Faith, Actions, and Words

I've been thinking more about not worrying and approaching things from a perspective of faith, particularly in the context of my job search. My heart wants to believe that God knows I need a job, and that He knows how to use me, and that I'll be employed when and where God wants me to be. It may not be what I expect, or what I would choose on my own, but in the core of my being I believe that God has it in hand and that even if it's a bumpy road, it'll be okay. (Of course this doesn't mean I don't need to do things like search and apply and interview. We're called to act in partnership with God, not to be inert puppets.)

I think the mental struggle I'm having is that even if one believes that God has everything in hand, in many cases that's a horrible thing to say to someone else. It carries a sense of blaming the victim, either for their situation or for their distress. Telling someone who's lost a loved one that God has a plan doesn't usually ease their pain or make them feel okay about the loss – especially if it's a death due to violence or an accident, or one that seems untimely – basically if it's not someone quietly dying in their sleep at the end of a long and happy life. It makes perfect sense to wonder how having your friend shot in a mugging could be within God's providence when shooting and mugging people obviously is not what God want us to do. Telling someone who's facing unemployment that they need to have faith sounds insulting, as if you're able to judge their faith. It also sounds unsympathetic – sort of a sense of “take it to God, don't bother me.” If someone isn't having their basic needs me, telling them God will provide isn't nearly as helpful as getting them a sandwich. (I think one of the Gospels actually says something along those lines.) Telling someone that God has it under control seems to be useless or worse both for providing emotional support and for practical help.

And yet in my own life, I find it tremendously comforting to believe that God knows where I'm going, even if I don't. And it's reasonable to want to share that source of comfort. But I think this one of the cases where preaching the Gospel through actions is much more useful that preaching it through words. Basically, I think I can take any time where I'm inclined to say that God will make things okay as an opportunity to prove it by participating in the making okay. Instead of telling someone that their loved one is with God and that their emotional pain will heal, what I ought to do is listen and hold them and help in the healing process. Instead of telling someone that God will put them in the right job at the right time, I should keep an ear out for leads and help them polish their resume so that they'll be ready when the right job shows up. Instead of telling someone that God will provide for their needs, I should make or buy them a meal so that their needs are provided for, at least in that moment.

I think that has more to do with what sharing the Gospel is about. It's not just one more thing to think we're right about and try to convince other people to agree with us about. Sharing the Gospel is meant to be for the benefit of others, not for ourselves, not to make us feel better or feel like we're on the winning side or make us look good in front of others. Of course, there might well be joy in it – I think that true joy may be indistinguishable from having our hearts aligned with God's – and that true joy and true pain can probably coexist. But the kingdom of God is far too important to be wedded to our pride (which doesn't mean we won't make those kind of mistakes – we will, but we need to recognize that they are mistakes).

So when do we preach the Gospel with words? I suppose that's what I'm doing now, though I hadn't thought of it that way until just this minute. And I find it a bit scary to think of it that way, since I'm sure I'm a heretic in one way or another. But besides that, and whatever forums any of the rest of us use to be able to talk about things that are close to our hearts, I guess one answer is when we're asked. If someone wants to know why I care about social justice, then it's time to use words. That can be hard to do, because it can seem like if my beliefs about justice are based in my faith then that might imply that I don't think they apply to those who don't share my faith – but they do. A lot of my sense of the importance of social justice comes from the example of Jesus, but I also think it's about what's right, regardless of faith. It's okay to follow another belief system if that's where your experience and your heart lead you. It's not okay to exploit people, period. Anyway. I guess I can also use words when the subject at hand is my own experience and sense that God can be trusted. I can “be prepared to give an accounting of the hope that is in me” and along those lines, I can have faith that if God wants that particular kind of witness from me, He'll put me in the right situation for it.

A Green Liturgy

I went to an interfaith Earth Sabbath service the other day at a local church. It was a nice service, and the people were lovely, but it didn't really feel quite like worship to me because I'm Episcopalian and I like liturgy. So I decided to try piecing together a liturgy for a similar sort of service using the prayer book and Bible and hymnal, and here it is. I didn't write any of it – I just pulled together things that seemed to fit and put them in the wonderful modular spaces built in to the basic liturgy. But it was fun :-)

Processional Hymn: All Creatures of Our God and King

All creatures of our God and King, lift up your voices, let us sing: Alleluia, alleluia!

Bright burning sun with golden beams, pale silver moon that gently gleams,

O praise him, O praise him, Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!

Great rushing winds and breezes soft, you clouds that ride the heaves a loft, O praise

     him, Alleluia!

Fair rising morn, with praise rejoice, stars nightly shining, find a voice

O praise him, O praise him, Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!

Swift flowing water pure and clear, make music for your Lord to hear, Alleluia, alleluia!

Fire so intense and fiercely bright, you give to us both warmth and light,

O praise him, O praise him, Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!

Dear mother earth, you day by day unfold your blessings on our way, O praise him, 

     Alleluia!

All flowers and fruits that in you grow, let them his glory also show:

O praise him, O praise him, Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!

All you with mercy in your heart, forgiving others, take your part, O sing now: Alleluia!

All you that pain and sorrow bear, praise God and cast on him your care:

O praise him, O praise him, Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!

And even you, most gentle death, waiting to hush our final breath, O praise him, Alleluia!

You lead back home the child of God, for Christ our Lord that way has trod:

O praise him, O praise him, Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!

Let all things their creator bless, and worship him in humbleness, O praise him, Alleluia!

Praise God the Father, praise the Son, and praise the Spirit, Three in One:

O praise him, O praise him, Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!

Celebrant: Blessed be God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit

People: And blessed be God's kingdom, now and forever. Amen

Collect for Purity

Gloria

Collect:

O merciful Creator, your hand is open wide to satisfy the needs of every living creature: Make us always thankful for your loving providence; and grant that we, remembering the account that we must one day give, may be faithful stewards of your good gifts; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Old Testament Reading: Ezekiel 34:17-31

As for you, my flock, thus says the Lord God: I shall judge between sheep and sheep, between rams and goats: Is it not enough for you to feed on the good pasture, but you must tread down with your feet the rest of your pasture? When you drink of clear water, must you foul the rest with your feet? And must my sheet eat what you have trodden with your feet, and drink what you have fouled with your feet? Therefore, thus says the Lord God to them: I myself will judge between the fat sheep and the lean sheep. Because you pushed with flank and shoulder, and butted at all the weak animals with your horns until you scattered them far and wide, I will save my flock, and they shall no longer be ravaged; and I will judge between sheep and sheep. I will set up over them one shepherd, my servant David, and he shall feed them: he shall feed them and be their shepherd. And I, the Lord, will be their God, and my servant David shall be prince among them; I, the Lord, have spoken. I will make with them a covenant of peace and banish wild animals from the land, so that they may live in the wild and sleep in the woods securely. I will make them and the region around my hill a blessing; and I will send down the showers in their season; they shall be showers of blessing. The trees of the field shall yield their fruit, and the earth shall yield its increase. They shall be secure on their soil; and they shall know that I am the Lord, when I break the bars of their yoke, and save them from the hands of those who enslaved them. They shall no more be plunder for the nations, nor shall the animals of the land devour them; they shall live in safety, and no one shall make them afraid. I will provide for them a splendid vegetation so that they shall no more be consumed with hunger in the land, and no longer suffer the insults of the nations. They shall know that I, the Lord their God, am with them, and that they, the house of Israel, are my people, says the Lord God. You are my sheep, the sheep of my pasture and I am your God, says the Lord God.

Psalm 104:1-30

Bless the Lord, O my soul. O Lord my God, you are very great. You are clothed with 

     honor and majesty,

wrapped in light as with a garment. You stretch our the heavens like a tent,

you set the beams of your chambers on the waters, you make the clouds your chariot, 

     you ride on the wings of the wind,

you make the winds your messengers, fire and flame your ministers.

You set the earth on it foundations, so that it shall never be shaken.

You cover it with the deep as with a garment; the waters stood above the mountains.

At your rebuke they flee; at the sound of your thunder they take to flight.

They rose up to the mountains, ran down to the valleys, to the place that you appointed 

     for them.

You set a boundary that they may not pass, so that they might not again cover the earth.

You make springs gush forth in the valleys; they flow between the hills,

giving drink to every wild animal; the wild asses quench their thirst.

By the streams the birds of the air have their habitation; they sing among the branches.

From your lofty abode you water the mountains; the earth is satisfied with the fruit of your 

     work.

You cause the grass to grow for the cattle, and plants for people to use, to bring forth 

     food from the earth,

and wine to gladden the human heart, oil to make the face shine, and bread to strengthen 

     the human heart.

The trees of the Lord are watered abundantly, the cedars of Lebanon that he planted.

In them the birds build their nests; the stork has its home in the fir trees.

The high mountains are for the wild goats; the rocks are a refuge for the coneys.

You have made the moon to mark the seasons; the sun knows its time for setting.

You make darkness, and it is night, when all the animals of the forest come creeping out.

The young lions roar for their prey, seeking their food from God.

When the sun rises, they withdraw and lie down in their dens.

People go out to their work and to their labor until the evening.

O Lord, how manifold are your works! In wisdom you have made them all; the earth is full 

     of your creatures.

Yonder is the sea, great and wide, creeping things innumerable are there, living things 

     both small and great.

There go the ships, and Leviathan that you formed to sport in it.

These all look to you to give them their food in due season;

when you give to them, they gather it up; when you open your hand, they are filled with 

     good things.

When you hide your face, they are dismayed; when you take away their breath, they die 

     and return to the dust.

When you send forth your spirit, they are created; and you renew the face of the ground.

New Testament Reading: Romans 8:12-27

So then, brothers and sisters, we are debtors, not the the flesh, to live according to the flesh – for if you live according to the flesh you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, “Abba! Father!” it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ – if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him. I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he has seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.

Gradual Hymn:For the Fruit of All Creation (v. 1 and 2)

For the fruit of all creation, thanks be to God. For his gifts to every nation, thanks be to 

     God.

For the plowing, sowing, reaping, silent growth while we are sleeping, future needs in 

     earth's safekeeping, thanks be to God.

In the just reward of labor, God's will be done. In the help we give our neighbor, God's will 

     be done.

In our worldwide task of caring for the hungry and despairing, in the harvests we are 

     sharing, God's will be done

Gospel Reading: Luke 12:22-31

He said to his disciples, “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear. For life is worth more than food, and the body more than clothing. Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds! And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? If then you are not able to do so small a thing as that, why do you worry about the rest? Consider the lillies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you – you of little faith! And do not keep striving for what you are to eat and what you are to drink, and do not keep worrying. For it is the nations of the world that strive after all these things, and your Father knows that you need them. Instead, strive for his kingdom,and these things will be given to you as well.

Gradual Hymn: For the Fruit of All Creation (v. 3)

For the harvests of the Spirit, thanks be to God. For the good we all inherit, thanks be to 

     God.

For the wonders that astound us, for the truths that still confound us, most of all that love 

     has found us, thanks be to God.

Sermon

Nicene Creed

Prayers:

We give you thanks, most gracious God, for the beauty of earth and sky and sea; for the richness of mountains, plains, and rivers; for the songs of birds and the loveliness of flowers. We praise you for these good gifts, and pray that we may safeguard them for our posterity. Grant that we may continue to grow in our grateful enjoyment of your abundant creation, to the honor and glory of your name, now and for ever. Amen

Almighty God, in giving us dominion over things on earth, you made us fellow workers in your creation: Give us wisdom and reverence so to use the resources of nature, that no one may suffer from our abuse of them, and that generations yet to come may continue to praise you for your bounty; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen

Almighty and everlasting God, you made the universe with all its marvelous order, its atoms, worlds, and galaxies, and the infinite complexity of living creatures: Grant that, as we probe the mysteries of your creation, we may come to know you more truly, and more surely fulfill our role in your eternal purpose; in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen

Confession of Sin

The Peace

Offertory: All Things Bright and Beautiful

Refrain – All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small

all things wise and wonderful, the Lord God made them all

Each little flower that opens, each little bird that sings,

he made their glowing colors, he made their tiny wings.

Refrain

The purple-headed mountain, the river running by,

the sunset, and the morning that brightens up the sky.

Refrain

The cold wind in the winter, the pleasant summer sun,

the ripe fruits in the garden, he made them every one.

Refrain

He gave us eyes to see them, and lips that we might tell

how great is God Almighty, who has made all things well.

Refrain

The Great Thanksgiving

Eucharistic Prayer D with Sanctus and Mystery of Faith

The Lord's Prayer

Breaking of the Bread

Fractional Anthem

Communion Hymn: Nature With Open Volume Stands

Nature with open volume stands to spread her Maker's praise abroad

and every labor of his hands shows something worthy of a God.

But in the grace that rescued man his brightest form of glory shines;

here, on the cross, 'tis fairest drawn in precious blood and crimson lines.

Here his whole name appears complete; nor wit can guess, nor reason prove

which of the letters best is writ, the power, the wisdom, or the love.

Oh, the sweet wonders of that cross where Christ my Savior loved and died!

Her noblest life my spirit draws from his dear wounds and bleeding side.

I would forever speak his Name in sounds to mortal ears unknown,

with angels join to praise the Lamb and worship at his Father's throne!

Communion Hymn: Morning Glory, Starlit Sky

Morning glory, starlit sky, soaring music, scholar's truth,

flight of swallows, autumn leaves, memory's treasure, grace of youth:

Open are the gifts of God, gifts of love to mind and sense;

hidden is love's agony, love's endeavor, love's expense.

Love that gives, gives evermore, gives with zeal, with eager hands,

spares not, keeps not, all outpours, ventures all, its all expends.

Drained is love in making full, bound in setting others free,

poor in making many rich, weak in giving power to be.

Therefore he who shows us God helpless hangs upon the tree;

and the nails and crown of thorns tell of what God's love must be.

Here is God: no monarch he, throned in easy state to reign;

here is God, whose arms of love aching, spent, the world sustain.

Post-Communion Prayer

Blessing

Recessional Hymn: For the Beauty of the Earth

For the beauty of the earth, for the beauty of the skies,

for the love which from our birth over and around us lies,

Christ our God, to thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise.

For the beauty of each hour of the day and of the night,

hill and vale, and tree and flower, sun and moon, and stars of light,

Christ our God, to thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise.

For the joy of ear and eye, for the heart and mind's delight,

for the mystic harmony linking sense to sound and sight,

Christ our God, to thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise.

For the joy of human love, brother, sister, parent, child,

friends on earth, and friends above, for all gentle thoughts and mild,

Christ our God, to thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise.

For the Church which evermore lifteth holy hands above,

offering up on every shore thy pure sacrifice of love,

Christ our God, to thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise.

For each perfect gift of thine to the world so freely given,

faith and hope and love divine, peace on earth and joy in heaven

Christ our God, to thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise.

Dismissal:

Deacon: Let us go forth into the world, rejoicing in the power of the Spirit. (Alleluia, alleluia)

People: Thanks be to God. (Alleluia, alleluia)

Faith During a Job Hunt

As I write and prepare to defend my thesis, I'm also beginning my job search. What I really want to do is work in conservation, and specifically in preserving biodiversity. I really like species and I want to keep all of them. Ecology jobs are relatively scarce, though, especially since I'm committed to staying put geographically. So I'm open to really anything that uses my skills to do good in the world, or at least not to do harm. Having to look for a job is kind of scary – always has been, likely always will be. I don't know how long it'll take, I don't know if my efforts are enough. I'm confident in my abilities, but I don't know if I'm good enough at “playing the game” to make it through the door. I find myself wanting to take comfort by approaching the job hunt from a perspective of faith, trusting that God will put me where God wants me to be, but I'm not entirely sure of the validity of that approach.

On one hand, Jesus does seem to encourage a lack of anxiety about temporal matters. God feeds the sparrows and clothes the lilies of the field – won't He do the same for us? God knows what we need. Our focus should be on doing God's will, and the rest will fall into place. Except that the evidence of the world around me seems to show that that's not necessarily the case. People do starve to death. People do find themselves unemployed for long periods of time with families to support. People do end up having to choose between food and medicine. And people do wind up in jobs that pay the bills but do nothing for the spirit or for the common good. Surely this isn't what God wills for His people. And I'm sure that there are people in those situations who are praying and seeking and trying to find God's will and willing to work hard. Of course human free will has a lot to do with these problems, but that doesn't change the indication that maybe one can't count on God to see that God's will is done in the context of my individual career. And I'm already very lucky in that I'm far from being in any danger of starving or of not having my basic needs met.

There's also the fact that there are plenty of stories where God's will for the individual was patently not what the person would have chosen for themselves. At the very heart of Christianity, there's the fact that being crucified was not in Jesus' personal best interest. Then there was Stephen being stoned to death, Peter crucified upside down, and I don't remember what finally happened to Paul but I do remember a whole list of imprisonments and shipwrecks. St. Teresa of Avila, though dealing with less lethal struggles, told God flat-out “If this is how You treat Your friends, no wonder You have so few.” Again, I don't think I'm likely to be called to martyrdom (though of course one never knows), and I certainly don't expect my job search to become life-threatening. But the point remains that what God wants of me might not at all be what I want for myself. Should that be the case, I have to go with the assumption that God is right, that God has a wider perspective, and that although God's service might involve suffering, God surely doesn't use His beloved children simply as means to an end.

Jesus also left his disciples with peace “not as the world gives.” This makes me think that there's such a thing as peace “as the world gives.” I imagine that sort of peace as being the kind of contentment one feels when everything is going right, when the way ahead is clear, when life feels certain. And I don't think that that's a bad thing. Those moments are gifts from God to be treasured with gratitude. But that state of mind is also pretty fragile. Life is rarely certain, often confusing, and rife with problems large and small. One of the things I've slowly been coming to terms with is that being an adult doesn't mean having it all together and knowing what to do in every situation. So I think of the peace “not as the world gives” as being rooted in faith that God can hold it all together. Even though there's terrible suffering in the world. Even though human free will continually opposes God's love. In one of Andrew Greeley's novels, I first read the proverb “God draws straight with crooked lines.” I love that image, that all the crooked lines we humans come up with will be relentlessly incorporated into God's ultimate purpose because God is just that powerful and creative. And during those all too frequent times when it's unclear how God's purpose is going to play out, we can still cling to the fact that God is with us and we don't have to face our struggles and uncertainty alone.

Musings on a Hymn

I was really struck by the gradual hymn (the one framing the gospel reading) in church today. The lyrics are as follows, and really after reading those you can just stop because nothing I have to say will be as powerful:

Father eternal, Ruler of creation,

Spirit of life, which moved ere from was made,

through the thick darkness covering every nation,

light to our blindness, O be thou our aid:

thy kingdom come, O Lord, thy will be done.

Races and peoples, lo, we stand divided,

and, sharing not our griefs, no joy can share;

by wars and tumults love is mocked, derided;

his saving cross no nation yet will bear:

thy kingdom come, O Lord, thy will be done.

Envious of heart, blind-eyed, with tongues confounded,

nation by nation still goes unforgiven,

in wrath and fear, by jealousies surrounded,

building proud towers which shall not reach to heaven:

thy kingdom come, O Lord, thy will be done.

Lust of possession worketh desolations;

there is no meekness in the powers of earth;

led by no star, the rulers of the nations

still fail to bring us to the blissful birth:

thy kingdom come, O Lord, they will be done.

How shall be love thee, holy hidden Being,

if we love not the world which thou hast made?

Bind us in thine own love for better seeing

thy Word made flesh, and in a manger laid:

thy kingdom come, O Lord, they will be done.

Most of the stuff we sing has more of a sense of hope to it. Even the hymns for Holy Week, while focusing on Jesus' suffering and death also focus on the reason for it and on our appropriate gratitude. This is more like a lament. I could see it fitting in with Jeremiah. We've screwed up, we're collectively clueless, and we're not showing any signs of improvement. Our only hope is in God hearing our cry.

The writer of the lyrics is listed as having lived from 1865 to 1959. He would have been about 50 during World War I and about 80 at the end of World War II. I wonder when it was actually written, and what he saw in the world that inspired such sorrow. At the same time, I feel like it's completely relevant today. The world is still torn by inequality and greed – hurting both the people in the poorest nations and the natural environment we all depend on – and hurting the rest of us too, both because of the violence that often results from inequality and because of the way it scars our hearts to commit or even be complicit in injustice. And certainly no national government is about to embrace humility and vulnerability and true repentance from exploiting others. They probably wouldn't be able to stay in power if they did. It seems like even when we can behave halfway decently in our day-to-day lives, we still collectively behave like ogres. I don't know to what degree governments are capable of anything else in the long term, but I certainly don't believe this is what God has in mind for humanity. Yet we're so very stuck.

In addition to the general idea of our desperate situation and need for God, I was also moved by the way biblical references were incorporated into the lyrics: the tower of Babel, the Magi/star of Bethlehem, and of course the birth of Christ. I find that those kinds of references make both the hymn and the Bible more meaningful to me because of the way they tie ideas together. We are collectively both prideful and lost, each nation-state thinking it should rule the world, but none of us able to see beyond our own immediate advantage. We aren't likely to turn to God on our own; our only hope is for God to come to us, as indeed He has.

Stewardship Questioning

Probably the biggest question I struggle with is how to really love my neighbor as myself. And particularly how to do so in a world with so much inequality. I'm not sure how to find a balance between helping people and living my own life, nor am I sure that “my own life” is a valid concept for me as a Christian. It seems that any time or money I spend for my own enjoyment could instead be used to feed the hungry, visit the sick, buy mosquito nets, send food where it's needed, etc. But the fact is that I don't use all my resources this way. I do in fact spend time doing things that I enjoy, and I do spend money on things that I want as well. I'm going to explore some perspectives on this.

In college, I learned about the philosopher Peter Singer. He's a utilitarian – greatest good for the greatest number – and he does advocate drastically changing the way many of us live. He'd probably be one to say that there's no justification for going to see a movie when that money could instead be used to buy mosquito nets to keep people in poor tropical countries from getting malaria. And I can definitely see that point. If you put it squarely in the choice of watch a movie or save someone's life, saving a life obviously seems more valuable. And yet I still sometimes decide to buy a movie ticket.

I think part of what makes this possible is basic human psychology. The movie theater is right down the street; someone at risk of malaria is hundreds of miles away. It's pretty easy to just not think about it. And even closer to home, there's physical separation between the rich and the poor. Not entirely – my church is downtown and next to a homeless shelter – but to a large degree. I see people in need mostly on the side of the road wearing orange vests, and sometimes I give them a few dollars, and more often I don't. But I don't even think about trying to help really change their situation. Partly because I don't know how, partly because I'm psychologically uncomfortable – I don't know how to act or speak appropriately, and also partly because I don't want the complication in my life. I don't want the complication and responsibility of a relationship with someone whose life is so different from mine, who might have every reason to condemn me, and who I might not be able to separate from. I'm not at all proud of this, but it's the truth. This separation seems to be culturally reinforced. Everyone kind of knows that you don't interact with “those people.” You might give a dollar or two if you're feeling generous, though conventional wisdom is that it'll just go for substance abuse of one kind or another. But you don't have long conversations, you don't ask how this happened to them, and you certainly don't offer them a ride. You might point them in the direction of the homeless shelter, but that's about it. And, God have mercy on me, I'm more comfortable that way too. I'm bad at making small talk even with people I have a fair amount in common with. Here, I'm totally out of my depth. And yet there's a sense that I ought to do something. Is this person my brother or not?

Back to the uses of money and time, there are other social influences as well. Not just peer pressure or the desire for status symbols, but also real needs of family and friends. Those relationships also matter, and I need to spend time with family and friends in order to maintain those relationships. It's also pleasant for me to do so; typically you become friends with people because you like them. “Those whose lives are closely linked with ours” would be hurt if I stopped spending time with them, and even spending some of that time doing service work together would only go so far. The closest relationships require time that isn't devoted to anything else; otherwise a person can reasonably ask “is it actually me you care about?”

Looking at what the Gospels say about how Jesus lived is ambiguous. I don't remember any times when someone asked for his help and didn't receive it. (There was the Samaritan woman, but she did get help eventually...) But he also did seem to spend some time with people he was close to – Mary was at the wedding in Cana, and it seems like he spent time with his disciples separate from everyone else. Though again, he seemed to accept the invitation of anyone who wanted to have him over for a meal or get to know him better. But there's no real evidence of him being concerned with what he wanted for himself. The only record I'm aware of where his personal desires came into play was in the Garden of Gethsemane, where it seems like he really didn't want to be crucified. Anything he did could easily have been for the purpose of meeting those people's needs – for healing, for hope, for friendship. We know he loved; it's less clear whether he liked.

But then I wonder how that would have worked out – can humans function without close relationships? And it's one thing to love your neighbor in the sense of seeing that their physical needs are met. It's another to develop a particular love for an individual – and I don't just mean romantically, I'm including friendship here too. I don't know how much control we have over whether we like any given person, but it does seem that everyone needs to be liked, by someone even if not by everyone. And those kind of relationships take time – it's impossible to have a close personal relationship with everyone. But it can also hurt when someone feels that they're not personally cared for, that even though their needs are being met, there's no warmth or well-wishing, just a stern sense of duty. And so I guess there is a middle ground – one can have a caring, personal manner with others even when one isn't cultivating a closer friendship, and maybe we do have some control over that, although innate personalities surely come into it as well. And how do you find the balance when maintaining those important close relationships takes time and resources that could be used towards less personal but more life-and-death kinds of assistance? It's all very jumbled.

Singing!

One of the things I love about Sunday worship at my church is the abundance of music: processional hymn, Gloria, psalm, gradual hymn, offertory, Sanctus, fractional anthem, at least two communion hymns, and the recessional hymn. At the 9:00 service, there are fewer hymns, but we sing the Our Father, and there's a Taize chant during Communion, and the offertory is a hymn sung by the congregation instead of a choir hymn. (At the 11:00, the choir usually does something harder for the offertory, and sometimes also does the psalm).

I love that there are so many times I get to sing in church, and I find singing to be the most important part to me spiritually, besides the Eucharist itself. I think the importance for me comes from the combination of the emotion provided by the music, the meaning provided by words, and the active participation of actually singing.

I'm strongly driven by my emotions. This doesn't mean that I think that if I feel like doing something that means I should do it, or that emotions are the only thing that matters. I know Jesus is present in the Eucharist whether I feel it or not. I know I'm called to care for my neighbor even if I'm in a grumpy mood. I find it much easier, however, if my emotions are in line with what I need to do. And I also find that changing my emotions is frequently easier than pushing them aside to change my behavior despite my emotions. But maybe most important is that my emotions provide some of the power source for my actions. If I'm propelled by what I feel, that gives me an intensity that isn't present when I'm acting on what I think or know without as much emotional investment. This is part of why music is so great. There's some evidence that music has a strong effect on the emotional centers of the brain, an effect that's not present from noise or from speech. (I read about this in Discover magazine when I was in high school.) In other words, music helps to open my heart in a way that just reciting the Nicene Creed doesn't.

Then there's the words themselves. Hymns are full of wonderful poetic language praising God. Some of them also have neat biblical allusions, like the saints “casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea.” Some of them I've grown into as I've moved from childish to adult understanding. It took years before I understood what was meant by “Yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting Light. The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight,” let alone getting it through my head that “Come, Labor On” is not really about farming. Just like the language of the prayer book, the language of the hymns gives me additional ways to think about God and to wonder at God's goodness. This is also part of why I strongly prefer to sing all the verses of hymns, which my church is usually pretty good about. Any verses that are left out mean that some of that wonder isn't expressed. I have a particular fondness for the third verse of “Joy to the World,” which I only ever hear in church. One of the previous clergy used to talk about a possible sermon on third-verse theology – all the great theology that's hidden in the parts of hymns that are most likely to be skipped. So many really don't get the full effect without all the verses.

Finally, there's the active participation. This is why, even though I enjoy the choir and admire all the hard work they do, I'm happiest when I get to sing too. Hearing the songs (and the sermon, for that matter) helps me to think about God and does stir my emotions, but singing the hymns is a way of proclaiming the Gospel. Granted, it's proclaiming it to myself and to a bunch of people that are already there, but I need the practice. And I think in some sense, we all do. Saying the words out loud allows me to claim them in a way that simply hearing them doesn't, and singing them adds to the emotional impact, as well as making them easier to remember, so that snippets of hymns can follow me through the week like little post-it notes from God. I believe we're called to live our faith with our hearts and minds and actions, and singing hymns, while not sufficient on its own, is both good practice and a source of strength and comfort.

Why I'm Not Pagan

I'm a little nervous writing this post because it has the potential to come out badly. When writing about faiths other than one's own, there's always the risk of sounding, or worse yet being, self-righteous, intolerant, condescending, smug, and a host of other bad things. So I hope to avoid that, and I ask my readers to bear with me if I fail.

I have several friends and acquaintances who are pagan, and present-day pagan beliefs and practices have always held some attraction for me, especially those of a Celtic flavor. I like the pagan calendar with its solstices and equinoxes and cross-quarter days, and the flow of the yearly cycle. I like the idea of calling quarters and invoking the elements (and even though we've come a long way from earth, water, air, and fire, and even though no one's going to be invoking the periodic table, I can still kind of connect the four ancient elements to the physical states of solid, liquid, gas, and plasma). I like the sense of connection to the earth, and the idea of aspects of nature having spirits, like dryads and water nymphs. (This is also something I like in Shinto, the idea of places having their own spirits, even little places like a particular grove or segment of a stream).

I know some people locally who attend ceremonies for those pagan holidays, and they sometimes sound kind of neat, and it seems that folks get something out of them and find a closer connection to the divine. I've sometimes felt curious about it and wondered what it would be like at attend, but I think I've come to the conclusion that even if I was invited, I couldn't participate. The most I could do is be there to observe, and then I would feel intrusive and awkward.

And that's where I run into something of a paradox. I know that there are pagans, these folks and others, whose beliefs and practices do draw them closer to God. (Or at least I imagine they do – they keep doing it and they seem like good people; I haven't had deep discussions about the faith of any of the pagans I know.) And if their religion leads them to love their neighbor and to find joy and peace and hope, then it's all to the good. And connecting with God in that way seems to me to be better than not doing so.

And yet I find within my heart the firm conviction that for me to do so would be wrong. Certainly not as wrong as murdering someone. Not as wrong as being intentionally cruel. But definitely something that for me would be sin, would draw me away from God, and without any excuse that I didn't know because I seem to know very loudly. Naming God as Allah or Dieu is fine; I can talk about Jesus or Yeshuva or even Joshua and know that I'm still talking about the God I know through my faith. But if I think about calling on God as Artemis or Thor or Osiris, a wall comes down. I can't do it. And it's weird because I know pagans who would tell me that of course no one believes in the old gods the way the Greeks or Romans or Egyptians did anymore, and that it's all just different aspects of the same divine reality. And that makes sense and seems like a perfectly reasonable way of connecting to God throughout all the different parts of life.

But it's not the way I know God. And I have to tread lightly here, because it's so close to saying that the way I know God is right and the way someone else knows God is wrong, and that's just a mess and who am I to judge how someone else should relate to God anyway? But to participate in invoking the old gods, even if I just thought of them as symbols of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, for me would be tantamount to denying that I come to God through Jesus Christ and no other. Which I apparently believe. I don't claim that there's just one right way for everyone – I'm not God, how would I know? But there is one right way for me.   

Effects of Community

It's been an interesting few days. On Saturday, I met with a group instigated by one of the previous clergy of my church. A few other people from my church, a colleague of said clergy member, and a member of another church were also there as we met to talk about “liberal fundamentalism.” We explored questions like why we're hesitant to proclaim openly that we believe the Bible supports socially liberal points of view (gay marriage, creation care, peacemaking, universal health care, etc), why we have trouble talking about our personal experience of God even with other Christians, how we can honor the faith of people of different beliefs and the caution of those who have none without denying our belief that Christianity is really real and that Jesus truly is the way to God, how we can believe in the seriousness of sin and in some idea of hell without believing that God is out to punish people. Lots of really great discussion. (And I apologize to others who were there if my summary seems off-target – this is what I got out of it; your mileage may vary).

And then I got a bunch of comments on yesterday's post. Of course it's very gratifying to write stuff and have people read what I write. But I hope that's not all it is to me. What it feels like to me is that this blog gives me a space to explore my faith within a community made up of whoever's interested enough to read and comment. But having a community gives me a way to test my ideas. (We talked about this some also in the group on Saturday). I often find support and new insights in the comments. I hope that if I came up with something completely off-base, people would tell me that too - “you're totally wrong and a heretic because x, y, and z – but I'll take communion with you on Sunday!”

And then I had another conversation yesterday evening with a good friend, talking about the group that met Saturday and continuing that discussion with a new person. I got some of the best and most straightforward advice about sin I'd heard in a long time: “Try not to sin. Know you're still going to. When that happens, ask for and accept forgiveness and move on.” This is a useful counterbalance to my struggles with exactly how morally culpable I am (or anyone is) with our indeterminate amount of free will – we definitely have some; we definitely don't have all of it. I'm realizing that some of that focus on moral culpability is really a way of asking how guilty I'm supposed to feel, but feelings of guilt maybe really aren't the point. It's almost like since I know there are areas (most of them) where I commit the same types of sin over and over or where I continue to be complicit in evil, and since I seem to be unable and/or unwilling to change, it seems like the least I could do is feel bad, as if that somehow helps balance things, even though there's no way it helps anyone, and in fact feeling bad makes me more likely to make other people feel bad and less likely to be helpful, generous, etc. I think maybe there's a feeling that I should feel bad that has some validity because that's often a sign that one needs to repent, ask for forgiveness, think about how to do better – but that's probably all it's good for.

Anyway, one effect of all this community is that I actually felt like praying last night before I went to sleep, and prayed the way I was taught as a kid for the first time in ages (adoration, confession, thanksgiving, supplication – with the order shuffled around for me each time because who knows when I'll fall asleep). And had a sense of communion with God, and found myself also hungering for the daily office liturgy from the prayer book. When I'm not trying to force myself into a consistent pattern that doesn't work, I find the language in the Book of Common Prayer really powerful. I'm been told that the icons used in Eastern Orthodox worship are intended to be a sort of “window” into the divine and that in some sense their beauty is part of that. And it's like that for me with the liturgy and the written prayers – no, beautiful language is not more holy or more real or more acceptable to God – but to me those prayers are like verbal icons that help remind me of the wonder of God. So I'll have to try and find my BCP.

I think having a community and having a place to talk about God makes a big difference in my personal spirituality. On the most basic level, there's the sense of knowing that it's not just my individual delusion, that taking my faith seriously and really wanting to belong to God doesn't make me crazy. And then there's also sort of a sense that I need a lot of reminders to keep myself spiritually awake. It's all too easy to get caught up in work, chores, socializing, etc and find myself pushing away my awareness of God – sometimes because I feel like I'm too busy, but also sometimes because I feel like I shouldn't bother God with this – this being the mundane me, the me who's frazzled, or laughing, or was just rude to someone because my mind was elsewhere, or who less than a minute ago was thinking quite uncharitably about another human being that Christ also died for. Somehow, having a community helps tie it all together.

Parable of the Wheat and the Tares

The Gospel reading today was the Parable of the Wheat and the Tares. I find the “official” interpretation a little troublesome because I don't like the idea that some people are children of evil and just have been and always be. So I was thinking about what one of the previous clergy of my church would always say about the Parable of the Sower, that there isn't necessarily just one correct interpretation and that it's okay to sort of play with the parables and see how else they might speak to you.

So here's my thought: what if instead of the field being the whole world, it's each of our hearts? In that case, we can think of the wheat as our good impulses and the weeds as sinful ones. We can certainly ask God why it is that we have both kinds of thoughts. Why do we even have to struggle with sin if God created us good? And then we get the answer ,“An enemy has done this,” which sort of makes sense along the lines of original sin. It doesn't necessarily matter whether you think of there being a literal devil involved; there's still the reality that we have both kind and noble ideas and cruel and selfish ideas.

So what do we do about it? Should we try to root out all the evil inside of us and not do anything else until that's done? In the parable, the servants ask if they should go out and pull up the weeds, but the master says to wait because they're in danger of pulling up the wheat at the same time. Now I don't think this means we should just follow every impulse we have without concerning ourselves with its morality. But I do think it may be the case that we lack the wisdom to perform psychospiritual surgery on ourselves. I've struggled with this sometimes with my own personality. I can be stubborn and impulsive in ways that aren't always good, but those traits seem to have the same mental root as my optimism and enthusiasm about life. This doesn't mean that I shouldn't try to control my actions – of course I should. But it might also mean that I can't fully avoid the bad without shutting down some of the good; in unguarded moments, I'm likely to be both joyously enthusiastic and stubbornly opinionated. I can learn to keep my mouth shut in order to avoid hurting people, but I don't have the subtle control to eliminate my core intensity when it's harmful and keep it when it's positive. But I think maybe God does. And I think maybe, even in the areas of my own self-control, there's work that's mine and there's work that's God's. It's my job to think before I speak, to consider whether my words will hurt someone. It's not my job to make sure those thoughts never even enter my head. I can, to some extent, make myself act more gentle, more tolerant, more loving. But only God can make me truly be so. And I think it's better for me, and for all of us, to live and stumble through our confusing, messy lives than to spend all our time fretting about how our motives aren't pure.

I think this may also be a good thing to keep in mind to help me be more tolerant of others. (And here I'm making up examples rather that searching for real life ones, so to anyone who's reading, know that I'm not talking about you.) Perhaps what seems to me like shallowness is tied up with the easy laughter that I love in a friend. Maybe someone's perpetual gloominess comes from a powerful ability to empathize with those who are suffering. The same person who strikes me as self-righteous one day may be inspiring the next, for reasons that look the same from inside that person's head. So I think maybe God calls to be patient with the mixture of wheat and tares we find within our neighbors as well, and to remember that it's not up to us or to them to insist that they be perfect now, but that perfection will happen in God's time. And who am I to say what traits God does or doesn't want in a person anyway? Maybe that stirring up that annoys me is needed to shake my own complacency, or maybe that slow deliberation is only irritating because of my impatience. My wheat, your wheat, my tares, your tares – I can't tell, so I'm best off leaving it to God.