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.
Showing posts with label progressive Christianity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label progressive Christianity. Show all posts
Thursday, January 20, 2011
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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