhaps more than the words they are inspired by. They would make striking tattoos.
I haven't yet gotten to the copyrights page to find out who the artist is but I live in anticipation.
There's one at the beginning which is an image of Jesus as the cycle of the year--it's stunning. Very simple and clean-lined but clearly evocative of the cycle of life and death and of Jesus' part in it. And on the first page of the Psalms is a marvelous image of the tree by the stream of living water which plays such a large role in Jewish poetry. These images speak to me, perhaps more than the words they are inspired by. They would make striking tattoos.
I haven't yet gotten to the copyrights page to find out who the artist is but I live in anticipation.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
