I’ve mentioned before my belief that, if anything good comes of tragic events, it’s that people often respond with greater compassion and community awareness. I witnessed this dynamic nearly firsthand during my senior year in high school. On April 20, not far from my house, in the halls of Columbine High School (which I did not attend, by the way), two disturbed young men opened fire on their classmates and teachers. It was the deadliest school shooting in American history. And for months, a dark veil of grief and shock hung over my suburban community.
At the same time, though, people in grocery stores or at the mall didn’t cast distrustful, fearful glances upon strangers and fellow shoppers. Rather, they- we- made a point of helping others out; holding doors longer and more frequently, going out of our way to smile and say thanks. At a couple makeshift memorial sites in a park adjacent to Columbine, people left cards, flowers and posters, expressing their pain, loss and sorrow. And we didn’t judge whether those mourners ‘had a right’ to their emotional turmoil or not. Instead, we nodded in respectful silence, even occasionally joined hands and prayed. I learned those weeks that, while humans may not be totally decent at our core, at the very least there’s good in most of us, that tragedy can somehow bring out.
I also learned, in the months that followed, that this deep down goodness can just as easily recede, be forgotten, get buried in the rush of life. For as that fateful afternoon faded in our collective consciousnesses, the normal indifference that had typified my suburban community reestablished itself as the renewed normal. People didn’t stop to help as much. Smiles gave way to scowls. Again, folk muttered about, “Those darned kids” or “Those clueless geezers,” and ‘community’ evaporated under the heat ‘isolation.’ So I wonder- why do we all feel so busy and self-involved in normal times, when during extraordinary times it’s easy take time out to be kind?
Sorry for sounding dreary just days after Christmas! It’s just that I noticed this year a similar dynamic taking shape. Last Saturday, I stopped by my old house to pick up a package. We’d ordered a gift for friends and meant to give it to them Christmas Day, but alas, accidentally shipped it to house we used to rent. So I rung the old doorbell, and the current renters answered the door. I said, “Hi, I’m Shane. I used to live here. Did you receive our box from Amazon?” They said, “We got it right here.” I answered, “Thanks a lot!” They said, “No problem. And by the way, Happy Holidays!”
This wasn’t the first such interaction I’ve had in the past month. In fact, since basically the week before Thanksgiving, I’ve ended many a conversation with such a sentiment of my own. Happy Holidays! Merry Christmas! Enjoy the Turkey! Or whatever. And usually, this is in addition to the typical, “Have a nice day.” During the Holidays, it seems, we- many of us, at least- feel impelled to go the extra step, take an additional moment to wish goodwill and peace upon the world and people around us. Thankfully, it’s a wonderful event, not a tragic one, that moves us to such kindness. Nevertheless, when this Sunday has passed, and we’ve no longer an extra reason to be extra kind (Happy New Year!), what does it say about us that, in all likelihood, we’ll revert to the same ole quick and meaning-starved clichés to end our interactions with neighbors and strangers?
I don’t know, in truth. Maybe it doesn’t say much at all. But, it still being the holidays, and since I’m feeling especially optimistic, perhaps this year will be different. Maybe people- I, we- will keep finding excuses to express excessive kindness. A random, “Merry Monday!” Or surprising, “Happy Saturday!” That’d be something, wouldn’t it? Exuberant outbursts of goodness as a normal, not abnormal, event. It’d be like we began believing that all of life is extraordinary, every moment a gift from God. It’d be like we began believing…what God already believes about us.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
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Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Knowing God…
Recently, a spiritually curious and thoughtful buddy asked me a good question. “When people say they ‘know God,’ what do they mean? Can anyone know…God?!” We were playing a board game at the time, so I had trouble answering fully. I mean, can you do that question justice while demolishing your opponents? So here’s my more considered response. (Btw, I lost the game…bummer)
Firstly, I said that no serious religious thinker claims to fully ‘know God,’ not without serious qualifications. Even as brilliant a Christian thinker as St. Thomas Aquinas admitted the ultimate limitations of human thought. But he developed a strategy for ‘knowing’ God that I’ve found helpful, which may seem thick at first, but truly, it’s good stuff.
Aquinas said that all knowledge about God is analogical, i.e. we don’t know God as God is, but only through analogy to our experience. Sure, we ‘experience’ God, but way different than we experience eating. So the first thing to remember when saying, “I know God is…” is that we don’t know eternal facts about God. God is much greater than our experience!
Still, God is also not not like some things we’ve experienced. For instance, many call God Father, though God isn’t our biological pops. Still, God’s also not unlike a father, in some respects. We call God caring, loving, wise, kind, and fathers (should) share those characteristics. Thus, God’s is not not my father, even though God’s not John Isaac.
Hence, Aquinas says, God is a father by analogy, or God is like a father in critical respects. Again, that may sound too complicated by half, but consider two reasons this idea’s important. #1, by starting with, “God is not, ultimately, a father,” we recognize that every analogy for God is incomplete. As father-like as God seems, God’s also very mother-like. Plus, many had terrible and abusive fathers. To say, then, God is a father, without leaving wiggle-room, makes God sound unsafe or oppressive to folk those with bad dads. The point is we ought never pretend our analogies about God are facts about God. That equals idolatry, because God is always greater!
#2, by accepting analogy as a way to ‘know God,’ we open ourselves to constantly new ideas about God. When I first accepted that Mother was as valid an analogy for God as Father, I discovered vast troves of powerful divine knowledge. My mother is creative, compassionate, giving, and through that knowledge of her, I’ve learned about God my divine Mother.
Of course, some analogies for God are inappropriate. For instance- God is like a chair. A few years back, as an ironic critique of intelligent design theory, some claimed God was a Flying Spaghetti Monster. I found this satire of bad science funny and compelling. Spiritually speaking, though, God-as-Flying-Spaghetti-Monster falls flat.
So how can we decide between useful divine analogies and foolish or oppressive ones? Well, for Christians, I believe, it begins with Jesus. We confess- by faith- that the baby born in Bethlehem is our starting point when seeking knowledge of the divine. Put differently, for Christians, Jesus is the fullest revelation of God we know. Thus, we know Jesus was born a poor peasant. So we ‘know’- by faith- God is like a poor, vulnerable babe, i.e. God values all people, especially the most vulnerable. We know Jesus taught compassion, justice and forgiveness. So Christians ‘know’- by faith- God’s like a loving, just and merciful leader. God, of course, isn’t just the historical person Jesus of Nazareth. Before he was born, God was. After his death, God remained. But God- for Christians- is not not the historical person Jesus. Rather, God is like what we saw in him. In fact, we believe God is more like Jesus than any other person or thing. However, because there’s much we don’t know about Jesus, we must be open to other metaphors, ideas and analogies if we’re to know God better. Nevertheless, if ever we wonder whether an idea’s appropriate, we can ask, “Does this contradict what we know about Jesus?” Then, perhaps, we gain greater knowledge about the God we worship and serve.
Sorry Flying Spaghetti Monster.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Firstly, I said that no serious religious thinker claims to fully ‘know God,’ not without serious qualifications. Even as brilliant a Christian thinker as St. Thomas Aquinas admitted the ultimate limitations of human thought. But he developed a strategy for ‘knowing’ God that I’ve found helpful, which may seem thick at first, but truly, it’s good stuff.
Aquinas said that all knowledge about God is analogical, i.e. we don’t know God as God is, but only through analogy to our experience. Sure, we ‘experience’ God, but way different than we experience eating. So the first thing to remember when saying, “I know God is…” is that we don’t know eternal facts about God. God is much greater than our experience!
Still, God is also not not like some things we’ve experienced. For instance, many call God Father, though God isn’t our biological pops. Still, God’s also not unlike a father, in some respects. We call God caring, loving, wise, kind, and fathers (should) share those characteristics. Thus, God’s is not not my father, even though God’s not John Isaac.
Hence, Aquinas says, God is a father by analogy, or God is like a father in critical respects. Again, that may sound too complicated by half, but consider two reasons this idea’s important. #1, by starting with, “God is not, ultimately, a father,” we recognize that every analogy for God is incomplete. As father-like as God seems, God’s also very mother-like. Plus, many had terrible and abusive fathers. To say, then, God is a father, without leaving wiggle-room, makes God sound unsafe or oppressive to folk those with bad dads. The point is we ought never pretend our analogies about God are facts about God. That equals idolatry, because God is always greater!
#2, by accepting analogy as a way to ‘know God,’ we open ourselves to constantly new ideas about God. When I first accepted that Mother was as valid an analogy for God as Father, I discovered vast troves of powerful divine knowledge. My mother is creative, compassionate, giving, and through that knowledge of her, I’ve learned about God my divine Mother.
Of course, some analogies for God are inappropriate. For instance- God is like a chair. A few years back, as an ironic critique of intelligent design theory, some claimed God was a Flying Spaghetti Monster. I found this satire of bad science funny and compelling. Spiritually speaking, though, God-as-Flying-Spaghetti-Monster falls flat.
So how can we decide between useful divine analogies and foolish or oppressive ones? Well, for Christians, I believe, it begins with Jesus. We confess- by faith- that the baby born in Bethlehem is our starting point when seeking knowledge of the divine. Put differently, for Christians, Jesus is the fullest revelation of God we know. Thus, we know Jesus was born a poor peasant. So we ‘know’- by faith- God is like a poor, vulnerable babe, i.e. God values all people, especially the most vulnerable. We know Jesus taught compassion, justice and forgiveness. So Christians ‘know’- by faith- God’s like a loving, just and merciful leader. God, of course, isn’t just the historical person Jesus of Nazareth. Before he was born, God was. After his death, God remained. But God- for Christians- is not not the historical person Jesus. Rather, God is like what we saw in him. In fact, we believe God is more like Jesus than any other person or thing. However, because there’s much we don’t know about Jesus, we must be open to other metaphors, ideas and analogies if we’re to know God better. Nevertheless, if ever we wonder whether an idea’s appropriate, we can ask, “Does this contradict what we know about Jesus?” Then, perhaps, we gain greater knowledge about the God we worship and serve.
Sorry Flying Spaghetti Monster.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Goal achieving…
When I began running regularly, again, sometime mid-July, I didn’t have a specific goal in mind. Yes, I told myself I’d- maybe- train to join my brother-in-law for a triathlon. A small one. June 2012. Perhaps. We’ll see, though, if I’m still running in a month, I said. After all, it wasn’t the first time I’d tried a new exercise routine…
Well, it turns out that this time, it worked. As I write this, I’m preparing to run a half-marathon tomorrow. It’s not an organized event, mind you. Simply me and my headphones, running up and down Theodore Wirth Boulevard on my day off. I’ll run a route I planned that, Google maps assures me, is 13.1 miles. And the rest of the day, I’ll sit on my couch with ice packs nearby!
What’s funny to me, as I (nervously) anticipate tomorrow, is that this goal only came about gradually, after I began running. At first, I said, “I’ll ‘run’ to the end of the block and take a break.” Soon, it became, “Once I’ve gone 5 kilometers without stopping, I’ll buy a legit pair of running shoes.” (The initial pair was a Payless special- right price, poor for the knees). Only gradually did I begin wanting to go farther and dream bigger. My wife once ran a half-marathon, years ago. When I first heard that, I thought, “Sweetheart, you’re wonderful, but that’s crazy!” Until I found myself running too, getting farther and farther each time. The idea somehow emerged, then, “If she did it, maybe I can too!”
How do we go about setting and then achieving goals? And as Christians, do we ever set goals for growth in our own spiritual fitness? I’m sure some who’ve run marathons or half-marathons, or other such events, began with the idea itself: I’m running a marathon. They then tailored all their efforts to the task, beginning to end. But for me, it took baby steps (pun unintended). Indeed, my goal setting increased only as my endurance and confidence increased. And I wonder whether I’d be preparing for tomorrow if, from the get-go, I planned on this day.
Maybe. Certainly, that works for some. But this experience has helped me appreciate the value of incrementalism. That it’s not a failure of imagination, confidence or courage if you begin by setting a small goal, uncertain whether you’ll ever attempt more, simply content with where you’re at now and the slight progress you hope to achieve. In fact, as I reflect on, say, a challenge many small churches face, it feels similar- the pressure they feel, internal and external, to get bigger, to grow. Which isn’t a bad thing; indeed, I pray we too grow as a church! But one way many small churches respond to this pressure is taking on too much too fast. They’ll say, “We need to grow like that church down the street,” when that church down the street is 5, 10, 50 times their size. Thus, when they don’t find some magic bullet that makes worship attendance explode immediately, a tsunami of blaming or guilt can overwhelm the church, drowning their energy, deluging their confidence.
But what if, instead, they said, “We may never look like that church down the street. Nevertheless, what we do is faithful and important, and we want a few others to join the team.” Then, they set a simple goal- each member tell one person (whom they’ve never told!) about why they love their church. After which, maybe, they invite another person to join them on Sunday. And perhaps it continues, with a goal of leading just three new families to join, next year. That’s not a spiritual marathon, certainly, but momentum can build.
I suspect that same incremental goal setting might help more individual pursuits too: increasing your prayer life, Bible reading, charitable giving, your compassion. Even the greatest runners, surely, began slowly, simply, over short distances. And more to the point, even those who run a mile-a-day and will never dream of marathons are still healthier, happier, more energetic, I’d bet, than they’d be otherwise. And that’s a good goal, indeed.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Well, it turns out that this time, it worked. As I write this, I’m preparing to run a half-marathon tomorrow. It’s not an organized event, mind you. Simply me and my headphones, running up and down Theodore Wirth Boulevard on my day off. I’ll run a route I planned that, Google maps assures me, is 13.1 miles. And the rest of the day, I’ll sit on my couch with ice packs nearby!
What’s funny to me, as I (nervously) anticipate tomorrow, is that this goal only came about gradually, after I began running. At first, I said, “I’ll ‘run’ to the end of the block and take a break.” Soon, it became, “Once I’ve gone 5 kilometers without stopping, I’ll buy a legit pair of running shoes.” (The initial pair was a Payless special- right price, poor for the knees). Only gradually did I begin wanting to go farther and dream bigger. My wife once ran a half-marathon, years ago. When I first heard that, I thought, “Sweetheart, you’re wonderful, but that’s crazy!” Until I found myself running too, getting farther and farther each time. The idea somehow emerged, then, “If she did it, maybe I can too!”
How do we go about setting and then achieving goals? And as Christians, do we ever set goals for growth in our own spiritual fitness? I’m sure some who’ve run marathons or half-marathons, or other such events, began with the idea itself: I’m running a marathon. They then tailored all their efforts to the task, beginning to end. But for me, it took baby steps (pun unintended). Indeed, my goal setting increased only as my endurance and confidence increased. And I wonder whether I’d be preparing for tomorrow if, from the get-go, I planned on this day.
Maybe. Certainly, that works for some. But this experience has helped me appreciate the value of incrementalism. That it’s not a failure of imagination, confidence or courage if you begin by setting a small goal, uncertain whether you’ll ever attempt more, simply content with where you’re at now and the slight progress you hope to achieve. In fact, as I reflect on, say, a challenge many small churches face, it feels similar- the pressure they feel, internal and external, to get bigger, to grow. Which isn’t a bad thing; indeed, I pray we too grow as a church! But one way many small churches respond to this pressure is taking on too much too fast. They’ll say, “We need to grow like that church down the street,” when that church down the street is 5, 10, 50 times their size. Thus, when they don’t find some magic bullet that makes worship attendance explode immediately, a tsunami of blaming or guilt can overwhelm the church, drowning their energy, deluging their confidence.
But what if, instead, they said, “We may never look like that church down the street. Nevertheless, what we do is faithful and important, and we want a few others to join the team.” Then, they set a simple goal- each member tell one person (whom they’ve never told!) about why they love their church. After which, maybe, they invite another person to join them on Sunday. And perhaps it continues, with a goal of leading just three new families to join, next year. That’s not a spiritual marathon, certainly, but momentum can build.
I suspect that same incremental goal setting might help more individual pursuits too: increasing your prayer life, Bible reading, charitable giving, your compassion. Even the greatest runners, surely, began slowly, simply, over short distances. And more to the point, even those who run a mile-a-day and will never dream of marathons are still healthier, happier, more energetic, I’d bet, than they’d be otherwise. And that’s a good goal, indeed.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Stars of hope…
A couple years back, my good friend Mark became the pastor of First Congregational UCC in Moorhead, MN. And for his installation service, he asked me to preach. The invitation was quite an honor, so I tried to craft a quality sermon. On the drive up, even, I was still working, practicing the message aloud, asking for Tabitha’s feedback. Initially, she said, “Well, Shane, it’s a little…unclear.” So I scribbled and reworked- frantically- and eventually had something preachable. After I finished, Mark even said, “You did alright friend.” Which I took as great, gushing, epoch-defining praise.
I won’t rehash the sermon, but I thought you’d appreciate the main metaphor I used, considering something that’s happening at church this Advent. That metaphor was this: Installing a pastor is like Installation Art. For those unfamiliar with the genre, Installation Art is simple. An artist selects a public space- a lobby, building, park, sanctuary- then ‘installs’ in that space something s/he considers beautiful or profound. It can be a series of clear plastic tubes hanging from a tree, or empty combat boots. My favorite work was created by The Artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude, when in 1995 they wrapped the massive German Parliament Building- The Reichstag- with 100,000 square meters of polypropylene fabric. These art pieces typically remain in place for but limited time. And for that reason, some folk consider this branch of artistic expression foolhardy or unimportant.
But I think otherwise. To my friend’s congregation that day, I said we can learn something critical from Installation Art. Which is that while something ‘installed’ may abide for only months, even weeks, the goal of the installation is transforming the space forever. For instance, I cannot look at the Reichstag now without imagining the wrapping. So the building, to me, seems more like a gift than an imposing bastion of political power. I thought my friend should know that he had such an opportunity at the church where he was being installed. And, therefore, a responsibility to create something beautiful, profound and lasting with that congregation.
In case you’re wondering, I’m not describing this because I’m contemplating leaving Plymouth Creek! My hope is my installation will remain in place for awhile yet to come. Rather, I want to highlight something beautiful and profound that’s currently ‘installed’ in our sanctuary. You may’ve heard that our intern, Lynda Lee, was organizing a “Worship and Art” project, and after church last Sunday, she and many other Plymouth Creekers put the plan in motion. Together, they created stars and collages, fabric drapings and origami, all of which they then hung/installed in our sanctuary. I walked in there this morning, and let me tell you friends, it’s incredible! A few weeks back I confessed that one way I discern the Spirit moving in my life is when I feel my tear ducts begin to well with emotion. Today, walking around our worship space, seeing the incredible creativity of our members, their profound ideas and spiritual commitment, I had a sudden desire to weep, and thus said, “Thank you, Spirit, for this gift.” Truly, what Lynda and her team of artists have done is a sight to behold. And you can see it for yourself throughout this Advent and Christmas season.
But what to make of this sudden installation? Well, as I recall, the project’s theme was “hope.” After all, this Advent we’ve been talking about the good, good life Jesus led, and has freed us to lead ourselves. In other words, our Christmas vision this year is quite hopeful! Starting with that theme, Lynda’s group then reinterpreted it through modern symbols and stories, expressing artistically the hope they see, or want to see, in the world around us. At least, I think that was the goal. Meaning that we’ll be surrounded by, saturated with hope as we worship together this season. And perhaps- I hope- we’ll be so moved by their creativity, that even when it’s taken down and the new year comes, their hope will remain. As a memory of our sanctuary. As a reality in our hearts. As a motivation for the light we shine together as Christ’s Disciples.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
I won’t rehash the sermon, but I thought you’d appreciate the main metaphor I used, considering something that’s happening at church this Advent. That metaphor was this: Installing a pastor is like Installation Art. For those unfamiliar with the genre, Installation Art is simple. An artist selects a public space- a lobby, building, park, sanctuary- then ‘installs’ in that space something s/he considers beautiful or profound. It can be a series of clear plastic tubes hanging from a tree, or empty combat boots. My favorite work was created by The Artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude, when in 1995 they wrapped the massive German Parliament Building- The Reichstag- with 100,000 square meters of polypropylene fabric. These art pieces typically remain in place for but limited time. And for that reason, some folk consider this branch of artistic expression foolhardy or unimportant.
But I think otherwise. To my friend’s congregation that day, I said we can learn something critical from Installation Art. Which is that while something ‘installed’ may abide for only months, even weeks, the goal of the installation is transforming the space forever. For instance, I cannot look at the Reichstag now without imagining the wrapping. So the building, to me, seems more like a gift than an imposing bastion of political power. I thought my friend should know that he had such an opportunity at the church where he was being installed. And, therefore, a responsibility to create something beautiful, profound and lasting with that congregation.
In case you’re wondering, I’m not describing this because I’m contemplating leaving Plymouth Creek! My hope is my installation will remain in place for awhile yet to come. Rather, I want to highlight something beautiful and profound that’s currently ‘installed’ in our sanctuary. You may’ve heard that our intern, Lynda Lee, was organizing a “Worship and Art” project, and after church last Sunday, she and many other Plymouth Creekers put the plan in motion. Together, they created stars and collages, fabric drapings and origami, all of which they then hung/installed in our sanctuary. I walked in there this morning, and let me tell you friends, it’s incredible! A few weeks back I confessed that one way I discern the Spirit moving in my life is when I feel my tear ducts begin to well with emotion. Today, walking around our worship space, seeing the incredible creativity of our members, their profound ideas and spiritual commitment, I had a sudden desire to weep, and thus said, “Thank you, Spirit, for this gift.” Truly, what Lynda and her team of artists have done is a sight to behold. And you can see it for yourself throughout this Advent and Christmas season.
But what to make of this sudden installation? Well, as I recall, the project’s theme was “hope.” After all, this Advent we’ve been talking about the good, good life Jesus led, and has freed us to lead ourselves. In other words, our Christmas vision this year is quite hopeful! Starting with that theme, Lynda’s group then reinterpreted it through modern symbols and stories, expressing artistically the hope they see, or want to see, in the world around us. At least, I think that was the goal. Meaning that we’ll be surrounded by, saturated with hope as we worship together this season. And perhaps- I hope- we’ll be so moved by their creativity, that even when it’s taken down and the new year comes, their hope will remain. As a memory of our sanctuary. As a reality in our hearts. As a motivation for the light we shine together as Christ’s Disciples.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Shivering with love…
My dog does something I call the “Shake of Love.” It happens when I (or anyone, really) spend more than four seconds giving her undivided attention. We could be wrestling, or I could be scratching her belly. Whatever initiates it, she deeply enjoys such encounters, her speedily wagging tail being all the proof I need. And if I (or anyone, really) keep it up long enough, she’ll get so overwhelmed with joy that she stops and shakes herself as fast as possible, as if she’d just been doused with water. As I said, the “Shake of Love.” After which, she bounds back to me (or anyone, really), making it abundantly clear she wants the tummy rub, wrestling, personal attention continued. It’s all very cute. Until it’s not, and I have to make her stop wrestling with or licking me. Fawkes the Dog is nothing if not…persistent.
And consistent. Because this pretty much occurs without fail. Again, fulfill every above condition and Fawkes, she’s a-shakin’. Therefore, naturally, I’m jealous. My enjoyment of or ‘love’ for others decidedly does not arise so quickly, so excessively, so exuberantly, so easily. Not usually, at least. Sure, some would say, “Shane, dogs are different, more trusting.” But why should that be? Dogs get scared too. And especially for us Christians, we who follow the leader who once implored, “Love you neighbor as yourself.” Though we can’t wick water off our bodies with wild gesticulations (thus our shakes of love would look a tad different), why aren’t we as generous and enraptured with our love of others as my dog?
I wonder if the key here is memory. Our dog trainer said, “Don’t discipline Fawkes if she chews up the sofa, but you weren’t around when it happened. Her short-term memory is limited. So she won’t associate your discipline with her actions.” Humans, by contrast, remember much, much more. I read recently about the memory-making wonder machine that is the human brain, how we form richly detailed memories, how frequently that occurs, how we translate those memories into general impressions (and biases) about the world, ourselves and others.
And particularly, how amazing we are at… distorting what happens to us. Apparently, studies show that when a person’s wronged, s/he often amplifies how bad what happened actually was. But when the shoe’s on the other foot, we “remember” ourselves being much more conscientious and considerate than the person we wronged says we were. Of course, in some situations it doesn’t matter whether a person amplifies the offense or not. Some wrongs are truly horrific, regardless the excuses an offender gives. But in the everyday rush hours and pushy airport lines of life, it rings true to my experience that people (not me, of course) would remember the actions of others in more negative lights than the actions of self. And therefore- perhaps- be more reserved with offering love, trust, kindness than our short-term limited, lovable pets.
Fortunately for us, though, another human capacity is change, i.e. if we’re open to the possibility that maybe someone ‘remembers’ an issue differently than you, we can adapt our feelings of hurt or frustration by seeking common ground. I wonder, even, if this has something to do with what Jesus meant by, “Love your neighbor as you love yourself.” We’re often quick to see extenuating circumstances in our behavior, accept complex motivations for what we do, or excuse an oversight or thoughtless action. Sometimes we’re even capable of forgiving ourselves. What if we extended the same treatment to others? What if we did so repeatedly enough, even, that our instincts weren’t based on the pained, fearful, unloving or selfish memories we’re so good are creating and storing, but on the loving, joyful, patient and accepting attitudes we allow for our own behavior? That need not be mean indulging another’s mistakes, idiotic actions or downright malicious deeds. Our big brains can tell the difference. But perhaps if we accepted that most others as, basically, the same wonderful, flawed humans we are, we’d find ourselves shaking with love more often. And life would be sweeter for it.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
And consistent. Because this pretty much occurs without fail. Again, fulfill every above condition and Fawkes, she’s a-shakin’. Therefore, naturally, I’m jealous. My enjoyment of or ‘love’ for others decidedly does not arise so quickly, so excessively, so exuberantly, so easily. Not usually, at least. Sure, some would say, “Shane, dogs are different, more trusting.” But why should that be? Dogs get scared too. And especially for us Christians, we who follow the leader who once implored, “Love you neighbor as yourself.” Though we can’t wick water off our bodies with wild gesticulations (thus our shakes of love would look a tad different), why aren’t we as generous and enraptured with our love of others as my dog?
I wonder if the key here is memory. Our dog trainer said, “Don’t discipline Fawkes if she chews up the sofa, but you weren’t around when it happened. Her short-term memory is limited. So she won’t associate your discipline with her actions.” Humans, by contrast, remember much, much more. I read recently about the memory-making wonder machine that is the human brain, how we form richly detailed memories, how frequently that occurs, how we translate those memories into general impressions (and biases) about the world, ourselves and others.
And particularly, how amazing we are at… distorting what happens to us. Apparently, studies show that when a person’s wronged, s/he often amplifies how bad what happened actually was. But when the shoe’s on the other foot, we “remember” ourselves being much more conscientious and considerate than the person we wronged says we were. Of course, in some situations it doesn’t matter whether a person amplifies the offense or not. Some wrongs are truly horrific, regardless the excuses an offender gives. But in the everyday rush hours and pushy airport lines of life, it rings true to my experience that people (not me, of course) would remember the actions of others in more negative lights than the actions of self. And therefore- perhaps- be more reserved with offering love, trust, kindness than our short-term limited, lovable pets.
Fortunately for us, though, another human capacity is change, i.e. if we’re open to the possibility that maybe someone ‘remembers’ an issue differently than you, we can adapt our feelings of hurt or frustration by seeking common ground. I wonder, even, if this has something to do with what Jesus meant by, “Love your neighbor as you love yourself.” We’re often quick to see extenuating circumstances in our behavior, accept complex motivations for what we do, or excuse an oversight or thoughtless action. Sometimes we’re even capable of forgiving ourselves. What if we extended the same treatment to others? What if we did so repeatedly enough, even, that our instincts weren’t based on the pained, fearful, unloving or selfish memories we’re so good are creating and storing, but on the loving, joyful, patient and accepting attitudes we allow for our own behavior? That need not be mean indulging another’s mistakes, idiotic actions or downright malicious deeds. Our big brains can tell the difference. But perhaps if we accepted that most others as, basically, the same wonderful, flawed humans we are, we’d find ourselves shaking with love more often. And life would be sweeter for it.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
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Hope for the Holidays…
One decent part of how our culture “celebrates” the holidays is the expectation that it be a joyful season. Sure, much of that festivity seems wildly manufactured; loud TV announcers declaring “THE DEAL OF THE CENTURY”, cheesy marketing posters showcasing smiling families in name brand clothing. Some of what counts as ‘holiday cheer’ can mask a kind of greed, or shallowness of spirit, or something. Nevertheless, we could do worse than encouraging joy this time of year. Imagine we gave into the dark days and cold nights, hunkered down, hibernated, awaited Spring. Depressing, amen?!
Fortunately, we don’t. We sing carols, wear bright sweaters, resurrect time-honored traditions and put on a happy face. The desire to feel joy- to bathe in it and share it with others- that lifts many a mood. Even if it feels forced at times.
Because it can, right? Often, it does. After all, coupled with glossy coupons and internet deals are news reports of impeding economic doom across the pond and here at home, continued uncertainty at work, reminders of family turmoil. Minus the holiday sentiment, our communities’ collective mood resides currently near the drain. At least, that’s how it seems to me, though I suspect I’m not alone.
A cynical person, then, might sneer at holiday cheer, deriding an anchorless culture that tries to buy its way into feeling better. I’ve heard that said before, even felt such frustration or protest or despair sneak its way into my soul. Yet I simply can’t find a way to give into the doldrums or awash my worldview in anger. Sorry to say, my friends, but I’m grateful to be alive.
And not just in the, “I’m supposed to say that” sense. I’m truly, blissfully humbled for the gift of life in this world. I type these letters on a wizard machine, or so our ancestors would assess computers. Given prudent saving and a little luck, I might fly somewhere for vacation, eventually. Even if I pay more for bacon and Brussels sprouts that I’d prefer my regular food choices are by all objective measures dazzling. Assuming I don’t mess up the cooking!
Yes, life can be hard. My responsibilities and stress levels this past year have been, at times, overwhelming. But I’m well aware that what I struggle with is nowhere near as tough as many- most?- of the world’s population. So forgive me if I don’t share the culture’s dire assessment of life today. I want things to get better, absolutely; I especially want life to improve for the poor, the lonely, the jobless and abused in our midst. For that reason, I give money, time and more to benefit ‘the least of these.’ But I’m also frustrated with the doomsayers, those who just can’t find anything good to say. Especially when such commentators have a lot to be thankful for.
Thus, I’m hoping that our congregation will buck trends this Advent, and celebrate the joy of Christmas with guileless, uninhibited abandon! Remember, the story of our Savior’s birth isn’t without dark sides or rough edges. There was no room in the inn; a manger crib certainly stank! When it ended, Joseph and Mary returned to fragile peasant living. Nevertheless, the Holy Mother said, “My soul magnifies the Lord!” For she believed, and in time Jesus would prove definitively, that the Author of Creation showers all our days with love, desires abundant life for all life from now until the end of time. Indeed, through the eyes of faith, we see in that Christmas babe a vision of what God’s great heart intended- a good, good life for all God’s children, united through grace.
So I invite you, as we worship together this holiday season, ring bells and give gifts and swap stories old and new, to claim personally the deepest truths of our faith- that joy is our inheritance, that love will always win. And even if it feels forced at times, more a hope or prayer than a heartfelt fact, for now, to declare that the life we lead is a good, good life indeed. For as Jesus’ followers we know, Christ was born for this.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Fortunately, we don’t. We sing carols, wear bright sweaters, resurrect time-honored traditions and put on a happy face. The desire to feel joy- to bathe in it and share it with others- that lifts many a mood. Even if it feels forced at times.
Because it can, right? Often, it does. After all, coupled with glossy coupons and internet deals are news reports of impeding economic doom across the pond and here at home, continued uncertainty at work, reminders of family turmoil. Minus the holiday sentiment, our communities’ collective mood resides currently near the drain. At least, that’s how it seems to me, though I suspect I’m not alone.
A cynical person, then, might sneer at holiday cheer, deriding an anchorless culture that tries to buy its way into feeling better. I’ve heard that said before, even felt such frustration or protest or despair sneak its way into my soul. Yet I simply can’t find a way to give into the doldrums or awash my worldview in anger. Sorry to say, my friends, but I’m grateful to be alive.
And not just in the, “I’m supposed to say that” sense. I’m truly, blissfully humbled for the gift of life in this world. I type these letters on a wizard machine, or so our ancestors would assess computers. Given prudent saving and a little luck, I might fly somewhere for vacation, eventually. Even if I pay more for bacon and Brussels sprouts that I’d prefer my regular food choices are by all objective measures dazzling. Assuming I don’t mess up the cooking!
Yes, life can be hard. My responsibilities and stress levels this past year have been, at times, overwhelming. But I’m well aware that what I struggle with is nowhere near as tough as many- most?- of the world’s population. So forgive me if I don’t share the culture’s dire assessment of life today. I want things to get better, absolutely; I especially want life to improve for the poor, the lonely, the jobless and abused in our midst. For that reason, I give money, time and more to benefit ‘the least of these.’ But I’m also frustrated with the doomsayers, those who just can’t find anything good to say. Especially when such commentators have a lot to be thankful for.
Thus, I’m hoping that our congregation will buck trends this Advent, and celebrate the joy of Christmas with guileless, uninhibited abandon! Remember, the story of our Savior’s birth isn’t without dark sides or rough edges. There was no room in the inn; a manger crib certainly stank! When it ended, Joseph and Mary returned to fragile peasant living. Nevertheless, the Holy Mother said, “My soul magnifies the Lord!” For she believed, and in time Jesus would prove definitively, that the Author of Creation showers all our days with love, desires abundant life for all life from now until the end of time. Indeed, through the eyes of faith, we see in that Christmas babe a vision of what God’s great heart intended- a good, good life for all God’s children, united through grace.
So I invite you, as we worship together this holiday season, ring bells and give gifts and swap stories old and new, to claim personally the deepest truths of our faith- that joy is our inheritance, that love will always win. And even if it feels forced at times, more a hope or prayer than a heartfelt fact, for now, to declare that the life we lead is a good, good life indeed. For as Jesus’ followers we know, Christ was born for this.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Prince of Peace…
I realized something brilliant last Saturday. The reason the “Holiday Season” begins waaayyy too early isn’t commercialism, greed, or a cultural dearth of meaning. Rather, it’s Christmas Carols.
Yep, the reason for “Christmas Creep” is the songs we sing. My proof? Imagine if we had “Halloween Sing-along’s” or “Thanksgiving Carols.” Stores would have more options to entice shoppers into seasonal moods; music stations would avoid Christmas stuff until after Thanksgiving. In other words, if we had more holiday music than Christmas Carols, life as we know it would change. Is this observation earth-shattering? No. But I’m proud I thought of it first.
As it is, year after year, we replay melodies of shepherds watching flocks by a silent, O-Holy night. But objectively speaking, that’s strange right? That we invest so much in repeating the same story, again and again. And again. You’d think we’d have squeezed it dry by now?! What more could we possibly learn that we haven’t already read about, sung about, for ages?!
Well, here’s my theory- The BIG ideas that transform our lives, our world, etc., don’t arise one day, and Poof! everything changes. Instead, they require time to work their magic. And patience. Stops and starts; perhaps centuries of infiltration. Only then- if ever- can these blessed inspirations work out their full, gracious effects.
For example: Christianity’s “The-Christmas-Babe-is-the-Prince-of-Peace” belief. On the surface, the claim appears ludicrous. Thirty(ish) years after birth, Jesus died a violent death. By 400, his followers ruled a war-obsessed empire (Rome). In later centuries, Christians perpetrated Crusades and Wars of Religion, endured invasions by Islam and the Mongolian Hordes, organized the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade. Prince of Peace, we call Jesus. But since his birth, peace has seemed…elusive. Thus, some wonder, whether it’s sane, even, to celebrate his nativity every year.
But recently I finished a book that meticulously documented something related, and if true, is one of our time’s most inspirational, hopeful stories. Did you know that we live in the safest, least violent and most peaceful era the world’s ever seen? That is, since the evolution of humanity. Really, as best we know, every society prior to modern, economically developed, 21st-century nations has endured higher rates of murder and war- and frankly, it’s not even close. At least that’s what the statistics of this Harvard professor/author claim. Which isn’t saying everything’s glorious. Only that progress has been made. I won’t rehash his data here, but if that surprises you, join the club.
So what happened?! Well, according to the book’s author, religion had nothing to do with it. After all, he points out, religious folk have messed things up plenty. Fair enough, but I wonder if he misunderstands the nature of faith. To him, our major problem is we’ve so often preached peace, but made war. But come now- religious folk aren’t the world’s only hypocrites.
Besides, and here’s my theory, I suspect momentum’s been building ever since God first inspired, “Love thy neighbor as thyself,” or Jesus claimed, “Whatsoever you do unto the least of these, you do unto me.” Applying those (groundbreaking, back then) ideas has taken time; our circles of compassion and empathy have expanded in fits and starts. But it began somewhere, and the trend’s been ever-expanding. As MLK Jr. put it, “The moral arc of the universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” Thus, I’d guess, our annually honoring the “Prince of Peace” (coupled with similar efforts by other great religions) has assisted, maybe caused, these cumulative effects. The world’s great powers, for the first time ever, haven’t warred for over fifty years; murder rates in industrialized countries are at historical lows; infanticide and slavery are now considered unthinkable. I could continue, but the trend’s clear. Peace is happening. Not everywhere, for everyone, but for more than ever before.
Obviously, that doesn’t mean we should stop praying for peace, stop working for it, stop opposing those who oppose it. Things can always change. But as we begin our annual Advent waiting, we ought recognize life’s good news, and the positive developments occurring. And maybe pray a prayer of gratitude for the Prince of Peace’s guidance.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Yep, the reason for “Christmas Creep” is the songs we sing. My proof? Imagine if we had “Halloween Sing-along’s” or “Thanksgiving Carols.” Stores would have more options to entice shoppers into seasonal moods; music stations would avoid Christmas stuff until after Thanksgiving. In other words, if we had more holiday music than Christmas Carols, life as we know it would change. Is this observation earth-shattering? No. But I’m proud I thought of it first.
As it is, year after year, we replay melodies of shepherds watching flocks by a silent, O-Holy night. But objectively speaking, that’s strange right? That we invest so much in repeating the same story, again and again. And again. You’d think we’d have squeezed it dry by now?! What more could we possibly learn that we haven’t already read about, sung about, for ages?!
Well, here’s my theory- The BIG ideas that transform our lives, our world, etc., don’t arise one day, and Poof! everything changes. Instead, they require time to work their magic. And patience. Stops and starts; perhaps centuries of infiltration. Only then- if ever- can these blessed inspirations work out their full, gracious effects.
For example: Christianity’s “The-Christmas-Babe-is-the-Prince-of-Peace” belief. On the surface, the claim appears ludicrous. Thirty(ish) years after birth, Jesus died a violent death. By 400, his followers ruled a war-obsessed empire (Rome). In later centuries, Christians perpetrated Crusades and Wars of Religion, endured invasions by Islam and the Mongolian Hordes, organized the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade. Prince of Peace, we call Jesus. But since his birth, peace has seemed…elusive. Thus, some wonder, whether it’s sane, even, to celebrate his nativity every year.
But recently I finished a book that meticulously documented something related, and if true, is one of our time’s most inspirational, hopeful stories. Did you know that we live in the safest, least violent and most peaceful era the world’s ever seen? That is, since the evolution of humanity. Really, as best we know, every society prior to modern, economically developed, 21st-century nations has endured higher rates of murder and war- and frankly, it’s not even close. At least that’s what the statistics of this Harvard professor/author claim. Which isn’t saying everything’s glorious. Only that progress has been made. I won’t rehash his data here, but if that surprises you, join the club.
So what happened?! Well, according to the book’s author, religion had nothing to do with it. After all, he points out, religious folk have messed things up plenty. Fair enough, but I wonder if he misunderstands the nature of faith. To him, our major problem is we’ve so often preached peace, but made war. But come now- religious folk aren’t the world’s only hypocrites.
Besides, and here’s my theory, I suspect momentum’s been building ever since God first inspired, “Love thy neighbor as thyself,” or Jesus claimed, “Whatsoever you do unto the least of these, you do unto me.” Applying those (groundbreaking, back then) ideas has taken time; our circles of compassion and empathy have expanded in fits and starts. But it began somewhere, and the trend’s been ever-expanding. As MLK Jr. put it, “The moral arc of the universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” Thus, I’d guess, our annually honoring the “Prince of Peace” (coupled with similar efforts by other great religions) has assisted, maybe caused, these cumulative effects. The world’s great powers, for the first time ever, haven’t warred for over fifty years; murder rates in industrialized countries are at historical lows; infanticide and slavery are now considered unthinkable. I could continue, but the trend’s clear. Peace is happening. Not everywhere, for everyone, but for more than ever before.
Obviously, that doesn’t mean we should stop praying for peace, stop working for it, stop opposing those who oppose it. Things can always change. But as we begin our annual Advent waiting, we ought recognize life’s good news, and the positive developments occurring. And maybe pray a prayer of gratitude for the Prince of Peace’s guidance.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
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