Picasso, Passion and Travel

This painting by Picasso in the IU Art Museum is a favorite of mine. Anytime I visit I have sit in front of it and just take it in. I hear passion wailing out from it. I like—I need— passion in art. My partner—a former art teacher—disagrees but I find the art of the likes of Georgia O'Keefe passionless. But, especially in this painting, Picasso's passion cries out.

This photo was taken to try out a new camera before our trip this summer to Germany. In addition to visiting friends and attending the confirmation of my partner's godson, we will visit—and photograph—art museums and churches. Travel for us usually consists of lots of churches, galleries and just strolling around until it's time for a meal, coffee or dessert. And if we happen upon an organ recital as we enter a church, like once at the cathedral at Regensburg, all the better.

I like beautiful churches. I guess I even like some that aren't considered so beautiful. A few years ago while visiting my friend, Marlene in New Mexico, I was enchanted by the simplicity of the small adobe churches across the desert.

It is the passion. Granted, the small adobe churches have a passion that is expressed differently but I feel passion in places of worship. I like just taking it in.

Shaken Down

Yesterday I participated in a contemplative prayer group that included lectio divina. It reminded me how nourishing lectio is to my soul. We prayed Luke 6:36-38, a familiar scripture I somehow have never given much thought. I hadn’t even given it much thought when I read it earlier in the day.

Then we prayed it after the centering prayer and “shaken together” spoke to me. It was like rewatching a movie after someone has pointed out something to look for. It was so obvious.

Shaken down. I thought of being a kid at Halloween with a bag for candy. When the bag got full, I wouldn’t give up, call it a night, and limit myself. Shake that bag down. Pack it in. Shake it down again. There is still room for more.

Why should I think the first bit of encounter with God is it, go home, call it a night, and limit myself? I want to stand before the Holy, shake it down and pack it in. I should never rush off, assuming this is all.

So I shake down my bag. While I consider myself thoroughly Christian, shaking down my bag I find beauty in other religious traditions, like Sufi poetry and Zen wisdom, that will fit in. Why should I assume this is it, this is all God has for me? The night is not over. I shake down my bag. Holy One, show me more. My bag can hold it.

Coming Out Anniversary

Seventeen years ago this week my life changed forever.

While I had questioned my sexuality for years, my church taught me no one is born gay. We believed that, failing other options, Satan tempts some, like me, with gay thoughts into believing we are gay. We believed we must pray for strength to overcome his lies.

In years past I had discussed this with my pastor and my youth leader. My pastor assured me I would never actually act on any of it. So, for the longest time, I believed that; in my small and very conservative town it was unlikely—if not dangerous—anything was ever going to happen.

So, I created an elaborate scheme to convince myself I was straight that was agonizing to maintain. There was lots of this-doesn’t-mean-this-it-means-that. I constantly questioned my inner turmoil and bore the abuse of a faith tradition with its head in the sand.

Then, seventeen years ago this week I was on a Florida beach with my family on Spring Break. As they played and sunned I walked—fairly innocently—along the beach until I saw the hottest sight I had ever seen, a guy in a black thong. Always before it had been too dangerous even to betray that I was looking but this day I customarily sat down and watched. I knew I was obvious—though in a more tasteful manner than stalking—and, considering the little show he put on, he knew I was enchanted with him. Sitting there—savoring the sight—I knew I had crossed a line. Other than watching, nothing happened but I could no longer lie to myself that I wouldn’t go further… if my family hadn’t been just up the beach.

But I was not going to let my closet fall down around me in a moment of indiscretion as had happened with a Pentecostal leader I admired. I admitted to myself that I was indeed gay and I vowed I would deal with—and dismantle—my closet on my own terms.

It meant changes in my life. I wasn’t always prepared and I had to venture alone and scorned out of my Pentecostal world but I live a life of honesty, to myself and others. And somewhere on a Florida beach is a neatly placed stack of dismantled closet.

Giving Up Stuff for Lent

Without knowing it, I seem to have joined many others across the internet to resolve to give up “stuff” for Lent. I tend to think I don’t have too awfully much stuff but when I moved in ten years ago with my partner, I crammed it into a couple closets and never returned to it. Part of the problem is, with all of his stuff, there wasn’t much room for mine. I’ll know when he reads this blog because he will protest.

So I have resolved to get rid of stuff for Lent. I won’t just sort and discard. Each time I open a closet to start I will pray the prayer below, inspired by words from Joyce Rupp. I have added an antiphon, inspired by something I found online.

My Pentecostal background didn't prepare me for Lent. I've slowly warmed to the idea. I think that's how it usually is with a life of faith. As we journey, we encounter new places and vistas in the Holy. This year I have been looking forward to Lent for weeks. My soul has been thirsting for it.

I resolve to spend a few minutes each day—sometimes more—with the prayer below before sorting and discarding. And like Teresa of Avila, I will set a chair in the room for Jesus. When I can't decide whether to keep or discard, I can look to him. Something tells me he's going to give me the thumbs down on a lot of stuff.


My Giving Up Stuff During Lent Prayer
Inspired by Joyce Rupp

Possessions do not feed my spirit. I am liberated from the desire to hoard things.
God, open my mind and my heart.
Lift the barriers,
unbind the strong grasp of my demands
when I want everything to go my way.

God reach into my inner space
sweep out all my old clutter,
enlarge my capacity to receive. 

Possessions do not feed my spirit. I am liberated from the desire to hoard things.
God, empty me of whatever impedes
the growth of our relationship.
Help me to recognize and accept
your sources for my growth.
 
God, soften my resistance to emptying.
May I welcome each inner season
as a catalyst for my transformation. 

Possessions do not feed my spirit. I am liberated from the desire to hoard things.
O God, deepen my trust in you.
Ease my doubts, fears and discouragements.
When I am feeling vulnerable,
remind me that you are my safe haven.

God, may I be ever more rooted in you.
Draw me into solitude.
Entice me into endless encounters
where I experience oneness with you. 

Possessions do not feed my spirit. I am liberated from the desire to hoard things.
O God open the ears of my heart,
May I hear your voice within the silence
as well as within the noise of my life.
Re-awaken me so that I can listen to you
wholeheartedly. 

God of goodness, we yearn to be open and receptive
to your generosity.
May we trust your presence amidst the cycle
of emptying and filling.
Possessions do not feed my spirit. I am liberated from the desire to hoard things.

Community Kitchen

Yesterday I had the joy of representing my congregation, First United ChurchFirst United Church, at the groundbreaking of Community Kitchen's new facility. Last year Community Kitchen provided more than 200,000 meals, mostly to seniors and at-risk children through their many programs.

Last year we learned we were inheriting a sizable estate from a recently deceased member. This launched a series of discussions, how do we honor God and model to ourselves and community by being generous with our resources? How seriously do we take tithing? How do we practice what we preach of being generous with our resources? Ultimately, we voted to give a tithe—$100,000—to Community Kitchen’s building campaign.

In the six months since we notified the congregation of this inheritance, not one person has asked, how can we spend this money on ourselves? I’m overjoyed to be part of a congregation that is getting it right.

This community of Christian faith has taught me much about living for Jesus. I came to this congregation more interested in studying and discussing the Bible. My Pentecostal background prepared me for and taught me an importance of Biblical knowledge. It’s funny how the Holy leads us in another direction.

This congregation has taught me we are called to do what Jesus did, to feed, to clothe, to shelter, to embrace all God’s people who are in need. When Jesus asked Peter three times if he loved him, he instructed him, “Then feed my sheep.” In his first sermon, Jesus preached, “He has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” He proceeded to feed, heal, and embrace the downcast and every marginalized group. Now it is up to us.

Travel Plans

Our summer travel plans this year, determined by life events—my daughters’ graduations, one  from high school and another from university, and Donovan’s German godson’s confirmation—are full this year. Donovan and I will visit Germany for the confirmation. Then, because I always celebrate high school graduations with a trip to New York City, Missy and I have been planning for this celebration trip. When we learned our German friends want to celebrate the confirmation with a trip to New York City, we decided to make this a joint celebration.

Donovan and I enjoy travel but many probably think our style of travel boring. We just wander—streets, art galleries, and churches. We wander from one café to the next, taking in interesting churches on the way. Sometimes we happen upon a church tour or organ recital. We have wandered through the National Gallery in Washington, DC so many times that I’ve noticed particular art works are moving in and out and around the building. We always stop by the café downstairs for gelato.

Cafés are determined by the hour, whatever looks interesting at meal or snack time. We follow streets the same way, whatever looks interesting.

Mostly we talk. On road trips we frequently miss turn-offs because we have been carried away in conversation. Visiting with friends means we talk even more. Some of my fondest memories are wandering with friends through churches, villages, cafés, and art galleries. And one castle.

Interfaith Winter Shelter

Tuesday mornings I work the 6:00am cleanup shift at the Interfaith Winter Shelter that rotates to my church two days a week from November 1 through March 31. There’s no sermon, no music, no liturgy, but week after week, this is the best church service I attend.

Linda, the Monday night director, is part of the success of this ministry. Frequently she talks about seeing the glow of the Spirit over the place or in the face of volunteers or guests. She is always seeing Jesus in a way like someone who has actually seen Jesus.

This week I saw the glow of the Spirit myself. Now I know what she has been talking about. People who are always seeing or hearing from Jesus are pretty freaky until you see him yourself! In that instance, spiritual eyes are opened to see things of the Spirit.

All along I’ve enjoyed working at the shelter, the guests and other volunteers, but this week it became different. While I was focused on picking up and putting away, not even paying attention, the Spirit shined and I saw. I turned to looked around and Oh. My. God. Literally.

In the words of John Lennon, “You may say I’m a dreamer but I’m not the only one.” Linda and I both have seen it. It will be hard to keep it quiet now.

Interfaith Weekend

This weekend I attended an interfaith prayer service and panel discussion at the Tibetan Mongolian Buddhist monastery Cultural Center in my community. This gathering of sisters and brothers from many world faiths reminded me of the Psalm 133:

How very good and pleasant it is
when kindred live together in unity!
It is like the precious oil on the head,
running down upon the beard,
on the beard of Aaron,
running down over the collar of his robes.
It is like the dew of Hermon,
which falls on the mountains of Zion.
For there the HOLY ONE ordained blessing,
life for evermore.

It is very good and pleasant when God’s people dwell together in unity. God anoints this with an anointing that runs down the head and over the collar, onto the ground and overflowing the mountains. God does not limit based on those who call God by one name or another.

I felt this goodness this weekend as Catholic and Protestant, Jew and Moslem, Buddhist and Hindu, Jain and Sikh prayed. I felt the Spirit of God as these holy women and men spoke of their faiths. I know for much of Christianity Christians have believed our sisters and brothers who call God by different names are pagans in need of conversion. But either there is just one God or there isn’t and I believe there is, whatever name you call God by.

I’m convinced Jesus was speaking of these sisters and brothers in John 10:16:

I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.

And Paul in Romans 2:14:

When Gentiles, who do not possess the law, do instinctively what the law requires, these, though not having the law, are a law to themselves. They show that what the law requires is written on their hearts.

My sisters and brothers call God by other names and worship God differently but it is still the same life-giving God. Rather than diminishing God, this is witness that God is too big to be fully described by one faith alone. As these sisters and brothers spoke on Saturday I heard the fruits of the Spirit in our midst.

Gloria Patri II

I’m still working through this Gloria Patri/Glory Be thing. The Gloria Patri, from early Christianity, is a short hymn of praise to God. The exact wording varies depending on faith tradition but the form I use from the Irish Jesuits at http://www.sacredspace.ie/ is:

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, As it was in the beginning, is now and every shall be, world without end.

As I said in an earlier post, I have a couple problems with it. I come from a non-Trinitarian background, which we called Oneness. This is no longer an issue for me but I still do not embrace the Trinity. This is actually an easy fix for me by praying “to the Holy, that is Creating me, Redeeming me and Sustaining me.”

What I have continued to ponder is “Glory.” At first I was uncomfortable offering Glory to God. I feel like we are more partners and I’m not convinced God wants glorification from me. However, this suggests I believe God is a person like me, which I don’t.

So, what is God and what does God want from me? If I haven’t already cited Micah 6:8 before, “God has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does God require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”

To begin with, “God” sounds so person-like… and masculine. Why don’t we just call God what Moses called God? I am that I am. The One that is. We—at least I—tend to think referring to God as the Holy, the Divine, etc. sounds so New Age-y but how much more New Age-sounding can you get than “I am that I am.” God, on the other hand seems so much more defined and knowable. That’s that problem. We think we have it all figured out when we really don’t.

I believe the Holy is that which has been drawing us closer into the Holy since humankind began encountering God. I don’t think God ever changes, but as humanity gets closer and closer, what we know of the Holy changes.

I think I’m deciding this Holy that draws us closer in does deserve glory. This experience I feel coming into the Holy from afar deserves glory. Glory be to the Holy that is Creating me, Redeeming me, and Sustaining me. Glory!

Benedictine at Work

I continue to explore Benedictine spirituality in my life. I qualify this with the phrase ‘in my life’ because it’s not enough merely to explore on an intellectual level. It needs applied into my day-to-day life. Here the challenge begins.

Work is central to the Benedictine life. On first glance, that’s easy for sisters and brothers in a monastery and ordained clergy but what about the rest of us? My 9-5 (actually 7:30-4:00) job is far removed from such Godly work. Or is it?

I work for a not-for-profit hospital as a reimbursement analyst. Actually, my work is about as Godly as it gets: we provide healing to those in our community. I review and analyze how we could improve our billing practices to increase our reimbursement from Medicare and Medicaid so we can continue to provide healing in our community.

We bind up the wounded. We heal the sick. We comfort the hurting. I shouldn’t take this lightly.

Thus, this spreadsheet is not a work list to work through this week; it is the healing work I am called to do. Debating this service with Medicaid is not such a nuisance; it’s a bit of wrestling with ‘Satan in the wilderness’ but it is healing work and I must overcome this bureaucratic adversary. I should greet complicated and time-consuming work: healing is complicated and time-consuming work.

I will continue to look and see how I am doing God’s work. I imagine it could even change how I go about my day. Will it change how I start and end my day when my inbox is full of healing God called me to and my outbox is full of healing I did today. Yes, it feels much different.

So, how do you do God’s work?

Justice Creed

Pentecostals refer to the religious joy they are prone to as “shouting.” The Justice Creed by Brian McLaren below made me feel like shouting last night as I read it in Justice in the Burbs by Will Sampson and Lisa Sampson. Other than the few “King” references, this is a creed I can embrace (and shout about):

The Justice Creed

We believe that the living God is just
And that the true and living God loves justice.
God delights in just laws and rejoices in just people.
God sides with those who are oppressed by injustice,
And stands against oppressors.
God is grieved by unjust people and the unjust systems they create and sustain.
God blesses those who hunger and thirst for justice, and
God's kingdom belongs to those willing to be persecuted for the sake of justice.
To God, justice is a weighty thing which can never be ignored.

We believe that Jesus, the Liberating King, came to free humanity from injustice
And to display the justice of God,
In word and deed, in life, death, and resurrection.
The justice which God desires, Jesus taught, must surpass that of the hypocrites,
For the justice of God is a compassionate justice,
Rich in mercy and abounding in love
For the last, the least, the lost, and the outcast.
On his cross, Jesus drew the injustice of humanity into the light,
And there the heartless injustice of human empire met
The reconciling justice of the kingdom of God.
The resurrection of Jesus proclaims that the true justice of God,
Naked, vulnerable, and scarred by abuse, is stronger
Than the violent injustice of humanity, armed with weapons, conceit, deceit, and lies.

We believe that the Holy Spirit is here, now,
Convicting the world of sin and justice,
Warning that God's judgment will come on all that is unjust.
We believe that the Kingdom of God is justice, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.
Empowered by the Spirit, then, we seek first God's kingdom and God's justice,
For the world as it is has not yet become the world as God desires it to be.
And so we live, and work, and pray,
Until justice rolls down like water,
And flows strong and free like a never-failing stream.
For we believe that the living God is just
And that the true and living God loves justice.
Amen.

This past Sunday our Bread for the World class read from Luke 4 when Jesus read and preached in the synagogue, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recover of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” This old-time religion, from Jesus’ first sermon, is good enough for me.

The first thing Jesus stepped out to say is he was sent to proclaim this message of social justice. It makes me think we should be interpreting all Scripture in light of these words. When I read “God is my shepherd, I shall not want” maybe I should read it as a call from my shepherd to do justice for the injured and oppressed. When I read “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth” maybe I should read it as a call to make earth a place of justice for all God created it to be. If Jesus was sent to do justice then he sends me to do justice. Cain asked God if he was his brother’s keeper. Yes, Cain, actually we are our sisters’ and brothers’ keepers.

While I no longer embrace Pentecostal theology, God still gives me something to shout about, like The Justice Creed. I didn’t know creeds could do that but maybe that’s because other creeds have been misdirected.

Holy Fried Green Tomatoes

I just finished reading The Case for God by Karen Armstrong and particularly appreciated this first paragraph from the Epilogue:

We have become used to thinking that religion should provide us with information. Is there a God? How did the world come into being? But this is a modern preoccupation. Religion was never supposed to provide answers to questions that lay within the reach of human reason. That was the role of logos. Religion’s task, closely allied to that of art, was to help us to live creatively, peacefully , and even joyously with realities for which there were no easy explanations and problems that we could not solve: mortality, pain, grief, despair, and outrage at the injustice and cruelty of life. Over the centuries people in all cultures discovered that by pushing their reasoning powers to the limit, stretching language to the end of its tether, and living as selflessly and compassionately as possible, they experienced a transcendence that enabled them to affirm their suffering with serenity and courage. Scientific rationality can tell us why we have cancer; it can even cure us of our disease. But it cannot assuage the terror, disappointment, and sorrow that come with the diagnosis nor can it help us to die well. That is not within its competence. Religion will not work automatically, however; it requires a great deal of effort and cannot succeed if it is facile, false, idolatrous, or self-indulgent.

My mother dredged green tomatoes in a mix of flour and cornmeal for fried green tomatoes. My Aunt Daisy was emphatic (I can’t say “swears by” because Aunt Daisy doesn’t swear) that cornmeal alone be used. Once my partner told her I dipped mine in batter. I couldn’t correct him fast enough to assure Aunt Daisy that I would never—NEVER—use anything but pure, unadulterated cornmeal.


These words from Karen Armstrong remind me of fried green tomatoes. Sometimes we expect of religion what it is not meant to do, like providing questions to scientific questions. And flour will not give you the superior crust that cornmeal will.


But when we face questions science isn’t equipped to answer, religious faith will answer. When we face situations seen chapter after chapter in the Psalms, faith will sustain and answer. When we feel an army is encamped around us scientific fact is useless but the Holy can sustain and encourage.


A point to remember with the Psalms is that “army” may be from without or within. We can feel bombarded by our own inner demons of greed, arrogance, ego, stubbornness, etc. When our own faults cause us anguish our grasp of the Holy is the only path to salvation from ourselves. This is the time to look to the hill from where our strength comes from


Faith is not any more limited than science but they are not meant to answer the same questions. And save the flour for biscuits. Use only cornmeal for fried green tomatoes.

Benedictine Continues...

As a Benedictine oblate inquirer I continue to pursue this spirituality. For lack of a better word, I’ve been working on my oblate to do list. Really, it’s a guide of elements to ponder how to include in my life. To begin with, I’ve been easing into it. After all, Benedictine spirituality is very much about moderation in all things.

I’ve written about including a regular practice of prayer suitable to my life and faith. I look forward to these times to just be with the Holy as the holy speaks through Scripture, Psalms, and poetry. Last night I let The Writer’s Almanac start my evening prayer. The poem, Tuesday 9:00AM, was very thought-provoking and can be found at http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2011/01/25/.

Now, I am pondering the next element on my guide: Continue ongoing formation in Benedictine spirituality. I’ve been reading several books on this topic, all of them good. However, they all require work of self-examination. This is not meant to be the unexamined life.

Joan Chittister’s The Rule of Benedict: A spirituality for the 21st century is proving to be a very meaningful daily venture into this life. The book is a wonderfully inclusive language version of The Rule of Benedict to be read on a daily basis with commentary by Sister Joan. In small bites. It’s not a replacement for the other books but it’s a bit of the Holy right at the end of the day, something to sleep on, something to wake up with the next morning. There are no specific activities required but the words do linger with me into the next day.

Last night’s reading was on humility. I don’t tend to think I need a lot of work with humility but probably I need more than I think. As these words linger with me into today I think about how lack of humility might get in the way in my interactions with others and I listen in my heart for the Holy to speak.

God is Still Speaking

I am currently reading Chanting the Psalms by Cynthia Bourgeault. Her suggestion on page 146 grabbed my heart:

"We have seen how the O Antiphons, which are more than a thousand years old, still timelessly and beautifully set the birth of Christ within the Wisdom of eternal peace. The source of that Wisdom is still available to us. What would it be like, I wonder, to develop antiphons—whole new “trousseaus” of them—drawn from the poetry of Rumi or the beautiful teachings of the Dalai Lama; Martin Luther King, Jr.: Etty Hillesum; Black Elk; or the Beatitudes? In this way, the psalms might be set free from the religious intransigence of an earlier era and reclaimed as the meat in a psalm sandwich whose bread is universal compassion and forgiveness."

An antiphon is a responsory to a Psalm or other religious text , like a refrain. An antiphon can sum up the reading, or connect the reading to the liturgical season or time of day. In the case of the O Antiphons, which are used the seven days before Christmas, they connect the readings to Christmas story.

As my denomination, the United Church of Christ, says, “God is still speaking.” The Holy not only spoke to the writers of the Hebrew and Christian testaments. The Holy has spoken—and continues to speak—in other times and traditions.

As a Benedictine oblate inquirer looking for meaningful ways to observe some form of morning and evening prayer, her words inspire me. I had already started including sacred poetry from other traditions with my morning and evening prayer. A favorite of mine is Rabia, the Sufi saint, in this poem:

     It helps, putting my hands in a pot,
     on a broom, in a wash pail.
     I tried painting,
     but it was easier to fly
     slicing potatoes.

I consider myself firmly rooted in Christianity. I am passionate about those 66 books. I was drawn back to faith community because those words hid in my heart kept calling to me. Still, I also hear the same Holy speaking through these words of other prophets, priests and poets. I think these are the other sheep Jesus referred to, in one fold.

At morning prayer, along with a Psalm, I read something from The Enlightened Mind: An anthology of Sacred Poetry, Edited by Stephen Mitchel. At evening prayer I include something from Women in Praise of the Sacred: 43 centuries of spiritual poetry by Women , Edited by Jane Hirshfield, or Love Poems from God: Twelve sacred voices from the East and West, Edited by Daniel Ladinsky.

As is ever the quest of true spirituality, I need to keep casting my net farther for Holy voices.

Finding Meaning in the Hebrew Testament

I’ve had an on-again-off-again relationship with the Hebrew Testament. I grew up with a love for it, then I studied it again with 21st century and got over it. Now, Samuel-of-the-Hebrew-Testament and my namesake--really--did you have to hack up Agag like a crazed man?! How about some anger management?

Strangely, now I feel drawn to the Hebrew Testament again. From time to time we all feel like Samuel. There is far too much violence in our world today so obviously a lot of people feel like Samuel. Understanding the Hebrew Testament isn’t about embracing the primitive theology and their actions from another time but how do we feel called by the Holy to deal with our feelings today?

Consider verse 3 of this week’s Hebrew lectionary reading from Isaiah 9:1-4:

     You have multiplied the nation,
     you have increased its joy;
     they rejoice before you
     as with joy at the harvest,
     as people exult when dividing plunder.

How to we find meaning in words like this when we condemn acts of plundering? You read a bit of this and it’s no wonder some endorse things like preemptive strikes and building in occupied territory. Surely, the Bible calls us to be pilgrims of the most enlightened age possible.

So, Isaiah, how do find meaning in your words today? These words of Isaiah are full of imagery. Maybe I can think of happy pirates of the Pirates of the Caribbean where nobody really gets hurt. While abhorring violence and theft, imagine that kind joy and dancing of the winning side, for just a moment.

What we can get from this scripture is, when have I felt this kind of joy? I felt this kind of joy when Barak Obama was elected President and everywhere I turned I thought I heard Dr. King alive and speaking. Recently, when Congress overturned Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, wrong was plundered that day and we rejoiced with an all-out joy. I felt it earlier this week when my congregation voted to give $100,000 to the local soup kitchen building fund. Hunger wasn’t entirely plundered in the process but it took one hell of a beating.

This kind of joy. I must read past the bad theology and instead acknowledge the common feelings before a God that is still Creating me.

Oblate Inquirer

Sunday was my first oblate gathering at Our Lady of Grace Monastery. Sort of like “groupies” of a monastery, oblates are Christian laypersons who promise to live Benedictine spirituality in their lives, affiliated with a particulate Benedictine monastic community. I am drawn to this spirituality.

My first exposure to Benedictine spirituality was in the movie Dead Man Walking. I was so drawn to the spirituality of Sister Helen Prejean that I remarked at the time I wanted to be a nun. Friends pointed out the obvious obstacles: I’m not a woman and I’m not Roman Catholic. Who knew there was a way around all of this.

As an oblate I’m expected to engage in a regular practice of prayer suitable to my life and faith. This has already been an adventure. Over the past couple months I have been researching various online morning and evening prayers.

Instead of making requests, this prayer is a time to be with the Holy—dwelling in the house of Yahweh all the days of my life, beholding the sweetness of Yahweh. I always like the New Jerusalem Bible use of Yahweh but I particularly like this use of “sweetness” where most other translations use “beauty.” While the day is still young and just before the day ends, I step aside and be with the Holy. And behold.

If you’re interested, I will write more about Benedictine oblate spirituality.

Three of my favorite online daily prayer resources:

http://sacredspace.ie/
http://cptryon.org/caritas/index2.html
http://www.loyolapress.com/3-minute-retreats-daily-online-prayer.htm

I especially appreciate their inclusive, and rather expansive, language, along with their reflections on Scripture.

Ecumenical Faith

I have been praying for—and curious about—the Coptic Christians of Egypt recently. I’m still confused why the division between Western and Coptic Christianity. This division dates back to the 5th century, long before the Great Schism of the 11th century, and has something to do with whether Jesus was in or of humanity and divinity. Because of the choice of prepositions these branches of Christianity have been split for 1500 years.


It reminded me to be thankful for my own church, a merged American Baptist and United Church of Christ congregation. Baptists don’t embrace infant baptism but the UCC does. Our congregation embraces both, without issue. And because some of our members are Quaker who don’t embrace any baptism, some of our members aren’t baptized at all, still without issue.

Our members come from many backgrounds, Baptist, UCC, Episcopalian, Lutheran, Quaker, Catholic… and one Pentecostal. We are all at different points in our journey with God so we understand God differently. Biblical and theological discussions are particularly interesting when we get together. Instead of any division like between Western, Eastern and Oriental Christianity and the resulting creeds, we do our best to be considerate of each other’s theology.

In discussion we do a lot of listening, understanding, considering—and learning from—each other’s theology. We try to speak carefully so our theologizing doesn’t offend or misrepresent the heartfelt faith of our sisters and brothers. Instead of insisting on uniformity, we are fascinated with the beliefs of others and celebrate each other’s walk with God.

Holy One, keep us focused on the gifts and needs of our sisters and brothers—not the prepositions they use… or even name they call You.

Remembering My Baptism

Yesterday was Baptism of Jesus Sunday. In some churches, like mine, we remember our own baptisms on this Sunday, which usually means coming forward and taking a pebble out of a bowl of water. I admit, the first time I participated I just didn’t get it. Coming from a Pentecostal background where such things were not observed—along with, and especially, things like Lent—this seemed foreign and meaningless to me.


The change in theology has been refreshing, even welcomed, but I have not always found meaning in some of the practices of my new faith. But, it’s a journey. Interestingly, within the same faith community we are on different journeys as we come from Catholic, Evangelical, Quaker or Pentecostal traditions.

Just before Christmas two years ago my mother died unexpectedly the morning I was leaving for a trip to Germany. It made for a difficult trip but I had visited with her the evening before and now there was nothing more I could do for her. But on this trip I realized how much I am embraced by my faith community through the outpouring of emails and Facebook messages from a continent away.

A month later on Baptism of Jesus Sunday I understood what baptism is about. It’s about being baptized into, and living out baptism within, a faith community. I didn’t realize how much I needed their e-words of comfort. But we more than comfort each other. There’s teaching, leading and inspiring.

Living out my baptism has taken on a whole new meaning among these people. Baptism isn’t something just to check off a list like getting a ticket to Heaven punched. My Quaker sisters and brothers don’t even observe baptism and they are some of the dearest of God’s children. We live out our baptism—or our statement of faith—within community. It challenges us every day to live out the Gospel of healing the sick, embracing the exile, feeding the hungry—and a particular lesson I have learned from, and live out within, my community is sheltering those who are homeless.

So I carry this pebble and remember every time I touch it how this faith community embraces, leads, teaches, challenges and inspires me.

Sursum Corda

Every Sunday at the beginning of our worship service our minister greets us with, “May the Peace of God be with you” to which we respond, “And also with you.” It’s such contemporary liturgy. Except that it isn’t contemporary at all. It’s the opening of the Sursum Corda, an ancient worship refrain dating from at least the third century and is recorded in the earliest liturgies of the Church.


The Sursum Corda opens in Latin words meaning “The Lord be with you” and “And also with you.” As modern people of faith we have found a meaningful way to bring this liturgy with us into the 21st century by proclaiming “The peace of God be with you.” I like that for the most part we avoid using “Lord” in our worship. It seems so sexist and outdated—theologically and practically. “Peace of God” expresses our ancient faith in contemporary language.

I like being part of a faith tradition that dates back millennia. In each generation, people of faith find new ways to practice their faith. Sometimes the words don’t work. When our church building was built in 1957 during the civil rights era, the brotherhood of men was forward thinking. For decades words on our sanctuary wall read “For one is your Master, the Christ, and you are all brothers.

Then times changed. Three years ago our congregation voted to add “and sisters” to these sacred words. Each new generation finds new ways to practice their faith.

Words matter to me. Attending church in the past I groaned inside at some of the language. I wished there was a disclaimer at the beginning of worship like, “The words expressed in the hymns, the liturgy and the scriptures do not necessarily express the views of the staff or members of the congregation.”

Our proclamation of the Sursum Corda—and including sisters in our family of God—expresses my faith well. And it’s a fitting disclaimer.

Gloria Patri

Gloria Patri.
The Gloria Patri or sometimes called the “Glory be.”
Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit; as it was in the beginning is now and shall be fore ever. Amen.

My interest in Benedictine spirituality has led me to studying the Daily Office, a liturgical prayer at set times of the day. The Gloria Patri is a common opening and ending to many variations of the Daily Office.

Right away I reach for some alternative, such as “Source of all being, Eternal Word and Holy Spirit, anything to avoid the trinity. My Pentecostal background did not embrace the trinity. Not even capitalize it. We just didn’t believe in it. I don’t mind it these days but it somehow still doesn’t work for me but for completely different reasons.

I think I prefer “God, who is creating, redeeming and sustaining me” or “God, my Creator, my Redeemer and my Sustainer.” Indeed, God is all these things to me.

But, still I have trouble with the “glory” part. What do we mean Glory to God? How do we give glory to God? It seems vague—even a copout—to me.

In words said many times in the Bible but nowhere better than in Micah 6:8, “God has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does God require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” This speaks to me, that God doesn’t need idle words, however heart felt they are meant. As important as this ancient Gloria Patri seem to me, I just don’t think God needs me saying Glory or trying to glorify God. I could say “thanks.” Maybe that would do it but I’m not entirely satisfied with that alternative, either.

My life is all I have to offer and anything less—especially just words—seems like a copout. So, currently, I’m trying and considering “My life to God who is creating me, redeeming me and sustaining me.” As I say it, my life to God, in what ways am I prepared to give my life God? It’s kind of scary.