The smallest mark,
the little insect,
fleeting thought in the dark.
Over all these,
and you with and over them,
streams the law so wise.
We would worry
about the smallest details
of the most foolish party,
but, see, we learn
all life is in the finest print.
It is not so we will burn
with anger, judgment, neurosis,
but so to discern with love,
with praise of fair justice.
We see the pupils
of our widened eyes,
the windows of people
closed in reflection,
looking upon intelligence,
the law of love in meditation.
(Deuteronomy 4:1, 5-9; Psalm 147; Matthew 5:17-19)
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
history, no longer repeating
Last night I read this:
"In the age when life on earth was full, no one paid any special attention to worthy men, nor did they single out the man of ability. Rulers were simply the highest branches on the tree, and the people were like deer in the woods. They were honest and righteous without realizing that they were "doing their duty." They loved each other and did not know that this was "love of neighbor." They deceived no one yet they did not know that they were "men to be trusted." They were reliable and did not know that this was "good faith." They lived freely together giving and taking, and did not know that they were generous. For this reason their deeds have not been narrated. They made no history."
(Thomas Merton from The Way of Chuang Tzu, 1965, quoted in Echoing Silence: Thomas Merton on the Vocation of Writing, edited by Robert Inchausti. Boston: New Seeds, 2007. 204)
After reading this, I wrote the following. It should not be considered dogmatic. It is simply good to allow ourselves to struggle with the things we encounter, and that is what I am trying to do here. If you would like, struggle with me, please.
"A persons greatest goal ought to be to not make history. Certainly, our world is shaped by historical figures, 'history makers,' yes. They overcame the nameless folks, the censused and numbered of history. Our goal is to not be numbered. 'Sell your possessions.' Give up your binding objects, abstractions and senseless images that entangle you in the messiness of history disconnected from the story God wants to tell. Only in giving up that which is most cherished, your superficial name, that place in the Annals of Babel, will you gain your name, gain your story.
I will grant, we are all historical figures, but whose history? History is told from a certain perspective. Our perspective must change, and our voice must be muted by the still, small Voice, the meek Voice which spoke all things into being with a lyric of grace. From there we speak. Entering into this Voice, into its Word, moved by Its Spirit, we transcend history, and in so giving we mark time with the stamp of eternity come down, the beautiful touch of love which has no attachments, only a name and a God. There, history ceases to repeat itself for it is rightly placed and only the Voice speaks."
"In the age when life on earth was full, no one paid any special attention to worthy men, nor did they single out the man of ability. Rulers were simply the highest branches on the tree, and the people were like deer in the woods. They were honest and righteous without realizing that they were "doing their duty." They loved each other and did not know that this was "love of neighbor." They deceived no one yet they did not know that they were "men to be trusted." They were reliable and did not know that this was "good faith." They lived freely together giving and taking, and did not know that they were generous. For this reason their deeds have not been narrated. They made no history."
(Thomas Merton from The Way of Chuang Tzu, 1965, quoted in Echoing Silence: Thomas Merton on the Vocation of Writing, edited by Robert Inchausti. Boston: New Seeds, 2007. 204)
After reading this, I wrote the following. It should not be considered dogmatic. It is simply good to allow ourselves to struggle with the things we encounter, and that is what I am trying to do here. If you would like, struggle with me, please.
"A persons greatest goal ought to be to not make history. Certainly, our world is shaped by historical figures, 'history makers,' yes. They overcame the nameless folks, the censused and numbered of history. Our goal is to not be numbered. 'Sell your possessions.' Give up your binding objects, abstractions and senseless images that entangle you in the messiness of history disconnected from the story God wants to tell. Only in giving up that which is most cherished, your superficial name, that place in the Annals of Babel, will you gain your name, gain your story.
I will grant, we are all historical figures, but whose history? History is told from a certain perspective. Our perspective must change, and our voice must be muted by the still, small Voice, the meek Voice which spoke all things into being with a lyric of grace. From there we speak. Entering into this Voice, into its Word, moved by Its Spirit, we transcend history, and in so giving we mark time with the stamp of eternity come down, the beautiful touch of love which has no attachments, only a name and a God. There, history ceases to repeat itself for it is rightly placed and only the Voice speaks."
The Gospel Takes Us, Not Us the Gospel
(a homily)
Imagine... Jesus had just been tempted in the desert and overcame the devil. He came home and declared that he had been anointed to bring good news to the poor, release for captives, sight to the blind, freedom for the oppressed, and the year of the Lord's favor. His hometown neighbors were rather amazed at their quiet son's words, but soon their amazement turned to horror and offense when they were told these words were not their own. They were told they weren't going to get it. And they didn't disagree. They weren't going to wrestle with His words, either. They didn't want to share the words with Sidoneans or Syrians or anyone else. Instead, they simply wanted to kill that which they couldn't understand. They wanted these words for themselves, they wanted Jesus' proclamation of freedom to be their key to power, but he would not let them have it.
When we take the Gospel by force, or make it our own without letting it own and re-make us, it passes through us and goes away. We are left alone, burning with anger, blind and leprous, standing at the cliff from which we wished to hurl the Word we would not hear.
But, there is a prophet in Israel, a prophet in the Church. There is a river into which we can plunge. There are waters that will forever quench our thirst. The Holy Spirit is among us here. God's breath is here. When we are here, and when here is with us wherever we are, when Christ is in us, peace is with us. Love moves us. We are compelled to send word that there is good news, release, sight, freedom, and favor. We are compelled to be those things. However, to be such, we must first be at peace in ourselves. We must let go of our angers, our fears, our mistaken expectations, our comforts, the ghosts of exclusion. These are the things that should be thrown off summit of the hill. Having release from these we can take in the body of humility, the life force of forgiveness. We shall then go on our way transformed, renewed, remade, neighbors, brothers and sisters, the body of Christ for the world.
(2 Kings 5:1-15; Psalm 42:2, 3; 43:3, 4; Luke 4:24-30)
Imagine... Jesus had just been tempted in the desert and overcame the devil. He came home and declared that he had been anointed to bring good news to the poor, release for captives, sight to the blind, freedom for the oppressed, and the year of the Lord's favor. His hometown neighbors were rather amazed at their quiet son's words, but soon their amazement turned to horror and offense when they were told these words were not their own. They were told they weren't going to get it. And they didn't disagree. They weren't going to wrestle with His words, either. They didn't want to share the words with Sidoneans or Syrians or anyone else. Instead, they simply wanted to kill that which they couldn't understand. They wanted these words for themselves, they wanted Jesus' proclamation of freedom to be their key to power, but he would not let them have it.
When we take the Gospel by force, or make it our own without letting it own and re-make us, it passes through us and goes away. We are left alone, burning with anger, blind and leprous, standing at the cliff from which we wished to hurl the Word we would not hear.
But, there is a prophet in Israel, a prophet in the Church. There is a river into which we can plunge. There are waters that will forever quench our thirst. The Holy Spirit is among us here. God's breath is here. When we are here, and when here is with us wherever we are, when Christ is in us, peace is with us. Love moves us. We are compelled to send word that there is good news, release, sight, freedom, and favor. We are compelled to be those things. However, to be such, we must first be at peace in ourselves. We must let go of our angers, our fears, our mistaken expectations, our comforts, the ghosts of exclusion. These are the things that should be thrown off summit of the hill. Having release from these we can take in the body of humility, the life force of forgiveness. We shall then go on our way transformed, renewed, remade, neighbors, brothers and sisters, the body of Christ for the world.
(2 Kings 5:1-15; Psalm 42:2, 3; 43:3, 4; Luke 4:24-30)
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Church Death - Church Growth
(Forgive me for not regularly posting these days, those of you who you check to see if I am. And forgive me for not doing the usual work I do when I do make a post, such as today.)
For some reason, the idea of church expansion and growth came to my mind while I was working on a paper due this week. I'm sure there are healthy churches that grow, that is, acquire new members and converts. I'm sure there are some that are actually preaching the Gospel. But, I am also aware that some church leaders (yes, I have particular ones in mind--this is not a sweeping statement) today have a feeling that if they do not plant new churches, franchises if you will, the church will die. I'm not very familiar with their logic or arguments, but I have a gut feeling they are wrong, at least a bit misguided. Now certainly, I don't want the church to die. I want to see churches doing the work of the Kingdom of God. But franchising? Seems more like McChurch, and as most of us know by now, McAnything is not healthy for the body or soul.
It's not even that I don't want churches to grow or expand. However, we must consider what it is we mean by expansion. Empires expand, but they do it by violence, force, and imposing fear. The seeds they sow are those of hate. Corporations expand, but they do it by acquisition, shady deals, corrupt trade and manufacturing practices. They sow seeds for things that will never be harvested in the Kingdom Come. And yet on the day that Peter spoke to the people in Jerusalem on Pentecost roughly two-thousand years ago, three-thousand were added to the number of the fellowship of the Way, heeding the call to exit their corrupt generation. (Acts 2:40-41) But it was not exactly Peter doing the talking. To those with faith, we see that it was the Spirit of God moving and speaking through him. The old Peter, the old Apostles, had died; the new Creation had begun.
And this leads me to my punchline, if you will, the phrase that came to me when I should have been writing a paper: A church that thinks or feels that it must grow or expand probably needs to die first. Churches cannot go on acting like the corrupt generation they come from. They have been called to move out of the way, to allow the Spirit to take the reigns, not the market-mindset. That day of Pentecost and the days following, it was not fancy marketing schemes and cookie-cutter, or even contrived non-cookie-cut buildings, that attracted people and cut them to the heart. It was death and it was new birth. It was sorrow and it was joy. It was the impossibility of the whole situation that made sense. All the logic of empire and power was shown to be false. Only the Crucified could save them, the one who refused to save himself on their behalf. And now we too can choose to not save ourselves, but to be open to death, open to the life of Christ which leads to the cross and saves us from this corrupt generation. And it is through this openness to death that we actually show love and mercy to those corrupted. Our transparency allows others to see the beautiful Triune God that animates our life together. This death to the old and the normal is life anew. It is growth.
For some reason, the idea of church expansion and growth came to my mind while I was working on a paper due this week. I'm sure there are healthy churches that grow, that is, acquire new members and converts. I'm sure there are some that are actually preaching the Gospel. But, I am also aware that some church leaders (yes, I have particular ones in mind--this is not a sweeping statement) today have a feeling that if they do not plant new churches, franchises if you will, the church will die. I'm not very familiar with their logic or arguments, but I have a gut feeling they are wrong, at least a bit misguided. Now certainly, I don't want the church to die. I want to see churches doing the work of the Kingdom of God. But franchising? Seems more like McChurch, and as most of us know by now, McAnything is not healthy for the body or soul.
It's not even that I don't want churches to grow or expand. However, we must consider what it is we mean by expansion. Empires expand, but they do it by violence, force, and imposing fear. The seeds they sow are those of hate. Corporations expand, but they do it by acquisition, shady deals, corrupt trade and manufacturing practices. They sow seeds for things that will never be harvested in the Kingdom Come. And yet on the day that Peter spoke to the people in Jerusalem on Pentecost roughly two-thousand years ago, three-thousand were added to the number of the fellowship of the Way, heeding the call to exit their corrupt generation. (Acts 2:40-41) But it was not exactly Peter doing the talking. To those with faith, we see that it was the Spirit of God moving and speaking through him. The old Peter, the old Apostles, had died; the new Creation had begun.
And this leads me to my punchline, if you will, the phrase that came to me when I should have been writing a paper: A church that thinks or feels that it must grow or expand probably needs to die first. Churches cannot go on acting like the corrupt generation they come from. They have been called to move out of the way, to allow the Spirit to take the reigns, not the market-mindset. That day of Pentecost and the days following, it was not fancy marketing schemes and cookie-cutter, or even contrived non-cookie-cut buildings, that attracted people and cut them to the heart. It was death and it was new birth. It was sorrow and it was joy. It was the impossibility of the whole situation that made sense. All the logic of empire and power was shown to be false. Only the Crucified could save them, the one who refused to save himself on their behalf. And now we too can choose to not save ourselves, but to be open to death, open to the life of Christ which leads to the cross and saves us from this corrupt generation. And it is through this openness to death that we actually show love and mercy to those corrupted. Our transparency allows others to see the beautiful Triune God that animates our life together. This death to the old and the normal is life anew. It is growth.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Towards a Full Nothing
Nothingness, nothingness
in the heart of all that Is,
the Is, that which always was and will Be.
There in that heart, nothing beats
except what Is.
And then something, something
happens with great light,
not piercing darkness,
for there was only light,
but a new light,
a light fathomed
by those given fathoming.
An empty light, a void of light
indistinguishable of itself,
except from the heart that made,
the Is that opened up,
made a space to share,
to overflow.
What are these thoughts
from on high here on earth?
The heavens stir the waters,
thoughts hovering over
this new, deep void.
Floating upon the face
of the void.
From void it began,
to void it will return,
all that is in it,
all that dwells to reckon
emptiness,
nothingness with shapeless shape.
Such formless beauty,
potential breathed movement,
flux resting in stability,
peaceful craft.
The fullest emptiness.
A prayer whispered,
still heard when nothing
is seen for all it is.
in the heart of all that Is,
the Is, that which always was and will Be.
There in that heart, nothing beats
except what Is.
And then something, something
happens with great light,
not piercing darkness,
for there was only light,
but a new light,
a light fathomed
by those given fathoming.
An empty light, a void of light
indistinguishable of itself,
except from the heart that made,
the Is that opened up,
made a space to share,
to overflow.
What are these thoughts
from on high here on earth?
The heavens stir the waters,
thoughts hovering over
this new, deep void.
Floating upon the face
of the void.
From void it began,
to void it will return,
all that is in it,
all that dwells to reckon
emptiness,
nothingness with shapeless shape.
Such formless beauty,
potential breathed movement,
flux resting in stability,
peaceful craft.
The fullest emptiness.
A prayer whispered,
still heard when nothing
is seen for all it is.
Scattered Grain, One Loaf
(a homily)
We are scattered people. The sins of our past, the heavy weight of our present, the uncertainty of our future lead us to be detached, isolated from our very being. The prophet's of God have spoken to us so often, we're heard their call to repentance, to mark a change of direction in our lives, and yet we still manage to rebel, even when we know God has something better for us. We choose disorder over discipline, being ill at ease over serenity, conflict over peace.
Why are we like this, why are we a scattered people? Not only are we fractured in our individual selves, we are socially divided. We fail to be merciful as our Father in heaven is merciful. Why? Why wouldn't we want friendship, community, a peaceful world, even the Kingdom of God? I'm not entirely sure. However, when I do go inside, when I do search my inner being, attempting by the gace of God to get beyond my isolated person, I see that one of the reasons I'm unable to show mercy, unable to bring myself back together, is that I'm not at peace with myself. Sometimes, frankly, I don't like myself.
But this is not the way it should be among us. We are a people called out to show mercy, and we can do this because we have been shown the most perfect mercy. We are a people called to take the lead in repentance, to listen to the prophets, even to be prophets, for in the power of the Holy Spirit we follow Jesus Christ, who though being God and without sin, took on the flesh of his beloved creation to lead us in the way of righteousness. We are to be a just people, a forgiving people, a thankful people, a people not scattered in our very selves nor among each other.
In this season of Lent we look to see ourselves as we are. This may be painful, but we must look. We are also to look to see ourselves as God sees us, beautiful, forgiven, loved and loving people made in God's image. And that is why this stark season is actually a season of joy. We a sometimes scattered, rebellious people have, like grains of wheat into a loaf of bread, been brought back together, united in peace and love, so that we, like sweet wine, might bring calm and happiness to a world so desperately needing to be embraced with the compassion, mercy and love we have been given by God to offer. And this we do through Christ in the power of the Holy Spirit to the glory of God the Father. Amen.
(Daniel 9:4b-10; Psalm 79; Luke 6:36-38)
We are scattered people. The sins of our past, the heavy weight of our present, the uncertainty of our future lead us to be detached, isolated from our very being. The prophet's of God have spoken to us so often, we're heard their call to repentance, to mark a change of direction in our lives, and yet we still manage to rebel, even when we know God has something better for us. We choose disorder over discipline, being ill at ease over serenity, conflict over peace.
Why are we like this, why are we a scattered people? Not only are we fractured in our individual selves, we are socially divided. We fail to be merciful as our Father in heaven is merciful. Why? Why wouldn't we want friendship, community, a peaceful world, even the Kingdom of God? I'm not entirely sure. However, when I do go inside, when I do search my inner being, attempting by the gace of God to get beyond my isolated person, I see that one of the reasons I'm unable to show mercy, unable to bring myself back together, is that I'm not at peace with myself. Sometimes, frankly, I don't like myself.
But this is not the way it should be among us. We are a people called out to show mercy, and we can do this because we have been shown the most perfect mercy. We are a people called to take the lead in repentance, to listen to the prophets, even to be prophets, for in the power of the Holy Spirit we follow Jesus Christ, who though being God and without sin, took on the flesh of his beloved creation to lead us in the way of righteousness. We are to be a just people, a forgiving people, a thankful people, a people not scattered in our very selves nor among each other.
In this season of Lent we look to see ourselves as we are. This may be painful, but we must look. We are also to look to see ourselves as God sees us, beautiful, forgiven, loved and loving people made in God's image. And that is why this stark season is actually a season of joy. We a sometimes scattered, rebellious people have, like grains of wheat into a loaf of bread, been brought back together, united in peace and love, so that we, like sweet wine, might bring calm and happiness to a world so desperately needing to be embraced with the compassion, mercy and love we have been given by God to offer. And this we do through Christ in the power of the Holy Spirit to the glory of God the Father. Amen.
(Daniel 9:4b-10; Psalm 79; Luke 6:36-38)
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Say Nothing
(a homily)
No words that I say, no phrases that I write will make sense of this moment (of listening to the words of Scripture). I would like to speak lovely words, but in this moment I know they will do nothing. If anything, words spoken after the hearing of the Word can merely hop to bring the hearer back to the Spirit and life that moments ago descended upon the place in which it was heard. Silence is our best response. Not mere quietude, but deep, slow silence. Our words must cease so that they may be enlivened by that Word come down...
"Be holy, for I, the LORD, your God, am holy."
"I am the LORD."
"I was hungry and you gave me food,
I was thirsty and you gave me drink,
a stranger and you welcomed me,
naked and you clothed me,
ill and you cared for me,
in prison and you visited me."
What can we say? What can we do? What will we do? What will we say?
"Holy, holy, holy, Lord, God of power and might,
heaven and earth are full of your glory."
"The peace of Christ be with you."
"Lord, I am not worthy to receive you,
but only say the word and I shall be healed."
"The body of Christ.
The blood of Christ.
Amen."
No words that I say, no phrases that I write will make sense of this moment (of listening to the words of Scripture). I would like to speak lovely words, but in this moment I know they will do nothing. If anything, words spoken after the hearing of the Word can merely hop to bring the hearer back to the Spirit and life that moments ago descended upon the place in which it was heard. Silence is our best response. Not mere quietude, but deep, slow silence. Our words must cease so that they may be enlivened by that Word come down...
"Be holy, for I, the LORD, your God, am holy."
"I am the LORD."
"I was hungry and you gave me food,
I was thirsty and you gave me drink,
a stranger and you welcomed me,
naked and you clothed me,
ill and you cared for me,
in prison and you visited me."
What can we say? What can we do? What will we do? What will we say?
"Holy, holy, holy, Lord, God of power and might,
heaven and earth are full of your glory."
"The peace of Christ be with you."
"Lord, I am not worthy to receive you,
but only say the word and I shall be healed."
"The body of Christ.
The blood of Christ.
Amen."
Monday, February 4, 2008
What Have You To Do With Me?
So much of the subject matter of today's readings might seem foreign to the ears of the average modern American. Princes rising up against their kingly fathers with swords; the calling down of actual curses; the leader of a country actually allowing the voice of descent to continue; being surrounded by actual foes; demon possession; exorcism. How do we, Christians living in a land ruled by arrogant leaders, a faulty system of government, during a time of perpetual war against no-so-clearly named enemies how do we act faithfully and responsibly? Are we able to conceive of the possibility of those possessed by possessions and power and fear asking us, "What have you to do with me, followers of Jesus, Son of the Most High God?" To live in this setting, in this time, we must be imaginative as we approach the Word, not so much so we can engage it critically (though this is a good thing), but more so that we allow it to engage us. The Word gives life, and even teaches us how to live, how to view our surroundings, if we listen well. By the Spirit, we can within the bounds of orthodoxy, read our selves into the story of salvation, the Good News that has reached us and finds its place on our tongues and fingertips to be spoken and to guide out reach.
Today we are surrounded by friends, by brothers and sisters in the faith, not by enemies, not by misled, power-hungry rulers, but by those whose presence reminds us there is salvation for us in God. It is our hope that others might come among us and see us in our right minds, not so that they might be fearful, but so they might join us as we make space for a people no longer ruled by the surrounding culture of fear. No, we are a people who, in recognizing our brokenness, are made strong together, made one in baptism, made one body in the feast of bread and wine. It is not that we are not allowed to be sad, or to be like King David and weeps for the state of the world around us; that we must do. But we must also go and announce the Lord's pity and God's happiness. May that salvation and the meal we are preparing to share guide us in our prayers and our proclamation of the Good News.
(2 Samuel 15:13-14, 30; 16:5-13; Psalm 3; Mark 5:1-20)
Today we are surrounded by friends, by brothers and sisters in the faith, not by enemies, not by misled, power-hungry rulers, but by those whose presence reminds us there is salvation for us in God. It is our hope that others might come among us and see us in our right minds, not so that they might be fearful, but so they might join us as we make space for a people no longer ruled by the surrounding culture of fear. No, we are a people who, in recognizing our brokenness, are made strong together, made one in baptism, made one body in the feast of bread and wine. It is not that we are not allowed to be sad, or to be like King David and weeps for the state of the world around us; that we must do. But we must also go and announce the Lord's pity and God's happiness. May that salvation and the meal we are preparing to share guide us in our prayers and our proclamation of the Good News.
(2 Samuel 15:13-14, 30; 16:5-13; Psalm 3; Mark 5:1-20)
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