Christmas is typically a time for tradition, for doing what’s been done before, and keeping experiments to a minimum. My first year in college, however, that flew out the window.
It began December 8, to be specific. You might recall that there were few active Christians in my collegiate circle of friends. Indeed, only two other freshman with whom I spent regular time (Warren and Ama) considered themselves ‘actively religious.’ Ama was the first Muslim I’d ever met; Warren, the first (and only) Rastafarian. I’d attended Christian high school, so my experience of diverse religious practitioners and their traditions was woefully inadequate. Particularly because the Christian faith I grew up with encouraged distrust, even condemnation, of non-Christian religions.
So Ama and Warren were eye-opening. When I mentioned waking up early to pray, or taking time out to read Scripture, they were my only college pals who said, “Yeah, I get it. Me too.” Thus, despite some lingering disapproval of their faith perspectives, I gained deep respect for Warren and Ama. This respect led me to question whether my disapproval was, in fact, warranted. So to explore that nagging question, and to further build our bond as the token ‘religious people’ in our group, we undertook an experiment.
December 8 that year marked the beginning of the Muslim holy month, Ramadan. You may know that it’s orthodox Islamic practice to fast everyday during Ramadan, as an act of self-sacrifice, renewed commitment and full-bodied obedience to Allah, i.e. God. Fasting begins daily at sunrise, and ends at sunset. The faithful wake early for breakfast, and ingest neither food nor beverage until darkness returns (well, some drink water, others juice, i.e. it’s confusing, like all religious fasts). Ama grew up observing Ramadan, but always with her family and religious community. Seeing as she now attended a lividly secular school halfway across the nation, she asked her only other religious friends -Warren and me- to join her. We said, ‘yes,’ and thus my Advent waiting that year included thirty days of fasting. People sometimes chuckle (justly) at my strange affinity for devotional behavior.
What an experiment! If you’ve never before fasted, I highly encourage you try it out (after consulting your doctor). Jesus says lots about fasting, but never explains it, since the process was such common knowledge. So I’ll help with particulars if you want, even do it with you…just ask. But this particular fast, my first, was especially meaningful. I performed religious actions I’d never attempted, and learned of religious devotions foreign to my inherited idea of God. To be honest, it gave me deeper respect for what Ama went through each December as she saw Christmas decorations hung and heard carols sung all around her. There’s something both enticing and alarming about experiencing authentic religious activity that’s not native to your tradition. Needless to say, through that and subsequent experiences, my distrust of Islam, Rastafarianism and other genuine religious expressions faded.
So consider my dismay when, last week, I read in the Star Tribune that fliers with swastikas and sexually-explicit cartoons about the prophet Mohammed were stapled to telephone poles in St. Cloud, including poles just outside a store owned and operated by a Muslim family. “I hope Christians didn’t do that,” I thought. “What ugly Christmas decorations.” In Luke’s Gospel, angels appear the night of Jesus’ birth, and sing, “Glory to God, and on earth, peace among all people.” Signs or statements demeaning Muslims (and Jews) don’t fit with that declaration, I believe. Indeed, the Prince of Peace was born so all people- with our many shades, shapes, and differing allegiances- might live reconciled to God and one another (2 Cor. 5:18-19); might develop exuberance about God’s love and our neighbor’s well-being. It took an Advent of whining about empty stomachs with Ama and Warren for me to glimpse that wrinkle in the Christmas story. But now it’s one I pray many children and adults will hear, and tell, and live.
So Merry Christmas, everyone! Jesus, Emmanuel, God-with-Us, will soon be born again. May his divine presence bring love so unconditional and indiscriminate, we just forget that meanness is even an option.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
Just a man and his will…
“Stupid men.” Heard that comment recently? I have, and for the record, it wasn’t about tools and football. There’s nothing stupid about drills or gridiron glory. And I believe Jesus agrees.
No, this rather tongue-in-cheek remark came in response to a question I lofted at a female friend, “Did you hear about Tiger Woods?” It wasn’t just her, by the way. Other women I queried, in the church and beyond, gave almost the same reply. “Stupid men. When will they learn?” “Touché,” I thought, “Though we’re not all bad…right…” Of course, all generalizations of people groups – gender, age, race, sports fans- fall short; within any one category there’s always diversity. That said, it seems Tiger’s bad behavior touched a nerve in many that goes beyond Tiger himself.
In case you slept through last week, here’s an update. Tiger Woods, the world’s greatest golfer, had a car accident Thanksgiving night (technically, it was the next morning, 2:30 AM- YAWWWWN). Since then, speculation erupted about why the accident occurred, and especially, whether it stemmed from a family fight over Tiger’s unfaithfulness to his wife, Elin. Tabloids ran stories about alleged mistresses linked to Tiger. And the golfer published a statement vaguely admitting certain “transgressions,” his hope to become “a better husband and father,” an apology to fans and a plea for the media to “respect their privacy.” Good luck with that last one, Tiger, however decent an idea.
How to respond? Again, we admit that sports figures and celebrities aren’t default role models. They’re human, whose flaws, though, seem larger because of media exposure and greater wealth and fame. Still, this affair seemed different. It touched a deeper nerve for many people, and I must admit it wasn’t just the women quoted above. For some reason, I reacted stronger to this Tiger Woods episode than most celebrity scandals. I don’t why, but I let my guard down more in respect to his character. I wanted him to be the exception, the exemplar, yes, even the role model that others couldn’t be.
Why? Because I’m a guy who doesn’t like the notion that guys are irredeemably slavish, carnal and ceaselessly underdeveloped emotionally. I want to live as a counter example of that stereotype, and Tiger, with his uncanny coolness, seemed like an ally. I want my nephews, and the young men of our church, to discover empowering models of manly behavior that celebrate emotional complexity, mutuality, transformational vulnerability, and the deeper, more passionate joys of commitment. And I worry that young men, instead, get flooded with images and stories of men getting away with behaving irresponsibly, or worse, being praised as “cool” or “hip”. It seems like there’s a woefully short supply of places young men can turn to for examples of moral, faithful behavior. Now there’s one less. Bummer.
One of the many things I’ve enjoyed about our partnership with Thy Word Worship Center is a poster that appeared recently on their Bulletin Board. It has a boy with a sweater that reads “Teach Me,” and to his left is a list of things to teach- the usual suspects- “Don’t Do Drugs, Stay In School, etc.” It concludes with something unexpected, however, and welcome- Respect Women. Amen. The poster, you may know, is a protest against domestic violence, and I should be clear that I do not equate that with marital infidelity. Physical abuse seems worse. But it saddens me that, generally speaking (please recall the above caveat about generalizations), these infamous marital infidelities are typically men cheating on their wives. And because I’m constantly bombarded with images and stories that celebrate women’s bodies above all else, it makes me wonder… Not every act of unfaithfulness, of course, derives from a deep disrespect of women. People sometimes just mess up. But those images and stories I mentioned certainly are not respectful, and I know too many men who haven’t stopped to consider that. The image we should celebrate most is God’s image, embodied in all people.
But that’s just one thought. You got any ideas? Prayers for the Woods family. Here’s hoping they might become, at least, a model of reconciliation.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
No, this rather tongue-in-cheek remark came in response to a question I lofted at a female friend, “Did you hear about Tiger Woods?” It wasn’t just her, by the way. Other women I queried, in the church and beyond, gave almost the same reply. “Stupid men. When will they learn?” “Touché,” I thought, “Though we’re not all bad…right…” Of course, all generalizations of people groups – gender, age, race, sports fans- fall short; within any one category there’s always diversity. That said, it seems Tiger’s bad behavior touched a nerve in many that goes beyond Tiger himself.
In case you slept through last week, here’s an update. Tiger Woods, the world’s greatest golfer, had a car accident Thanksgiving night (technically, it was the next morning, 2:30 AM- YAWWWWN). Since then, speculation erupted about why the accident occurred, and especially, whether it stemmed from a family fight over Tiger’s unfaithfulness to his wife, Elin. Tabloids ran stories about alleged mistresses linked to Tiger. And the golfer published a statement vaguely admitting certain “transgressions,” his hope to become “a better husband and father,” an apology to fans and a plea for the media to “respect their privacy.” Good luck with that last one, Tiger, however decent an idea.
How to respond? Again, we admit that sports figures and celebrities aren’t default role models. They’re human, whose flaws, though, seem larger because of media exposure and greater wealth and fame. Still, this affair seemed different. It touched a deeper nerve for many people, and I must admit it wasn’t just the women quoted above. For some reason, I reacted stronger to this Tiger Woods episode than most celebrity scandals. I don’t why, but I let my guard down more in respect to his character. I wanted him to be the exception, the exemplar, yes, even the role model that others couldn’t be.
Why? Because I’m a guy who doesn’t like the notion that guys are irredeemably slavish, carnal and ceaselessly underdeveloped emotionally. I want to live as a counter example of that stereotype, and Tiger, with his uncanny coolness, seemed like an ally. I want my nephews, and the young men of our church, to discover empowering models of manly behavior that celebrate emotional complexity, mutuality, transformational vulnerability, and the deeper, more passionate joys of commitment. And I worry that young men, instead, get flooded with images and stories of men getting away with behaving irresponsibly, or worse, being praised as “cool” or “hip”. It seems like there’s a woefully short supply of places young men can turn to for examples of moral, faithful behavior. Now there’s one less. Bummer.
One of the many things I’ve enjoyed about our partnership with Thy Word Worship Center is a poster that appeared recently on their Bulletin Board. It has a boy with a sweater that reads “Teach Me,” and to his left is a list of things to teach- the usual suspects- “Don’t Do Drugs, Stay In School, etc.” It concludes with something unexpected, however, and welcome- Respect Women. Amen. The poster, you may know, is a protest against domestic violence, and I should be clear that I do not equate that with marital infidelity. Physical abuse seems worse. But it saddens me that, generally speaking (please recall the above caveat about generalizations), these infamous marital infidelities are typically men cheating on their wives. And because I’m constantly bombarded with images and stories that celebrate women’s bodies above all else, it makes me wonder… Not every act of unfaithfulness, of course, derives from a deep disrespect of women. People sometimes just mess up. But those images and stories I mentioned certainly are not respectful, and I know too many men who haven’t stopped to consider that. The image we should celebrate most is God’s image, embodied in all people.
But that’s just one thought. You got any ideas? Prayers for the Woods family. Here’s hoping they might become, at least, a model of reconciliation.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Friday, December 4, 2009
Get there before Christmas…
Something caught my eye in the post office the other day; a sign with a message about Holiday expectations. The basic gist was that if you wanted your package to arrive in x part of the country by Christmas Eve, you’d have to send it by y date; if z state, you must send by w date, and so on. Of course, the farther it had to travel, the greater need to plan ahead. But what piqued my attention was that for packages traveling in the Midwest- to Denver, or even Kansas City- the sign demanded two weeks lead time (if my memory serves…). “Wow,” I thought, “That same letter during other times of year takes only two days!” And if you’re shipping Christmas gifts to California, add another week or two as well.
So pray for our postwomen and men! I’m sure Christmas packages take this long because of increased Holiday volume. USPS employees (and UPS, FedEx…) will work extra hard, but hopefully those signs will help. Better preparation will make customers less anxious about the punctuality of gifts (how’s that for optimism!). At the very least, I’m happy they make these dates available. It’ll help my planning in years to come.
It got me thinking- Why do we go through all this trouble during Christmas? Why do we work so hard to get everything together in time, travel such long distances, spend so much money? What makes any holiday, but this holiday especially, worth so much effort?
Honestly, I bet a big part of that answer is obligation, or if you prefer, tradition. It’s our cultural and religious tradition to, every year, make a big deal about these holidays and the few weeks prior. Families have always gotten together, whether they particularly wanted to or not. Gifts are always searched for and bought, sometimes elatedly, sometimes grudgingly. Some years, fulfilling these traditions, and the associated obligations fill us with joy and mirth. Other years, not so much. But we do them because we’ve always done them, and feel like we should take it seriously.
I don’t want that to sound like a bad thing. Tradition and obligation, in many respects, are wonderful. They prompt to actions that may seem burdensome at first, ultimately are worthwhile, meaningful, even fun. My junior year in High School, I told Mom I didn’t like my teammates, and thus was quitting soccer. She said, “No,” made me play, and we won the State Championship. Some obligations really work out just fine.
Nevertheless, for any tradition or obligation to remain meaningful, something important must be behind it. Mom told me to play soccer because she thought, regardless how I felt about my teammates at the moment, my love for the game and athletics was deeper. And she was right. The same goes for the Holidays, I suspect. Behind the traditions and feelings of obligation lie important, life-giving values. For many, the values of family connectedness and intimacy make all the fuss and bother of travel, presents and dirty, dirty kitchens well worth the struggle. That’s true during years you’re angry with your relatives as much as those years you’re feeling good.
But the Christmas Holidays are more than family reunions. They’re religious festivals, so presumably the deeper meanings derive from faith-inspired values too. Back in the day, these festivals broke up the monotony of cold, post-harvest winter months, by providing spectacle and beauty to otherwise dreary days. They reminded poor peasants and wealthy nobility alike that the glory of God, and the glorious nature of what God did for this world through the little child Jesus, overcame all things tedious or ugly, and transcended even the best we humans could imagine for ourselves. Sure, it took a lot of work for these festivals to go just right, but from a religious person’s perspective, that effort paled in comparison to what God and Jesus did, and still does, for us. So they were happy to reciprocate, in whatever small measure. I pray that’s as true for our Christmas this year as it has been in ages past. It’s a grand tradition, I’d say. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
So pray for our postwomen and men! I’m sure Christmas packages take this long because of increased Holiday volume. USPS employees (and UPS, FedEx…) will work extra hard, but hopefully those signs will help. Better preparation will make customers less anxious about the punctuality of gifts (how’s that for optimism!). At the very least, I’m happy they make these dates available. It’ll help my planning in years to come.
It got me thinking- Why do we go through all this trouble during Christmas? Why do we work so hard to get everything together in time, travel such long distances, spend so much money? What makes any holiday, but this holiday especially, worth so much effort?
Honestly, I bet a big part of that answer is obligation, or if you prefer, tradition. It’s our cultural and religious tradition to, every year, make a big deal about these holidays and the few weeks prior. Families have always gotten together, whether they particularly wanted to or not. Gifts are always searched for and bought, sometimes elatedly, sometimes grudgingly. Some years, fulfilling these traditions, and the associated obligations fill us with joy and mirth. Other years, not so much. But we do them because we’ve always done them, and feel like we should take it seriously.
I don’t want that to sound like a bad thing. Tradition and obligation, in many respects, are wonderful. They prompt to actions that may seem burdensome at first, ultimately are worthwhile, meaningful, even fun. My junior year in High School, I told Mom I didn’t like my teammates, and thus was quitting soccer. She said, “No,” made me play, and we won the State Championship. Some obligations really work out just fine.
Nevertheless, for any tradition or obligation to remain meaningful, something important must be behind it. Mom told me to play soccer because she thought, regardless how I felt about my teammates at the moment, my love for the game and athletics was deeper. And she was right. The same goes for the Holidays, I suspect. Behind the traditions and feelings of obligation lie important, life-giving values. For many, the values of family connectedness and intimacy make all the fuss and bother of travel, presents and dirty, dirty kitchens well worth the struggle. That’s true during years you’re angry with your relatives as much as those years you’re feeling good.
But the Christmas Holidays are more than family reunions. They’re religious festivals, so presumably the deeper meanings derive from faith-inspired values too. Back in the day, these festivals broke up the monotony of cold, post-harvest winter months, by providing spectacle and beauty to otherwise dreary days. They reminded poor peasants and wealthy nobility alike that the glory of God, and the glorious nature of what God did for this world through the little child Jesus, overcame all things tedious or ugly, and transcended even the best we humans could imagine for ourselves. Sure, it took a lot of work for these festivals to go just right, but from a religious person’s perspective, that effort paled in comparison to what God and Jesus did, and still does, for us. So they were happy to reciprocate, in whatever small measure. I pray that’s as true for our Christmas this year as it has been in ages past. It’s a grand tradition, I’d say. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Welcoming the Stranger…
I blame Hallmark, although- perhaps- Christians helped perpetuate the lie. My enlightenment about this issue came from a pastoral colleague. A couple years back, a group of us were discussing some Christmas passage about the manger, when the lie popped up. Someone (me) said, “Isn’t it sweet to think about Jesus, in the manger, lying in hay, amidst all those cute sheep?” And while now I know how wrong that statement was, I feel completely justified in having said it. After all, I’d grown up with Hallmark’s many nativity scenes, and all those fluffy sheep on their cards, etc. But my colleague spoke up, “Oh, young man; let me learn you something. Sheep are not cute. If you’d lived in a farming community like me, you’d know how smelly, loud and dirty the manger of Jesus’ birth truly was.”
Sure, this may not be the most grievous error that religion or the greeting card industry could perpetrate on humankind, but it does shift one’s imagination about the beloved Christmas story. Think of Jesus, wrapped in swaddling (and scratchy) cloth, lying in a rickety manger, surrounded by baying barn animals, Mary doing her best to calm the child’s anxiety. And suddenly, Scripture suggests, shepherds appear, having spent the whole day (and probably the past couple days) wrestling their smelly sheep in nearby fields. Not as idyllic and serene as other portrayals of that landmark event, but it’s a telling of the story saturated in theological riches.
Remember Jesus’ parable in Matthew 25? It’s a vision of the Last Judgment, where the Eternal Judge separates “the sheep from the goats.” To both camps, Jesus pronounces the following words: Whatsoever you do unto these my children, even the least, you do so unto me. The rest of story goes that some had clothed the naked, fed the hungry and welcomed the stranger, while others had not.
That final notion, welcoming the stranger, had a long history in the religious life of Jesus’ people. Genesis tells of Abraham and Sarah sitting around the tent, when some strange fellows walk up to them. Turns out they’re angels, and they’ve come with the message this couple had waited upon for decades, “Sarah, you’re about to be pregnant.” That story says as much about welcoming the stranger as it does about trusting in God’s providence. Jewish law makes provision for certain cities in the nation of Israel to be cities of Sanctuary, where asylum would be offered any stranger who needs help and a new start to life. Christians for millennia have practiced, as essential to our faith, numerous acts of welcoming the stranger. We call it hospitality. And from the Disciples of Christ perspective, the hospitality we’re called to extend is open to any and all, to every person that would come share the bounty of the Lord’s Table in our midst. You might say that at the core of our faith is a value we at Plymouth Creek hold dear. Indiscriminate hospitality. Welcoming each and every stranger God brings our way.
But we don’t think of that concept very often when we’re talking Christmas, right? Indiscriminate hospitality gets practiced during Communion, in remembrance of Jesus’ final meal with his Disciples. Christmas, rather, is all about fluffy sheep and wealthy wise men laden with presents. Think again. Those sheep and their shepherds were not the most illustrious of houseguests. The wise men are a different story, though I’d imagine the conversation via interpreter proved rather halting. As strangers to Bethlehem, of course, Mary and Joseph had received welcome when no room was found at the local Inn. Then, it seems the Holy Couple responded in kind and welcomed other strangers, shepherds and foreign dignitaries and more besides, to share the joy of their newborn child. They practiced indiscriminate hospitality at the beginning of Jesus’ life, setting him on a path that would extend God’s open-armed adventure to more than anyone would’ve dared imagine.
So Merry Christmas! May you receive abundant welcome at many tables, and even find time to welcome a stranger or two who needs it. You never know when God might drop in.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Sure, this may not be the most grievous error that religion or the greeting card industry could perpetrate on humankind, but it does shift one’s imagination about the beloved Christmas story. Think of Jesus, wrapped in swaddling (and scratchy) cloth, lying in a rickety manger, surrounded by baying barn animals, Mary doing her best to calm the child’s anxiety. And suddenly, Scripture suggests, shepherds appear, having spent the whole day (and probably the past couple days) wrestling their smelly sheep in nearby fields. Not as idyllic and serene as other portrayals of that landmark event, but it’s a telling of the story saturated in theological riches.
Remember Jesus’ parable in Matthew 25? It’s a vision of the Last Judgment, where the Eternal Judge separates “the sheep from the goats.” To both camps, Jesus pronounces the following words: Whatsoever you do unto these my children, even the least, you do so unto me. The rest of story goes that some had clothed the naked, fed the hungry and welcomed the stranger, while others had not.
That final notion, welcoming the stranger, had a long history in the religious life of Jesus’ people. Genesis tells of Abraham and Sarah sitting around the tent, when some strange fellows walk up to them. Turns out they’re angels, and they’ve come with the message this couple had waited upon for decades, “Sarah, you’re about to be pregnant.” That story says as much about welcoming the stranger as it does about trusting in God’s providence. Jewish law makes provision for certain cities in the nation of Israel to be cities of Sanctuary, where asylum would be offered any stranger who needs help and a new start to life. Christians for millennia have practiced, as essential to our faith, numerous acts of welcoming the stranger. We call it hospitality. And from the Disciples of Christ perspective, the hospitality we’re called to extend is open to any and all, to every person that would come share the bounty of the Lord’s Table in our midst. You might say that at the core of our faith is a value we at Plymouth Creek hold dear. Indiscriminate hospitality. Welcoming each and every stranger God brings our way.
But we don’t think of that concept very often when we’re talking Christmas, right? Indiscriminate hospitality gets practiced during Communion, in remembrance of Jesus’ final meal with his Disciples. Christmas, rather, is all about fluffy sheep and wealthy wise men laden with presents. Think again. Those sheep and their shepherds were not the most illustrious of houseguests. The wise men are a different story, though I’d imagine the conversation via interpreter proved rather halting. As strangers to Bethlehem, of course, Mary and Joseph had received welcome when no room was found at the local Inn. Then, it seems the Holy Couple responded in kind and welcomed other strangers, shepherds and foreign dignitaries and more besides, to share the joy of their newborn child. They practiced indiscriminate hospitality at the beginning of Jesus’ life, setting him on a path that would extend God’s open-armed adventure to more than anyone would’ve dared imagine.
So Merry Christmas! May you receive abundant welcome at many tables, and even find time to welcome a stranger or two who needs it. You never know when God might drop in.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Now that’s impressive…
The other evening, I attended an art exhibit at the Minneapolis Institute of Art- The Louvre and the Masterpiece. As you’d expect, the exhibit featured four rooms filled with artistic “masterpieces” from the world’s most famous museum- Paris’ Louvre. I know many of you have heard of this exhibit, or even been yourself. I found it wonderful. If you like staring at old paintings and sculptures, that is.
And as it intended, the exhibit got me thinking about masterpieces. That word pops up occasionally, presumably to describe something particularly praiseworthy. There are masterpieces of painting and sculpture, of course. But there’s also books and films (Masterpiece Theatre, anyone?). Some athletes’ bodies get described as ‘masterpieces,’ which I’d call an awkward type of objectification (as if kids of both genders don’t have enough body image pressures already). There’s even a famous, self-described ‘masterpiece’ BBQ sauce. And if you go to Kansas City soon, pick me up a bottle.
Would you describe Christian faith as a religious masterpiece? Is it even appropriate to use that word in such a context? Of course, some Christians would claim our faith is the only religion worth considering for that distinction, but I certainly wouldn’t go that far. It’s also true that some non-religious folk would contend that no religion, especially Christianity, has any worth, let alone deserves ‘masterpiece’ status. And I’d respond with, “Boooo.” Of a more challenging nature, I believe, are those many who would claim that all religions are valuable, to the exact degree as every other one. So each religious tradition neither is nor is not a masterpiece. It just is. Hmm…
I find that final way of thinking quite prevalent in my generation. Indeed, in some ways, I’m inclined to agree. After all, if you were giving out medals for which religious tradition is the closest to ‘masterpiece,’ what criteria would you use? Truth? Whomever tells the best stories? Whomever has convinced the most people, or done the world the most good, or respects its clergy the most (I like that one…)? And really, would any of us know enough about all the choices to actually decide? Yeah, me neither, and I’m the professional here!
Still, as open-minded about this stuff as I try to be, I’m inclined to think there’s something rather remarkable about Christian faith. If religions could be ‘masterpieces,’ I think Christianity would get a nod (while the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, though irreverently funny, would likely miss out). I’m sure one reason I say that is I’m paid to say that. And also because I grew up in the church, etc, etc. But I’d like to think I’ve better, less personal reasons for dubbing Christian faith a masterpiece religion.
Try this one on for size- Two thousand years ago, a poor, oppressed peasant in a volatile, but otherwise unremarkable province of the Roman Empire, convinced twelve or so guys to be his disciples, and this year we are spending a month singing and worrying about his birth. As have billions before us. What’s remarkable about that, for me, isn’t the sheer size of Jesus’ influence. Any person or set of stories can gain power, whether those people or their stories are worthy or not. Rather, two things stick out- 1) Jesus shouldn’t have made a difference, but he did. ALL the odds were stacked against him and his followers, and somehow they changed the world. That’s smacks of God to me. 2) Whenever, he gets talked about, people use the words love and goodness, i.e. stuff that makes the world better. Surely, not every Christian embodies those words, and all too often we’ve contradicted the values at the core of the Jesus story. But every Christian learns that “love thy neighbor” part of the story. Which tells me it’s a pretty good story, at least, and that too smacks of God.
Those are just some simple, brief thoughts. This is too large an issue for one letter to clarify. But what do you think? Can religions be masterpieces? What makes one masterful or not? What about Jesus? What makes him so impressive, to you? In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
And as it intended, the exhibit got me thinking about masterpieces. That word pops up occasionally, presumably to describe something particularly praiseworthy. There are masterpieces of painting and sculpture, of course. But there’s also books and films (Masterpiece Theatre, anyone?). Some athletes’ bodies get described as ‘masterpieces,’ which I’d call an awkward type of objectification (as if kids of both genders don’t have enough body image pressures already). There’s even a famous, self-described ‘masterpiece’ BBQ sauce. And if you go to Kansas City soon, pick me up a bottle.
Would you describe Christian faith as a religious masterpiece? Is it even appropriate to use that word in such a context? Of course, some Christians would claim our faith is the only religion worth considering for that distinction, but I certainly wouldn’t go that far. It’s also true that some non-religious folk would contend that no religion, especially Christianity, has any worth, let alone deserves ‘masterpiece’ status. And I’d respond with, “Boooo.” Of a more challenging nature, I believe, are those many who would claim that all religions are valuable, to the exact degree as every other one. So each religious tradition neither is nor is not a masterpiece. It just is. Hmm…
I find that final way of thinking quite prevalent in my generation. Indeed, in some ways, I’m inclined to agree. After all, if you were giving out medals for which religious tradition is the closest to ‘masterpiece,’ what criteria would you use? Truth? Whomever tells the best stories? Whomever has convinced the most people, or done the world the most good, or respects its clergy the most (I like that one…)? And really, would any of us know enough about all the choices to actually decide? Yeah, me neither, and I’m the professional here!
Still, as open-minded about this stuff as I try to be, I’m inclined to think there’s something rather remarkable about Christian faith. If religions could be ‘masterpieces,’ I think Christianity would get a nod (while the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, though irreverently funny, would likely miss out). I’m sure one reason I say that is I’m paid to say that. And also because I grew up in the church, etc, etc. But I’d like to think I’ve better, less personal reasons for dubbing Christian faith a masterpiece religion.
Try this one on for size- Two thousand years ago, a poor, oppressed peasant in a volatile, but otherwise unremarkable province of the Roman Empire, convinced twelve or so guys to be his disciples, and this year we are spending a month singing and worrying about his birth. As have billions before us. What’s remarkable about that, for me, isn’t the sheer size of Jesus’ influence. Any person or set of stories can gain power, whether those people or their stories are worthy or not. Rather, two things stick out- 1) Jesus shouldn’t have made a difference, but he did. ALL the odds were stacked against him and his followers, and somehow they changed the world. That’s smacks of God to me. 2) Whenever, he gets talked about, people use the words love and goodness, i.e. stuff that makes the world better. Surely, not every Christian embodies those words, and all too often we’ve contradicted the values at the core of the Jesus story. But every Christian learns that “love thy neighbor” part of the story. Which tells me it’s a pretty good story, at least, and that too smacks of God.
Those are just some simple, brief thoughts. This is too large an issue for one letter to clarify. But what do you think? Can religions be masterpieces? What makes one masterful or not? What about Jesus? What makes him so impressive, to you? In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Friday, November 20, 2009
What’s in a name…
I grew up desperately wanting a nickname, and it never happened. Sure, Mom and Dad called me, “Bud,” but Moms’ and Dads’ nicknames don’t count. Sister Shannon dubbed me, “Shane-pole,” in reference to my minute stature. But that was less a nickname then a sibling insult. No matter what I tried- dropping hints, printing names on jerseys- nothing stuck. My barber in Lexington would say, every time I came in the shop, “Hey there, Preacher.” I don’t think he actually knew my name, but it was good enough for me. So feel free to just call me “Preacher.”
Waaay back in the day, there was a theory about naming: a child’s name could predict the kind of person that child would become. So when Isaac named Jacob (which means “supplanter”), it foreshadowed his supplanting Esau, the older brother. In other words, the ancients believed there’s something powerful in the act of naming. Nicknames continue that tradition. My favorite basketball team has a player named DeMarcus Cousins. Teammates say he’s a humorous, kind-hearted guy…off the court. On the court, DeMarcus becomes “Big Cuz,” and Big Cuz is an all-business, rough-playing power forward. It’s like the nickname brings a new personality; it has the power to transform.
Here is the beginning of my post.
Another ancient tradition of naming was that, when you knew another’s name, you held power over that person. In other words, naming has the power both to transform you, or control you. Exodus tells a story of Moses working as a shepherd. One day, he’s out with the sheep alone, when God starts a fire in a nearby bush, and begins speaking, “Moses, set my people free.” Moses says, “Who should I tell them sent me?” God responds, “Tell them the LORD sent you.” “The LORD?” “Yeah, it means, ‘I AM WHO I AM.’” Religious journalist Karen Armstrong contends that’s like a Biblical joke; God telling Moses, “Do what I say; my name belongs to me.” For millennia since, many observant Jews will not pronounce the LORD’s name. For it is so Holy and sacred, and we should never presume to control God.
But whether the faithful would utter God’s name or not, when God claimed, “I AM WHO I AM,” God revealed something powerful. God’s people now had a label to hold onto; God had let down some of the veil surrounding God’s mysterious presence. As Israel’s sages understood, this didn’t mean that everything about the divine was suddenly clear. But they learned it’s in our God’s nature to reveal Godself; God desires to be known. And as the Moses story also contends, in receiving God’s self-revelation, we are liberated, or as Jesus put it, “the truth shall set you free.”
Now I can’t say this from experience, but I imagine that finding just the right name for an expected child is a fun part of preparing for parenthood. What will this name say about my child? Will it inhibit them, or set them free? Will it connect her to her heritage, and still help her feel unique and special? As names are explored, tried on, discarded, traded between parents, they participate in that ageless naming ritual. And even without saying so aloud, we know this act is powerful and profound.
For millennia, the Christian Church has participated in this process. With all due respect for Mary and Joseph’s original decision, we’ve given Jesus many different names- Wonderful Counselor, Righteous Branch, Lion of Judah- and these names shape our understanding of God. Indeed, because Jesus is God’s self-revelation to Christians, how we understand Jesus’ many names impacts the liberating freedom we and our neighbors receive in Christ.
So this Advent, we will explore the “Names of the Expected Child.” Like Mary and Joseph, we’ll prepare for Jesus’ birth by sorting through the many names he’s been given over the centuries. Some will be familiar; some may be new discoveries to you. But they’ve all participated in that basic fact of God’s self-revelation in Jesus- The more we know about the truth of God, the more we, and this world, is set free. That’s what’s in a name when it’s God’s name. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Waaay back in the day, there was a theory about naming: a child’s name could predict the kind of person that child would become. So when Isaac named Jacob (which means “supplanter”), it foreshadowed his supplanting Esau, the older brother. In other words, the ancients believed there’s something powerful in the act of naming. Nicknames continue that tradition. My favorite basketball team has a player named DeMarcus Cousins. Teammates say he’s a humorous, kind-hearted guy…off the court. On the court, DeMarcus becomes “Big Cuz,” and Big Cuz is an all-business, rough-playing power forward. It’s like the nickname brings a new personality; it has the power to transform.
Here is the beginning of my post.
Another ancient tradition of naming was that, when you knew another’s name, you held power over that person. In other words, naming has the power both to transform you, or control you. Exodus tells a story of Moses working as a shepherd. One day, he’s out with the sheep alone, when God starts a fire in a nearby bush, and begins speaking, “Moses, set my people free.” Moses says, “Who should I tell them sent me?” God responds, “Tell them the LORD sent you.” “The LORD?” “Yeah, it means, ‘I AM WHO I AM.’” Religious journalist Karen Armstrong contends that’s like a Biblical joke; God telling Moses, “Do what I say; my name belongs to me.” For millennia since, many observant Jews will not pronounce the LORD’s name. For it is so Holy and sacred, and we should never presume to control God.
But whether the faithful would utter God’s name or not, when God claimed, “I AM WHO I AM,” God revealed something powerful. God’s people now had a label to hold onto; God had let down some of the veil surrounding God’s mysterious presence. As Israel’s sages understood, this didn’t mean that everything about the divine was suddenly clear. But they learned it’s in our God’s nature to reveal Godself; God desires to be known. And as the Moses story also contends, in receiving God’s self-revelation, we are liberated, or as Jesus put it, “the truth shall set you free.”
Now I can’t say this from experience, but I imagine that finding just the right name for an expected child is a fun part of preparing for parenthood. What will this name say about my child? Will it inhibit them, or set them free? Will it connect her to her heritage, and still help her feel unique and special? As names are explored, tried on, discarded, traded between parents, they participate in that ageless naming ritual. And even without saying so aloud, we know this act is powerful and profound.
For millennia, the Christian Church has participated in this process. With all due respect for Mary and Joseph’s original decision, we’ve given Jesus many different names- Wonderful Counselor, Righteous Branch, Lion of Judah- and these names shape our understanding of God. Indeed, because Jesus is God’s self-revelation to Christians, how we understand Jesus’ many names impacts the liberating freedom we and our neighbors receive in Christ.
So this Advent, we will explore the “Names of the Expected Child.” Like Mary and Joseph, we’ll prepare for Jesus’ birth by sorting through the many names he’s been given over the centuries. Some will be familiar; some may be new discoveries to you. But they’ve all participated in that basic fact of God’s self-revelation in Jesus- The more we know about the truth of God, the more we, and this world, is set free. That’s what’s in a name when it’s God’s name. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Friday, November 13, 2009
Pray Without Ceasing…
That quote (from 1 Thess. 5:17) was the theme of the 2009 National Council of Churches Annual Assembly, which met in Minneapolis this week. They chose our state because Rev. Peg Chamberlin, of MN Council of Churches fame, is the new President of the NCC. Her charge- Project Minnesota Nice onto a national stage! Well, maybe not exactly… Still, I thought it worthwhile to think about the NCC this week, and especially their Annual Assembly’s theme.
“Pray without ceasing” strikes me as a noble goal, though perhaps unrealistic. Who has time, really, to pray without ceasing? I barely remember to say grace over lunch, or “Goodnight, Jesus,” when I hit the hay. Without ceasing?! Fat chance. But Paul was a smart guy. So presumably, when he wrote those words, he meant something different than, “Speak only and always to God, and no one else!”
It reminds me of a 16th century spiritual classic, Practicing the Presence of God. It’s a small book, and easy to read, so I recommend it to all. What it describes so beautifully is the pure simplicity of God’s grace-filled presence. The author is Brother Lawrence, a French monk of no rank. He wasn’t an abbot, or famous scholar; just a cook in his simple monastery, and a potato peeler. But he understood the depths, and simplicity, of spiritual living. He wrote, “We can do little things for God; I turn the cake that is frying on the pan for love of (God)…It is enough for me to pick up but a straw from the ground for the love of God…Is it not quicker and easier (to enter God’s presence) just (by doing) our common business wholly for the love of God?” Good stuff. While peeling potatoes, he tried to pray without ceasing.
But even if becoming aware of God’s presence is that simple, simplicity can be hard work. Just ask anyone who’s tried to ‘simply’ her/his life by cleaning out a cluttered house. Simplicity is tough! I guess that’s why Brother Lawrence uses the term ‘practice.’ You don’t get it right away.
This past Monday marked the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. I’m sure you saw news coverage. For a people with as long a history as Germans, national unity sounds simple. But we know that tearing down that wall was hard work, for Europeans, for Americans, but most especially for Germans themselves.
I heard about a Lutheran Pastor, Rev. Christian Fuhrer, who ministered in Leipzig, East Germany at the time. He described how, for almost eight years, his church held Prayer Vigils for Peace. They prayed to re-unify their broken country, but to do so without recreating the violence of their country’s recent past, or of their communist authorities. For some time, the state overlooked these Prayer Meetings. But as years went on and pressures, both external and internal, intensified, the secret police increased surveillance. Random arrests would occur outside the church, in an effort to intimidate Rev. Fuhrer to stop. But he posted names of the arrested on the church door, and prayed without ceasing. On October 9, 1989, 70,000 gathered for a prayerful peace demonstration. Police forces assembled to harass and provoke the protestors, but they chanted, “No Violence,” marched to the city center non-violently, and prayed without ceasing. A month later, the wall fell. Rev. Fuhrer describes it as a “miracle of Biblical proportions. We succeeded in bringing about a revolution which achieved Germany’s unity. This time without war and military might.”
When I think about why groups like the National Council of Churches are important, I guess that’s it. When Christians get together to pray and pay witness to God’s love, great things can happen. Walls fall down, families are fed, lives transform. It can be as simple as praying without ceasing. Or more especially, praying together without ceasing. With so much pressure these days for Christians to worship in isolation, or just not believe we can change things for the better, folk like the NCC need to keep working. And praying. Without ceasing. And we should pray with them. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane
P.S.- Next Tuesday, the Board meets. If you’ve yet to answer their recent question, “Why does Plymouth Creek need to exist,” please email me by next Tuesday, and I’ll pass your thoughts along. Thanks! Read more!
“Pray without ceasing” strikes me as a noble goal, though perhaps unrealistic. Who has time, really, to pray without ceasing? I barely remember to say grace over lunch, or “Goodnight, Jesus,” when I hit the hay. Without ceasing?! Fat chance. But Paul was a smart guy. So presumably, when he wrote those words, he meant something different than, “Speak only and always to God, and no one else!”
It reminds me of a 16th century spiritual classic, Practicing the Presence of God. It’s a small book, and easy to read, so I recommend it to all. What it describes so beautifully is the pure simplicity of God’s grace-filled presence. The author is Brother Lawrence, a French monk of no rank. He wasn’t an abbot, or famous scholar; just a cook in his simple monastery, and a potato peeler. But he understood the depths, and simplicity, of spiritual living. He wrote, “We can do little things for God; I turn the cake that is frying on the pan for love of (God)…It is enough for me to pick up but a straw from the ground for the love of God…Is it not quicker and easier (to enter God’s presence) just (by doing) our common business wholly for the love of God?” Good stuff. While peeling potatoes, he tried to pray without ceasing.
But even if becoming aware of God’s presence is that simple, simplicity can be hard work. Just ask anyone who’s tried to ‘simply’ her/his life by cleaning out a cluttered house. Simplicity is tough! I guess that’s why Brother Lawrence uses the term ‘practice.’ You don’t get it right away.
This past Monday marked the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. I’m sure you saw news coverage. For a people with as long a history as Germans, national unity sounds simple. But we know that tearing down that wall was hard work, for Europeans, for Americans, but most especially for Germans themselves.
I heard about a Lutheran Pastor, Rev. Christian Fuhrer, who ministered in Leipzig, East Germany at the time. He described how, for almost eight years, his church held Prayer Vigils for Peace. They prayed to re-unify their broken country, but to do so without recreating the violence of their country’s recent past, or of their communist authorities. For some time, the state overlooked these Prayer Meetings. But as years went on and pressures, both external and internal, intensified, the secret police increased surveillance. Random arrests would occur outside the church, in an effort to intimidate Rev. Fuhrer to stop. But he posted names of the arrested on the church door, and prayed without ceasing. On October 9, 1989, 70,000 gathered for a prayerful peace demonstration. Police forces assembled to harass and provoke the protestors, but they chanted, “No Violence,” marched to the city center non-violently, and prayed without ceasing. A month later, the wall fell. Rev. Fuhrer describes it as a “miracle of Biblical proportions. We succeeded in bringing about a revolution which achieved Germany’s unity. This time without war and military might.”
When I think about why groups like the National Council of Churches are important, I guess that’s it. When Christians get together to pray and pay witness to God’s love, great things can happen. Walls fall down, families are fed, lives transform. It can be as simple as praying without ceasing. Or more especially, praying together without ceasing. With so much pressure these days for Christians to worship in isolation, or just not believe we can change things for the better, folk like the NCC need to keep working. And praying. Without ceasing. And we should pray with them. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane
P.S.- Next Tuesday, the Board meets. If you’ve yet to answer their recent question, “Why does Plymouth Creek need to exist,” please email me by next Tuesday, and I’ll pass your thoughts along. Thanks! Read more!
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