On Easter Sunday, multiple folk showed me an article in the previous day’s Star Tribune. Titled, “What did Jesus do on Holy Saturday?,” the story discusses ideas proposed by theologians across history- and still today- regarding the time between Jesus’ death and resurrection. Did he hang out in Heaven with the Mother and the Holy Spirit, watch an episode or several of Glee? Perhaps he caught up on divine taxes, after years on earth preaching about God’s Kingdom (reminder: our Tax Day cometh!).
Oh no, some theologians suggest, none of these wild speculations suffice. Rather, according to an ancient doctrine, Jesus spent the intervening hours in Hell. That’s right- Hades. Or as Jesus would’ve called it, Sheol. Ever recite the Apostle’s Creed, among Christianity’s most widely used creeds? About halfway through, the text says, “I believe…Jesus Christ…was crucified, died and was buried; he descended into Hell…” I remember being greatly confused when encountering that as a child. In seminary, having to teach this Creed to youth in my internship church, the phrase, “he descended into hell,” made all of us wince! “Why would he go to hell? What would that accomplish? And really, Shane, do you believe Hell exists?!”
For the record, I’m agnostic regarding Hell. I don’t know if it’s real or not, though I lean toward “not”. What I do believe is that it makes little sense for Christians to worry about it. For, a) God is Love, and b) Jesus is victorious! That’s enough for me to think our eternal destiny’s within God’s embrace.
Nevertheless, there’s much speculation about Hell in scripture and church tradition. Specifically, for our purposes, this little-known doctrine called, “The Raising of Hell.” It postulates that when Jesus died, he “descended into Hell,” and there opened the gates of Satan’s abode to let the dead go free. People debated whom, exactly, Jesus liberated- Israel’s prophets and patriarchs? All dead Jews? “The just” of every nation, ethnic/religious background notwithstanding? But whatever your liking, the ancient consensus was that it happened, that before the glorious Easter morning, our Lord was busy!
Now, it seems to me that this doctrine hinges on ancient conceptions of the after-life. 1st century Jews like Jesus (similar to other cultures, like Greece) believed in a kind of eternal ‘holding cell’ called Sheol (Hades, for the Greeks). There, disembodied spirits of dead folk awaited the End of Days, at which point God would pronounce the Last Judgment. Notice, this idea doesn’t contain all the fire, brimstone, torture and horror that titillate the modern imagination. Sheol, instead, sounds boring. Kinda quiet. A yawn. But ancient Christians believe that the saints, the beloved of God, warranted more exuberant surroundings- Paradise, in fact. And that’s what Jesus died to ensure God’s beloved, they said. Thus, he opened Sheol’s gates, set the captives free, race y’all to the buffet table!
Nowadays, however, we describe the world differently. We understand things like time’s relativity, the principle of parallel universes, the interdependency of even the smallest of life’s building blocks. Even the presenting question- What did Jesus do on Holy Saturday?- sounds a bit beside the point, for my way of thinking. I presume the advent of death ushers in a dramatically different (and mysterious) consciousness, one that wipes away our current perceptions of time, i.e. each second giving way to the next. And if that’s true (who knows, really?!), then it’s not like Jesus had 36 hours to kill after he was killed. Instead, he entered a time where time meant something wildly, totally different! Where all that was conscious wasn’t consumed by seconds, but saturated by grace. Where each moment of all reality is both present/at-hand and redeemed by God’s love.
In other words, when Jesus died, he didn’t do anything. He simply entered the Ultimate Reality where all that needing doing- forgiveness, salvation, glory- was finished, from everlasting to everlasting. Well, I guess he did one thing. He returned to life in our midst, revealing what incredible things awaited. Indeed, what incredible things should be our reality now, if only we’d work and love enough to create Paradise now.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Underwater lighting…
Among the coolest things I’ve ever seen is an octopus swimming at night. Did you know they glow? And their colors swirl florescent. Purples, blues and greens; like a pastel canvas with arms, infused with electricity.
Perhaps only certain octopi display this colorful barrage. I can’t say; I’m no oceanographer. Just a simple aquatic tourist, blessed with a father in love with scuba diving. In college, thinking it’d make for good parent-child bonding (which it did!), on several occasions Pops and I flew to warm places lauded for underwater excursions. And often, we took plunges after sunset, scuba diving at night. Remarkably, while the human world above prepared for sleep, the ocean hurried and bustled about. Some wildlife, certainly, hid from nocturnal hunters in coral formations or under rocks. But many fish, crabs, eels and more wandered to and fro, providing much spectacle for our viewing pleasure.
But to me the star was always the octopus! Diverse colors united, unpredictable movements, incredible agility. I’m a decent (human) swimmer, but compared to these creatures, I’m stunningly graceless. Even at great depths, with moon and stars offering little illumination, they swivel and float over rocks and sand with bursting quickness or languid ease. Knowing exactly what to expect. Whereas I lumbered sloooowly, and without a light, was ignorant of the world around me. Unless an octopus occupied my field of vision. Then this swirling, whirling, luminous friend offered guidance and delight.
As a young adult minister, I’ve heard the following question multiple times- “Shane, in this day and age, why attend church? Why be Christian at all?!” It’s been true of previous generations, but is even more true today (according many studies), that for many young people deciding how to spend time, money and establish life-long commitments, church just ain’t it. Whether it’s about their station in life, a change in culture, or churches’ incapacity for changing theology or music, who knows? But it’s happening, and people know it, and thus consider young Christian ministers odd. Which I am, in so very many ways (just ask my wife), but perhaps particularly for my ongoing devotion to organized religion.
So let me answer that question briefly (incompletely) with reference to my octopus friend. I love church because, at its best, it’s brightens a shadowed world. Think of the rich varieties of color combined in that tentacled, radiant creature. Like that, I’ve worshipped God in English and Spanish, Latin, Hebrew and Greek. And that’s but an insignificant number of languages that laud the Lord each day. It’s humbling, and inspiring, to know I’m part of a global community, who rarely agree on even the most important things (like whether Jesus actually resurrected, or ever claimed to be God), but still find ways to come together to serve the poor and honor goodness. In many situations that we privileged, first-world residents never dream of enduring- gathering daily bread in piles of Egyptian trash, suffering endemic starvation and disease in rural Ethiopia- historic Christian communities have long sheltered each other and believed in hope.
Which isn’t to say we’re always wonderful and admirable. Far from it. Alas. Especially in this nation, Christians have had frequent trouble adapting to shifting currents or receding tides, movements octopi find instinctive. Yet sometimes, we’ve done quite well; say, leading change in civil rights or women voting. And by simply welcoming each other, feeding neighbors, visiting the sick, celebrating our dead friends, there’s much that happens in most churches I know that’s powerful, bright and alive.
Plymouth Creek, you might know, has a vision to become a “beacon of openness and Christian service in the NW suburbs.” That’s because we believe Christ’s love is light, which can outshine any despairing darkness. And what’s remarkable about that vision, to me, is that it’s not about just one color or shade. The love of God we honor includes many different people, races, lifestyles, creeds- even religions- that when gathered together, united by love, amplifies in potent, stunning ways. Is delightful to behold. Becomes a glorious companion, helper or guide. May it be this Easter week, and beyond, we’re as true to that vision as possible.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Perhaps only certain octopi display this colorful barrage. I can’t say; I’m no oceanographer. Just a simple aquatic tourist, blessed with a father in love with scuba diving. In college, thinking it’d make for good parent-child bonding (which it did!), on several occasions Pops and I flew to warm places lauded for underwater excursions. And often, we took plunges after sunset, scuba diving at night. Remarkably, while the human world above prepared for sleep, the ocean hurried and bustled about. Some wildlife, certainly, hid from nocturnal hunters in coral formations or under rocks. But many fish, crabs, eels and more wandered to and fro, providing much spectacle for our viewing pleasure.
But to me the star was always the octopus! Diverse colors united, unpredictable movements, incredible agility. I’m a decent (human) swimmer, but compared to these creatures, I’m stunningly graceless. Even at great depths, with moon and stars offering little illumination, they swivel and float over rocks and sand with bursting quickness or languid ease. Knowing exactly what to expect. Whereas I lumbered sloooowly, and without a light, was ignorant of the world around me. Unless an octopus occupied my field of vision. Then this swirling, whirling, luminous friend offered guidance and delight.
As a young adult minister, I’ve heard the following question multiple times- “Shane, in this day and age, why attend church? Why be Christian at all?!” It’s been true of previous generations, but is even more true today (according many studies), that for many young people deciding how to spend time, money and establish life-long commitments, church just ain’t it. Whether it’s about their station in life, a change in culture, or churches’ incapacity for changing theology or music, who knows? But it’s happening, and people know it, and thus consider young Christian ministers odd. Which I am, in so very many ways (just ask my wife), but perhaps particularly for my ongoing devotion to organized religion.
So let me answer that question briefly (incompletely) with reference to my octopus friend. I love church because, at its best, it’s brightens a shadowed world. Think of the rich varieties of color combined in that tentacled, radiant creature. Like that, I’ve worshipped God in English and Spanish, Latin, Hebrew and Greek. And that’s but an insignificant number of languages that laud the Lord each day. It’s humbling, and inspiring, to know I’m part of a global community, who rarely agree on even the most important things (like whether Jesus actually resurrected, or ever claimed to be God), but still find ways to come together to serve the poor and honor goodness. In many situations that we privileged, first-world residents never dream of enduring- gathering daily bread in piles of Egyptian trash, suffering endemic starvation and disease in rural Ethiopia- historic Christian communities have long sheltered each other and believed in hope.
Which isn’t to say we’re always wonderful and admirable. Far from it. Alas. Especially in this nation, Christians have had frequent trouble adapting to shifting currents or receding tides, movements octopi find instinctive. Yet sometimes, we’ve done quite well; say, leading change in civil rights or women voting. And by simply welcoming each other, feeding neighbors, visiting the sick, celebrating our dead friends, there’s much that happens in most churches I know that’s powerful, bright and alive.
Plymouth Creek, you might know, has a vision to become a “beacon of openness and Christian service in the NW suburbs.” That’s because we believe Christ’s love is light, which can outshine any despairing darkness. And what’s remarkable about that vision, to me, is that it’s not about just one color or shade. The love of God we honor includes many different people, races, lifestyles, creeds- even religions- that when gathered together, united by love, amplifies in potent, stunning ways. Is delightful to behold. Becomes a glorious companion, helper or guide. May it be this Easter week, and beyond, we’re as true to that vision as possible.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Eternal sunshine…
As Minnesota winters go, this year’s wasn’t one. No emergency snow days called. Higher temperatures than ever recorded. I bought an incredible snow shovel and used it three, four times at most. When Kentucky friends heard that I was moving ‘up north,’ and feared I’d freeze to death, obviously they failed to consider this scenario.
So now I’m awaiting Easter, wondering if it’s time already to mow my lawn. Or maybe grill out for Easter dinner. Weird to imagine, right? History claims that Easter coincides with pre-Christian religious festivals celebrating earth’s renewal. And why not?! The whole point is honoring Jesus’ resurrection. What better could enact that than fresh green grass and increased sunshine?
Traditional theology posits that this resurrection had consequences. Specifically, that Jesus’ followers received the ultimate prize as a result. Eternal life, unending bliss, a pre-paid pass to perpetual paradise. Indeed, such a promise remains personally precious to many, many Christians.
But you’ll notice that I spend little time discussing that belief. And it’s not that I believe it’s wrong; I’m as expectant of and grateful for life eternal as any. It’s just that God put us here for a reason, presumably, with a mission for us and others. To instigate and initiate God’s Reign of Unyielding Love in our midst. So I’d rather not worry much about heavenly things; we’ve got work yet to do.
Plus, there’s a deeper consequence to this traditional belief that many overlook. And given Easter’s near-arrival, I think it worth exploring. Again, church tradition claims that something remarkable happened on that Third Day. When the stone rolled back, not only Jesus received new life. But through His resurrection, God revealed a greater truth: that all people, in all places, of all times (and, I believe, of all faiths), are deemed eternally precious, everlastingly loved, never-to-be discarded. I.e. eternal life for all life is God’s greatest desire. And by raising Jesus from the dead, God wanted all to know that. Therefore, we say, Christ has risen! Eternal life is ours!!
One question for me, though, is- When does it begin? Once we die, right? That’s the normal answer… But why assume that? I mean, if, indeed, our life’s extended into forever by God’s love, than isn’t the clock already ticking? Isn’t death a barely-perceptible pause? In other words, hasn’t God’s gift of eternal life already begun?
Let that marinate a bit, then consider the consequences. All things wonderful and holy, glorious and sunny that we assume about life in Heaven with God, well, if eternal life in God’s love has begun, aren’t those ours already? Sure, it’ll be different once the end’s come, and this life transforms. But presuming there’s continuity between now and then, shouldn’t we live and act and worship like we’re as alive as we’ll ever be?! Like were always and already surrounded by the eternal sunshine of the Light of the World?! And if so, then just imagine what can (must?) be done… Your neighbor, who ticks you off? Living eternally in God’s love, already. Your family member, who doesn’t return your calls? In eternal relationship with God, already. The poor family down the street, struggling to feed and clothe their children? Loved eternally by God, already. Just. Like. You.
That isn’t meant to cause you shame or guilt; just the opposite, in fact! For you- You- YOU- have a pre-paid pass to perpetual paradise. And that eternal life has already begun! So cast off whatever’s holding you back; all the worry and fear, all the sin and self-defeat. God’s love has freed you, includes you, surrounds you. And will continue to do so until time, well, ends, bathing you in divine sunshine. So claim that power! Live that truth! Let it guide you and set you free!! Jesus endured the Cross, suffered the tomb, then rose again in triumph. All so we would see a truth more blessed than any I know. That eternal life in God’s glorious love is our gracefully given birthright. We don’t have to wait for its benefits to kick in. We’re living in that bright sunshine already. Whether next year’s winter is colder or not.
Happy Easter,
Shane
Read more!
So now I’m awaiting Easter, wondering if it’s time already to mow my lawn. Or maybe grill out for Easter dinner. Weird to imagine, right? History claims that Easter coincides with pre-Christian religious festivals celebrating earth’s renewal. And why not?! The whole point is honoring Jesus’ resurrection. What better could enact that than fresh green grass and increased sunshine?
Traditional theology posits that this resurrection had consequences. Specifically, that Jesus’ followers received the ultimate prize as a result. Eternal life, unending bliss, a pre-paid pass to perpetual paradise. Indeed, such a promise remains personally precious to many, many Christians.
But you’ll notice that I spend little time discussing that belief. And it’s not that I believe it’s wrong; I’m as expectant of and grateful for life eternal as any. It’s just that God put us here for a reason, presumably, with a mission for us and others. To instigate and initiate God’s Reign of Unyielding Love in our midst. So I’d rather not worry much about heavenly things; we’ve got work yet to do.
Plus, there’s a deeper consequence to this traditional belief that many overlook. And given Easter’s near-arrival, I think it worth exploring. Again, church tradition claims that something remarkable happened on that Third Day. When the stone rolled back, not only Jesus received new life. But through His resurrection, God revealed a greater truth: that all people, in all places, of all times (and, I believe, of all faiths), are deemed eternally precious, everlastingly loved, never-to-be discarded. I.e. eternal life for all life is God’s greatest desire. And by raising Jesus from the dead, God wanted all to know that. Therefore, we say, Christ has risen! Eternal life is ours!!
One question for me, though, is- When does it begin? Once we die, right? That’s the normal answer… But why assume that? I mean, if, indeed, our life’s extended into forever by God’s love, than isn’t the clock already ticking? Isn’t death a barely-perceptible pause? In other words, hasn’t God’s gift of eternal life already begun?
Let that marinate a bit, then consider the consequences. All things wonderful and holy, glorious and sunny that we assume about life in Heaven with God, well, if eternal life in God’s love has begun, aren’t those ours already? Sure, it’ll be different once the end’s come, and this life transforms. But presuming there’s continuity between now and then, shouldn’t we live and act and worship like we’re as alive as we’ll ever be?! Like were always and already surrounded by the eternal sunshine of the Light of the World?! And if so, then just imagine what can (must?) be done… Your neighbor, who ticks you off? Living eternally in God’s love, already. Your family member, who doesn’t return your calls? In eternal relationship with God, already. The poor family down the street, struggling to feed and clothe their children? Loved eternally by God, already. Just. Like. You.
That isn’t meant to cause you shame or guilt; just the opposite, in fact! For you- You- YOU- have a pre-paid pass to perpetual paradise. And that eternal life has already begun! So cast off whatever’s holding you back; all the worry and fear, all the sin and self-defeat. God’s love has freed you, includes you, surrounds you. And will continue to do so until time, well, ends, bathing you in divine sunshine. So claim that power! Live that truth! Let it guide you and set you free!! Jesus endured the Cross, suffered the tomb, then rose again in triumph. All so we would see a truth more blessed than any I know. That eternal life in God’s glorious love is our gracefully given birthright. We don’t have to wait for its benefits to kick in. We’re living in that bright sunshine already. Whether next year’s winter is colder or not.
Happy Easter,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, March 29, 2012
"Will the Circle Be Unbroken?"
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.”
Read more!
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.”
Read more!
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!
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