Monday, January 31, 2011

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.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

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.

Monday, January 24, 2011

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 spokenand continues to speakin 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.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

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.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

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.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

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.

Monday, January 10, 2011

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.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

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.

Monday, January 3, 2011

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.