The circle has been known since before recorded history. A cool, nonthreatening sphere, measured in serene, equal distances from the center to all points on its perimeter, perfect examples are found over and over again in nature, smiled upon by the sun and moon. Whether we speak of geometry or relationship, a circle—resisting the claim of a beginning or end—symbolizes who God is and all God does.
Each member of a circle is visible. As blessings and experiences of pain are shared in a circle, first by simply being able to see and hear everyone, the understanding that we are greater than ourselves, we are not alone, begins to dawn on us, and become solidified. The rituals that are performed in the setting of the circle serve to remind us of our relationship to life and to one another. It reminds us that we are not alone; we are connected, and what we do affects others.. To author Christina Baldwin, the circle functions as a place of empowerment —a place where “ordinary people convene to accomplish a specific task and to support each other.” Simply stated, “the circle can emerge anywhere that it is invited.”[1] Writer Judith Duerk poses the question, “How might your life have been different, if…?”[2] She continues throughout the book to offer images of woman’s connectedness to the sacred within self, with one to another, and with the created earth—essentially describing our need for a place of remembrance and nurturing, of celebrating who we are and the importance of integrating this connectedness throughout life’s passages.
I've been around Circles -- Lutheran church basement ladies, hello?--But now my task (also known as assignment) was to really look, pay attention and analyze it not just socially but spiritually.
The Circle I met with, "Circle of Grace" is a small group of women and men who meet regularly on Sundays at Lake Harriett Dance Center in Richfield. Learning from one another through the vehicle of narrative is one core, systemic motivation behind the gathering of Circle of Grace. There are varied religious backgrounds, traditions and beliefs represented by members of this group, and worship, per se, is not the direct goal of coming together. However, if worship can be recognized within moments of personal narrative that describes pain, grief or loss, that celebrates joy, love, peace and acceptance—or any other element of the human condition—and believing that worship is a very basic recognition that begins with “more than us, right here and right now,” I would say worship is primary among the reactions or results recognized during the hour of meeting at Circle of Grace.
For the group sharing portion of the service, a “talking stick” is used. The stick is passed around the circle, and as you take it from the person beside you, you may hold it or pass it on. The person holding the stick is allowed uninterrupted time to share joys or concerns, or reflect upon what is happening in their life as it relates to the suggested theme. We are invited to listen without formulating any comment or response to the person sharing. I am keenly aware of my own desire to interrupt or comment! It is not really counted as "listening" when your mind constantly ticks with a rebuttal or witty repartee. In this moment I am struck by the honor and respect of allowing each person to develop their own narrative, and to be fully present to their story without pushing it through one’s own filter. It is an exercise, I believe, in pastoral care by and for each and every person present.
The simplicity, creativity and intimacy of the group--particularly in the ritual practice recreated for each of us today with meaning that was at once present and vital, ancient and guarded--had a profound impact on me. For each service, all elements are carried in and carried out. How much do we “need” to worship? Ritual is infused with creativity and simplicity. How is our expression of love and faith as “new every morning” as God’s love and steadfastness is made known to us? Care for one another was palpable and showed itself in ways of intent listening and respect and in the silent welcoming or understanding of one another’s joy or sorrow. How often do we destroy the fragile seedling of vulnerability by trampling on it with cliché or observance that misses not only the point, but the person? How can we better understand that we are not called to “fix” but rather called to simply “be?” Writing our intention seals it not only in my mind, but in the act of placing it trustfully into the center basket of the circle, the movement of my body ignites my spirit to connect and remember in a new way.
Processing life together involves work, commitment, sacrifice of time and money. It is an investment that yields wealth in spirit, that has potential to nourish and sustain us. It causes us to learn and grow in grace and in recognition of Divine love. It is about trust and intention, giving and taking, seizing and letting go. Christina Baldwin ends one chapter with this phrase, “I am one person. You are one person. That makes two of us. Two of us, with a candle in the middle and the right attitude, make a circle.”[3] Jesus said, “…where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them.” (Matt. 18:20). The spirit of God is the light within us that bows to the other: “Namaste.”[4]
Grace and Peace,
Lynda
________________________________________
[1] Christina Baldwin, Calling the Circle: The First and Future Culture (Newberg, OR: Swan Raven & Co, 1994), 11.
[2] Judith Duerk, Circle of Stones: A Woman's Journey to Herself (San Diego, CA: LuraMedia, 1989), xvii.
[3] Baldwin, 171.
[4]Namaste” is a respectful greeting, interpreted many times as “The God in me bows to the God in you.”
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Thursday, March 29, 2012
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
March Madness…
A monthly occurrence at church Board Meetings is what I call “The Collective Groan.” It happens at the end of my Pastor’s Report; if you’ve ever attended, you’ve likely groaned yourself. Because the final update I give our congregational leaders involves the progress of the men’s basketball program at the University of Kentucky, and my changing rationals as to why this year they’ll win the title. To which, inevitably, the Board responds, “Grooooaaaaan!” Or they try moving on before I can finish.
This tradition emerged not long into my tenure here. I learned that then-Board President, Chana, had ties to Indiana University, itself a perennial powerhouse and longtime rival to UK. So, in a fit of good-natured ribbing, I reported to the Board why my preferred team would be victorious. The levity continued throughout her term, then beyond. Alas, my strategy backfired this year when UK lost to Indiana. Chana’s husband Steve piped up, “Hey Shane, how about them Wildcats?” “Moving on,” I replied. “The Treasurer’s Report is next.”
Of course, this month will decide whether, this year, I’m a b-ball prophet or another blowhard pretender. I imagine everyone, whether you follow sports or don’t care, has encountered the annual college basketball championship dubbed, “March Madness.” 68 teams competing in a single-elimination tournament, winner takes all after three crazy, wild weeks. Scholars, I’ve read, have studied the effect this athletic phenomenon has on national productivity, and apparently, inordinate amounts of sick days accumulate during March. It seems we have more priorities than being on time to work every day.
Well, this year, while rooting on UK, I surprised myself by connecting the action with mid-20th Century theologian Paul Tillich. If you’re unfamiliar with Tillich, don’t be shocked. Nevertheless, over the past century, he’s been as influential as most any Protestant thinker. I read his epoch-making book “The Courage To Be” my first month in seminary, and ever since have noticed his insights impacting my own sermons and writings. Specifically, I found illuminating his emphasis on “anxiety”, describing it as a pervasive human experience effecting most everything we do. Not that we’re shackled by it every moment, every day. But like a dull background hum, occasionally flaring up into explosive energy, anxiety about death, sin, meaninglessness, frequently guides our decisions, the options we find relevant, the joy or dread we receive at life events, big and small.
What Tillich says about anxiety, though, isn’t simply that it’s always there, but that it’s a neutral participant in our life’s journey. In other words, anxiety can be good as well as bad. Sure, we often dub anxiety as an annoying, sometimes devastating enemy. For some, it’s paralyzing to the point of despair. But consider how a sports fan feels watching the end of a close March Madness game. Or even what the players themselves experience. Anxiety-like emotions flood our bodies and spirits. We’re piqued and poised and concentrated on only what’s happening in that moment. When our preferred team, then, hits a game-winning shot, living rooms and arenas explode into pandemoniums of jubilation. And the anxiety of the preceding moments only serves to magnify the excitement. Some athletes even describe how, in such situations, their heightened emotions help them make better plays, think more creatively about what’s at stake, how to achieve it, and so they rise to the occasion.
I think that’s an albeit imperfect, but maybe interesting analogy for Tillich’s teachings. For he claims that the root of human creativity is the anxiety we experience. In concert, perhaps, with God’s Spirit urging us to overcome, we’re spurred into actions, new solutions, fresh ideas or combinations because we feel this constant anxiety, but choose courageously to be, to not let our fears overwhelm.
So as you go through this March of madness, reflect on the potential positives of all that worries you or makes you anxious. Is it possible you’ve got the courage to respond creatively, to channel all that anxious energy into fresh possibilities and new things? I believe God thinks you do. More than I believe UK will win. And that, the Board will tell, is saying something.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
This tradition emerged not long into my tenure here. I learned that then-Board President, Chana, had ties to Indiana University, itself a perennial powerhouse and longtime rival to UK. So, in a fit of good-natured ribbing, I reported to the Board why my preferred team would be victorious. The levity continued throughout her term, then beyond. Alas, my strategy backfired this year when UK lost to Indiana. Chana’s husband Steve piped up, “Hey Shane, how about them Wildcats?” “Moving on,” I replied. “The Treasurer’s Report is next.”
Of course, this month will decide whether, this year, I’m a b-ball prophet or another blowhard pretender. I imagine everyone, whether you follow sports or don’t care, has encountered the annual college basketball championship dubbed, “March Madness.” 68 teams competing in a single-elimination tournament, winner takes all after three crazy, wild weeks. Scholars, I’ve read, have studied the effect this athletic phenomenon has on national productivity, and apparently, inordinate amounts of sick days accumulate during March. It seems we have more priorities than being on time to work every day.
Well, this year, while rooting on UK, I surprised myself by connecting the action with mid-20th Century theologian Paul Tillich. If you’re unfamiliar with Tillich, don’t be shocked. Nevertheless, over the past century, he’s been as influential as most any Protestant thinker. I read his epoch-making book “The Courage To Be” my first month in seminary, and ever since have noticed his insights impacting my own sermons and writings. Specifically, I found illuminating his emphasis on “anxiety”, describing it as a pervasive human experience effecting most everything we do. Not that we’re shackled by it every moment, every day. But like a dull background hum, occasionally flaring up into explosive energy, anxiety about death, sin, meaninglessness, frequently guides our decisions, the options we find relevant, the joy or dread we receive at life events, big and small.
What Tillich says about anxiety, though, isn’t simply that it’s always there, but that it’s a neutral participant in our life’s journey. In other words, anxiety can be good as well as bad. Sure, we often dub anxiety as an annoying, sometimes devastating enemy. For some, it’s paralyzing to the point of despair. But consider how a sports fan feels watching the end of a close March Madness game. Or even what the players themselves experience. Anxiety-like emotions flood our bodies and spirits. We’re piqued and poised and concentrated on only what’s happening in that moment. When our preferred team, then, hits a game-winning shot, living rooms and arenas explode into pandemoniums of jubilation. And the anxiety of the preceding moments only serves to magnify the excitement. Some athletes even describe how, in such situations, their heightened emotions help them make better plays, think more creatively about what’s at stake, how to achieve it, and so they rise to the occasion.
I think that’s an albeit imperfect, but maybe interesting analogy for Tillich’s teachings. For he claims that the root of human creativity is the anxiety we experience. In concert, perhaps, with God’s Spirit urging us to overcome, we’re spurred into actions, new solutions, fresh ideas or combinations because we feel this constant anxiety, but choose courageously to be, to not let our fears overwhelm.
So as you go through this March of madness, reflect on the potential positives of all that worries you or makes you anxious. Is it possible you’ve got the courage to respond creatively, to channel all that anxious energy into fresh possibilities and new things? I believe God thinks you do. More than I believe UK will win. And that, the Board will tell, is saying something.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Little things …
This Saturday, the 17th, will be/was a holiday for some of our sisters and brothers of faith. Strangely enough, it’s also celebrated by many young adults with no particular faith commitment, looking for a good excuse to party, preparing for a rough Sunday morning. I refer, of course, to St. Patrick’s Day; the feast day of Ireland’s patron saint and a true giant of Christian history.
Recently, I read a book that discussed St. Patrick among other topics, alluringly titled, “How the Irish Saved Civilization.” And no, the answer to that “how” was not by exporting clovers or Guinness. Rather, the book explored Ireland, Britain and the still-emerging European Continent during the anxious days following the Western Roman Empire’s fall. And according to some theories, these were “Dark Ages”, particularly for the poor peasant population (i.e. most everyone). These theories go that with the dying of the West’s long-time guardians of health, wealth and civilization- Rome- suddenly lights of learning, wisdom and many cultural institutions flickered and flamed out. Great centers of scholarship and administration disintegrated. Standards of living plummeted. Cultural progress arrested, then declined. Literacy, once common for so-called ‘noble families’, became scarcer and more expensive. Until, not many generations later, the Western World was a changed place.
Yet in the Irish Isles, the book contended, something different occurred. Being more isolated from the continent’s turmoil, its shores weren’t as permeated by Roman “Civilization” as other places. Therefore, once Rome fell, Irish peoples weren’t as shocked. Plus, around that time, a few Christian missionaries arrived, most famously this unique British cleric named Patrick. And because Patrick knew a little something about contemporary Irish culture (he’d lived there for six years in his youth, having been captured and enslaved by Irish raiders from his homeland in Roman Britain) he spoke the people’s language, enjoyed their customs and intuitively understood the stirrings of their souls. Thus, as he began translating the Christian story into native words and patterns of belief, many people listened. Stories tell of his deep love for the geography and landscape of the Emerald Isle; of his synergy with the people’s sense of connectedness with nature; of his spiritual brilliance to describe those instincts with the inter-workings and interdependence of the Trinity. Not long after, therefore, Christian communities arose. Monasteries and places of learning were established. The lights of learning, prayer, biblical transcription (ever hear of the Book of Kells?) kept burning in those places, awaiting a time for when the continent was ready to receive re-illumination.
Obviously, the whole story is much more complicated and nuanced than I just wrote. Still, I find the book’s basic argument- that a small band of faithful people in an out-of-the-way location achieved a more outsized influence on the course of events than they could ever have imagined- an interesting notion, indeed. And it occurs to me that in our modern world, when so often we celebrate whatever’s BIG- box stores, multinational brands, mega-churches, etc.- it’s wise to remember the power of small events and everyday people. From local gardeners who grow their own organic food to creative youth and young adults posting evocative videos on YouTube to corner churches with one worship service channeling their collective efforts to shine a beacon of openness and service in a world so often judgmental, closed-off and selfish, ordinary people can do some extraordinary things.
And what’s most inspiring about that story is that it’s not just Patrick’s story. Sure, his leadership and intelligence made a significant difference. But without faithful folk taking his ideas and making them work in their everyday lives- changing how their tribes fought wars, shared food, used money, built buildings, created art- St. Patrick was just a preacher who liked clovers and hated snakes. The book’s title wasn’t “How St. Patrick Saved Civilization” for a very good reason.
So this and subsequent St. Patrick’s Day(s), how about you share this toast with me? “May the God who goes before us, behind us, abides above us, beside us, remind us that everything little thing we do matters, for it impacts the overall beauty of all Creation”.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Recently, I read a book that discussed St. Patrick among other topics, alluringly titled, “How the Irish Saved Civilization.” And no, the answer to that “how” was not by exporting clovers or Guinness. Rather, the book explored Ireland, Britain and the still-emerging European Continent during the anxious days following the Western Roman Empire’s fall. And according to some theories, these were “Dark Ages”, particularly for the poor peasant population (i.e. most everyone). These theories go that with the dying of the West’s long-time guardians of health, wealth and civilization- Rome- suddenly lights of learning, wisdom and many cultural institutions flickered and flamed out. Great centers of scholarship and administration disintegrated. Standards of living plummeted. Cultural progress arrested, then declined. Literacy, once common for so-called ‘noble families’, became scarcer and more expensive. Until, not many generations later, the Western World was a changed place.
Yet in the Irish Isles, the book contended, something different occurred. Being more isolated from the continent’s turmoil, its shores weren’t as permeated by Roman “Civilization” as other places. Therefore, once Rome fell, Irish peoples weren’t as shocked. Plus, around that time, a few Christian missionaries arrived, most famously this unique British cleric named Patrick. And because Patrick knew a little something about contemporary Irish culture (he’d lived there for six years in his youth, having been captured and enslaved by Irish raiders from his homeland in Roman Britain) he spoke the people’s language, enjoyed their customs and intuitively understood the stirrings of their souls. Thus, as he began translating the Christian story into native words and patterns of belief, many people listened. Stories tell of his deep love for the geography and landscape of the Emerald Isle; of his synergy with the people’s sense of connectedness with nature; of his spiritual brilliance to describe those instincts with the inter-workings and interdependence of the Trinity. Not long after, therefore, Christian communities arose. Monasteries and places of learning were established. The lights of learning, prayer, biblical transcription (ever hear of the Book of Kells?) kept burning in those places, awaiting a time for when the continent was ready to receive re-illumination.
Obviously, the whole story is much more complicated and nuanced than I just wrote. Still, I find the book’s basic argument- that a small band of faithful people in an out-of-the-way location achieved a more outsized influence on the course of events than they could ever have imagined- an interesting notion, indeed. And it occurs to me that in our modern world, when so often we celebrate whatever’s BIG- box stores, multinational brands, mega-churches, etc.- it’s wise to remember the power of small events and everyday people. From local gardeners who grow their own organic food to creative youth and young adults posting evocative videos on YouTube to corner churches with one worship service channeling their collective efforts to shine a beacon of openness and service in a world so often judgmental, closed-off and selfish, ordinary people can do some extraordinary things.
And what’s most inspiring about that story is that it’s not just Patrick’s story. Sure, his leadership and intelligence made a significant difference. But without faithful folk taking his ideas and making them work in their everyday lives- changing how their tribes fought wars, shared food, used money, built buildings, created art- St. Patrick was just a preacher who liked clovers and hated snakes. The book’s title wasn’t “How St. Patrick Saved Civilization” for a very good reason.
So this and subsequent St. Patrick’s Day(s), how about you share this toast with me? “May the God who goes before us, behind us, abides above us, beside us, remind us that everything little thing we do matters, for it impacts the overall beauty of all Creation”.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Tied together…
I’ve been thinking recently about Turkey, Iran and Syria. But for different reasons than you think. You ever hear of an ancient king- from the century before Jesus’ birth- named Mithridates the Great? Ruler of Pontus, Enemy of Rome, Poison King…ring any bells? Don’t feel bad if you answered, “No.” But for my all-too-nerdy hobby of listening to Roman history podcasts, I wouldn’t have encountered this fascinating person myself. I even read his biography last month.
Confession: If ever I’ve earned points for “being cool”, I just forfeited them with that sentence. But since I’ve admitted the geeky truth, I’ll jump in with gusto. Because the fact is, this guy’s story is remarkable. Plus, it’s impacted Christian history in ways you might find interesting. Notice how I’m trying to hook you in?!
First, background. Mithridates ruled a kingdom on the Black Sea’s southeast coast, modern-day northeast Turkey. At certain points, he even extended his power through most of Turkey and bits of contemporary Syria and Iran. Legend states that on the night of his birth, a great comet appeared, signaling to sages (or, as they were known then, Magi) that this royal child would grow into a great king. One problem with that prediction, however, was the Mediterranean balance-of-power. Pontus- Mithridates’ eventual kingdom- sat between the vast Parthian/Persian/Iranian Empire and the menacing, aggressive Roman Republic. Thus, this infant prince should’ve expected to grow up a pawn of more powerful actors. Little people like Pontus, after all, shouldn’t expect too much.
No one convinced Mithridates of that, however, and upon assuming leadership, he took to heart the portents of his Magi and their special star…I mean, comet. He believed the Sun God- Mithras- destined him for great things, perhaps even to challenge Rome’s domination and be crowned King of Kings in his own right. As such, he gathered followers and executed many insurgency campaigns, surprising victories and miraculous turnarounds. And though he never achieved his greater goal, his personality, fervent following and general mischievousness forced the Romans to adapt their plans, overextend, even change their structure of government.
I can’t help finding parallels in this tale to stories about Jesus. In Matthew’s Gospel, legends of Jesus’ birth include a special comet/star and oracles from Eastern Magi. He too accepted a divine mission and was dubbed “King of Kings.” He railed against Roman abuses of power, leading a surprisingly effective insurgency against these rulers. In that he self-identified with the Hebrew God Yaweh and founded his “kingdom” on love, pursuing its creation through non-violence, obviously there are differences worth celebrating. But it’s good, I think, to remember that our Lord and Leader didn’t arise in some vacuum. He used his cultural resources to craft his own message and vision; his followers, seeking to understand his life after the fact, drew on models both contemporary and historical. Martin Luther King Jr. once claimed that, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We’re all caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.” And the threads of that garment reach back farther than most of us likely comprehend.
Which returns me to modern-day Turkey, Syria and Iran. Many reports from that region- especially Syria and Iran- shock and dismay folk throughout the world. Brutal domination, vast injustice, nefarious leadership. It’s like bad news can’t come quick enough, while good news hides its head. I, for one, wish a ruler or leader or someone would challenge entrenched powers by coalescing people around positive goals and mutual concern. Perhaps it’s happening, and I just don’t know enough. And it’s tempting, as a foreigner, to claim, “This isn’t my concern.”
Yet there’s that ‘garment of destiny’ idea that won’t let me avert my eyes or cease my prayers. Probably a new Mithridates, with increased violence and war, shouldn’t be the answer. Certainly, Jesus’ leadership, in mostly Muslim countries, wouldn’t be a natural solution. But all people deserve, from their leaders, respect for their safety and hopes. Because, to this Christian, it seems that the unifying thread in our mutual garment is love. At least, that was Jesus’ ideal. May it be ours too.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Confession: If ever I’ve earned points for “being cool”, I just forfeited them with that sentence. But since I’ve admitted the geeky truth, I’ll jump in with gusto. Because the fact is, this guy’s story is remarkable. Plus, it’s impacted Christian history in ways you might find interesting. Notice how I’m trying to hook you in?!
First, background. Mithridates ruled a kingdom on the Black Sea’s southeast coast, modern-day northeast Turkey. At certain points, he even extended his power through most of Turkey and bits of contemporary Syria and Iran. Legend states that on the night of his birth, a great comet appeared, signaling to sages (or, as they were known then, Magi) that this royal child would grow into a great king. One problem with that prediction, however, was the Mediterranean balance-of-power. Pontus- Mithridates’ eventual kingdom- sat between the vast Parthian/Persian/Iranian Empire and the menacing, aggressive Roman Republic. Thus, this infant prince should’ve expected to grow up a pawn of more powerful actors. Little people like Pontus, after all, shouldn’t expect too much.
No one convinced Mithridates of that, however, and upon assuming leadership, he took to heart the portents of his Magi and their special star…I mean, comet. He believed the Sun God- Mithras- destined him for great things, perhaps even to challenge Rome’s domination and be crowned King of Kings in his own right. As such, he gathered followers and executed many insurgency campaigns, surprising victories and miraculous turnarounds. And though he never achieved his greater goal, his personality, fervent following and general mischievousness forced the Romans to adapt their plans, overextend, even change their structure of government.
I can’t help finding parallels in this tale to stories about Jesus. In Matthew’s Gospel, legends of Jesus’ birth include a special comet/star and oracles from Eastern Magi. He too accepted a divine mission and was dubbed “King of Kings.” He railed against Roman abuses of power, leading a surprisingly effective insurgency against these rulers. In that he self-identified with the Hebrew God Yaweh and founded his “kingdom” on love, pursuing its creation through non-violence, obviously there are differences worth celebrating. But it’s good, I think, to remember that our Lord and Leader didn’t arise in some vacuum. He used his cultural resources to craft his own message and vision; his followers, seeking to understand his life after the fact, drew on models both contemporary and historical. Martin Luther King Jr. once claimed that, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We’re all caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.” And the threads of that garment reach back farther than most of us likely comprehend.
Which returns me to modern-day Turkey, Syria and Iran. Many reports from that region- especially Syria and Iran- shock and dismay folk throughout the world. Brutal domination, vast injustice, nefarious leadership. It’s like bad news can’t come quick enough, while good news hides its head. I, for one, wish a ruler or leader or someone would challenge entrenched powers by coalescing people around positive goals and mutual concern. Perhaps it’s happening, and I just don’t know enough. And it’s tempting, as a foreigner, to claim, “This isn’t my concern.”
Yet there’s that ‘garment of destiny’ idea that won’t let me avert my eyes or cease my prayers. Probably a new Mithridates, with increased violence and war, shouldn’t be the answer. Certainly, Jesus’ leadership, in mostly Muslim countries, wouldn’t be a natural solution. But all people deserve, from their leaders, respect for their safety and hopes. Because, to this Christian, it seems that the unifying thread in our mutual garment is love. At least, that was Jesus’ ideal. May it be ours too.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Friday, March 2, 2012
Speaking together…
Whoa! What an incredible event I witnessed! I refer, you may expect, to the Community Conversation on Local Poverty at IOCP last Monday. Representatives from 15 local faith communities (6 from PCCC), the public schools, area businesses and neighborhood families gathered to learn about and discuss the realities of suburban poverty. As the evening’s emcee, I spoke a bit myself, gave a couple shout outs to our church, made predictably cheesy jokes, and otherwise enjoyed this unique moment of people coming together.
As many of you might also feel, I’ve grown increasingly dissatisfied with the current tone of public conversations. Nastiness seems celebrated. People engage in what passes these days as “dialogue” not to gain insight or bridge differences, but as puerile entertainment or an excuse to offload stress and anger onto others. Perhaps, given the recent fragility of family finances and public economies, some of that behavior makes sense. But just because you understand something, doesn’t make it right. Thus, I believe we all- but particularly us Disciples of Christ, who claim “unity” as our polar star, our deepest desire, our primary mission- have a responsibility to reject the accusations, demagoguery and divisions happening about us, rising above to love our neighbors, embrace- even learn from- those who think differently.
Which, again, is much of what excited me about a room packed- 150+ participants!- with diverse people, all gathered for the sake of the poor and vulnerable. The tenor of the discussion was gracious and seeking. Presenters shared devastating statistics about poverty’s rise in suburban neighborhoods, but folk didn’t respond with blame or vicious attacks. After hearing stories of local families suffering mental health debilitations, employment loss, limited access to expensive child care, etc., people seemed genuinely empathetic, stirred to do more, and at the very least appreciated the problem’s complexity without oversimplifying or closing eyes and ears. For that alone, I imagine Jesus smiled.
And the greater good news transcends this one conversation. Yes, we acknowledged that poverty’s here, in our midst. It’s hard and it’s big and it’s our problem to solve. But the ultimate goal of such education is to catalyze action. And, fortunately, this community has long history in acting together to help others. The presenters, for instance, shared the story of a single mother- we’ll call her Tina- who lost her job, then her house, and so slept with her two young children on a friend’s couch. Within a few weeks, though, they hinted Tina was overstaying her welcome. When she walked into IOCP, therefore, the ‘presenting symptoms’ were numerous. Yet their caseworkers connected her with state and county services, found the kids scholarships for quality preschool, helped her write her first resume, get a job and apartment security deposit. She’s not out of the words, but Tina’s on her way.
The point being, of course, is that this community- You!- made this possible. By volunteering at the foodshelf that augmented the family’s food stamps, by supporting IOCP with dollars and prayers. Now that they’re in a new building, and so able to allow poor families a choice of groceries (rather than give only pre-packed boxes), these clients can be more strategic in what they bring home, which means spending less at Cub Foods, and more on medicines or child care. Caseworkers tell me that this simple fact has meant the world for hundreds of poor folk. Plus, their new thrift store has attracted more volunteers and raised more money for other services than expected, even distributed thousands of dollars in gift cards to clients that IOCP serves. If all of this sounds like a commercial for IOCP, forgive me. It’s just that I’m all too aware, after this recent conversation, that any such work happening in our backyard happens because we care enough to work together.
So may that spirit of unity continue. May we never forget our neighbors in need. And may we all renew a personal commitment to learning more, talking more, working more, together.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
As many of you might also feel, I’ve grown increasingly dissatisfied with the current tone of public conversations. Nastiness seems celebrated. People engage in what passes these days as “dialogue” not to gain insight or bridge differences, but as puerile entertainment or an excuse to offload stress and anger onto others. Perhaps, given the recent fragility of family finances and public economies, some of that behavior makes sense. But just because you understand something, doesn’t make it right. Thus, I believe we all- but particularly us Disciples of Christ, who claim “unity” as our polar star, our deepest desire, our primary mission- have a responsibility to reject the accusations, demagoguery and divisions happening about us, rising above to love our neighbors, embrace- even learn from- those who think differently.
Which, again, is much of what excited me about a room packed- 150+ participants!- with diverse people, all gathered for the sake of the poor and vulnerable. The tenor of the discussion was gracious and seeking. Presenters shared devastating statistics about poverty’s rise in suburban neighborhoods, but folk didn’t respond with blame or vicious attacks. After hearing stories of local families suffering mental health debilitations, employment loss, limited access to expensive child care, etc., people seemed genuinely empathetic, stirred to do more, and at the very least appreciated the problem’s complexity without oversimplifying or closing eyes and ears. For that alone, I imagine Jesus smiled.
And the greater good news transcends this one conversation. Yes, we acknowledged that poverty’s here, in our midst. It’s hard and it’s big and it’s our problem to solve. But the ultimate goal of such education is to catalyze action. And, fortunately, this community has long history in acting together to help others. The presenters, for instance, shared the story of a single mother- we’ll call her Tina- who lost her job, then her house, and so slept with her two young children on a friend’s couch. Within a few weeks, though, they hinted Tina was overstaying her welcome. When she walked into IOCP, therefore, the ‘presenting symptoms’ were numerous. Yet their caseworkers connected her with state and county services, found the kids scholarships for quality preschool, helped her write her first resume, get a job and apartment security deposit. She’s not out of the words, but Tina’s on her way.
The point being, of course, is that this community- You!- made this possible. By volunteering at the foodshelf that augmented the family’s food stamps, by supporting IOCP with dollars and prayers. Now that they’re in a new building, and so able to allow poor families a choice of groceries (rather than give only pre-packed boxes), these clients can be more strategic in what they bring home, which means spending less at Cub Foods, and more on medicines or child care. Caseworkers tell me that this simple fact has meant the world for hundreds of poor folk. Plus, their new thrift store has attracted more volunteers and raised more money for other services than expected, even distributed thousands of dollars in gift cards to clients that IOCP serves. If all of this sounds like a commercial for IOCP, forgive me. It’s just that I’m all too aware, after this recent conversation, that any such work happening in our backyard happens because we care enough to work together.
So may that spirit of unity continue. May we never forget our neighbors in need. And may we all renew a personal commitment to learning more, talking more, working more, together.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Creating light…
Alas, Google tells me that the year’s worst day approaches. Daylight Saving Time begins officially Sunday, March 11.
Yes, I know. There are good reasons for this change of time. More sunlight farther into the evening will boost our collective spirits, increase productivity for some workers, allow my puppy and I more time to run. And for that, we’ll be grateful, eventually. But the day itself is heartbreaking, when we ‘spring forward’ in wee morning hours, then awake to discover that a precious hour of sleep has disappeared. Oh the horror! Oh the madness! Oh how I’d better plan ahead! I’ll survive, I’m sure, but please be sensitive at church that morning (assuming you don’t accidentally sleep in!).
I don’t know much about daylight saving's history in our country; my memory vaguely offers theories about improving conditions for farmers during planting and harvesting time, or helping commodities traders better coordinate with global partners, or something. But in the abstract, the very idea that we have power over the clock- can wind or unwind it at whim to create more light- seems very metaphorical and meaning-rich, an exercise in playing God.
For most cases, certainly, I’d recoil at that suggestion. The prophets were studying this month in worship for the Lenten Sermon Series (A Prophet? Me?! Imagine that…) vocally denounced any attempt to diminish the first-place greatness of God. But in this instance- mimicking God by creating light- I’d give us a pass, perhaps even recommend the notion. Bear with now; I realize we’re discussing analogy, not actuality. But hearken back to Scripture’s first chapter, which I’ve discussed in this forum before. Act one by our Lord: “Let there be light.” Not many verses later we get: “Let us create humankind in our image.” Usually, I take that evocative phrase to mean that we’re created to be creators, co-creators with God, as some would say. But maybe we can push the envelope further, and suggest that what we’re created to create with God is what Godself actually created. Light. Life. Order, balance and illumination. That certainly tracks with St. John’s understanding of Jesus’ mission. “In the beginning was the Word…and the Word was God…the Word shone light into the darkness, and the darkness could not overcome it.” When Jesus left, of course, he left us with the task of continuing his ministry; lighting up the darkness that threatens the world around us, illuminating the world with love.
This month, y’all may know that an annual Minnesota tradition continues. The Minnesota Foodshare, sponsored by the Greater Minneapolis Council of Churches (on whose Board I serve), annually uses March to raise over half of the food supplied to Minnesota’s 300+ foodshelves. Our local foodshelf, IOCP, has encouraged member churches to join the effort by donating food, toiletries and money to help out. They’ve also received a matching grant from Mosaic Corporation to the tune of $20,000, meaning that for every item donated, IOCP receives an additional dollar. That dollar, when spent at local food banks, secures about 10 pounds of food, so the leveraging effect is considerable.
And Mosaic/IOCP decided to go an extra step this year- spice up the food drive- inviting participants to create sculptures with the food donations they receive. With the Plymouth Creek youth, we’ve designed a sculpture that looks like a lantern, which when built will literally light up our sanctuary (due to strategically placed lamps inside the structure). In other words, I’m hoping you’ll join me and other PCCCers to create light this month by bringing food donations to church that will feed hungry families in our community (and specifically, if you could make those donations cans or boxes that are white, blue and green, that’d be ideal!). Call it an invitation to do something you were created to do: exercise your God-like image and power to brighten the world around you with generosity and love.
And while you’re doing that, let me encourage to take an additional step- Pray for guidance on further ways you might shine the light of God’s love to your neighbors. Then go out and show your neighbors the wonderful brightness of our Lord.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Yes, I know. There are good reasons for this change of time. More sunlight farther into the evening will boost our collective spirits, increase productivity for some workers, allow my puppy and I more time to run. And for that, we’ll be grateful, eventually. But the day itself is heartbreaking, when we ‘spring forward’ in wee morning hours, then awake to discover that a precious hour of sleep has disappeared. Oh the horror! Oh the madness! Oh how I’d better plan ahead! I’ll survive, I’m sure, but please be sensitive at church that morning (assuming you don’t accidentally sleep in!).
I don’t know much about daylight saving's history in our country; my memory vaguely offers theories about improving conditions for farmers during planting and harvesting time, or helping commodities traders better coordinate with global partners, or something. But in the abstract, the very idea that we have power over the clock- can wind or unwind it at whim to create more light- seems very metaphorical and meaning-rich, an exercise in playing God.
For most cases, certainly, I’d recoil at that suggestion. The prophets were studying this month in worship for the Lenten Sermon Series (A Prophet? Me?! Imagine that…) vocally denounced any attempt to diminish the first-place greatness of God. But in this instance- mimicking God by creating light- I’d give us a pass, perhaps even recommend the notion. Bear with now; I realize we’re discussing analogy, not actuality. But hearken back to Scripture’s first chapter, which I’ve discussed in this forum before. Act one by our Lord: “Let there be light.” Not many verses later we get: “Let us create humankind in our image.” Usually, I take that evocative phrase to mean that we’re created to be creators, co-creators with God, as some would say. But maybe we can push the envelope further, and suggest that what we’re created to create with God is what Godself actually created. Light. Life. Order, balance and illumination. That certainly tracks with St. John’s understanding of Jesus’ mission. “In the beginning was the Word…and the Word was God…the Word shone light into the darkness, and the darkness could not overcome it.” When Jesus left, of course, he left us with the task of continuing his ministry; lighting up the darkness that threatens the world around us, illuminating the world with love.
This month, y’all may know that an annual Minnesota tradition continues. The Minnesota Foodshare, sponsored by the Greater Minneapolis Council of Churches (on whose Board I serve), annually uses March to raise over half of the food supplied to Minnesota’s 300+ foodshelves. Our local foodshelf, IOCP, has encouraged member churches to join the effort by donating food, toiletries and money to help out. They’ve also received a matching grant from Mosaic Corporation to the tune of $20,000, meaning that for every item donated, IOCP receives an additional dollar. That dollar, when spent at local food banks, secures about 10 pounds of food, so the leveraging effect is considerable.
And Mosaic/IOCP decided to go an extra step this year- spice up the food drive- inviting participants to create sculptures with the food donations they receive. With the Plymouth Creek youth, we’ve designed a sculpture that looks like a lantern, which when built will literally light up our sanctuary (due to strategically placed lamps inside the structure). In other words, I’m hoping you’ll join me and other PCCCers to create light this month by bringing food donations to church that will feed hungry families in our community (and specifically, if you could make those donations cans or boxes that are white, blue and green, that’d be ideal!). Call it an invitation to do something you were created to do: exercise your God-like image and power to brighten the world around you with generosity and love.
And while you’re doing that, let me encourage to take an additional step- Pray for guidance on further ways you might shine the light of God’s love to your neighbors. Then go out and show your neighbors the wonderful brightness of our Lord.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Friday, February 24, 2012
What’s the vision…
For Christmas, I received a GREAT gift: a coupon for another cooking class. The venue was Kitchen Window, a wonderful cooking store in Uptown. The class I chose- Knife Skills- occurred on a recent Monday evening. So around 6:30, I wandered in, took my spot at one of the room’s high-top tables and prepared to slice and dice, and not injure myself for three hours.
Y’all likely know that for many months, years now actually, I’ve been developing a love for cooking. And through all my experimenting and learning, I’ve realized that a cook’s greatest friend must be the knife s/he wields, and especially the skills s/he develops to use that tool effectively. After all, before any fire starts or oven heats, food must be readied, and what results will be shaped by how well that preparation was performed. Through trial, error and more than several Band-Aids, my knife skills have steadily improved. But the reason I took this class was my obvious lack of theoretical cutting knowledge. One evening at Kitchen Window wouldn’t dissolve that deficit, I knew, but I will admit to now thinking much more clearly about what I’m doing with blade in hand.
One particular insight I gleaned, which maybe you’ll find enlightening, has to do with vision. The instructor said that before cutting or slicing into any roast, onion or pile of potatoes, a good chef must have a notion, a hope, a vision for what the food will look like at the end. Say you’re dicing potatoes (cutting them into cubes shaped like, well, dice) in order to roast them. If you haphazardly, carelessly attack the root veggies, you’ll produce a mound of multiple shapes and sizes, each to be cooked at the same temperature for the same period of time. The outcome? Simple. Some overcooked pieces, others undercooked, and your dinner guests not uttering the hoped-for oos and ahs.
But if, before beginning, you have a vision for the basic size of each piece, you’ll then be able to plan the various cuts you make- start to finish- each contributing efficiently to the goal.
Now, stop salivating over dinner, and ponder spiritual growth. Perhaps these same preparatory principles apply, though it’s a tougher arena, I realize. One approach I’ll admit applying to my own soul-stretching is much like the novice knifing I inflicted on previous meals. I’ve haphazardly read this book, tried that meditative method, followed cultural fads and inhaled the so-called ‘life-changing’ ideas of whatever author tops this week’s bestseller lists. Sometimes, I’ve been fed well by this method. Honestly, though, I’ve usually found my spirit parched, unsatisfied, hungry still. Other times, though, I’ve had a vision for the growth I want to achieve; greater fluency in prayer, clearer direction for my life’s journey, peace during particularly troubled times. With that vision in mind for where I’m headed, I’ve then made strategic choices about how to spend my energies, time and money, and often- not always, but much better than otherwise- the results worked decently.
For instance, when discerning my professional path- specifically whether to pursue Navy Chaplaincy- I entered the Navy’s Chaplain Candidate program, went through training, studied the lives of previous chaplains and prayed earnestly on that topic. After a couple years, the ‘answer’ became clear: No, that’s not it. Rather, I’m called to be a church pastor. From the outside, it may’ve looked liked a roundabout road to that decision. But during those years, I became a Disciple of Christ, met my wonderful wife, became ordained, secured my first pastoral post and gained unique, profound experiences other pastors can’t claim. And through it all, my original vision held: I want to serve God through my career, and grow in proper ways to get there.
I write that not to brag- again, that’s one success story in the midst of many that didn’t work- but rather, to season your mind for the following question. What’s your current vision for growth in life- spiritual, professional, personal? And once you’ve decided that, what ‘cuts’ or steps can you make to achieve that vision?
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Y’all likely know that for many months, years now actually, I’ve been developing a love for cooking. And through all my experimenting and learning, I’ve realized that a cook’s greatest friend must be the knife s/he wields, and especially the skills s/he develops to use that tool effectively. After all, before any fire starts or oven heats, food must be readied, and what results will be shaped by how well that preparation was performed. Through trial, error and more than several Band-Aids, my knife skills have steadily improved. But the reason I took this class was my obvious lack of theoretical cutting knowledge. One evening at Kitchen Window wouldn’t dissolve that deficit, I knew, but I will admit to now thinking much more clearly about what I’m doing with blade in hand.
One particular insight I gleaned, which maybe you’ll find enlightening, has to do with vision. The instructor said that before cutting or slicing into any roast, onion or pile of potatoes, a good chef must have a notion, a hope, a vision for what the food will look like at the end. Say you’re dicing potatoes (cutting them into cubes shaped like, well, dice) in order to roast them. If you haphazardly, carelessly attack the root veggies, you’ll produce a mound of multiple shapes and sizes, each to be cooked at the same temperature for the same period of time. The outcome? Simple. Some overcooked pieces, others undercooked, and your dinner guests not uttering the hoped-for oos and ahs.
But if, before beginning, you have a vision for the basic size of each piece, you’ll then be able to plan the various cuts you make- start to finish- each contributing efficiently to the goal.
Now, stop salivating over dinner, and ponder spiritual growth. Perhaps these same preparatory principles apply, though it’s a tougher arena, I realize. One approach I’ll admit applying to my own soul-stretching is much like the novice knifing I inflicted on previous meals. I’ve haphazardly read this book, tried that meditative method, followed cultural fads and inhaled the so-called ‘life-changing’ ideas of whatever author tops this week’s bestseller lists. Sometimes, I’ve been fed well by this method. Honestly, though, I’ve usually found my spirit parched, unsatisfied, hungry still. Other times, though, I’ve had a vision for the growth I want to achieve; greater fluency in prayer, clearer direction for my life’s journey, peace during particularly troubled times. With that vision in mind for where I’m headed, I’ve then made strategic choices about how to spend my energies, time and money, and often- not always, but much better than otherwise- the results worked decently.
For instance, when discerning my professional path- specifically whether to pursue Navy Chaplaincy- I entered the Navy’s Chaplain Candidate program, went through training, studied the lives of previous chaplains and prayed earnestly on that topic. After a couple years, the ‘answer’ became clear: No, that’s not it. Rather, I’m called to be a church pastor. From the outside, it may’ve looked liked a roundabout road to that decision. But during those years, I became a Disciple of Christ, met my wonderful wife, became ordained, secured my first pastoral post and gained unique, profound experiences other pastors can’t claim. And through it all, my original vision held: I want to serve God through my career, and grow in proper ways to get there.
I write that not to brag- again, that’s one success story in the midst of many that didn’t work- but rather, to season your mind for the following question. What’s your current vision for growth in life- spiritual, professional, personal? And once you’ve decided that, what ‘cuts’ or steps can you make to achieve that vision?
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
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