Better to be kind than right

(I've got a new gig.  I'm the Sabbatical Replacement Pastor at First Church of Christ, UCC in Woodbridge, CT, from now through the end of October.  So you'll at least be seeing a weekly sermon from me.)

1 Corinthians 13; Ephesians 4: 25 – 5: 2
Rev. Cynthia E. Robinson
First Church of Christ, UCC, Woodbridge, CT
August 12, 2012

            Elwood P. Dowd is a hero of mine.  Perhaps you’ve heard of him, or his infamous friend named Harvey, from the movie and stage play of the same name.  Harvey is a six-foot 3 ½ inches tall, invisible rabbit who accompanies Dowd in his daily goings-on and his evening trips to the local pub.  Dowd—Elwood P. that is—goes through his life with a gentle smile and peace in his heart, greeting everyone with a kind word.  And most of Dowd’s demeanor can be attributed to the presence of his friend Harvey and the love of his mother.

            Years ago Elwood’s mother used to say to him, and she always called him Elwood, “In this world, Elwood, you must be oh so smart or oh so pleasant.” Well, for years Elwood was smart. Since Elwood met Harvey he recommends pleasant.  And you may quote him.

 

            In this morning’s scripture lessons the apostle Paul is also recommending pleasant over smart to the churches in Ephesus and Corinth.  Both faith communities were having problems getting along and to a certain degree, were difficult to recognize as followers of Jesus.  Most of the New Testament was written before 100 CE, so those listening to these words would have been Jews who followed Jesus as the Messiah and converted gentiles.  They would not call themselves Christians until much later.

            The early Church began as a house divided, and there was much heated debate as to how two seemingly disparate groups were supposed to live in community with each other.  Jews had been infamous for avoiding any contact with Gentiles or pagans, and they weren’t too crazy about Jews either.  Now they were followers of Jesus together—you could say the old guard and the newer members—and factions were being formed.

            Most of it boiled down to people wanting to live their same old lives in the way they were used to and be disciples of Jesus at the same time.  Jews were still following the dietary laws, circumcising their baby boys, and thought everyone else should be a good Jew if they were going to follow Jesus.  The people of Corinth had a reputation of being unruly, hard-drinking and having, shall we say, loose physical boundaries, and even though they followed Jesus, still kept up a busy weekend life seven days a week.  The church in Ephesus was comprised of Jews and gentiles, with the Jewish faction insisting that gentile converts be circumcised and follow a kosher diet, plus all the rest of the laws of Moses.  You can imagine how well that might go over.

            These letters address similar problems in different ways.  With the Corinthian church, Paul is pastoral to the point of being poetic.  Paul ministered this church for over a year, helping them get established, and showing them what it meant to live a changed life because of Jesus.  Sometime after he had left, Paul received word that things were falling apart in the Corinthian church; folks were going back to their old selfish habits.  1 Corinthians is Paul’s response to this fragmented faith community.  He begins by speaking in the first person, always a good place to begin when breaching a conflict.  Rather than pointing out their bad behavior, wagging a finger and saying “you”, Paul admits his own limits if he has not love.  And because he goes on so eloquently after, we know how much he loves this church.

            From Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase, The Message: 

  
   Love never gives up.
   Love cares more for others than for self.
   Love doesn't want what it doesn't have.
   Love doesn't strut,
   Doesn't have a swelled head,
   Doesn't force itself on others,
   Isn't always "me first,"
   Doesn't fly off the handle,
   Doesn't keep score of the sins of others,
   Doesn't revel when others grovel,
   Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
   Puts up with anything,
   Trusts God always,
   Always looks for the best,
   Never looks back,
   But keeps going to the end.

   Love never ends.

            I always find it interesting that many, if not most, couples choose this passage for their wedding service.  Though it appears to be a moving exposition on the subject of love, it was actually intended to soothe a congregation in conflict.  Which, when you think about it, are actually perfect words for a wedding; on the difficult days, when they are no longer newlyweds, couples will look back on these words hopefully for the strength they need.

The church in Ephesus gets a more stringent message:  Don’t.  Be angry but don’t sin, don’t use your anger for revenge.  Don’t let the sun go down on your anger.  Don’t make room for the devil in your life.  (According to Jewish tradition, the devil wasn’t some creature with horns on shoulder, whispering tempting thoughts.  The devil was synonymous with the cosmic forces of evil.  When we get angry and hold onto it, we make room for cosmic forces of evil—something we definitely don’t need more of.)  Don’t grieve the Holy Spirit.

Sometimes we need the pastoral message of love.  Sometimes we need sterner stuff or what we call tough love.  But both are still love.  Neither is meant to be abusive or to be used to make a point.  The purpose of both of these passages was to unite a community, to remind them of their bond in Christ and of all Christ did to bring down walls of hostility.

Hear Eugene Peterson’s version of earlier verses in Ephesians:  “You were all called to travel on the same road and in the same direction, so stay together, both outwardly and inwardly.  You have one [Teacher], one faith, one baptism, one God and [Creator] of all, who rules over all, works through all, and is present in all.  Everything you are and think and do is permeated with Oneness.”

This doesn’t mean we are all intended to think the same, act the same, feel the same, look the same, or speak the same way.  Because of Christ we are permeated with Oneness.  Christ reminds us who we are and Whose we are, whether we are gathered or scattered, worshipping in the meetinghouse or talking in the parking lot.

Elwood P. Dowd said it best when he described how he and Harvey spent their time together.  “Harvey and I sit in the bars... have a drink or two... play the juke box. And soon the faces of all the other people they turn toward mine and they smile. And they're saying, ‘We don't know your name, mister, but you're a very nice fella.’ Harvey and I warm ourselves in all these golden moments. We've entered as strangers - soon we have friends. And they come over... and they sit with us... and they drink with us... and they talk to us. They tell about the big terrible things they've done and the big wonderful things they'll do; their hopes, and their regrets, and their loves, and their hates; all very large, because nobody ever brings anything small into a bar. And then I introduce them to Harvey... and he's bigger and grander than anything they offer me. And when they leave, they leave impressed. The same people seldom come back; but that's envy, my dear. There's a little bit of envy in the best of us.”

One could say the same about church.  We enter as strangers—soon we have friends.  We tell about the big terrible things we’ve done and the big wonderful things we’ll do, our hopes, and our regrets, and our loves, and our hates, all very large because nobody ever brings anything small into a church.  And then we’re introduced to a Friend, One who’s bigger and grander than anything we can offer each other.  And when we leave, hopefully we leave impressed.  And remember, there’s a little bit of envy even in the best of us.

But that’s a movie, we say.  Life isn’t like the movies.  Yet in trying to live out the gospel we wouldn’t say “But that’s the Bible.  Life isn’t like the Bible.”   And yet our actions do not always match our words.  Life, reality, is what we make of it, and each of us has a different take on it—one no better or worse than another.  We can only change a situation by changing ourselves, by trying to see our life together from someone else’s point of view.

So I’d like you to reflect on these few questions.  How have you been hurt by being a part of a church, any church, and what part of that hurt are you still holding onto?  What if during the passing of the peace we actually made peace by saying we’re sorry and asking for forgiveness?  In what areas of church life and in your own life are you insisting on your own way?  What makes it difficult for you to let go of the outcome and trust God?  And most importantly, what is it that you love about this church and keeps you coming back?

Will people remember us for our facts, for when we got it right or will they remember when it was that we were kind to them?  Apologizing does not always mean we are wrong and the other person is right.  It just means we value a relationship more than our ego.  That’s what love is, and that’s what love is for.  Amen.

For all who are waiting...

Patient Trust
by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin


Above all, trust in the slow work of God.

We are quite naturally impatient in everything
   to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way to something
   unknown, something new.
And yet it is the law of progress
   that it is made by passing through
   some states of instability--
   and that it may take a very long time.

And so I think it is with you.
   Your ideas mature gradually--let them grow,
   let them shape themselves, without undue haste.

Don't try to force them on,
   as though you could be today what time
   (that is to say, grace and circumstances
   acting on your own good will)
   will make of you tomorrow.

Only God could say what this new spirit
   gradually forming within you will be.
Give our Lord the benefit of believing
   that his hand is leading you,
and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
   in suspense and incomplete.


This is the daily (and nightly) struggle of faith.  We are always incomplete.   We are constantly waiting.  It is often difficult to trust that God is working on our behalf, especially when we can't see it.  This can lead us to despair, to doubt, to an aching melancholia dependent on our outward circumstances.

This is what prayer is for; not to relate to the divine as though he/she/it was Santa Claus but to place ourselves in the presence of patient trust.  Like a seed that is placed in the ground and then seemingly forgotten, a mystery unfolds beyond our sight.

These words are not comforting but growth-inducing.  They confront us with the reality that we live in the in-between, that we are addicted to haste, that for some of us, instant gratification takes too long.  And even when we get what we think we want, it is still not over.  There is more.  With God, there is always more.

Believe it or not, I miss this...

from the blog Dirty Sexy Ministry:

(It's not easy for me to write when I'm not pastoring a church.  But there are still other things very much worth reading.  This is one of them.)

What Priests Want You to Know 

A few posts have popped up this week on our radar about what pastors/priests/ministers and the like want their parishioners to know about what goes on between Sundays and, for that matter, what goes on during Sundays.  We figured this looked like a prime place for us to wade into the water, so here we go.

1.  Your minister has a personal life.  Just like your teachers in school and your doctor, ministers and priests have a life that existed long before they were ordained.  So, just like you, they have family issues and car trouble and dishes that sit in the sink far too long and children who were up sick all night before the Easter Day services.  Just like regular people, life can be joyous and overwhelming.  And we often are not able to share that with parishioners.  A quote I saw on a bumper sticker said, "Be kind, because everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."  Yes, indeed. 

2.  Sundays are long days for us.  We are on, and I mean Beyonce at a concert on, from the time we step into the church until the last person leaves.  We are responsible for the liturgy, the sermon, and the climate control (because no one in the church agrees on temperature).  People tell us things, from random comments about the football game to significant news about their lives.  We often are teaching a class, as well.  A retired priest I knew said every hour clergy work on Sundays is the equivalent of working 2.5 hours any other day. 

3.  Clergy have to flip switches in ways that are not good.  Every priest I know has many stories of going from a parishioner's hospital room where the family has gathered to say goodbye to a finance committee meeting.  It is the nature of what we do.  Remember when your minister takes a morning off, s/he may be giving herself or himself time to reflect on all that has happened because that's the only time she has.

4.  We miss the parishioners we bury.  Just because we're preaching the sermon and celebrating the liturgy like we're totally together doesn't mean we aren't crying on the inside.  Clergy do not live day to day, week to week, month to month, and year to year with the people they serve and not grieve when those beloved people die.  Again, grief needs her space and time, so allow your minister to take that time (or remind them to take that time.)

5.  We are not particularly good at disappointment.     Perhaps it's a personality type, but most clergy I know will work until their fingers fall off for the community they love and serve.  Just a note - this is not good.  God jerked my attention to this fact a week before Palm Sunday, when I just hit a wall.  We cannot do everything we want to do.  We only have a certain amount of energy, which means we, like the rest of the humanity, have to make choices about where and how our energy can be shared.  This will always mean something that someone really, really wants to see done in the church will not be done.  And we hate that, but there you go.

6. Life happens at the church every day of the week.  A few things that happen when the flock is not at the church:  planning liturgies, writing sermons, taking phone calls, meeting with people who need to be heard, visiting those who are sick, working with community groups, dealing with the physical plant, reading emails, and rearranging schedules when the unexpected happens, as it often does.  Churches are busy, busy places every day of the week.  Which also means it's always better to make an appointment rather than just stop by if you really need to talk. 

7.  Many clergy only get one day off a week.  For many of us, things happen on Saturday, so our Saturdays are not always a day off.  And it's also a day for sermon-writing because often the week gets too busy for quiet time to write. 

8.  Church life is often feast or famine.  Just like regular life, life in the church either seems to run at 100 mph or quite slow.  There are weeks that 80 hours is not unusual for me, and I am quite thankful for the ones that require about 20.  And when the slow weeks come, having a parish that empowers their clergy to take that time and relax is a gift.  We really love what we do, but need down time to re-energize and reflect.

9.  We don't remember what you tell us on Sunday.  Please, email us or write it down.

10. We make mistakes.  Yes, indeed.  Forgive us when we do.  Love us anyway. 


And from the comments for this post:  "All clergy are in the business of disappointing the unrealistic expectations of others."
Revd Dr John Maxwell Kerr, SOSc,
Episcopal Chaplain to the Faculty, Staff and Students,
The College of William and Mary

A modern day John the Baptist

"Rebellion--which is different from revolution because it is perpetual alienation from power rather than the replacement of one power system with another--should be our natural state. And faith, for me, is a belief that rebellion is always worth it, even if all outward signs point to our lives and struggles as penultimate failures. We are saved not by what we can do or accomplish but by our fealty to revolt, our steadfastness to the weak, the poor, the marginalized, and those who endure oppression. We must stand with them against the powerful. If we remain true to these moral imperatives, we win. I am enough of an idealist to believe that the struggle to lead the moral life is worth it."

--Chris Hedges, from The World As It Is: Dispatches on the Myth of Human Progress

A voice

 —In response to Scott Simon’s interview with cabaret singer Lady Rizo, 4/21/12

Most of us with a ‘voice’

don’t have publicity materials.

Maybe a Facebook.

Our venue is always small.

Life is indeed a cabaret, ol’ chum—

in a church, a stage in a basement,

graveside or garden wedding,

folding chairs, a friend playing

the piano.  If you’re lucky,

a garage band backing you up.

No tip jar, no personally produced

CDs in cardboard sleeves,

not even a cover charge

(unless you count the offering).

Everyone who’s come to hear

you sing has heard 

the same tunes many times before.

Old hymns lustily sung,

gospels and spirituals from the belly,

Dvořák’s Goin’ Home 

blesses the husband, 

then the wife a few years later.

No grinding or growling of any kind.

Just a voice trying to get it as clear

as can be:  you are not alone.

The Waiting Room

Random.

Capricious.

No guarantees

whatsoever.

You sure you want this?

You might not

even get what you need.

Your best intentions

won’t matter.

Your actions will

be like atoms colliding

in a galaxy

you may have the luck

to live in.

Others will offer

what they can:

in God’s time,

if it’s meant to be,

but they can’t always wait with you.

You will look to blame

someone

but find only yourself.

Whatever it is

you can’t forgive

set it down like a stone

or hurl it into space.

Gravity will turn out

to be stronger than

you are and infinitely

more patient.

An altar of bones

An Altar of Bones

            It will not out of the flesh, that’s bred in the bone.

                        —J. Heywood, Dialogue of Proverbs, ii. viii. K2 (1546)

Moonlit thanks

Paper joy

We are an altar of bones.

Put on that fragile flesh

Then wear it well.

For Love invites a life

fully inhabited.

Prophesy this:

The incarnation

is the resurrection.

The resurrection

is the incarnation.

the Gospel = God's valentine

Stuck on ourselves

Since beginning my search for a settled position as a church pastor, I have had to read quite a few mission statements, job descriptions, and quick blurbs about what a church is searching for in a leader.  Many of those blurbs and descriptions have two things in common:  stewardship growth and increase membership.  Most, if not all, churches are worried about their survival.  If it's one thing that's incredibly shameful to a faith community, it's having to close its doors and books and seek brighter skies elsewhere.

Trouble is, the pastoral staff is largely looked upon as the one(s) who is/are to lead the way, attract new people (read 'younger families'), and provide their own job security.  Which can make ministry look pretty self-serving.  As I wrote in a previous post, yeah, I'm concerned about my income but I don't want that to be lurking in the shadows of everything I do.

As I wrote in my profile, "If you value new people as workers and pledge units rather than as welcomed agents of change and companions along the Way, then I’m probably not the right pastor for you."  Ministry is about relationships, transformation, becoming alive and authentic, more of who God intends for us to be, not only for ourselves but so that we might liberate others.  Salvation is not about some hereafter heaven, but about right now, this moment, being saved from drowning in self-absorption.

At one time I thought that the mainline church was in decline, has been in decline since the 1960's, because of this viewing new people through the headlights of money and survival.  But it goes deeper than that.  Individuals are not the only ones who can be self-absorbed.  Because communities and corporations and countries are made of individuals, these bodies can also be self-absorbed.  And that is why the church is in decline, why government is failing, why corporations and banks are in hot water--because their main concern is themselves and their survival.  And today survival has all to do with money.

For the past few months this has been like a splinter under my skin but I didn't know what was causing it.  I am tired of serving in a place, for a people whose main (not only) interest is themselves.  We are addicted to ourselves and our own way of being.  Worship and programs and Sunday school that are for us rather than for those who aren't here yet don't serve the gospel.  I want to minister in a church that is up to the challenge of taking the first step, of the twelve, that says:  We admitted we were powerless, that our lives have become unmanageable.

If we are to get unstuck, we need to get out of ourselves, and let mission and outreach become our worship.  Jesus said that when we have ministered to the least of these, we have ministered to him.  The prophet Micah asked God with what shall he come before God and bow down?  With animal sacrifice, with signs of wealth, with the blood of one's firstborn?  No.  God has told us what is good and what is required but that we do justice and love kindness and walk humbly with our God.  Or as Eugene Peterson put it in The Message:  "And don't take yourself too seriously— take God seriously."

The worship that God 'needs' is that we behave with justice and mercy towards each other, with whomever.  Not for only for our own sake but for the sake of the other.  The good news of Jesus Christ is not that he died for our sins so that we might go to heaven.  The good news can be summed up in six words:  Love God, love neighbor, love self--and in that order.  In this way we are saved from ourselves and our propensity to get stuck there.

In my right mind

Within the past year or so I have been on a creative streak.  I have had more ideas of what kind of art I want to create and I've had the opportunities to do so, thanks to some inexpensive art classes and a very kind art teacher at the high school.

This is a Communion set that I designed and sculpted out of clay, using space in an art classroom here in town.

When the set is not in use, it is a sculpture with a rose in the chalice/bowl used for the juice or wine or water for baptism.

In the bowl is the same spiral that is on the front of the bowl and on the pitcher.  The spiral, the rose, and the pitcher are all feminine images of the divine.

The hands are the bread plate, as in Christ's body, broken and blessed, given to us.

On the bread plate is a verse from the gospel of Luke:  "Jesus said, 'You give them something to eat.'"  This signifies that the Eucharist is not only an act of personal devotion but also a spiritual, moral and ethical imperative.

These are some acrylic paintings I did in a class about painting to music.  Did you know that Pythagoras matched the 'do-re-mi' scale to the 7 color wheel and then transcribed musical compositions into progressions of paint colors?

This is an acrylic painting of a photo of an opening rose that was sent to me on a greeting card.  It reminded me of a painting I saw of a lotus used for Buddhist meditation.

This is the clay sculpture that started it all.  I began by making the pear and it had to be split in half and hollowed out before putting it together again to be fired.  When I held the two hollowed-out halves in my hands, I knew what I wanted to do with them.

I then sculpted my first pair of hands, joined together, with a 'well' in the middle where I could epoxy a quartz crystal after the piece had been glazed and fired.  I call it "Star Stuff", in that all matter is made of the same stuff as the stars across the universe.  (Someone pointed out to me that it is also animal, vegetable and mineral.)

This piece is a capital, what sits on top of a column.  Some styles that I remember learning in middle school were Corinthian, Doric, and Ionic.  This one has four corners, each with a different style vase sitting in the midst of it.  The vases can only hold dried or silk flowers.

I call this piece "The Garden", mythical, ancient, sensual.

When there is art in my future or my present, I am more authentic, more alive, more of who I am.  From the photo at the top:  "I am the right brain.  I am creativity.  A free spirit.  I am passion.  Yearning.  Sensuality.  I am the sound of roaring laughter.  I am taste.  The feeling of sand beneath bare feet.  I am movement.  Vivid colors.  I am the urge to paint on an empty canvas.  I am boundless imagination.  Art.  Poetry.  I sense.  I feel.  I am everything I wanted to be."

We're in and out of the money

Earlier last week on NPR a story was featured about the Sundance Film Festival, that many of the films highlight our nation's economic struggles, both documentaries and fictional films.  I recently saw Tower Heist in which the little guy gets robbed blind by the big rich guy and the little guy gets revenge.  (Which incidentally involves a cool twist on Ferris Buehler's Day Off.)  And many of us are swept up by Downton Abbey, in which a wealthy, landed family is thrust into the lives and cares of their working-class dependents during World War I.

Lately I have been reflecting about the power that money has in our lives, how most of what we do is motivated in some way by the pursuit and earning and spending of money.  If I talk about stewardship and giving in the church, it seems oddly self-serving, as a good portion of a church's budget is spend on staff, especially clergy.  Now that I am seeking a settled position as a pastor, I have to consider compensation, real estate prices in the area, and the fact that my oldest daughter will be in college in two and a half years, not to mention whether or  not my husband will be able to find a job in the solar field in the area where I am called.

To me, it seems that money is a symbol of our inability to trust one another, that we will do what we say we will do, at the level of expectation of the one who requires our service or product.  In the movie Phenomenon there is a brief interchange in which George (John Travolta) is repairing a friend's vehicle.  The friend needs his truck but doesn't have the money to pay for the repair.  George needs some solar panels installed but he doesn't know how to do it.  A neighbor who does know about solar needs to have a well dug on his property, something the truck guy does for a living.  So George proposes that the truck guy dig the well, the solar guy install his panels and George will fix the truck--all with no money changing hands, trusting that everything will wash out in the end.

Money is a system invented, produced and protected by human beings, often at the expense of another group of human beings.  Like any source of power, those who have it have a difficulty time sharing it with those who don't, and yet this is the primary example of Jesus, Buddha, and others whose example of compassion and downward mobility mystifies the powers that be.  And yet we in the church are beholden to this system of distrustful transactions.  In fact, we accept it as part of the norm, rather than imagining another way.

Unless we start sharing the power of money in radical fashion.  Think of all the places that money hides in a faith community, in your church: buildings, endowments, Communion silver, make your own list.  Because that's where it will begin, locally.  I know this is an unpopular view with some but sooner or later denominations will not be able to sustain themselves.  Local and small is where it will be at.  Coalitions between different faith communities and civic organizations and mission assemblies and grassroots organizations like Simply Smiles will be the model.

Money in and of itself is not a bad thing, but how we have organized economies has become systemically evil.  The church is the workshop for the kingdom of God, for God's realm of justice and compassion for all and for the earth.  Jesus spoke about more about money and the poor than he did about anything else.  It's high time the church joined him.

Now that I have your attention...

If you've ever wanted to see a sermon from me, here it is.  I preached this on January 15, 2012 at Monroe Congregational Church for the purpose of sharing the video with search committees.  It's entitled "A Driveway Moment".  The scriptures were Psalm 111 and Mark 1: 21-28.

Sometimes it's not just a cookie...

Every now and then I order Chinese takeout for lunch--vegetable mai fun--thin rice noodles stir fried with an assortment of fresh veggies.  Yum!  And each time I save the fortune cookie for last, perhaps with a cup of green tea.

Now usually I read Chinese cookie fortunes with equal measures of skepticism and fun.  But the last five fortunes have begun to sound like the UCC slogan, that God is still speaking, only on little slips of white paper.  And this all started when I sent in my profile and began hearing from search committees.  Here are those five fortunes, in the order that I received them:

• Yet by calling full, you created emptiness.
• The possibility of a career change is near.
• All things come to him [sic] who waits.
• A  person with a determined heart frightens problems away.
• Bide your time, for success is near.

Now you may think I am reading into these.  I probably am.  Don't we do the same when we read the Bible for guidance?  But what if it's also my hopes and desires calling out into the unknown and the unknown answering back?  Is that any more ridiculous than thinking an ancient book can speak to me in the present?  And by the way I believe the Bible does still speak, the way that God still speaks through you and me and community and actions and strangers and experiences.

From these fortunes I've chosen my 'word' for 2012:  a determined heart.  Not only because of my search for a settled position but also because I'm 46 and my father died of a heart attack at 46.  I don't want to just 'get through' this year so I can be 47.  I want to embrace it, savor it, delight in it, wrestle and struggle and cry and laugh and be real through it all.

So who's to say the universe doesn't speak through fortune cookies?  Now I'm looking forward to the next word.

An unwelcome prophet

“You know, Jesus reminded us in a magnificent parable one day that a man went to hell because he didn’t see the poor. And I come by here to say that America, too, is going to hell, if we don’t use her wealth. If America does not use her vast resources of wealth to end poverty, to make it possible for all of God’s children to have the basic necessities of life, she, too, will go to hell.”

— Martin Luther King, Jr.

Highly irreverent but terribly relevant

(This video contains language some might find offensive. For those who wonder why it's on a pastor's blog, read the title of this post again.  It's also wickedly funny!)

The difference between being a Christian and being Christian.

Off the map, without a plan

For quite a while now I haven't believed in that whole 'God has a plan for me' thing.  When you think about it, it's one of the most self-absorbed things one can say about the divine.  Yes, I believe that there is a God, that of Love, but a plan? All scoped out, just waiting for me to figure out what it is?  With all that there is in the heavens and the earth, God has also mapped out each and every life since time immemorial?  The purpose of this seems to be to lift up a shaky, vulnerable ego, not sure of its place in this world.  And right now I could use some lifting up, just not in a way that puts me at the center of my own little universe.

Now that I'm searching for a church to serve I'm also wondering about the working of the Holy Spirit in this process.  In the past I thought the Spirit would lead me to a specific church, one prepared for me.  But again, listen to how ego-centered that is.  Realistically, I would think that the leading of the Spirit has more to do with being:  being authentic, real, compassionate, loving, alive -- and helping others to do the same.  The rest is just geography.  It doesn't really matter where I serve, as long as it is a place and a people where I can be true to that calling of the Spirit.

Developing character

I think Charles Schultz must have read Paul's letter to the Romans:  "And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us."  Romans 5: 3-5

Forgiveness 2.0?

 

I have been reading Brian Zahnd's book UNconditional?: The Call of Jesus to Radical Forgiveness, which at first glance on the library bookshelf, looked like an excellent read.  After all, Miroslav Volf wrote the foreword and there's an endorsement from Eugene Peterson on the front cover.  And with the word 'radical' in the title I buckled up for an exhilarating ride.

I agree with the whole premise, that in order for forgiveness to be healing and transformative, that it must be unconditional.  Which also means the degree of sin does not matter.  Radical enough so far.  However, Zahnd posits unconditional forgiveness as a uniquely Christian virtue/teaching, as given to us from Christ on the cross:  "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

I agree that if those of us who call ourselves 'Christian' are truly going to follow Jesus, then we need to be unconditionally forgiving.  But to tout Christianity as the religion that teaches and espouses radical forgiveness is hubris.  What we certainly do not need is more Christian triumphalism, which Zahnd decries in the preface.

He writes:

"Of course there is cheap forgiveness that is worthless and an affront to justice.  Essentially, the Buddhist position is that evil is a nonexistent illusion, so there really is nothing to forgive.  This is nothing like the Christian position.  Christian forgiveness is not a cheap denial of the reality of evil or the trite sloganeering of 'forgive and forget'."

I'm wondering, given his Pentecostal background--I'm not sure he truly understands the 'Buddhist position'.  To get to that place of nonexistent illusion, one must meditate and practice a lifetime of detachment and compassion, which takes a great deal of discipline.  There is nothing cheap about it.

He also implies that the law of Moses is improved upon by Jesus, implying a lower status to the Ten Commandments and the books of Exodus, Leviticus and Deuteronomy:

"In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus is making an implicit claim to speak with the same authority as the One who gave the Law at Mount Sinai.  Jesus was saying that the Law given at Mount Sinai was being countermanded (italics mine) by the sermon given at the Mount of Beatitudes."

Stating that Jesus expanded the Law of Moses might have been a better choice of words. Even so, I'm not sure many Jews would be heartened to hear it.

In fact I think that his holiness the Dalai Lama might have it all over Zahnd.  In his book Beyond Religion: Ethics for Whole World, his holiness writes that religion is not necessary to cultivate compassion.  Jesus said that we are to love our enemies and forgive them, which seems to me to be a radical form of compassion.

"...[Extended], universal compassion is not rooted in any self-regarding element, but rather in the simple awareness that all others are human beings, who, just like oneself, aspire to happiness and shun suffering.  With this kind of compassion, our feeling of concern for others is completely stable and unaffected by the attitude they may have toward us.  Even if others threaten or verbally abuse us, our compassion for them, our concern for their welfare, remains.  Genuine compassion, therefore, is directed not at people's behavior but at the people themselves."

 Our Western, Christian-based notion of forgiveness has a great deal to do with ego, which is why Jesus' call to radical forgiveness can be so difficult for many.  We still think in terms of worthiness and entitlement, often withholding our forgiveness because the offending party has not, will not or cannot apologize or repent or atone for the pain they have caused.  Yet both compassion and forgiveness are neither earned nor deserved.  And when we get down to it, both may lift up and heal another but it is through them that our own hearts are saved and made whole.

True, I have just begun both books--a habit of mine: reading more than one book at once.  Both promise to discuss justice in later chapters.  Still, the first few chapters, I think, give the overall impression of the author's viewpoint.  And when it comes to forgiveness or compassion, there can be nothing unique about them, except how each of us lives out this radical call in our own lives.

So, Brian, this could be a lesson in forgiveness for me, in that I was frustrated and angered by some of your words.  But in truth, there is nothing to forgive.  You are a human being, like me, trying to find your way in this world by following the Way of Jesus.  And though Jesus calls us to embrace suffering rather than shun it, we usually fail miserably.  And so we have the need for radical compassion.  And so I thank you for your words, for like that Serbian Orthodox priest of whom you wrote, you have pushed me closer to compassion and closer to Jesus:  "For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have?" I have much farther to go in following this wisdom.

Here is an example of radical compassion from the animal kingdom, from the Pocatello Zoo in Idaho:

Elk saves marmot

It's not socialism--it's the kingdom of God

The first Sunday in November our interim senior minister preached on the workers in the vineyard, from Matthew 20.

From The Message by Eugene Peterson:

"God's kingdom is like an estate manager who went out early in the morning to hire workers for his vineyard. They agreed on a wage of a dollar a day, and went to work. Later, about nine o'clock, the manager saw some other men hanging around the town square unemployed. He told them to go to work in his vineyard and he would pay them a fair wage. They went.

He did the same thing at noon, and again at three o'clock. At five o'clock he went back and found still others standing around. He said, 'Why are you standing around all day doing nothing?'

They said, 'Because no one hired us.'

He told them to go to work in his vineyard.

When the day's work was over, the owner of the vineyard instructed his foreman, 'Call the workers in and pay them their wages. Start with the last hired and go on to the first.'

Those hired at five o'clock came up and were each given a dollar. When those who were hired first saw that, they assumed they would get far more. But they got the same, each of them one dollar. Taking the dollar, they groused angrily to the manager, 'These last workers put in only one easy hour, and you just made them equal to us, who slaved all day under a scorching sun.'

He replied to the one speaking for the rest, 'Friend, I haven't been unfair. We agreed on the wage of a dollar, didn't we? So take it and go. I decided to give to the one who came last the same as you. Can't I do what I want with my own money? Are you going to get stingy because I am generous?'

Here it is again, the Great Reversal: many of the first ending up last, and the last first."

Many Americans do not like socialism because they think it's unfair. "Why should I pay more taxes so everyone can have healthcare and an education, whether they work or not?" Many of us like living in a meritocracy: we earned it, therefore we deserve it, we're entitled to it.

I would bet that most folks who enjoy this lifestyle also think they have to earn their way into heaven as well. "I give to my church and I pray every day and read my Bible and I've even served the poor. I've made mistakes but I know I'm forgiven through God's grace." But is God's grace also for that Muslim, Jew, Buddhist, atheist, gay, prostitute who had an abortion, who cheated on his wife, who's addicted to alcohol and drugs, who's indefinitely incarcerated for being an illegal immigrant, who's on death row for murder, who just got out of prison for molesting children?

Folks, we'd like to think that we're the ones who showed up first, who agreed to that daily wage in the early morning and thought we were going to get more. In truth, we are all johnny-come-lately's. All of us have fallen short of the glory of God. None of us deserves any of this, the good or the bad. Yet God is generous with us anyway. So why should we be stingy with this extravagant love that has been lavished upon us?

But then there's the question of why should we be good at all? If God's grace is for everyone, even the most heinous of sinners, why should we love and give and forgive others?

I don't know about you, but when I'm giving to others without a second thought to myself (and it doesn't happen often enough), that is when I feel truly alive, when I feel as though I am living the way I was intended to live. And when I forgive and accept someone as they are, I feel as though a huge weight has been lifted from my heart, setting both us free.

It isn't socialism, it's something better. It's called love.

"Love never gives up.

Love cares more for others than for self.

Love doesn't want what it doesn't have.

Love doesn't strut,

Doesn't have a swelled head,

Doesn't force itself on others,

Isn't always "me first,"

Doesn't fly off the handle,

Doesn't keep score of the sins of others,

Doesn't revel when others grovel,

Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,

Puts up with anything,

Trusts God always,

Always looks for the best,

Never looks back,

But keeps going to the end."

 --from 1 Corinthians 13, The Message by Eugene Peterson